#midnight seonghwa

[the-midnight-blooms]

PRETTY GIRLS MAKE GRAVES | smg

pairing: spy!song mingi x assassin!reader AU: marriage of convenience au (inspired by spy x family, set during the cold war) word count: 19.0k warnings: blood, violence, mentions of death, strong language

masterlist

Apollo, to many, is an Olympian deity in classical mythology, characterised as a being of light, truth, music and prophecy. A strong entity bestowing his benefaction upon the humans who revelled in his myth.

To the Agency, Apollo is a venerated spy whose identity is obscured by the night, hidden in plain sight as he traipses the corrupted land atoning for all of its sins. There wasn't much to be said about Apollo, except for the many that were blessed enough to catch glimpses of his shadow looming in the restive airs.

He was handsome, with a cutthroat jawline, siren eyes and pink lips. He was tall, therefore heightening his attractiveness; which he was not oblivious to as he strode down the hallways of Headquarters seeing his fellow female colleagues steal glances at him only to hide behind their desks in a desperate attempt to conceal their blushes. Apollo was indifferent to their emotions, in his line of work there was no time for love, hence he was perfectly content with remaining single and rejecting all marriage and courtship prospects. Such was to only be pursued if he was on a mission.

Harsh winds roar in the dim wake of the evening light that streams over the serene atmosphere, oblivious to the churning pit of darkness overwhelming the esteemed states. The great wheels of the steam train grind against the train tracks where Apollo is settled in a private compartment, the sliding door sealed shut as the carriage sways from side to side. Before him sits a decoded letter from his superior, Athena, his sharp eyes reeling in the information.

“Good day or, perhaps, evening, Apollo

Well done on your last mission. Thanks to you, you have managed to restore a moment of peace to both conflicting states.

Your next target is the ex-member of the Agency and Chairman Hades. He is a great threat to the truce between Hala and Westonia. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to infiltrate 'The Cosmopolitan' and obtain information regarding his whereabouts and any seditious activities from his wife Park Eunha, alias Persephone.

In order to achieve this, you will get married and have a child."

Excuse me, what?

"Hades has gone into hiding, therefore it is currently unable to track him down. The only way to locate him is by extracting this information from his wife, who, herself, will not readily give this information. His children attend a nursery school, where some of the mothers congregate and form close friendships with Mrs Park, joining 'The Cosmopolitan'.

You will have your child enrol in this school and have your wife infiltrate one of the social gatherings. The enrolment deadline is drawing near, meaning you have 13 days to pull this off.”

Where am I going to find a wife and child in thirteen days?

Releasing a deep sigh, he leans back in his chair caressing his temples.

For the peace of Hala and Westonia, Apollo will do what he must.

"This is one of our single-family apartments. The unit comes furnished, including central air conditioning and heating, and… Um, sir?" The estate agent stands awkwardly at the door as Apollo's careful eyes observe the contents of the room. On the second floor, it overlooks the city with easy access to the fire escape. The walls have good soundproofing, and despite the fact some of the floorboards are out of place; there's enough gap to hide some of his equipment. Best of all, there are no wiretaps.

"I'll take it." He proclaims eagerly. A relieved grin settles on the estate agent's face.

"Excellent, Mr Song now if you sign these documents..."

Name: Song Mingi.

Occupation: Physicist.

Quite a job to be having in the midst of a Cold War, but some of Hades' associates work down at that end in a research lab and what's better than killing one bird with two stones. Besides, Mingi doesn't remember much about his father other than the fact that he was a physicist; so he supposes the job he has created for himself has sprung from a personal touch. It's a good way to not get lost in one's forged identity, like how some agents keep their initials the same so they can remember who they are.

"How nice that you and your family are moving into a new home. Do you have a boy or a girl?"

Uh—

"We'll find out soon." He ignores the look of bafflement on the man's face before grasping the keys in his hand.

“Take whichever one you want.” The orphanage director scowls at all the children running around chasing each other. It's Mingi's time to look puzzled, the establishment itself is particularly run down, the ceiling looks as if it's going to collapse in on itself. Though he supposes these kids will all have complicated pasts, so it will be easy to manipulate. "Looking for any child, specifically?"

“Around 5 years old? One that can read and write.” He ponders out loud. He needs a child with potential to pass the entrance exam.

"In that case...we have Mieun." He gesticulates to the little body in the corner, sitting on the window sill with her legs crossed. Her hair dark, wide eyes boring into the abacus resting upon a stack of encyclopaedias. “Go on, say hello.” Tentatively, Mingi approaches her, the worker loitering behind him. He'd love to get Mieun out of his hair, the devious child is notorious for biting. Clearing his throat, the child turns to meet his gaze before looking back at the abacus.

"Mieun, will you not say hello to the nice man? He might be your new daddy." Her head whips in Mingi's direction, her doe eyes looking at him up and down.

"Appa?"

"Yes, yes. This is your new Appa." The man provokes with a sly smile; the sooner she's out of his hair the better. He's even willing to get rid of her without the paperwork, she doesn't even have a birth certificate having just been abandoned outside the orphanage two years ago.

Hold on a minute. Mingi cranes his neck to meet the Orphanage Director's gaze, huffing before looking back at the child. Well if she can read and write...

"Appa!" She squeals, kicking her feet. Her arms stick out towards him and Mingi sighs.

I guess this child is mine now.

Outside of his apartment complex, he stops at the steps looking down at his daughter. He registers how little she is. Was he that little at four years old? He remembers being the tallest in his nursery. Lifting her up from the floor, he makes his way into the flat—the old ladies coo at Mieun who simply blushes at them. He cannot deny she is a cute child, however he cannot get too attached. After all, when the mission is over he may have to send her back. Or, if he has enough pity, put her in a better establishment.

"Right, this is your new home." He declares, Mieun immediately darts towards the TV, her finger hovering over the buttons to change the channels. Her wide eyes are merely two inches away from the television screen; he deduces it's not good for her eyes immediately yielding her small body back to the sofa. "House rules. One, sit on the sofa when you watch television. Two, when I watch the news, you watch the news. Three, you eat what you get given or go to bed hungry. Understood?" Her baby head bobs up and down in agreement, he raises an impressive eyebrow, he didn't think she'd agree so quickly. Before he can blink, she crawls towards him wrapping her arms around him, her face snugly fits in the crook of his neck—Mingi freezes in his spot.

"Papa." She squeals, "I want a hug."

Ah, so this is her negotiation.

Tentatively, Mingi's powerful arms encircle her delicate frame, drawing her closer to him. They cocoon her entirely, enveloping her in his warmth. Mieun's long lashes flutter gently as the comforting heat that surrounds her sings a careful lullaby, basking her consciousness into the distant seas.

Understanding the other party is the first step towards peace.

Apollo learns very quickly that his daughter's love language is physical touch. Perhaps she is touch starved, a consequence of her infancy being wrought with neglect by her biological parents. In every moment of the day, she must be attached to her father, refusing separation. Whether it's hugging, holding hands, sitting on his lap: distance is not an option. It's somehow difficult for a man who can not remember a time where a touch felt like it was borne from the conquest of love rather than violence. Each vibration against his skin feels like the burning of a hot knife pressed against the surface of his body. He gulps, as Mieun swings her limbs around his long legs, he knows he cannot outright neglect her right for affection, but he doesn't know long he can cope with the hugging and kissing.

"Mieun please get off me, I need to go shopping." Her tiny brows furrow as tears begin to spill from her wide, innocent eyes. With lips that quiver with each sob that wracks her small frame, Mieun's fists clench at her sides, and her chest heaves with the effort of each breath, as if her tiny body cannot contain the overwhelming surge of emotions. The tears stream down her flushed cheeks, catching the light, as her cries grow louder in desperate need of comfort. Releasing a defeated breath, he raises her from the ground, hesitantly, pressing his lips to her rosy cheeks. "Fine, I'll take you with me." Grumbling, he fits her coat around her, hauling her out of the home with him.

The kitchen is bathed in the golden light of the early morning, casting gentle shadows across the room. The air is still, cool with the quiet calm that only the dawn can bring; he huffs as an unusual feeling of unsettlement roams within him. He has just posted Mieun's application form for Hala Academy, he knows that when he's found his wife he'll sneak in and write her credentials in on the form, which he has currently left very ambiguous.

"Fatherhood is a funny look on you, Apollo." A familiar figure wanders into the apartment, Mingi rolls his eyes as he attempts to feed Mieun another spoonful of porridge. He heard the merciless pounding of his platform dress shoes from the bottom of the staircase, he twists his neck observing the Black Cat's disposition, who's adequately dressed in a three piece suit, hair slicked back and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his long nose. In fact, his attire almost mirrors Mingi's who somehow looks better than him in it.

"What are they calling you here?" Mingi inquires, hastily shoving the spoon inside Mieun's mouth before she can refuse. Her face scrunches up in protest before distastefully swallowing what she deems gruel.

"Jung Wooyoung, an office worker in the City Hall." Apollo can trust the Black Cat to go for the most boring jobs— they pay a lot.

"I thought you were doing the The Graveyard mission?"

"I will after I'm done here." A beat of silence fills the room, before Mieun's whines permeate the room; shrinking under her father's hard stare she receives the last spoonful of porridge before scampering to the television to watch the latest episode of the notorious spy show. "So Hades has been a bad boy then?" Mingi raises a brow at the subject before placing the bowl in the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

"That's one way of putting it." He retorts, plainly, with no enthusiasm to continue the issue, but he should know better. Wooyoung is exceptionally prying. "I wanted to help but Athens told me—,"

"What, exactly, is your point, cat boy?" He mocks, jaw clenched.

"Are you not in the slightest bit, hurt? Like, at all? It is ok to feel angry and disappointed, he was your best friend. You knew him better than anyone." Apollo's head dips beneath his shoulders, slender finger tapping against the worktop as he comprehends Wooyoung's sympathy. He's not wrong in any sense, but being a spy does mean disregarding one's emotions for the betterment of the country.

"No. I really couldn't care less." Wooyoung hums, unbelieving of Apollo's statement. "I need a favour from you. Collect me the records of all the single women who live in Oka. I need to find a wife." The Black Cat wolf-whistles, ignoring Mingi's scowl.

"What's the magic word?" He teases, ignoring the look of vexation that exceeds on his associate's face.

"Please!" Mieun shouts, jumping off her seat as she pads to the television to watch her cartoons.

She really should start revising for that entrance exam.

"I copied all the files of unmarried women from the City Hall." Wooyoung throws the files down onto the coffee table, whilst grumbling. "I'm doing way too much for a mission that isn't even mine." Apollo highly validates his help, even if he'll never show it. Mieun looks up from her seat at the coffee table, where sheets of arithmetic are littered across; her father has already got her working on Hala Academy's entrance exam.

"Why couldn't you just marry Demeter? Everyone knows that woman is head over heels for you." Mingi shoots Wooyoung a look of annoyance. Demeter, alongside Apollo, is one of the best spies in the field known for her ability to extract information out of almost anyone without the use of torture. Apollo finds it impressive considering he’s had to get his hands dirty a few times. Regardless, she’s also known for pining over Apollo seeing that she’s attempted to pursue him a multiple of times, and has failed: horrifically.

He supposes that if he was that much in love with another, he wouldn’t want to let go of them too—but then again Apollo has never been in love (and doesn’t intend to either) so he cannot help but frown at her.

Grabbing both his and Mieun’s jacket off the hook, he kneels down to wrap her in the duffle coat. Wooyoung purses his lips, visibly impressed.

“Mieun and I are going to the library, I need a bunch of physics books because my knowledge has rusted."

Morana, to many, is a tyrannical mythological being characterised by death. rebirth and dreams. To Legion, she is their truest assassin, notorious for being Death's greatest servant providing him with an abundance of souls to take over to the afterlife. She held an unwavering stare as she grasped the night’s weapon, striking it upon Legion's enemies. Led by a convoluted moral compass, the mere concept of her seemed unreal, there was no way a being could be so light on her feet that when she travelled, it was like she was floating through air. Yet, she did it as if it was a gift she was born with.

Morana proved to be the stark opposite of her male counterpart. Where kidnapping, maiming, murdering and torturing was frowned upon by the Agency: Morana openly exercised her free will without a second thought. However, where the Agency ensured their members never had to worry about money: Morana was denied the privilege of having all resources. Granted her practises supported immoral beliefs, but her devotion to Legion remained unrivalled, thus heightening her formidable reputation as the highly skilled assassin.

They say she is unabridged of a ghostly void, holding no space for emotion as the potent elixir of death dribbles from her lips. Perhaps she is death, even. In the form of a human woman, estranged from society for the scar cutting down her face. It's not poignant, but the fact that it is there, is enough.

The esteemed mercenary sits in the public library, deciphering the message that was allotted between the pages of the book that she was told to retrieve. A key, she’s informed in the possession of a woman named ‘Park Eunha’, who runs a club that goes under the name of: ‘The Cosmopolitan.’ Letting out a relentless sigh, she caresses her temples, knowing this is not a mission to complete in days but rather months.

It’s easier to infiltrate the club with a child, but where on earth is she supposed to get a baby from?

"Miss?" Her head snaps up from the book, snapping it close and holding it close against her chest. Her gaze drifts to the volunteer who awkwardly shuffles her feet, staring back at the librarian in anxiety. Truth be told, the volunteer is slightly scared of her for reasons that Morana will never know why. It could be the scar. Smiling to alleviate her nervousness, she nods to instigate the volunteer to speak. "Mrs Sam is calling you."

Sauntering down the aisles, she makes her way to the front desk where the old lady stands amongst other women Morana's age. The old lady smiles, leaning on her walking stick before she speaks. She pauses, a breath hitched in their throats. It's weird how they're afraid of a little grandma with dementia but the old lady loves her library and will love those who cherish the essence of literature with her. She says nothing in the end, scuttling back to her office, to find the sheet of paper with all her notes on. Everybody loves Mrs Sam, Morana included who has a soft spot for the geriatric and little children. Coincidentally, they're the largest demographic that even still attend libraries (aside from university students who attend out of obligation rather than interest).

There are four librarians, excluding Mrs Sam. Morana, herself, Riko, Inger and Jia. The volunteer (whose name she will never remember) loiters by the typewriter machines being the antisocial one out of them. Inger is from Germania but moved to Hala with her husband and son on account of his new occupation here. Out of the other librarians, she is the nicest and most tolerable. Sometimes she can stand Riko, when they keep a distance and exchange polite words, but Jia. Jia, Morana cannot stand and refuses to. All she does is whine about how she never got an admittance into medical school—even at her big age of 28. Morana knows Inger can't stand her too, but neither would dare to admit that out loud since Jia is Mrs Sam's niece. They stand at the front desk as the library slowly fills in the early hours of the morning, a slight chatter amongst them before a haughty laugh escapes into the air.

"Only a man would do that, don't you think Inger?" Jia prompts.

"Ach yes, but my husband is too afraid of me to say no if I asked him to do basic household chores."

"Atta girl." Riko adds.

"What about your husband?" Jia looks at her, with her wide eyes before her lips form an 'o'. "I forgot you're not married, sorry, it's just we are all so I assume you are too." It feels like a taunt, it is a taunt.

The women of Hala firmly believe that marriage is at the heart of a fulfilling life for a woman, therefore those who are unmarried are readily ostracised. Living in the midst of strained tension between Hala and Westonia means that individuals' lives are now invaded by the secret police, probed to see if they’re involved in espionage; she knows that if she wants to stay alive or out of the public eye, she’ll need to get married. Unfortunately, there are no “Find my Husband, and quickly” schemes in Hala. The best bet is to finish her mission and leave Oka.

“Does anyone want to man the desk?”

“I’ll do it.” Morana offers, to which they appreciate. The married women disperse throughout the library with their trolleys to return the books back to the shelves.

Mieun's heavy pants enter Mingi's ears as he finishes taking the final step, making his way into the warmth. Her short legs could not make it past the fourth steep step, her arms holding out for her father to pick her up. He shakes his head at her, he must admit her into a sports club; how embarrassing would it be if one learnt that a child of a spy was unfit?

The library exuded an air of quiet reverence, the room was rather grand in scale yet suffused with a sense of seclusion; the scent of parchment and aging wood lingered in the mien. Muted light of the early morning faded through the tall, arched windows spilling across the worn carpet and leather-bound novels— poised delicately upon timber stretching at least seven feet from the ground. Nestled in the corners of the library were a circuit of soft leather sofas. With the current of academia, Mingi struggled to find the children's section, his eyes occasionally flickering to Mieun's eyes lit up in wonder as her gaze bored into the array of books. He did have to bring home a massive stack of encyclopaedias she refused to give back to the orphanage director.

"Never mind, just keep them." It wasn't like any of the other children were interested in reading, to the same extent as his daughter anyway, he claimed.

"Ok, why don't you look for something to read? What about this one: 'The Tiger Who Came To Tea?'" She shook her head. "'The Tale of Peter Rabbit'?"

"I've read that. I wanna read that book." Raising herself to her toes, her finger points to the spine of a book, Mingi crouches to pull it out.

'Harriet the Spy'?

"Are you sure? Might be a little hard?" He's not sure why he's second guessing her reading level, he has watched her read a children's astrophysics book but the cleverest children in Hala are scrutinised carefully. Intelligence is a curse, not a gift. "What about 'Winnie the Pooh'? My favourite character is Tiger." Mieun holds her ground, trying to pry 'Harriet the Spy' from his hands.

Very well.

"I like Roo, Papa." She scuttles past him to look into the boxes that are low enough for her to rummage through.

She'd make a good spy.

Manning the desk is probably the most boring task when there are no takers of books. The job is a little too easy for her taste, but the hours are great—it's better than working a measly corporate job in the City Hall where it's customary to stare into a document for over thirteen hours. Her primary role is the bringer of death, Magere Hein—as they would say in Germanian, and there are plenty of bodies this city needs disposing of.

A little body dashes towards her, her eyes lit up, watching as a mop of raven hair bounces up and down—her brown duffle coat is one size too big for her, black tights are too small. The skirt is the only one of perfect size. Her parents must be horrible at sizing.

“Hello, darling. How can I help?” She makes a poor attempt at trying to put the book on the table that’s too high up for her. Gently taking her arm, she guides the girl to the smaller table.

"I want this book." She cheers, it seems above her reading level.

“Mieun, don’t run off again.” Her head piques up from where she’s looking at the child, to find a tall man clad in a suit. A stack of books rests in his arms. “Sorry about that Miss, my daughter would like to check out this book.” Her eyes dart between the book, then himself.

Surrounding him is a stream of intimidation, perfection and control. His beauty is unparalleled, his suit is of perfect size hugging his physique with such perfect solidarity. Not a single strand of hair is out of place, his dominance keeps his daughter standing beside him with a decent posture as if afraid of his vexation. Her eyes paint a line down to the bridge of his nose over the curvature of his plump lips. No pimple, no pustule, no redness on his face. He is not a labourer, his hands are not calloused as he places his own books down on the desk; tender, one—no—two paper cuts indent his right index finger. He works a desk job, not at the City Hall. The physics textbooks tell her everything.

"No problem!" She chirps, opening up the book to the front page to steal the front card. "What is your name, darling?"

"Song Mieun! I am Papa's real daughter!" She cheers, a smile tears through her face as her father clarifies the spelling of her name.

Mieun, why would you say that? A look of quiet fear flashes over his face, gone unnoticed by the infamous assassin.

Stamping the due date box, she slides the card to the side to file it behind the circulation desk later. Then, she stamps the back of the books. The only pitiful thing about being a librarian is sending out notices for overdue books when you have to rifle through stacks of book cards. "You have two weeks to read the book and return it, ok?" Nodding eagerly she grabs the book from the table dashing towards the sofa in the corner of the room. Her father releases a sigh of despair turning his gaze back to the librarian.

Mingi finds she emanates a resolute presence, preceded by composure. Her shoulders are tense, her posture straight as she is ready to defend herself against something. It had dropped when she spoke to Mieun, now alone with himself, it is there again. There's also something about the way she carries herself, like an unmarried woman would. Perhaps her single state is due to the faint scar running down her face.

There are many things he cannot deduce about her, it astounds him.

“And these are for me…” He trails off placing down an abundance of physics textbooks. She completes the same order of work as she had done for Mieun scribbling his name down on the sheet paper, the way she masticates the syllables of his name on her tongue does not go unmissed. It slips from her lips in such a dulcet way, he feels warmed by it. "Thank you, Miss."

Teikoku Research stands, proudly, in the bustling arena of the city of Oka; the hum of pelican crossing signals the pedestrians to move as the cars stop, patiently, before the stop line. At half eight in the morning, the city is already alive with small feet pounding down the roads and adults pushing their way through the teeming crowds to get to their workplace on time. At half eight in the morning, the citizens of Hala are not friendly; not when money is their lord, saviour and religion; they may have recovered from a recession but Hala is constantly wrought in a fragile state of political unrest. Mingi's towering frame pokes through the sea of heads dashing down the crossing, his gaze fixated on the tall building in front of his eyes.

Whilst he awaits to hear back from Hala Academy, and Mieun stays with Wooyoung, he needs to work on Project Waffe, Hala's very own development of a powerful weapon. To avoid suspicion, he applied to the vacancy via the traditional route and passed the interview with his exemplary record as an atomic physicist.

His polished black shoes click against the marble flooring, leather satchel clutched in hand, his immaculate disposition summoning undivided attention from the passer-bys. A man stands in front of the double doors, almost as tall as Mingi himself, a little thinner, blonde hair with a frame of rectangular glasses sat on his crooked nose. He wears a dark grey suit, a little shabby, though it seemed as if he forgot to iron his clothes the night before. As Mingi approaches, he clears his throat, polite smiles exchanged between them.

"Mr Hans Schmidt?" The older male nods, gesticulating for the spy to follow through the doors.

"Welcome to your first day at Teikoku, you must be a spectacular man of a sort, Tanaka isn't easily impressed." Mingi remembers the old, short man, bushy eyebrows glaring daggers at Mingi throughout the interview.

Hans Schmidt rambles about basic housekeeping rules, quickly points at key rooms Mingi may have to wander through in the building. Has him wave at the tea boy, the receptionist and a few other 'crucial' members of staff before completely diverting the topic of conversation.

“I’m assuming you have a wife, Mr Song?” Hans asks, his thick Germanian accent spilling through. Fifteen years in Hala, but some things will never change.

“Ah I did. Unfortunately she passed away five years ago during childbirth, so it’s just been my little one and I.” A crushing stifle oppresses the air as the two men walk in synchronisation down the hallway.

“Ach, I’m so sorry to hear that. The little one is five, ja? Girl or boy?” A genuine look of compassion pulls over Hans' face, which Mingi perceives as a possible indicator that he has experienced some kind of loss in his life. After all, Hala has been in and out of dictatorship and stuck in a century old feud with Westonia, everyone has lost someone.

“Correct, she’s five. Her name’s Mieun.” Mingi smiles as he proudly announces his daughter's name. This baffles him.

“What a beautiful name. I have a young one, Luuk. He will be starting Hala Academy, in about a few weeks time. Will she be attending H Academy too?”

“I should hope so.” Hala Academy are very picky when choosing from their candidates. There is a list of criteria, Mingi is unsure if he will be able to fulfil when he walks around the city unmarried.

“Well, this is your department Mr Song. Your supervisor will be here, shortly, to direct you. I hope you enjoy your service in Teikoku. And, remember, no question is a stupid question.”

When the day is over, Mingi closes the cap of his pen, organising the sheets of paper neatly, into a folder before packing his satchel to leave. He bids his supervisor goodbye before rushing out of the building to catch the bus home. It is five 'o'clock in the evening, in Hala, and the roads are much quieter than they were in the morning—a cold gust of air slaps across his face before he double takes reeling in the figure walking past him.

Every evening, for the next week, he finds her at the bus stop, five minutes past five waiting for the bus that arrives at nine minutes past five. Sometimes he walks slowly down the staircase, to realise he must rush across the road to catch the bus that has arrived early. She stifles a giggle as he stumbles onto the bus, panting as he slides onto the seat next to her. They share a smile before she begins interrogating him about his daughter.

One evening, she is not at the bus stop, or the next and Mingi walks the long route home to try and find her at every stop. He's unbeknownst why, but she's the only choice for a wife he has otherwise his mission has already failed. There she is, standing outside of a convenience store, bags in hand, nose nestled into a scarf searching her surroundings.

Is she waiting for someone?

“Sorry Miss, are you waiting for your husband?” The grip on his own bag tightened as her doe eyes stare up at him.

"Mingi? What are you doing here?" A pause lingers in the air as he contemplates his next few words. They stand outside the shop, the dusk seeping into the sky as the roads begin to empty, its silence reminiscent of a time before.

"I didn't see you at the bus stop, so I was worried about your whereabouts." He utters.

Morana blinks twice before regaining a hold on her rationality. "No, I'm not married, Mr Song. I was just waiting for the next bus."

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. In that case, would you like me to walk you home?” His offer is one forged of consideration, a type she has never foreseen before—it almost has her wondering what has intrigued him to display an act of compassion, towards her. “Never mind, I shouldn’t have even asked. Lead the way, madam.” He’s a gentleman, bred of a unique kind that seems to have gone extinct.

“Your wife is a very lucky woman, you’re a very polite man.” She begins, as they stroll down the cobbled pavement to her home.

“She was.” Was? As if having read her mind, he continues. “She passed away during childbirth, it’s only Mieun and I, now.” Her lips uplift into a sympathetic smile, as if to reassure him of his loss. Morana does not remember her parents herself, after all she was taken in by one of Legion's assassin's at nine years old.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Now I understand why the baby’s clothes are all the wrong sizes.” The joke rolls off her tongue effortlessly, but is replaced by a sense of unease as he's quiet for a second too long.

“Oh it’s that noticeable?” The anxiety prescient in his tone warms her, he's evidently a man who cares.

“Perhaps I could go shopping with you! To shop for Mieun, I mean.” She quickly adds, as her face turns beet red in embarrassment.

“I’m afraid you’d have to marry me first.” A quiet laugh escapes her lips, she shakes her head at his proclamation. "I'm serious, Mieun would love to have you as her mother. She's finished her book already, and pesters me to take her to see you." Morana is in awe, Mieun is a darling. (And her father is, too, of the attractive kind).

“Marriage, marriage, marriage. It's all the women of Hala care about." A sigh of despondency is released before she confesses to him, "Truth be told, the women at the library were going to report me to the police for suspicion of espionage, all for being single. If you were being serious, I would actually take you up on that offer." Mingi stops in his tracks, the luminous blaze of the streetlight forms a halo over his slicked back hair. She, too, stops in her path, turning to face him.

“Would you be willing to be my wife, so Mieun could have a mother?" His question suspends in the thoughtful atmosphere, the minute wisps of wind are hitched in their wake as they anticipate her response.

“Yes.” She answers, a relieved smile settles on Mingi’s face. “I guess, I need someone to be a mother to and your child needs a mother.”

“So you’re saying it’s ok size up for trousers, shirts and dresses?” Mingi quizzes, as he browses with his wife in the girls sections.

“Yes! It’s much more comfortable, leaves room for movement and she can go a while wearing them too. Saves us buying more clothes until she’s grown out of them.” Her eyes searched across the racks until they bore into a dark brown skirt. “We should get this! Then Mimi and I can wear matching outfits!” She squeals, a soft smile painted on her husband’s face before she rifles searching for the right size. Glancing over the price tag, her movements falter before Mingi takes the skirt from her hand to rest it over his arm, like a rack.

“I like that blue dress.” He points out, ignorant of the price tag. “It’s similar to yours.”

They’re Mr and Mrs Song now, it somehow feels odd that with some sudden twist of fate, she now remains at his side—her name in conjunction with his. Who ever would have thought that the enigmatic librarian had caught the eyes of the quiet, single father? Yet it had happened, and in a whirlwind she had moved into his home, and was practically sharing a room with the man. He was more than happy to give her the spare bedroom, though she had insisted that sharing a room wouldn’t make Mieun feel that there was some sort of particular divide between them. After all, this relationship wasn’t just orchestrated for the world, but also for their daughter too. She needn’t know that this was merely a marriage of convenience.

Morana learns off Jung Wooyoung, the civil servant at the City Hall, who often decides to drop by for dinner. Mieun calls him a ‘Cat Boy’ to which this confuses her.

“He somewhat resembles a black cat, don’t you think?” Mingi provokes at the dinner table as Wooyoung rolls his eyes. Morana takes the time to observe Wooyoung’s disposition carefully. She’s seen him before, but where?

“Has he told you about Hala Academy?” Wooyoung prompts, she nods as she chews her food. "Hear that Mimi? You have to get in, it's what would have Amma wanted, right?"

Would I—oh…

Mieun's real Amma.

"I thought...your wife passed away during giving birth, how would...Mimi know..?" She tentatively raises, stopping in between words in some hope that Mingi picks up what she wants to ask.

“It was one of the things we used to talk about when she was pregnant with Mimi.” As married couples do.

As lovers do.

"I'm sorry about Wooyoung bringing up my ex-wife, that idiot always says the first thing that comes to his head." The tablecloth in hand wipes down the surface of the ceramic plate before he settles it down onto the pile of dry dishes. Shaking her head, she waves him off as she organises the containers of leftovers in the fridge. They may have not been married very long, yet some odd systematic domesticity is established through their routines. Every evening, she will wash the dishes as Mingi clears the table. Mingi dries the dishes and she will arrange the leftovers into smaller bowls, then wipe down the table; then wash the cloth. Within it, they will always talk about their day, gossip about co-workers before exchanging gentle smiles.

"It's ok, Mingi. I know you don’t see me as a replacement for her.”

“That doesn’t mean I still don’t value you, and your role in this household. First and foremost you are my wife and Mieun’s mother.” He, quickly, interjects—his stern expression tightly fixed on her. Some odd consternation steers in her, his sincere words are the first to be spoken to a man of his kind. He is a rare creature, she deduces. Yes, many are tall and handsome; but the soft-spoken and considerate have gone almost extinct. Almost, she remembers, her husband exists. Song Mingi, exists and is hers.

It's enough to make a grown woman swoon at night.

Hala Academy stands in the centre of Oka, in all its grandeur—its imposing silhouette barely visible in the moonlight, now towering over them. A loft edifice of dark, weathered stone, the building perpetuated an air of class and sophistication subduing the couple with a sense of inferiority. The arched windows were adorned with intricate wrought ironwork, their glass panes slightly fogged with age. Ivy crept up the sides, entwining with the stone, the main entrance called for them; above, a stone plaque read simply: Hala Academy. Pushing past the mahogany door, the entryway was lit by the flickering glow of gas lamps, the stone floors covered by traditional Persian rugs. The ceilings were high, the walls panelled with a rich, dark oak, the corridors were long and narrow and despite the array of candles in their pristine silver holders it still felt significantly cold and dim. On the contrary to its suave demeanour, the rooms are filled with anxious parents and carefree children; excited chatter infiltrates out into the entryway.

They look like a composed couple, with their outfits that complement each other, colours and styles an ode to their age-old marriage and comprehensive understanding of all matters intelligent. Mr Song, the physicist, and his wife, the librarian, stride into the rooms, their daughter settled at her mother's hip, elegant in her smart clothing. Still, she doesn't understand why Mieun could not wear pink but according to Mingi, "The school's dress code is black, maroon, grey and dark brown. It’s better to follow their dress code. Remember, the first impression is the last impression."

Ah yes, 'to impress'. That is the main reason that they're here: Hala Academy organises interviews for all candidates that have fit the school's criteria. This is where the children must complete a 'simple', two-hour entrance exam, which topics include: Literature, Mathematics, Science, History, Geography and Politics. At the same time, the parents are interviewed to assess 'Familial Politics'. In other words, children of divorcees, single parents, parents who are separating are not given an admission on the grounds that their child will not perform well. It's a clever tactic as most parents would be too concerned about their child's education than about their marriage. As grim as it seems, this is one rigid rule of the eminent 'H Academy' and is the primary reason it stands as the world's best international academy.

Mieun has skipped to the exam hall, standing behind a line of nervous students all sweating and shaking as they receive firm looks from their parents. Morana deems she is the only child that has been kissed goodbye, standing with her husband in the foyer awaiting for them to be called to interrogation. An old man, with short grey hair, a pair of half-moon shaped glasses and a cane stands outside of the door—his hawk-like eyes, cautiously, observing his surroundings.

Andrew Anderson, Mingi recalls. An ex-Westonian Major turned English teacher, who has a keen eye for marriage authenticity. He also retains the excellent sixth sense of seeing through lies and has even made a mother run out of the room crying snot and tears. Anderson makes, seemingly relaxed, interviews intense; cutting down the candidates down to the bone.

"Mingi." Mrs Song whispers, he averts his gaze to her, leaning down slightly as her lips inch closer to his ears. "I think we should hold hands." She professes, her fingers grazing against his own. He noticed Anderson's hawk-like gaze from across the room. Whilst is constantly watching, Mingi is constantly performing. Enveloping her own smaller hand within his, they share a polite smile before he smooths the crease on her blazer collar.

We must prove to them that we're a happy couple.

"Mr and Mrs Song?" Their heads pique up in synchrony, somehow the grip on her hand has tightened as they scuttle towards the office, feeling the burning stare of a number of parents, who are too, awaiting their turn in anguish. The room is particularly large, like most of the rooms in the academy, with a sizzling fireplace crackling embers; daunting, as if the couple were expectant of their death. There are three interrogators, inside the classroom, Mr Anderson, Mr Jansen and Mrs Beck, all of whom Mingi is thoroughly educated on. Upon Mrs Beck's allowance, they seat themselves together on the plush sofa opposite.

The Songs shall prevail in this game of information warfare.

"Mr Song, I was informed that this is your second wife, may I ask how you met?" Mrs Beck asks. She's a mild-mannered woman, very conservative and prioritises logic; the older students love her with her concise explanations of advanced biology. Nevertheless, she's an exceptionally 'gradist'; therefore only intelligence entices her.

I see we're getting straight to the point. He looks over to Mrs Song, who matches his placid composure. "I met my wife in a library, I was in awe of her grace. Ever since the passing of my first wife, I've been hesitant on moving on but on meeting her, I felt that I had been given the privilege of being able to fall in love again." Mrs Song returns his smile, clutching the fabric of her silk dress to steady herself.

"And what about you, Madam?" Beck inquires.

"Mingi is a wonderful person who cares so much for his daughter. He's also exceptionally considerate of me." Before Beck can open her mouth to retort, she is uncouthly cut off by her colleague.

"Why would a pretty girl like you choose to be with a man with baggage?" Mr Jansen inquires, furtively, leaning back in his chair, ignoring the aghast stares of his associates.

"Why that's uncouth of you, Jansen." Beck hisses, she quickly dismisses Jansen's question proceeding forward with the interview. "As for our next question: Could you tell us why you chose to apply to Hala Academy?"

"The quality of the instructors at this establishment is superior. Of course, you are all very knowledgeable and cultured, and are excellent at guiding your students to fruitful pathways in order to become successful citizens of Hala." Anderson nods his head, impressed by Mingi's elegant response.

"Now then, how would the two of you describe your daughter? Are there any strengths and weaknesses we should be aware of?"

After a single pause, Mingi opens his mouth, contemplating his words. He remembers having this conversation with his wife last night. "Mieun is a very inquisitive child, she's quite reserved at first—which isn't necessarily a weakness but after some time she's exceptional at opening up and conversing with others." Morana watches as the deputy headmistress scribbles down her notes on the clipboard, she can just about make out some of the letters; although the pink flush of her cheeks is discernible as Mingi speaks.

“It's a shame this whole second wife/second mother ordeal is quite a...tragedy for you, Mr Song.” The deputy headmistress looks up from her clipboard, sending her colleague a look of irritation; she finds some of Hala Academy's traditions to be rather...unconventional.

"I think it's hardly unfair to be penalised on the account of death, don't you think? After all, he is a man and what use is a man without a woman and what use is a woman without her husband." Mrs Song interjects, her head held high challenging Mr Jansen's cunning gaze.

"Jagiya—" Mingi reached out for her hand, squeezing it gently to dissipate her brewing anger. Yet she ignores his attempts at trying to conceal her animosity.

"Lest we forget, you're on your third marriage—aren't you, Mr Jansen?" A spectral silence is suspended in the air, all three of the chairman's jaws go slack in sheer astonishment. Mingi narrows his eyes at her, how much does she actually know?

"And just HOW would you know that?" He barks at her, fists clenched, restraining himself from baring his teeth.

"Courtesy of Mrs Jansen, she often visits the public library and we've got chatting." Her shrewd stare boils Jansen's blood, she's eerily calm despite having ripped open his lies apart.

"The library?" A deep chuckle is eructed from Anderson, leaning forward on his cane. "I thought your wife was dyslexic? Humour me, Mrs Song, what does she like to read?"

"She has a taste for erotica." A wave of startlement succeeds the room, the face of each male going bright red--even Mingi. "The world will read what it cannot get." After a tense moment of silence, she stands up from her chair.

“I’m sor—,”

“No.” She holds out her hand to cease his futile attempts at an apology, perhaps it should be her who apologises. She did just ruin his career. “You can apologise when my daughter scores top in the entrance exam. Auf Weiderhen.”

“I’m so sorry, Mimi, I ruined your admission with my short temper.” Sulking, Mrs Song wraps the blanket tightly over her shoulders before sinking her face into the armrest in despair. Her daughter falls onto the space beside her, wearily attempting to pry open the blanket.

“Mama, opennnn.” Mieun whines, lifting up her blanket she shivers slightly before her daughter crawls in next to her, both girls cocooned warmly in the blanket. “It’s ok, I think I did good. I am sooo bad at geography, I hate it.”

“Well it’s a good thing Hala Academy lets you choose to either keep the subject or drop it in year 8.” Mingi, ambles into the living room placing the tray down on the coffee table before sitting on the leather chair adjacent to the sofa. “You said nothing wrong, we can just hope Mieun has performed well.”

A letter slides in through the letterbox, hitting the ground with a gentle thud as the family settle themselves around the dining table; in the early hours of the morning. Morana freezes, as Mieun climbs down from her chair to pick up the letter.

"It's from the school!" She cheers, which has Mingi springing up from his seat to grab the letter. Restlessly, he aptly tears the seal, his sharp eyes scanning the contents of the letter. He remains silent, in a state of shock as he reads, and re-reads. "Appaaa, what does it say?" Mieun prompts, tugging at his dress trousers. Standing up from her seat, Mrs Song, considerately, seizes the letter from her husband’s grip.

"MIEUN! YOU SCORED FIFTH! YOU'RE GOING TO HALA ACADEMY!" Morana shrieks, she swoops up the tiny body in arms, spinning her around both of them screaming and laughing as Mieun's father takes a seat on the sofa. His ears drown out the discourse of passionate laughter, his back hits the soft fabric with a thump, eyes fluttering shut.

Happiness. Is this what it is supposed to feel like?

"Like I said, if it's getting too much for you, you don't have to work. I earn good enough for the both of us." Mingi explains, as he leans against the kitchen worktop watching as his wife, skilfully slices the vegetables with point blank precision. It's odd, he thinks, that each slice is exactly 1.3cm in thickness. Despite the full background check Mingi has run on her, a small figment of him believes that there's more to her than meets the eye; as if the interview wasn't a testament to that already. Flicking her gaze over her shoulder, she returns back the pot of stewing broth.

"I like to be kept busy, besides the library isn't too far from Mieun's school so I can drop and pick her up." He can't help but agree with her, though if she's in one place at a time and not scuttling all over the city, he'll find it much easier to scrutinise her: if need be. His ears dial out the sound of the pots whirring, and the obnoxious commotion of the broth boiling; attuned to the light patter of feet trailing to the front door. Before the fist pounds against the wooden door, "Mingi, will you get the door? That will be Mimi."

The knock doesn't resound. It never does, Mieun doesn't knock in the 30 staggered seconds it takes him to reach the door, because she's too busy grabbing sweets off the granny in the neighbouring apartment to them.

How did she know Mieun was at the door?

Her slender fingers dance across the surface of his lips, his brown eyes fill with tears, muffling incoherent noises as a devilish smirk is strewn across her lips. "Quiet." She snaps, picking up the scarlet red telephone; placing it to her ears. "Stella, darling, I'm great—will you shut the fuck up like I told you to?—oh, just some pathetic guy, I'm killing him soon anyways— No, sorry, I'm picking the..." Her dagger cuts cleanly through the air, lodging straight into the midline of his torso, the metal, deviously, sunk its teeth into his skin, tissues erupting into a roar. "I think I was very clear about telling you to shut up. Sorry, Stell, I'm picking Mimi up from school. Send the cleaners, please." Her stilettos echo in the abandoned building, carelessly making her way around the masses of dead bodies lounging on the Grim Reaper's bridge.

"MAMA!" She shakes her head at her daughter's congenial nature, as she dashes towards her, after waving her little crowd of friends goodbye. They're all children of very wealthy families, Morana notes all of their faces and the mothers that wave their children over to them. Luuk Schmidt, that's Inger's son, who sends an amiable smile; he blushes slightly at Mieun's actions. Sasha Ivanov, daughter of the CEO of a large pharmaceutical company. A few other children whose parents are politicians, doctors but none are important to her. Finally, Park Kira. Daughter of Hades and Persephone. Morana can't help but be impressed at Mieun's friend group, it must be her intelligence and undeniable beauty. "What's for dinner today?" Ruffling Mieun's hair, she guides her daughter out of the exit as they discuss dinner options.

“Mrs Song?” She turns in her step to look behind, a woman slender in physique with a fitted dress, long, black silky hair stares at her in sincere judgement. She is dressed to the nines, but Morana's sleek look somehow makes Persephone feel inferior.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Park.” Her hand settles on her daughter’s shoulder who stares back at Kira, sensing the underlying tension between them. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She instigates.

“My daughter, Kira, would like to organise a play date with your daughter—if that’s ok with yourself?”

“Ah yes, of course. Mimi, would you like to play with Kira over, let’s say, the weekend?” She suggests, darting her eyes to Eunha who gives a subtle nod of agreement. The weekend works best for them. Mieun is quick to agree, Morana is relieved—she admits she would be annoyed if her daughter disagreed; that would soil her mission.

"If you don't mind staying over, Mrs Song? The ladies and I usually arrange a tea party but seeing Kira only wants Mieun over, you and I can have a natter, can't we?" Morana conceals the smirk simmering beneath her skin, a look of innocence feigned instead.

"That would be lovely."

Mingi is mildly taken aback by how quickly Mieun has become close friends with Park Kira; yet, he is not one to complain as his wife eagerly announces that both of them have been invited to the Park Estate. Absent-mindedly, he fiddles with the microchip between his fingers, watching as his wife slips on a pair of pearl earrings before hastily rummaging through her cupboard for a pair of heels. He remains silent, simply observing from the corner, as she flurries around in a slight panicked state.

To begin with, Mingi is cautious for two primary reasons.

First, Mrs. Park had always been considered a reserved woman, and the idea of her inviting another woman to tea—especially one not a member of The Cosmopolitan—strikes him as somewhat dubious. Second, Mrs. Song is an enigmatic figure. Though he can't tell if it's because his knowledge of women is rather lacklustre, or that it is, in fact, the truth that she has somehow been moulded into a different human. There are late nights she justifies by claiming to close up the library, and the bruises that mark her body seem to be symptoms of anaemia. Her sharp intellect, which many attribute to her love of knowledge, only adds to the mystery. If she really was Mieun's mother, he would have been able to understand why the child was so bright. Therefore, the chip isn't just to spy on Park Eunha, it's for her too.

Stealing one last glance of herself from the mirror, she turns on her heel, summoning her husband's attention. Her hands clasp into fists at her side, "How do I look?" She asks, softly, her breath like a cloud of heaven, dropped from the sky to bless his ears with her voice.

"Beautiful." A relieved smile settled on her lips, he stood up from the bed, strolling towards her. He stops in front, adjusting the clip in her hair and smoothing down the collar of her dress shirt. "You are beautiful." He whispers. His sincerity has her heart fluttering in awe of him—their intimate moment is cut short by Mieun stomping into the room.

"Mama! I can't find my red shoes!" Shaking his head at her, Mingi ushers her out of the room towards her own as they begin to hunt for her 'Dorothy slippers'; as her father likes to call them.

The Park Estate stands as a grand testament to an ancient opulence, nestled amongst sprawling acres of manicured grounds. It's coppery stone façade, boasts arched windows and intricate wrought-iron balconies. In the middle, stands a large water fountain where mist lightly sprays against the surface of the cobblestone path that paves the entrance down to the home. With Mieun sitting in her arms, she tightens her grip sauntering down the lane, to the doorway of the home where the household's domestic staff run up and down the corridors. Morana shifts the weight of her feet, standing uncomfortably in the foyer as she is instructed to wait for Mrs Park; Mieun wiggles out of her grip persisting to be put down. Inside, the rooms are vast and richly decorated, with heavy velvet drapes, antique chandeliers, and polished mahogany furniture. The manor emits the quiet confidence of old money, with its precise refinement. There is no doubt Eunha keeps the household on a tight leash.

The terrifying click of heels down the staircase snaps her away from her thoughts— her gaze follows Eunha walk down with Kira skipping to Mieun in front of her. “Mrs Song! Welcome! Come join me in the parlour, are you ok with Mieun playing Kira outside? My butler will supervise them?” She nods in agreement, pinching Mieun’s cheeks before following the lady of the household. She’s seen this place before, having infiltrated it, under the cover of the night, they've just passed the East wing where she knows Hades keeps his information. Passing the butler perched outside Eunha's wing, he swings open the door before gently shutting it behind them. They settle on a plush maroon sofa, her weight sinks the sofa enveloping her in a secure warmth.

In the shadowed silence, a figure glided effortlessly through the corridors, his every movement fluid and purposeful. The air was thick with an oppressive stillness, broken only by the sigh of relief as he watches his wife saunter into the room, unbeknownst of his presence. His butler's attire blended seamlessly with the surroundings. Nestled among the towering oak doors and gilded arches, he ventured deeper into the quarters; the glint of the brass handles guiding him through the halls. Each nook and cranny was carefully articulated into his mind, he knows to the right unfolds Hades' rooms but the study is more useful to him. Shallow breaths infiltrate the tense atmosphere, his hand brushing the surface of the door handle, twisting the knob before pushing himself in.

In the drawing room, the delicate clink of porcelain on fine china punctuated the room, the faint scent of chamomile filling the air. The assassin sat with poised elegance, her fingers wrapped delicately around a teacup; beneath the soft, maternal façade, lay a woman far more dangerous than she appeared. Across from her, Eunha sipped her tea with a languid grace, unaware that the pleasant conversation flowing between them was, in fact, a carefully crafted performance.

"Well I told you about our meet cute, where did you and your Mr Park meet?" Morana feigned a melody of curiosity with just the right amount of innocence.

"Our marriage was arranged, you see. My father was eager to marry me off, and consulted the youngest business partner that he knew. At the time, Hw—Seo—." She stutters over her words, Morana narrowing her eyes as Eunha presses the tips of her fingers to her mouth; she is unsure of how she is supposed to address him. "Seung Cheol wasn't interested in me but my father is a persuasive man." A faint blush falls on her cheeks, yet Mrs Song nods her head with a mild understanding.

"Well, all things work out in the end, don't they?" Eunha's hands tremble slightly as she lowers the teacup from her lips.

"I guess." Releasing a shaky breath, she regains her carefully, composed exterior. "Where did you say your husband worked again? Teikoku Research? No wonder, your daughter scored top." Morana lets out a succulent laugh, leaning back into her seat.

“Yes, but do not ask me of the specifics of his job role. I’ve often wondered about the more… serious matters, the ones that always seem to pull our husbands away at the oddest times. Does your husband ever speak of such things? I imagine his work takes him to all sorts of places, doesn’t it?” A moment of silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension. Then, with a smooth, calculated grace, Mrs Park replied, her voice now a shade colder.

“My husband is a very private man. He prefers not to discuss his affairs with me.” The assassin leaned back slightly, her smile never faltering; the pieces were starting to fit together. With a casual flick of her wrist, she refilled both their cups, her eyes scanning the room for anything out of place.

"Of course," she said gently, eyes glimmering with a hidden agenda, "Some things are better left untouched, aren’t they? After all, what would us, women, understand?" Eunha's eyes glaze with an amalgamation of emotions that include sadness and fear, it betrays the façade she has tried so hard to maintain. She is just too innocent for this world, forced to hide and stay quiet under her husband's sins.

Mingi creases his brows as he adjusts the ear piece glued to his canal; Mrs Song's artful questions are something for him to praise as he assesses there is an underlying current of inquisitiveness laid within them. Something that extends the mere nature of curiosity, as if there is some deeper knowledge she is aiming to acquire. At this point, it is hard to believe that this arrangement doesn't benefit her in more ways than one. His hands rifle through the cabinet of useless files, sliding open drawers, slender fingers sliding down each corner of furniture in an attempt to find something. He should know better, Hades would never keep something so valuable to him in sight, and by Eunha's own statements, it seems she isn't exactly willing to disclose any information about her husband.

"Is your husband affectionate, Mrs Song?" His cheeks heat up in embarrassment, freezing in his action as he anticipates his wife's response. A chorus of high-pitched merriments entrail in his ear.

She...giggled?

"We've held hands and Mieun isn't my biological child so I think that tells you everything. What about your husband, is he affectionate or does he like to keep to himself, too?"

"When I see him, again, usually at this time of year, he might give me a kiss on the forehead if he's in the mood."

Usually at this time of year, huh?

He probes his head for important dates, anything that could provoke Hades' entrance into Oka. His ninth wedding anniversary is coming up soon, if his marriage means anything to him.

"I'd love to stay longer, Mrs Park but I think my husband might be getting hungry, hence I have dinner to prepare." The resounding click of heels against the ancient wooden floorboards, tears him away from his thoughts. He aligns the sheets of paper back into a uniform fashion, before his eyes dart to the copy of the 'Odyssey' perched on the table. Two copies.

Both Apollo's and Hades'.

"We had samgyetang, and then played tag before the old lady told us to go inside." Her stubby finger points to the butler, who sends Mrs Song a sheepish smile. Adjusting the scarf around her neck, the two girls embrace each other before bidding their goodbye's. Before her, Eunha knits her brows, staring ahead of the figure sauntering to them. Calculatedly, she throws her eyes over her shoulder before, briskly, spinning on her heel.

“Mingi? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be seeing Wooyoung to the train station?”

“Yes, but then I missed you.” She blinks once. Then twice. Thrice, for consolidation. Stalking towards her, he presses his lips to her forehead, breath catching in her throat. His pinkie finger slides under the collar, swooping up the microchip before placing his hand into his blazer pocket. “Besides, the days are getting shorter and it’s unsafe for my wife and child to walk home, unchaperoned.” Eunha coos at the couple, her lips twist into a genuine smile as she ushers for Kira to come back inside. Scooping up Mieun's figure, she rests her head on his chest, sliding another arm around his wife's waist before they bid a final goodbye to the Park's. Mingi wonders if Eunha has recognised him, whether it be from his stature, to the sound of his voice. After all, they've met in a time before. A time where Hades had introduced him to his wife.

"I didn't know you were growing out your hair, what's with the change?" Both agents are crouched behind a low wall, the cool wind tousling their hair.

"Just felt like it. Why is it weird?" Hades asks after a single beat.

"Apollo, there's a target—" The gun fires at the target behind him, hitting his enemy straight between the eyes.

"No, it's not weird." It's Hades' turn to fire his gun behind him. "I think it's a good look actually, where are you hoping to grow it out to?" Gunshots resound the air, bodies dropping to the floor like dominoes.

"Just above my shoulder, maybe I'll dye it later."

"No, don't be an idiot—."

"Are you both, fucking, deaf?" Athena snarls, panting as she lands on the roof out of breath. "There's a fucking bomb about to detonate in about two minutes and you're sat here like you're having a tea party."

"Now, now, Athena, all that language isn't good for the baby." She rolls her eyes at Hades' remark, as they tumble through the skylines as fast as they can. "Oh, Apollo, will you come meet my wife? She's been asking about you."

Apollo huffs, as he skids across the cobbled rooftop. "You know, I still can't believe you're married."

"The Dad was paying good money." They both snicker, as Athena rolls her eyes.

Men.

The wind submitted to her every command, the delicate air carrying her away through the desolate city with a melancholic heart. Her body fell into the shadows as she leapt from one building to another, Morana's movements were slick. Careful. Deliberate. Perched like a spider on the wooden ledge of a collapsing ceiling, she cocks her head to the side as the room fills with important disciples of her establishment. They stand in their long black robes and silver masks, in two long rows either side of the room, awaiting for their leader to arrive. She has never met the Liege, not in person anyway, and she doesn't intend to either. A meeting with their leader means death. Instead, her legs dangle over the edge, eyes fulgurating around the room as she notices an influx of her fellow assassins enter; tucked away in corners. They wave at each other in their own funny little fashion. Morana is one of three women called, so she blows her kisses to the men, who are evidently charmed by her. Whilst seduction is not her best skill, her undeniable beauty has always drawn the scrutiny of lustful men.

"Let the meeting commence."

"May our client, Hades, come forth." A man steps out from the line of men, standing in front of the leader— he, who himself is masked in gold, clearly distinguishing himself from his disciples. "How may we help you, Hades?" The assassins' taunting laugh resounds in the room, their figures unseen as they become at one with the shadows.

"I see that my key is both a magnet for Legion and the Agency, yet should I remind you that setting your hands on it would merely mean imminent death?" His voice is deep, emanating with an authority that commands attention; his words reverberate through the air like a distant thunder preceding his primal essence. "You promised me, you would take out Apollo."

"You did, when the time comes, I will send my men." The Liege promises; it feels rather hollow in comparison to the weight of Hades' intimidation.

"You don't see me as a threat, do you?" He taunts, instigating a spectral silence to befall over the room. "In fact, make it interesting, send me your best and I will send you their head."

“Oh I will send you my best, and she will give me your heart.” A sea of eyes flicker to the corner of the room where she is enveloped within the barge of shadows.

“Everybody has a weakness, Your Honour. Even your General Morana.” Her brow raises in interest. She, herself, wonders what her greatest weakness would be.

“And only God would know what it is—do you believe that there is a God, Hades?”

“I believe that there is a higher power.”

“Then do you believe in fate or destiny?” Morana's eyes narrow, where, exactly, is this going?

“Somewhat, what should I make of this, your Liege?” Hades responds, as if he has read her thoughts and is disinterested in his Liege's provocations.

“That fate has parted you from my General to save the satisfaction of your blood befalling on her hands.” The night releases a harsh sigh upon her Liege's declaration, her hand slides off the aging timber of the abandoned church, feet fixed to the narrow ledge she stands upon. Her body shifts, ever so slightly, the moon casting a fateful light upon her body, illuminating her presence. Those who have not seen her, have seen her now. Hades has seen her now.

"Where have you been?" He sits in the armchair, just across from the fireplace, a steely gaze boring into her. With a breath hitched in her throat, she remains silent as he approaches with an air of intimidation, his round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, loose strands of hair framing his sharp cheekbones; clad in grey sweatpants and a baggy jumper as he towers over her. There's no doubt Mingi always looks good, but when he's stripped bare of his sobriety: he looks even better. With the minimal distance between them; she cannot help but admire him— god, he's beautiful in some sort of sadistic way. As if he stole the fires of beauty from Aphrodite and had been carved from her prowess. As if he was forged from some kind of celestial plane, naked to the human eye, forced to submit under his divine grace. He's apollo, a thing so eternal. His large hand moves to settle on her delicate waist, "I was so worried about you. Where did you go?" His whispers are echoes of hymns sung by a choir of angels.

"I—,” She stutters under his potent eye, heart palpitating faster than it has ever done in a life-threatening mission. Hell, she's even been close to a detonating bomb and still, it is Song Mingi, who has raised as the beat of her heart as if he is the vessel that keeps her moving. Her fingertips graze the soft fabric of his sleeve before firmly resting on the back of his neck, his siren eyes flutter under her supple caress. Why does he feel so weak? "I went on a walk." Snickering at her own poor excuse, she dares herself to not move, the warmth from his palms is all she needs.

"A walk?" He repeats, raising an eyebrow in inquisition. Her eyes trickle to the mole beneath his eye, she wonders what it would feel like to just press her lips against it.

"Yes, there's a very nice park around the corner. I don't recommend going around this time though, there's many prostitutes." She warns.

"Ah, all the more reason to go then." He jokes, Mrs Song snorts, her chest suspiring as the melodious chorus of laughter spills from her soft lips. A grin pulls on his face, when she realises: has she just seen Mingi smile for the first time? Snaking his arms to her back, she is pulled in, sinking into him, feeling the weight of his chin upon her head. "I'm joking. You’re enough for me.”

Stella. An associate of Morana, or rather she likes to call her, a subordinate. The infamous assassin strolls into the library, making her way down the aisles where a woman stands on the farther end, stacking books onto the shelf. They're all books in a language, foreign to Hala, hence who better to ask than the woman herself whose name roams the seven seas. "M." Stella greets, with the subtle dip of her head, her grey eyes boring into the decaying books on the antique shelf. "Alles ruhig an der Westfront." Her mutter prompts the book to fall out of the shelf into Morana's hands, her heels click purposefully on the floor towards the front desk with Stella passing by, throwing down War and Peace.

"Why did they send you here?" Morana asks, as she files the card behind the front desk. Stella eyes the lollipops in the jar at the front desk that Mrs Sam has left to lure the kids into reading books.

"Didn't think marriage was in the cards for you but then again, I don't know you that well." Legion doesn't think she can balance domesticity and murdering. "Though, your husband is one hunk of a man. I'm almost jealous." Her fingers flip open the pages of All Quiet on the Western Front, slipping out the clean sheet slotted between the pages, tucking it into her skirt pocket.

"Is Legion questioning my capabilities?" To any other they may have been perceived as two devotees of literature, with the way Morana tilts her head to the side, Stella clutches her book as if she is conversing about it. "They can cut ties and I can find jobs elsewhere, I don't need them but they need me." Her shrewd, low voice sends a scathing shiver down her associate's spine.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." As Riko slips into her line of sight, Morana slides out a sheet from under the desk, handing it over to the lady in front; taking the hint she receives the paper with a smile.

"I would be because I didn't sleep my way up to the top, I'm not tied down by my body." They switch to a dialect of Arabi. Stella's grimace doesn't go overlooked by herself. The telephone at the front desk sends a startling ring, Morana steals the line before Mrs Sam wakes up from her nap and answers it, baffling the caller.

"Hala Library, how can I help—Mingi? You're going to be home late? Ah ok, yes the school bus will drop Mimi. What about dinner? Ok. I'll see you at home, don't overwork yourself." Within Stella's eyes there holds a barge carrying her emotions, her morals, her modesty; all trapped in neat containers that she had locked away when she had devoted her life to Legion. Morana has sent a sturdy blow to those shipments, kicking the balance straight under Stella's feet. "Oh baby, don't be so upset. Next time try to use your head, instead of your heart."

Ahead, the coffee shop came into view, its warm, amber glow spilling through the large windows, contrasting with the sharp chill of the evening air. The door swung open with a soft chime as Apollo stepped inside; the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit him first, its comforting bitterness masking the tension that coiled beneath the surface. He sends a single nod to the barista before slipping his way to the back, where he saunters up the stairs and to the room right at the back. The café is a front for Agency business and each aspect of it coordinates to its said trade.

A current of air follows his salient prescience into the room, where Athena is perched behind a desk, bayonetta glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. Her eyes flicker up at Apollo, through the top frame of her glasses, she closes shut the file she was scrutinising; sliding it across to him as he takes a seat in front of her. They speak of important fixtures with minimal words, he takes the hint that the file is important to his current operation.

NAME: ? ALIAS: MORANA BODY COUNT: 100+ CLASSIFICATION: DANGEROUS

His sharp eyes stare at Athena from across the table, "Do you want to tell me something I don't already know?"

"You're not the only one after that key. According to one of my informants, Hades is essentially under Legions' witness protection but they want what he has. As Morana is their most powerful associate, I have a feeling she's after that key too." Yet, it has always been hard for him to identify her in a crowd of people. She is at one with the night, blended amongst the silhouette of buildings, blinking down at him with the stars — mockingly, as he searches the ends of the earth for her.

"Well it would be helpful to know what she looks like, or even if I was just at that meeting." He resists the urge to scowl, throwing his head, long limbs slumping across the chair; a stark juxtaposition to his usually composed act but here he is with his age-old friend— Apollo can be a different man here. "December 16th, Moscow. We lost all five of our highly-trained operatives to, her."

The wind howls, as an unbridled phantom slips through the slither of light beaming from the transparent windows of their base. Apollo rubs his hands together, the frictional forces generating heat as his body withstands the harsh pressures of cold lacerating their supple skin. He remembers sliding his unwavering gaze over to Hades, who stares in such an unemotional state at a photo of his wife, thinking if the man truly loves her. But love is not an emotion neither of them can ever afford having. Athena rests her hand on her baby bump, it's a wonder the board has still deemed her fit to run missions in the field. He recalls the silence of the moment, as all three of them eventually lock their gazes onto the burner phone. When it buzzes Athena throws her whole body for it, only for her steely face to drop at the news; they've never seen her this disappointed before.

"We've lost all five of our contacts. Apollo, I need your eyes. You, with me." Athena and Hades disperse from the base faster than he can blink, his tall body dashes over to where his sniper is. His siren eyes peer through the cold, glass lens of his sniper scope, following the swift movements of his associates as they dart towards the building opposite to them, but that is not the focus of his attention. Rather, it lies in the window, fronting his own—where his client lies; dependent on the Agency's protection. In the darkness of the room, a shadow moved with unnerving precision, closer towards his client. His finger brushes across the trigger guard Hades dashes up the staircase, a full floor below where chao is about to ensue.

A gleam of silver haunts Apollo, the projectile scream of his *client* terrorises the air. Hades has stopped in his path, Athena's gaze snaps up to the staircase laid before her.

Three fingers raised: the forefinger, middle and ring, on her left hand. Her M.O.

Morana has seen them.

"You've got one more week." Stella adds, sipping on her cup of tea as Morana stirs the brimming cup of coffee almost overflowing into the porcelain saucer. Mieun pats her arm gently, ushering for the half-cut muffin. "You'll make her plump with all of those sweets." Morana gives her subordinate a harsh stare before handing over the muffin.

"She's a child, besides she doesn't eat sweets at home." Griping, she downs the coffee in one gulp, wiping her lips with the handkerchief. "What are you doing about, Hades?" Stella waves her away her question, as if it's pointless. Perhaps it is, even if Legion gifts him her presence; it will be his heart that she ships back to Persephone.

"He's just a loose end. If the worst comes to worst, take him out. Even the Agency doesn't need him, they just want to stop him, imprison him, whatever. Who gives a shit, just get that key." Stella darts her siren gaze across the cup, "Oh, and be careful about Apollo. He's probably after that key too. So make sure he doesn't get his hands on it."

It is her turn to dismiss Stella, "That man can't hurt a fly."

"Careful, sixteen men down in three minutes. You've done twelve in four." Cocking an eyebrow in amusement, she leans back in her seat, tucking a strand of hair behind Mieun’s ear. “You’re getting soft.”

“Careful.” Morana mocks, a flicker of the devil himself tugging on her sharp features. “I can dismember you with that butter knife.” Stella smirks.

There she is.

A deep sigh rolls from his pink lips, he scrunches his nose before placing his coat on the peg. A faint aroma of washing up liquid lingers in the air, he passes his gaze through the immaculately clean kitchen. It's 8PM now, Mieun has closed her books and gone to bed, whilst his wife occupies the living room with a book in hand. He settles next to her, resting his briefcase onto the table casting his gaze over the words scrawled across the page. "What are you reading?" He asks, so innocently, as if he hadn't come back from a small mission of defusing a bomb in Oka's clocktower. Most likely a Hades antic, he thought as Athena paged him.

"White Nights by Dostoevsky." She remarks, turning a page, before her gaze moves to him. "You know, he mentions Nastenka’s name at least 138 times or so in the entirety of the novel and she never asks for his." He hums in response, shifting his body to face her.

"I couldn't imagine someone saying my name that many times, in a lifetime." A thought so literal to her entity. Hasn't she only been gone by her alias?

"I can start now if you'd like. If I go at the correct rate, I can reach 138 by the end of the night." Mingi, light-heartedly, jokes. Shaking her head at him, she closes the book in hand. "You know I realised that I haven't taken you out on a date in a long time."

"You've never taken me out on a date."

"We snuck out for cake two weeks ago. Wasn't that a date?" Mingi argues, as a grin forces his way to his lips. He frequently feels a peculiar consternation with his wife. Apollo always knows the right things to say, yet with his wife he does not quite know where his rationality disperses to. He’s always been a stoic man, yet with her his cheeks hurt from smiling so much. "I can take you out next week." After the mission. After he has dealt with Hades and hands him back to the Agency.

"Oh no, I can't. I'm closing up the library— what's that? Is that a cut?" A small gash permeates down the side of his face, almost obscured by his long locks. Ah yes, he also had to encounter a few loose ends. 'White Nights' is abandoned somewhere, and Mrs Song scuttles to the kitchen coming back with a damp cloth. "How did you get this?" Mingi can't help but feel intimidated by her authoritative tone, her clothed finger gently rubs down his temple—most of it is just dried blood. He watches the way her eyebrows furrow with careful concentration, softening as the touch of the soft curves of her lips.

"I'll take you out on a date, Mrs Song, next week. Whether you like it or not."

Morana stood motionless atop the clocktower, the night air biting against her cloak as the sprawling city stretched beneath her feet, its lights flickering like a thousand unbroken stars. Her cold, unwavering gaze was fixed upon the distant horizon, where the grand silhouette of the Park estate loomed. With an almost imperceptible shift of her weight, she descended from the tower, moving with the practiced grace of a shadow. Navigating the winding rooftops, the pulse of the city was drowned in the rhythm of her movements, both purposeful and silent.

With poise, she slips between the cracks of Park’s security force, sliding through the window; the tips of her toes trailing amongst the floorboards towards Persephone’s rooms. It’s a shame that a woman bred from the tree of debauchery could not be as conniving as her predecessors. She’s cut from a fabric of sheen, of delicacy and vulnerability — Eunha adores her husband and would lay down her life for him, but the key is not with her. It's with him.

A patter of silent footsteps crawl into the room that she’s concealed within. Yet she’s not alone, the rooftops are busy with another figure. Apollo, probably. Her lips curl into a knowing smile.

This is going to be fun.

Simultaneously, another two figures draw into the room — as if the next act of this grand performance has begun. A spectral stifle diffuses through the room, Apollo stood with his usual stoic presence, the weight of years spent in the shadows barely registering on his sharp features. With a gaze cold his siren eyes were neatly obscured behind his hood and mask; there resigned a flicker of painful nostalgia as he casted a calculated gaze over his adversary. Standing across from him, Hades cut a striking contrast. Tall and slender, his figure was draped in a dark, almost ethereal manner. His raven-black hair framed his face in a way that softened the sharpness of his features. He was clad in a dark, tailored suit that gave him an air of nobility, exuding a quiet, unsettling charisma. Where Apollo had once been his friend, Hades had become a phantom—an enigmatic figure who walked past the line of salvation, to damnation. Apollo’s lips twitched slightly, not quite a smile, but something borne of recognition. "I never thought I’d see you again, Seonghwa." He said, his voice low, cutting through the silence.

Hades met his gaze, his lips curling into a smirk. "And yet, here we are," He responded coolly. Hidden in the shadows of the room, Morana breaths ceased as the deep voice travelled to the crevices she was tucked within. Apollo. There was something so familiar about his voice, as if she had heard it before in a comfort that only existed when the stars were untamed by the night. His figure too, tall with broad shoulders. His face. She just needed to see his face. "I've missed you, brother."

"You can't call me that." Apollo interjects, steadfast in his words. Not after he had spent haunting nights mourning the loss of one he had poured his heart out to and trusted, as if there was the same blood running through their veins. Seonghwa snickers, shaking his head slumping down onto the maroon leather chair legs sprawled out before him. His nonchalance startles Mingi for a split second, with his rationality restored the spy subtly begins a careful stance, almost slipping from Morana's field of vision.

"I really pity you, Min. You've always been blinded by your allegiance to the Agency. No matter how intelligent you are, you'll never realise that their morals are just as convoluted as any other network of assailants I now work with." A single blink, Seonghwa cocks his head to the side, a nefarious smile tugging at his lips. "What is it about the Agency that makes what they do right? The fact that they're legal?" Morana can't help but agree with Hades, the Agency have got their fair share of dirty secrets and innocent blood on their ledger. At least Legion takes out those the Agency holds a blind eye to.

"You've never been a rule follower, Seonghwa." A vicious drawl of laughter empties into the room. "Let's just end this here, tonight. I'll ask you nicely, hand yourself over to the Agency."

"Or?" Seonghwa provokes, resting his chin in the palm of his hands. A cold gust of air permeates into the room, the window is large enough for her to fit through.

"Or I will hand you over to them myself, bloody, bruised, broken or dead."

"That's my boy." Hades rises from his seat, Apollo takes a step back initiating a threatening stance. Morana darts from her corner, swinging her body towards Hades, her fingers reaching for the silver chain looped around his neck. With a robust pull, she tears the chain from him before tearing her body out of the window with Hades firm behind her.

The moon hung low, casting silver shadows over the sprawling mansion; Morana leaped from rooftop to rooftop, her heart pounding like a war drum. Each footfall was silent on the slate tiles as she darted past chimneys and skylights, her eyes briefly scanning for Hades behind her, then Apollo behind him. Quickening her pace, the rush of wind in her ears nearly drowned his menacing laughter. Apollo observed, his pulse racing as he followed Hades' every move. He propelled himself forward, landing just behind Seonghwa.

Hades lunged forward, his long strides closing the distance between them in seconds, his slender fingers curled around her forearm. With a swift movement, he pulled her towards him, fist connecting with her jaw in a brutal punch. The crack of bone echoed in the night air, and she staggered back, her vision momentarily blurred. “Is that all you’ve got?” She spat, wiping blood from her lip. She pivoted, launching a kick aimed at his abdomen. Just as Hades advanced again, a blur shot past, and Apollo tackled him from the side, tumbling across the rooftop - the tiles scraping against their skin. "Oh no, darling, this ones mine." Tearing away from Apollo's mighty grip, Hades charged at Morana like a bull, his fury driving him forward. With little time to react as he closed the gap, in a swift motion, she drew a knife from her belt and thrust it forward, the blade glinting in the moonlight. It found its mark, slicing into his shoulder. Grunting, Seonghwa stumbled backwards, falling to his knees and he began panting heavily.

Apollo flickered his gaze between Morana and Hades, before darting her way, himself.

I still need that key.

No myth, no legend or number of transcripts could truly depict Morana’s brutality; he’s lost count of the number of punches she throws per sequence, her movements are fluid and she moves in such fashion, that it seems inevitable that she will win. Blood dribbles, ruthlessly, down his mouth, he spits it out before turning with a crazed look. He must win now, to get the Key. To complete the mission and save Hala. To go back home to his wife and daughter.

Swinging her leg, a powerful squall of wind hits Apollo’s side, whilst her leg is still heading for his temple, he leans back, swooping his longer leg under her feet. Losing her stance, her body falls backwards, back hitting again the slate pummelling a wave of agony through her. Apollo dives, straddling her hips, securing both of her hands above her head. His fingers loop around the hem of her mask, her eyes widen in realisation of his intentions. Wrestling his robust grip, her hand fires out toward his own mask; before they know it the pair rip, synchronously, rip away their disguises.

It has never felt so quiet in Oka. Nor in the Park Estate, even when the owner’s staggered breaths persist through the silver dagger pierced through his collarbone. At the moment, Apollo doesn’t care about Hades, Athena will get to him should he decide to run away. His eyes cast over Morana, her identity no longer obscured by the night. Years chasing after her, running through files, latching onto every clue of her. Years of chasing, for her to become his wife in a single night.

“You—Mingi?” She questions, with staggered breaths as he rises from his knees, feet frozen to the ground as he stares down at his lover in confusion. “Mingi? Who are you?” She asks, her eyes flooding with tears in quick realisation that she had almost slaughtered her husband.

Yet all Mingi can feel is his heart shattering, the pieces sinking into an abyss sailing over the length of his body.

She’s a liar. So is he.

“Mingi! WHO ARE YOU?” She shouts, lips quivering as she, pathetically, fights back the tears. He cannot speak, she’s grabbing his shoulders now, throwing questions at him, shaking them. Screaming at him, holding herself back from pounding her fists against his chest; she may just batter the air from his lungs. “You lied to me! You-you said you were, you said that—,” She stops, breath lodged in the crux of her throat. Song Mingi has said a lot of things. None of them have ever been true.

“You lied to me t—,”

“You’re Apollo.” She interjects, the pieces have fallen into place. The lies, the façade, the quick thinking. The baby, the apartment, his coordination. The late nights, the cuts and bruises, the exhaustion. The warning from her establishment of him, a spy, roaming the city terrorising the land with his altruism. Protecting the demons from her wrath.

Apollo is here.

Apollo is him.

Apollo is Song Mingi.

Apollo is my husband.

“You’re Apollo.” She repeats, her voice cracks, palm pressed against her mouth to hold back the pained sobs. Because she knows what they really wanted her to do to him. Because it’s finally registered for some reason, that of course, Apollo is Song Mingi and she is just a woman riddled with hurt.

"You’re Morana." Tears well in the corners of Mingi’s eyes, his chest tightening as he struggles to breathe. A hollow sorrow envelops him, his heart aches—a stinging pain that pulses through him with each passing second. Each second surpasses in anguish, his head throbs, heart palpitating; feeling as though the ground beneath his feet was slipping under him. His sadness swiftly morphs into something darker, more dangerous, as the anger intensifies—raw, uncontrollable. "You lied to me too." Mingi's voice trembles, laden with fury, yet there's an undercurrent of sorrow that seeps through. "You’re a threat. A danger." He hisses through gritted teeth.

“Oh, how rich of you to say that to me when you’ve got just as much blood on your hands.” A shaky breath escapes her lips, eyes glossing with tears. Moving her body away from him, she takes gentle steps away from the rooftops, leaving him stranded with Hades. He lets her, because Mingi already knows that from the moment she knew of his real persona, he had lost her anyway.

Her back collides against the wooden panels, she grits her teeth as Mingi holds an unwavering stare, her shoulders plastered to his hands. The dim light of the living room drapes over the side of his profile, his hard eyes penetrate into her own. Tackling his brute force, she pushes herself off from the wall, his neck strangled by her forearm. Falling to his knees, his fingers claw at her strength every wheeze like a beg for salvation. Reluctantly, he stops prying away from her; her heart skips a beat at his subservience. Instead, he raises three fingers, like her M.O. Her eyes well up with tears, again, the grip around his neck loosens. Mingi pants for air, his wife turning away from him as pearl tears slip down her cheek. “I can’t do it, I can’t hurt you like that. Not now that you’re you.”

“How didn’t I know? How did I just foolishly believe that you were my wife?” Whipping around, her eyes fulfil with a sense of fury.

“I am your wife, Mingi. I’m also the mother of your daughter. Before you, I am a member of Legion.”

“You were my wife and the step-mother of my daughter. You are first and foremost a member of Legion.” Stepmother. How is it possible that a word can hurt more than an open wound? 'First and foremost you are my wife' he had once proclaimed. Men are such liars. "I've thought about it. I want you gone. I will willingly let you take my life, but I won't live with an assassin. It is against everything I stand for." He squeezes his eyes shut, an odd tingling sensation filling his nose. His throat burns with dejection, heart consumed by such sorrow. His hand grips the arm of the sofa, in hopes he won't bow before her. All he wants to do is kneel under the jurisdiction of her love; his poor heart has been compromised by her.

"I thought you stood for me." Mrs Song whispers, curling her paling fingers into a tight fist.

“Leave.” Is all that he can say. Her vision blurs as she shuts the door to their shared bedroom, reaching for the suitcase above the wardrobe. When the night sighs, and she knows Mingi has collapsed on the sofa, Morana sinks to her knees as tears spill down her cheeks, tickling her jawline before they patter onto the floor. Painful wails permeate the air, pharynx wrought with suffocation as she can barely breathe under his despotism. But his judgement is neither tyrannical or unfair. Rather it is justified, and she had just grabbed the short end of the stick. 

The following morning is sombre, her suitcase and bag are left near the front door. With the key given to Stella, she's no longer required to stay in Hala, but there's a small cottage on the outskirts of a village that she's been allocated a temporary stay before her next mission.

"Amma, are we going on holiday? I still have school tomorrow." Mieun's doe eyes stare up at her as she's perched by the doorway, slipping on her shoes. Mingi stands just behind Mieun, resting a hand on her shoulder, uttering for her to do her homework. "If Amma's going on holiday I want to go too."

"Mimi, listen to your Appa, ok? Amma is just going away for a while, for work." Not a complete lie. Her gaze is firm on her daughter, refusing to look back at her husband.

"You'll be back?" Her voice is timid, as she begins to realise that her parents have not shared an interaction since the morning has begun. Before she can speak, Mingi has already denied and Mieun's eyes brim with tears. Turning away, the door is swung open, bag slung around her shoulder in an attempt to hurry before she reasons with Mingi to stay. They both know it's not possible, their morals are too different.

“Mama!” Mieun’s painful sobs fulfilled the atmosphere, her arms outstretched for her mother, pearly tears streaming down her little face. “Mama, come back!” The ropes tied to her heart snapped under her innocent wails, bags dropped at the door rushing back towards Mieun. Mingi steps forward, yet before he can blink his daughter’s little body is swept up in a safe set of arms.

“Just let me hold her, Mingi. One last time. Let me hold her, please.” Her daughter’s body rocked within her arms, little hushes ceasing her sobs followed by soft sniffles. “It’s ok, Mimi, Amma is here. I’m not going anywhere.” This false delusion, she prays, her daughter does not hate her for. Soon, she will have nothing but the mere thought of Mieun to soothe her. Then at one point, Mieun may not even remember her at all. That’s the thing about children, they are blindly devout to the pursuit of love — hearts so pure even her daughter doesn’t know her parents’ hands are drenched in blood.

“Mimi, Amma won’t be gone for long.”

“Promise?” A breath is hitched in her throat, followed by an overwhelming urge to erupt into a fit of terrorising sobs.

“One way or another, Mama will be back. Ok?” The tears are gently wiped away from Mieun’s face, her eyes flickering towards Mingi’s stoic demeanour. It hurts her. Did she mean absolutely nothing to him?

The autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves as Mieun stepped out of the ivy-clad institute, her plaid skirt swishing around her knees. The clocktower chimes as the hour strikes three, her obedient eyes scour the sea of parents awaiting to pick up their children. She knows it's her father who will be picking her up; affirmed by the recognition of his tall figure standing by the wrought-iron gate, a small smile on his lips. However, it is her mother she is always seeking, standing closer to the entrance of the school her black kitten heels firm into the cobbled pathway. With a small grin, Mieun runs to him, he meets her halfway. She never needed to meet her mother halfway, she's distinctly told him this on many occasions. Mingi reaches for her leather satchel, encapsulating her minute hand into his; before he can proceed forward he is stopped by a soft voice.

"Mingi." He turns, meeting Park Eunha, who is holding Kira's hand. There's an amalgamation of Eunha's emotions in her eyes: hurt, guilt, betrayal, sadness. She must have only learnt of her husband's demise now. It's interesting, to him, how a woman wrought with poise and sophistication is now so timid before him. "Uhm, I haven't seen your wife in a while, is she ok?" His heart stuttered in his chest, sinking below the cavity. Mingi does nothing but nod because the thought of her does nothing but render him silent. Before he can move away again, she stops him.

"I don't blame you, for Seonghwa. He had it coming. I was just hoping you'd let me know when I can see him again, or if there's anything I can do to discharge him, a sum-," Mingi pivots, furiously, on his heel yet his hate is shattered as soon as he is met by her innocent face.

"No amount of money in the world can compensate for his sins, Eunha. You'll be contacted when you can see him."

He travels through the skylines in the midst of the night, just like his wife used to, soul heavy with emotions that he attempts to bury each night Athena sends him on a mission. One after another, each dreary escapade, the sounds of bodies thudding on concrete does not bring him relief for every sigh that the earth takes with its pollutants gone.

"You're not the same Apollo." His superior retorts as he throws the folder onto the table. With a raised eyebrow, he dismisses her words, watching her carefully as her steely eyes reel in the report. "Your wife is Morana, isn't she?" Gulping, Mingi resists the urge to nod. For every time he is reminded of her, it hurts.

"Was." He interjects.

"Oh you got a divorce?" Profusely shaking his head, she scoffs, "So then she's still your wife then, isn't she? Tell me, is she pretty?" Briefly Mingi shuts his eyes close, as if he's reliving the days where he would wake up to her puffy face, her pouty lips and ruffled bed hair.

"She's my Aphrodite."

He stood tall on the edge of the rooftop, dark silhouette blending in with the shadows of the night. The cold breeze tugged at the collar of his black coat, but he didn’t flinch. His gaze, sharp never left the building across the street, where chaos was unfolding. The sounds of muffled shouts and the occasional crack of glass echoed through the air as a fight broke out on the upper floors. His breath misted in the night air, siren eyes scanning each movement, analysing every shift. He had seen this kind of thing a thousand times — the slow resolve of control, the way the violence spread like wildfire — but tonight was different. As the moonlight flickered behind the building, Apollo’s sharp eyes caught a glimpse of something in the fray. A flash of familiar movement — a fluidity in the chaos.

There, among the shadows of the fight, was a figure he knew all too well.

His wife.

Morana moved like a shadow, each strike landing with precision. Her movements were both theatrical and deadly, as though she was in complete control of the situation. His breath faltered as a sigh escaped, shifting his position as he leaped from one rooftop to another towards the fight. Towards her.

Yamuriko - a beautiful small town on the outskirts of Hala, near the mountains as its name would suggest. Legion's safehouses are usually located in rural, unnoticeable areas. In a cottage, just about two miles away from the centre, the esteemed assassin sits on her porch as a steaming cup of jasmine tea sits beside in a fancy porcelain cup, one lowly assassin's are not even entitled to have.

"You look pathetically bored." Humming, she looks up from where she was staring intently at the lush grass, into her peers' eyes. 'The Black Fox' stares down at her from where she is sat, a folder fixed between his fingers. "Missing your daughter?" He questions, settling beside her, his broad shoulders almost push her out of her seat. Shuffling down, she simply hums holding out her hand for the file.

"Yeah, I miss my daughter too." A quietude is held amongst them, at least 'The Black Fox' can go back to his daughter. Her husband won't take her back. "I miss my wife." Biting on the inside of her lip, she flicks through the file, ignoring his words.

Site: Oka, Hala

A trembling whisper, "I miss my husband, too."

Releasing a sigh wrought with exhaustion, she takes her seat on the limp torso—her head sinking beneath her shoulders. Eighteen in two minutes, thirty seconds. Maybe Stella is right, she's gone all soft and slow. Tugging off the hood, she rips away her gloves, stuffing them deep into her pockets before her eyes steal the hands on the clock, again. Her ears tune into the heavy footsteps of a figure dashing up the staircase. Right, left, right, left. It holds a certain weight that she has only heard in its less panicked state. "I never thought I'd see you here, Apollo." Her voice holds a slither of spite, she raises her head slightly as the enigmatic figure stands, plastered to the doorway. A shaky breath escapes from him, as he seals the clasp holding his dagger. "I just realised, I have ruined your job, again. " Morana's taunts disorientate him as he takes careful steps towards her, pushing his way through the room full of dead bodies. It's her, she's taking his missions. Killing all of his men, so mercilessly he was forced to believe that maybe the devil had really left hell. He remains silent, whether to provoke her or that her presence has really left him stunned; he will never know. It disgusts her, like excess skin and oily hair, like grime under nails and unclean spaces. She feels so repulsed by his ignorance of her, all this for him to say nothing and stare into her as if she is nothing but a transparent soul, eradicated from his life.

"It’s been six months and twenty-seven days since you left." He utters, his large hand moving to raise her chin—as she stands to her feet, his eyes are complete with grief.

"You counted the days."

"Do you want me to tell you the hours?" Her fingers curled into fists, her body trembling as she fights to keep the tears at bay.

He even counted the hours.

His palms gently cradled her face, a quiet warmth in his touch, his lips move in disorientation as if he is unable to commit to the words that are begging to be expressed. She laughs, it almost startles him yet he holds his ground with concerned eyes boring into her. The laughter becomes less sardonic, brewing into a melancholic kind wrought with immense agitation.

It’s no longer laughter.

It’s sobbing.

“I don’t know who’s worse, or if we’re just as bad as each other?” He remains as quiet as the night they both revel in, in a state of despair that for the first time he is the villain in this story. “Every moment I had spent with you, I felt like a wife and a mother. I believed I had a husband providing for me and a baby who needed me to keep her warm.” They’re words she has spent nights scribbling away in books until the words can no longer form the same sorrow that resides with her. Words she had so wished she had least spoken aloud to him, on the night he let her go.

“Instead. I got a man who deceived me and a child that still thinks I’m her mother. I don’t care that you hurt me, but Mieun? Is she even your baby? I could never forgive you." Tearing away from his grasp, the warmth of his touch dissipates leaving her separate—yet wholly yearning for his touch, every fibre of her being aches for him. To be held by him, to be loved by him, to be honoured and worshipped; why were these notions of the past?

“I—I adopted Mieun for the sole purpose of this mission. I just needed to get to Hades and you were both the key.” Scoffing, she averts her gaze outside of the window; Legion has always been two steps ahead of the Agency, has he not realised how useless Hades really is? Closing her eyes, her chest surges as it fills with the burning sensation of despair.

"What have you done with her now? Where is she?" That same authoritative tone, no longer withstanding care.

"She's still with me. I am not a tyrant, I would never send her back to that orphanage." He argues.

"Well, I wouldn't know Mingi because I don't really know you, do I? As far as I believed, I was wrong."

"Don't say that." His voice is weak and almost cracks under her brusque proclamation. “I’m struggling.” He confesses, they may have just been the two hardest words Apollo has ever proclaimed in his lifetime. His whole life he has lived, pushing away his emotions, trapping them in Pandora’s Box, as if were to be so vicious plague to horrify the earth. He never said anything when the Agency cut him down to the bone, he never said anything when Hades had betrayed him, he never said anything when she left. Anticipating his next response, she fears moving. It’s always been hard to elicit a response from Mingi, so staying still, giving him time and space is perhaps the best she can do in this reconciliation. “I’m struggling without you. I cannot breathe, I cannot sit or stand. Or breathe, or eat and drink.” He makes his way towards her, again, craving her touch like it’s oxygen, Mrs Song lets him because the truth is she’s been suffering without him, too.

"Just please come home and shout at me, scream at me, tell me how much you hate me. I let you back, just come home.” He begs. Mingi sinks to his knees before her, siren eyes welling up with tears, lips pouting as he almost screams in agitation. He was just supposed to be here for the mission, now here is wrought in a state of vulnerability— betraying his morals and beseeching for his wife.

How can you say that after much you've hurt me?

Her palm connects with his cheek, a jolt of pain rushes through him, sending a wave of electricity through his supple skin. “I hate you!” She howls through tears, the anguish in her voice terrorises him. Her fists grab his collar, sending an outbreak of beats that hurt even more than the last. The sight of his cheeks rushing red makes her cry more. “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” A sudden pause, and she sinks to her knees to meet his eyes; before another relentless influx of torture permeates her body, instigating her wails to plague the earth.

Falling to her knees, her head sinks into his chest in a frenzy of emotions, his palm presses against her back to steady her. Her body wracks with a profound anguish as he encases her frame within his hold. “Come back to me, please.” He rocks her back and forth, her cries cease under his benefaction.

“But—,”

“If there is a world in which I can hold you, love you and be with you eternally, then I want it to be this one.” He proclaims.

“And your morals you have sworn allegiance to?” She questions, his fingers move along the surface of her supple skin, wiping down the tears staining the front of it.

“Oh my Aphrodite, I have sworn my allegiance to you.” Scoffing, Morana buries her face into his chest, concealing her cries by baring her teeth. But Mingi has always made it so easy for her to be vulnerable around him. “Let me forget my morals tonight, let me take you home with me Mrs Song.”

“Tonight you forget your morals, tomorrow will they be there again?”

“Perhaps, but the heartache I feel in your absence is much worse.” There is no dilapidation of his essence as the words release from him, a catharsis is purged from the pits of her arrogant soul. May it be that they’re the light and the dark, or that their loyalty will soon again divide them. But Mingi knows this much is true: he will find his way to her. Shifting his gaze to her, he finds himself lost in the depth of her eyes.

“Your next mission, should you choose to accept it,” She begins, her voice a soft yet commanding whisper, “is to be my husband for all eternity. To never leave my side, to never lie to me, to love me until your heart stops beating. Tell me, Agent Apollo, do you accept?”

•••

All Rights Reserved © the-midnight-blooms

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

‘mieun’ meaning beautiful grace.

A/N: FINALLY! WAR IS OVER! I love spy x family so much, I remember watching s1 and thinking, which ateez member gives loid forger vibes, and my brain went: mingi. I don’t know if it’s because of the dilfism, but Mingi felt so perfect to me? as always, BIG THANK YOU, to @poartz-writes because she’s always my go-to when i need a cure for writer’s block.

Question: Any guesses on who ‘The Black Fox’ is? 👀👀

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

tag list: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho @devilzliaison

[hyalinemin]

[hyalinemin]

Oh my god artinys really do have one braincell because I drew hwa with the same clothing references a while ago without seeing this 🥹

deity hwa

[yungistiny]

rage mode

[ J. Yunho ]

╚═════════

summary: in which yunho’s roommate likes to test his patience

warning: pissed off yunho, brat reader, slight audophilia, wooyoung is a little perv, slight choking, spanking, unprotected sex

pairing: gamer yunho x afab reader

genre: smut

word count: 2.2k

part two

masterlist

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“Damn it, y/n, stop fucking killing me!”

Yunho’s voice sounded beyond annoyed, borderline completely pissed off. You could hear it in the way there was a slight growl undertone in his deep, tired voice. It was well past midnight, himself and his two roommates along with some of their friends had been playing this new online co op game for the last… 4…. 5 hours? Honestly, Yunho had lost track of the time.

“That’s what you get for getting me killed earlier.” Y/N replied back, her voice filled with amusement and dripping with pettiness. Yunho had half a mind to pause the game, march across the hall to her bedroom and unplug her pc. She had been nonstop killing him for the last hour or so and Yunho was starting to reach his breaking point.

“It’s not fucking funny, y/n! And it wasn’t my fault you and Wooyoung are using the same character.” Yunho snapped into his headset. He had even told his two roommates that choosing the same character to play as would be confusing for everyone and a bad idea. Did they listen? Of fucking course they didn’t. “Y/N, I swear to god!” He growled, avoiding just being shot once again.

“Swear to god,” Yunho could practically hear the smirk she had as y/n teased him, sniping his player with quick precision, a frustrated snarl echoing in her ears from her headset as Yunho was clearly pissed. “what would your mother say?”

“Could you two like… I don’t care, fuck and shut up already?” Jongho was tired of their back and forth bickering. He could practically feel the tension between the two and he was three blocks away in his own apartment.

Yunho and Y/N both shut up, their silence suddenly very loud and noticeable. “Well that shut them the fuck up.” Wooyoung was snickering, San and Jongho both joining him. Both his roommates probably thought Wooyoung was oblivious to their little tryst they had going on but their walls were thin and y/n was very vocal.

“It’s after 2:00 am, I promised Seonghwa I’d meet him for lunch tomorrow.” Y/N was lying straight through her teeth but the guys were none the wiser as she left the game. Yunho sighed in relief to not have her constantly up his ass, actually being able to try and explore the new game and have fun without getting killed every few minutes.

Yunho was so focused in the game now he didn’t see y/n open her bedroom door across the hall, he himself had left his bedroom door open. Y/N glanced down the hall towards Wooyoung’s, his door was shut and she could hear him yelling at Jongho over something in the game. Dropping to her knees, y/n smirked, biting her bottom lip as she crawled quietly across the carpeted floor into Yunho’s room.

She paused a second, taking in his big frame in sitting slightly hunched over in his gaming chair, completely focused on the game, the clicking of the keyboard and mouse loud. The only thing he had on clothing wise was a pair of baggy gray sweatpants. His headset sat atop his messy dyed dirty blonde hair.

Yunho couldn’t hear her movements over Wooyoung and Jongho now the ones arguing in the game through his headset, but he certainly felt her when she brushed against his leg, crawling under his desk. He looked down at her as the game was on the load screen, y/n peeking up at him now between his legs. “What are you doing?” He mouthed so the others wouldn’t hear over the headset.

Y/N only smirked at him. This was payback for not only getting her killed in the game but how he left her edged and on the brink of orgasm the day before. They had gotten into an argument in the living room, something about someone going into Yunho’s room and turning off his pc while he had a game paused.

An argument that eventually lead to Yunho having y/n bent over the couch, a hand gripping her hair, head pulled back as he was hitting it from behind, the lewd noises loud, echoing in the apartment along with y/n loud cries and moans mixed with Yunho’s filthy words.

“You do that shit on purpose, don’t you?” His hand came down hard on her ass causing y/n to jolt forward and giving Yunho the perfect opportunity to grip her waist and yank her back, dick thrusting all the way back inside her aching, edged cunt. “Fucking brat.”

His hand was tangled back in her hair, yanking her up, y/n back against his chest just as keys could be heard at the front door. Yunho had pulled out of her and darted to his room, trying not to trip over his own feet. Y/N had snatched her discarded clothes up and darted to her own room just before Wooyoung walked through the door.

Yunho clenched his jaw as y/n glided her hands up his legs, fingers grazing his bellybutton before dipping into the waistband of his pants and pulling them back just enough to be able to pull his hardening dick free.

His dick always betrayed him when it came to her. “This is what you get for leaving me to finish myself yesterday.” She wrapped her hand around him, working a steady rhythm up and down his length until Yunho had to bite his lip to keep from moaning, his dick now fully hard and aching to be buried inside her, mouth, pussy, he wasn’t picky.

“Dude, you good?” Jongho asked when a deep moan escaped Yunho, echoing in his friend’s ears through their headsets when y/n tongue started licking at his tip, hand still jerking him, thumb tracing a prominent vein that had Yunho almost whimpering.

“I…. I yeah… I just stubbed my toe under…. my desk.” It was a terrible lie and it wouldn’t be a good enough excuse to cover up the almost growl that left him when y/n removed her hand to bring his entire length into her mouth, his tip hitting the back of her throat and causing her to gag at the fullness and stretch.

“Ok, what the hell?” This time it was San who called him out. Yunho switched his movements from the mouse to the keyboard, using one hand to continue playing while reaching down to tangle his other hand into y/n hair, gripping it and gaining control, making her slow down the sudden messy, gagging, bob of her head on his dick. “Wooyoung, you just ran right into that fucking sniper!” Yunho ignored San, heart racing, that familiar tightness in his stomach growing.

How Yunho managed to play with one hand y/n had no idea but then again, he was annoyingly good at everything. She could feel he was close, his dick twitching against her tongue as he continued to move her head, fucking her mouth at a steady pace as he continued playing the game. He was biting his bottom lip so hard to keep from making anymore noise, it would be suspicious if he just muted his mic, his friends are nosy and would ask questions.

Suddenly, a loud “FUCK!” left Jongho when his player was killed, loud enough to muffle the deep moan that left Yunho as he came, y/n swallowing every last drop of his release, tears slightly forming at the crease of her eyes due to Yunho pushing her head down as far as he could get her, y/n nose pressed against pelvis.

Yunho released the grip he had on her, his hand moving to cover his mouth as his breathing came out in shallow pants. Y/N gasped for her own breath, wiping at her face before crawling up into Yunho’s lap. He had to mute his mic then. “Are you fucking serious right now? Wooyoung is literally down the hall, my door is open and…”

“Shut up.” Y/N rolled her eyes at him because she honestly just didn’t give a shit anymore. They’d been sneaking around for over two months now and she was tired. So what if their friends found out? The worst they’d do is tease them before finding something else to throw dumb jokes at. “Besides…” she smirked, reaching without Yunho seeing her to unmute his mic. “you’re already getting hard again.”

If Yunho would just look at his computer screen he’d notice the way his friends players were no longer moving. If he wasn’t so distracted by the taste of himself lingering on y/n tongue as she kissed him, he probably would of noticed how Wooyoung, San and Jongho had all grown dead silent through his headset.

“Wait…” Yunho pulled his headset off, carelessly placing it onto his desk, pausing his game. He’d tell the guys he had to use the bathroom or something, whatever. He’d make something up. “Take this off.” He was pulling at y/n shirt, helping her take it off, tossing it behind him somewhere on the floor in his room.

Of course she had no fucking bra on, Yunho dove in, arms wrapping around her, helping y/n to get some friction through her pajama shorts against his dick as he pulled one of her nipples into his mouth.

“No teasing, you did enough of that yesterday.” Y/N pulled at his hair, yanking his head back, Yunho’s lips so plump, face flushed, ears red. “Just fuck me.” Yunho was so lost in her, the mere thought of having his dick buried inside her that he completely forgot his door was open, still no idea that his mic was not on mute.

“Look at you” Yunho was smirking now, hands gripping her waist to hold her still. “so desperate for my dick you almost got us caught.”

Almost? Y/N refrained from smirking back at his cluelessness, instead putting on her best pleading face, lips pouting, moaning his name as she could feel him, hard, pressing against her aching cunt through the silky lilac fabric of her shorts. “Come on, please…” She barely ever begged but she was damn horny. Another reason why she liked to push his buttons, angry Yunho was a complete turn on for her.

Yunho let her go, nodding his head at her as y/n was quick to crawl off his lap and remove her shorts, him lifting his hips in his chair just enough to give space to shove his sweatpants on down his legs, kicking them under his desk. “Ride me.” Yunho’s voice dropped, so deep it had y/n clenching around nothing as he guided her back to straddling him.

Yunho gripped a hand against one of the little arms of his gaming chair to help steady them as y/n own hands pulled herself up using his shoulder for leverage, Yunho’s other hand reaching to help guide his dick into her, moans leaving them both as he filled her to the hilt. Both of Yunho’s hands went to grip at her hips, y/n own going to tug at his hair, the other around his throat.

“Why are we still listening?” San exclaimed over his headset. The lewd noises echoing in their ears from Yunho’s end made it very clear what was going on. “Because it’s fucking hot.” Wooyoung stated, practically whimpering towards the noises of his roommates.

“Wooyoung, you fucking freak.” Jongho teased him before clearing his throat as a rather loud moan escaped Yunho, y/n name on his lips. “Dude, go do something! They’re your roommates.” He could go and tell them to shut the fuck up. The sound of them together a little too hot for all three of them listening. They all had a boner.

“Fuck…. you always feel me up so…. good….” Y/N was a gasping, crying mess. Legs shaking, breathless. She could feel her orgasm ready to burst with every touch of Yunho’s dick hitting her g spot. Her stomach was in knots, eyes practically crossed as he held her arms behind her, using his knees as leverage to pound into her from where she straddled him in his gaming chair.

Yunho was close too, thrusting sloppy and fast, kissing at any part of her skin he could reach from his position. “So fucking good….. so fucking good for me…” he was mumbling, moaning, whining against her throat.

“Mine.” He pulled back, smirking, pupils blown. “My brat.” Two more deep thrusts and y/n was coming with his name a scream ringing from her lips. Four more thrusts and Yunho was coming, filling her so fucking full his legs shook.

They both yelled, Yunho groaning when he broke the fall as their movements caused the chair to rock off balance, plummeting them both to the floor. Yunho’s arms were wrapped tightly around y/n, dick sliding out of her as she slipped up his body. Both of them were panting, breathless, both from post orgasm and the fall.

“Holy shit…” Wooyoung was standing in the doorway, gaze dark as he had been watching them from Yunho’s open bedroom door. It’s not like he meant to, he was gonna knock on Yunho’s door but then… well… he couldn’t fucking look away. His roommates were so fucking hot together. He knew they had to of noticed the prominent hard bulge in his loose black pajama pants.

“You guys want a third?”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

note: am I putting together a gamer yunho full story? well yes!

tag list: @autieofthevalley @hannahlilibet411 @lovinjjong @wisejudgedragonhairdo @soupbinlily @georgeanabanana @yunyuniverse @minkioswoo @ateezswonderland @thuyting @hum4n-e4ter @atinyyuyu @zerefdragn33l

[kysstar]

SALT ON YOUR CROWN | CHAPTER ONE : : PLAN GONE SOUTH

pairing : : pirate!kim hongjoong x princess!reader

series synopsis : : a pirate crew kidnaps the wrong girl—princess instead of merchant’s daughter. she offers gold for hiding, not ransom. captain hongjoong agrees, reluctantly. she’s fire on his ship, danger to his rules. one month aboard may ruin them both.

genre : : pirate au, enemies to lovers, slow burn, captor x captive (kinda?)

chapter warnings : : mentions of death, marriage talk, a little bit of violence

word count : : 3.8k

[series masterlist]

—“Merchant’s daughter,” Hongjoong said, kicking his boots up on the table, eyes flicking between the crew. “In and out. No blood, no mess, no drama.”

“Boring,” Wooyoung drawled, already peeling an orange he’d stolen off some dock vendor. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Fun doesn’t pay,” Seonghwa replied smoothly from where he leaned against the map wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “Gold does.”

Yunho snorted. “I’ll take boring if it means a warm meal and dry socks for a week.”

The ship creaked beneath them, anchored just far enough off the coast to stay unnoticed. Moonlight cut across the war table, highlighting inked maps, a list of docking schedules, and a crude sketch of the merchant’s estate. The target: Hyeon Jisoo, daughter of the East Trade Baron. Young, pampered, used to saying yes and hearing nothing but yes in return.

Easy snatch. Quiet ransom. No one dies.

“We hit the estate during the shift change. Guards rotate at midnight,” Yeosang said, tapping a finger on the paper. His tone was flat, focused. “North entrance is least guarded. Servants come and go there. We wear house colors, sneak in quiet.”

“And sneak out quieter,” Mingi added, chewing the end of a pencil. “You sure the girl’s worth it?”

“She’s worth a vault of it,” Jongho replied, arms folded, steady as ever. “Her father’s been flaunting coin for years. Time someone took a slice.”

Hongjoong nodded. “We don’t need the whole vault. Just a taste. We hold her for a week, send the note, get paid. Then we drop her off at some quiet beach with her fancy shoes and let her cry into silk.”

The crew chuckled. Except Seonghwa, who just gave Hongjoong a look. “You sure this won’t cause waves?”

“We don’t need to cause waves, Hwa. We need to disappear before the tide turns.”

A beat of silence, and then Hongjoong leaned forward, steepling his fingers.

“Wooyoung, Yeosang, San—you’re in.”

San perked up immediately. “Finally.”

“Why me?” Yeosang asked, not protesting, just curious.

“You’re quiet. You don’t get cocky. You think.”

“What about me?” Wooyoung grinned, teeth flashing.

“You never think, but people like your face.” Hongjoong smirked. “You’ll charm the guards, flash a coin, ask for directions to the wine cellar. Get their attention somewhere else.”

“And San?”

“Muscle,” Hongjoong said simply. “And backup when charm fails.”

San beamed like he’d just been knighted. Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

“You’ve got until nightfall to prep. Masks, clothes, weapons—discreet ones,” Seonghwa added, side-eyeing Mingi who already looked too excited.

Hongjoong stood. “Remember: we want the merchant’s daughter. Not a scene, not a body count.”

“Easy job,” San repeated.

Hongjoong didn’t smile. “There’s no such thing.”

—"You can't be serious."

Your voice cuts through the chamber like a blade. The silence that follows is heavy, strained. Across the room, your mother’s expression is tight, and your father doesn’t even look at you—he simply stares at the glass of wine in his hand as though it might answer for him.

But you’re already walking forward, heat in your chest, voice rising. “Prince Chanwoo? You expect me to marry him?”

“He is a respected ruler,” your mother says sharply, lips thinning. “And this marriage secures peace.”

“Peace built on fear,” you shoot back. “You know what happened to his last two wives—queens, not common girls. They couldn’t bear him sons and ended up hanging from the palace walls.”

“Rumors,” your father says finally. “You’d do well not to repeat them.”

“They’re not rumors.” You take a step closer, forcing him to meet your gaze. “They're warnings.”

"Enough," your mother snaps. "You will not raise your voice to your father. You will do your duty."

“Duty?” you echo, bitterness curling around the word. “Is that what you call throwing me to a man who smiles like a snake and kills his wives in secret?”

“He won’t hurt you,” your father says, though he sounds tired rather than convinced. “You are different. You are royal.”

“So were they,” you say coldly.

“I won't do it.” The finality in your voice cracks through the air like thunder. “I won’t marry him.”

“You will,” your father says, rising to his feet now, towering with the weight of the crown behind him. “You will marry him and protect this kingdom.”

“I would rather be stolen by pirates,” you snap. “At least they don’t hide their knives behind crowns.”

“Enough!” Your mother slams her hand on the table, trembling with fury. “You are acting like a child—”

“You are treating me like property!”

That’s when you hear him—your brother’s voice, sharp and steady as ever. “She’s right.”

Taeyang steps into the hall, standing beside you with his chin high and his eyes locked on your parents. “She’s not a bargaining chip. And Chanwoo—he’s dangerous. We all know it.”

“Taeyang, stay out of this,” your father warns.

“I won’t,” he says, and there’s steel beneath his calm. “If she dies in that castle, it’ll be your names they chant in the streets.”

Your father glares. “She is a princess. She will marry where we decide.”

You stare at him, your blood turning to ice. “No. You may hold the crown—but you don’t own me.”

Then you turn and walk away. The corridor is quiet compared to the storm you just left behind. You don’t stop until you reach your chambers, heart pounding. Two maids rush forward, startled, but you say nothing, only sit at the vanity, fists clenched in your lap.

Moments later, Taeyang steps in. “You shouldn’t have said that,” he says, but his voice is soft.

“I meant every word.” Your voice cracks. The maids begin brushing your hair in silence, knowing better than to interrupt. “They’re sending me to die, brother.”

He sighs and crouches beside you, watching your reflection in the mirror. “I’ll talk to them again. There has to be a way out.”

“There isn’t,” you say quietly. “Father’s made up his mind. You know how he is.”

Taeyang presses his lips into a line. He does know.

“I just need to get out,” you murmur. “Clear my head. Jisoo’s hosting a small gathering. Nothing grand. I’ll go there.”

He nods. “You should. But take guards.”

You smile weakly. “Always the responsible one.”

Taeyang chuckles and ruffles your hair, undoing the maid’s hard work. She huffs under her breath, but you laugh.

“You’re the only reason I haven’t lost my mind,” you tell him.

“Someone has to make sure you don’t burn down the palace.”

—Jisoo greets you with a grin the second you step into the courtyard. The space is warm with low lantern light, scattered laughter drifting between stone columns and silk curtains. A few familiar faces linger near the fountain, sipping wine and speaking in hushed tones.

“You made it,” she says, linking her arm through yours without waiting. “I was beginning to think your parents had locked you in the west tower.”

“They nearly did,” you mutter, earning a snort from her.

You walk slowly beside her, the fabric of your gown brushing against the tiled floor. It’s a deep wine-red, cinched at the waist. Your hair is twisted up, pinned with pearls, and the only pieces of jewelry you're wearing are a few rings and a ruby necklace.

Jisoo pulls you toward a small table tucked beneath a tree blooming with night jasmine. “Sit. Eat something. Complain. I’m here for all of it.”

—The party hummed with low music and soft conversation, the kind that filled spaces with comfort and masked intentions. No one noticed the three new arrivals—why would they? They looked the part. Rich silks, clean boots, smiles just wide enough to be trusted. They moved through the crowd like shadows dipped in gold.

Wooyoung was already flirting with a girl by the fountain, wine glass in hand, his coat perfectly tailored, his grin sharper than any blade he carried.

“I give it five minutes before someone offers him a marriage proposal,” Yeosang muttered under his breath, leaning against a column, eyes scanning every window, every guard, every possible exit.

San adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, the only one of the three who actually looked uncomfortable in noblewear. He tugged at the collar, eyes flicking to the second floor balcony.

“She’s supposed to be up there. Third door on the left. Servants say she doesn’t like parties. Stays out of sight.”

“Relatable,” Yeosang said.

San snorted. “Let’s move before someone recognizes you from a wanted poster.”

They slipped away from the light, Wooyoung breaking off with a wink and a whispered promise he had no intention of keeping. They met near the staircase.

“North wing,” Yeosang murmured. “Rooms upstairs. One of them has to be hers.”

“She’s not out here,” San added. “I’ve checked twice.”

“Then she’s inside,” Wooyoung said. “Let’s move before some duke starts trying to make small talk again.”

They split off again, slipping into the villa like they belonged. Servants didn’t stop them. Nobles glanced and looked away. No one questioned three handsome men in fine clothing.

—The window is open. You’re leaning against the frame, one hand curled around the stem of a half-empty wine glass, the other clutching a small tin of sweets you swiped from the kitchens when no one was looking. The air is easier to breathe out here—cool night breeze brushing your skin, jasmine blooming somewhere below. Inside, the party still hums, low and dull, like voices through thick velvet.

Jisoo had gone to fetch something—probably more wine, or maybe the pearl hair comb she’d been gushing about earlier. You told her you’d wait. You weren’t expecting her to take this long.

You take a slow sip, eyes drifting toward the stars, when something shifts behind you.

It’s small. A breath, maybe. A whisper of movement. But it pulls every nerve in your body taut.

You turn—and that’s the last thing you manage to do.

There’s a blur of movement and a sharp crack of air. Pain blossoms behind your eyes, sudden and white-hot, and the world spins. You don’t even have time to scream.

Yeosang lunges forward just in time to catch you before your head hits the floor. His arms close around your waist, steadying the dead weight of your body with a grunt as he eases you down gently.

“Shit,” he mutters, checking your pulse, brushing your hair away from your face. You’re breathing—shallow and even—but your brow is already furrowed like you’re dreaming something terrible.

“She moved,” San says, still braced like he’s expecting a second wave. “Could’ve called for help.”

“You didn’t have to hit her that hard,” Wooyoung snaps, pulling a thick cloak from his pack and kneeling beside the two of them. “She’s half your size. Are you trying to kill the ransom?”

“She’ll wake up,” San mutters, avoiding Wooyoung’s glare.

“That’s not the point—”

“Enough,” Yeosang says quietly. He’s still watching your face, frowning slightly. “Are you sure this is the girl?”

Wooyoung shrugs, already pulling the cloak over your dress to hide the deep crimson silk. “Matches the description. Right place, right time. Rich, young, pretty.”

Yeosang doesn’t look convinced. His eyes flick down to the details—the way your hair’s been pinned, the rings on your fingers, the kind of fabric that shimmers when it moves. It doesn’t scream ‘merchant’s daughter.’ It screams something else. Something heavier. Costlier.

“She’s dressed too fine,” he says, low.

“It’s a party,” Wooyoung replies, tying the cloak. “Baron’s daughter wants to peacock, so she does. Doesn’t change the job.”

Yeosang hesitates, then nods slowly. “Let’s just move before anyone notices she’s missing.”

San’s already at the door, checking the hallway. “Clear.”

“Good. Grab her,” Wooyoung says, rising to his feet. “And this time, maybe don’t knock anyone else unconscious unless they swing first.”

Yeosang scoops you up, careful but fast, adjusting his grip so your head rests against his shoulder. You don’t stir. Just a soft, pained sound, barely audible.

They disappear into the night without another word.

—Below deck, the room was dim and swaying with the gentle lull of the sea. Lanterns swung from beams overhead, casting low golden arcs across the ship’s worn interior. The air was thick with salt, wood, and the faint trace of dried blood that clung no matter how often they scrubbed.

You were still unconscious—tied to a chair with thick rope, wrists bound, head slumped slightly to the side. Your cloak had fallen open during the rush, revealing a flash of silk beneath. The only sound from you was the slow, steady rhythm of breathing.

The crew gathered in a loose half-circle around you, talking low among themselves.

“She went down faster than I thought,” San said, arms crossed. “Didn’t even make a sound.”

Wooyoung leaned against a crate, clearly pleased with himself. “I told you she was the one. Clean job, no fuss.”

Mingi crouched beside the chair, eyeing you curiously. “Looks... a little different than I expected.”

“Maybe she’s just dressed nice for the party,” Jongho offered.

“Merchant’s kids always look expensive,” Yunho muttered, but there was a faint line between his brows now. He wasn’t entirely convinced.

Footsteps echoed from above—the unmistakable sound of boots against the stairs.

Seonghwa descended first, cool and composed as always. Behind him came Hongjoong, coat swinging behind him, hair wind-tossed from the deck. He looked tired, but alert. Captain mode.

“Let’s see the prize, then,” Seonghwa said, stepping into the lantern light.

Wooyoung straightened up. “Got her clean,” he said with a grin. “Didn’t even have to chase her.”

Seonghwa gave a short nod, eyes flicking over your form, scanning for any signs of resistance or damage.

Hongjoong approached slowly, gaze narrowing. “Nice work,” he said absently, a smirk curling the edge of his mouth. “Maybe you aren’t as useless as you look, Woo.”

Then he crouched down in front of you. The smirk faded.

His eyes locked on the necklace around your neck—a thin, delicate chain of gold, holding a ruby the size of a tear. His hand moved before he spoke, fingers brushing the pendant gently, almost thoughtfully. He held it for a beat, then let it go, and reached up instead to tilt your chin toward him.

Your head lolled slightly. The light caught your face full on now—cheekbones, long lashes, the faintest frown still resting in your unconscious expression.

San stepped forward slightly. “Captain? Something wrong?”

Hongjoong didn’t answer right away. He just stared at your face for a long, heavy moment. Then, slowly, he stood.

His sigh was sharp, tired, edged with frustration. His voice, though, was calm. Too calm.

“What necklace,” he said, “is she wearing?”

Seonghwa stepped in and bent down, lifting the ruby gently with two fingers. His breath hitched. “Ruby,” he said under his breath.

The air shifted. Wooyoung glanced at Yeosang, eyes widening.

“Ruby,” Hongjoong echoed, with a dry chuckle. He ran a hand through his hair and turned toward the wall. “And who wears rubies?”

The silence stretched. Jongho, voice quieter than usual, answered. “The royal family.”

There was a pause—half a heartbeat—and then Hongjoong slammed a vase off the nearby shelf. It shattered against the wood with a crack that echoed through the whole hull, sending pieces scattering across the floor.

“You three idiots,” Hongjoong seethed, not yelling, just loud enough to cut. “You kidnapped a member of the royal family!”

No one spoke. They all knew better.

There were times on this ship when you joked, when you laughed at your captain’s strange moods, when you nudged at the line for fun. This wasn’t one of them.

This was where you zipped your mouth and hoped the storm passed.

Hongjoong’s boots hit the wooden floor hard as he stomped up the steps, the tension in his shoulders visible even from behind. Seonghwa followed a pace behind, hands folded neatly behind his back, expression unreadable. One by one, the rest of the crew moved after them, heads lowered, glances thrown, but no one speaking just yet.

They spilled out onto the main deck where the moon hung fat over the sea, and the wind tugged at their coats and hair like the ocean itself was eavesdropping.

Wooyoung was the first to speak, tentatively. “Couldn’t we just ask for ransom?” he said, voice lighter than it should’ve been. “She’s a princess. They’ll pay more than we could ever dream of.”

Seonghwa scoffed, loud and short. “They wouldn’t send gold, Wooyoung. They’d send ships. And soldiers. And cannons with our names carved into the damn balls.”

“She’s not just a royal,” Yeosang muttered, glancing out at the dark horizon. “She’s the kind of royal they hang people for touching. All eight of us, strung up before we make landfall.”

“So we dump her,” Mingi said, rubbing a hand over his face. “Right now. Overboard. Cut our losses, vanish before the tide turns.”

“And when they find her body floating?” Jongho asked, frowning. “You think they’ll just shrug and say ‘oh well’?”

“I say we drop her back where we got her,” Jongho added, voice low. “Slip her back into the courtyard and pretend we never saw her.”

“We knocked her out and dragged her across a harbor,” San cut in. “You think no one noticed the princess is missing by now? Going back would be suicide.”

The group fell into silence. Hongjoong stood near the helm, staring into the night like it might offer him something he could work with. A way out. But all it gave him was the sound of ropes snapping against sails and his own rising pulse.

He hated royals. Hated everything about them. Their smug faces, their soft hands, their twisted power disguised as charm. And now one of them was tied to a chair on his ship.

His lips curled back in frustration. And then—noise. Muffled at first, then louder. A scuff. A thud. The creak of ropes moving when they shouldn’t be, from below deck.

Hongjoong groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Great,” he muttered. “Our princess is awake.”

He didn’t turn around. Just waved a hand lazily over his shoulder. “Get her. Before she breaks something.”

Yunho and Mingi immediately moved, boots thudding as they headed down the steps and into the dim lower deck.

They reached the room where they left you. The chair was empty, only thing on it were ropes and the cloak.

“Mingi—” Yunho started.

But Mingi had already turned—just in time to catch the heel of your foot directly to his face. He staggered back with a grunt, blood blooming from his nose.

You bolted through the narrow corridor, gown bunched in your fists, heels clacking like gunshots against the floorboards. The ship was a maze of doors and passageways, and you had no idea where you were or where the exit was—but forward was better than trapped.

Your breath came in sharp bursts, the ache in your head dulling with every rush of adrenaline. Panic clawed at your throat, but you pushed it down. Run now. Breathe later.

One second you were turning a corner, and the next you were being yanked back into a chest, a cold ring of metal pressing hard against your temple. Your body froze instantly.

“Make a move, princess,” a voice hissed against your ear. Low. Dangerous. Calm in the way that promised nothing good. “And, I’ll blow your brains out.”

Hongjoong’s arm stayed locked across your ribs, anchoring you against him with unshakable grip. The cold kiss of the gun never left your temple. Not even when he raised his voice, directing it toward the deck where his crew had gathered like guilty schoolboys caught in a mistake no one dared name yet.

“Because someone had their heads up their asses,” Hongjoong said, voice steady but biting, “we kidnapped the wrong girl.”

No one moved. Not a single shift of boot or breath.

“I don’t want a stuck-up royal bleeding on my ship,” he continued, tone razor-sharp. “So we’re going to sail close to shore, drop her off at her golden palace, and pretend this never happened. She won’t say a word. Right, princess?”

Your breath caught. Your mouth parted. He wasn’t bluffing. He didn’t even glance at you when he said it—he’d already decided.

The idea of returning tightened something in your throat. The palace gates flashing before your eyes. Your mother’s pinched look. Your father’s barely-concealed disgust. The stiff silence they would demand while attendants wiped blood from your brow and powdered the bruises under your eyes.

And then the ceremony. The binding. Prince Chanwoo.

You saw his face in your mind, that soft practiced smile that never reached his eyes, that always left your skin cold. You saw the last queens, portraits now—painted high and pale, hidden in shadowed corners of the palace where no one spoke their names.

No.

Your body twisted suddenly in Hongjoong’s grip. “You can’t send me back.”

That made him look at you. His eyes were dark, unreadable. “What did you say?”

“Don’t send me back,” you said again, louder this time. “Keep me here. I’ll pay you. Whatever you want—just name your price.”

He shoved you then—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to turn you—pinning you against the gunwale. The sea roared below, black and endless. You looked down and your breath hitched. One wrong move and you’d be part of it.

“What game are you playing?” he growled.

You lifted your chin. “I’ll pay anything. Just let me stay on this ship. Keep me away from the kingdom.”

There was a beat of silence, long and heavy. Then, he tilted his head, lips curling with dry amusement. “And why would a princess want to stay with a bunch of pirates?”

You didn’t answer. You just looked at him. Neither of you moved. Somewhere above, the crew waited, pretending they weren’t listening. The ship creaked, low and slow. Every second felt like it dragged along the edge of a blade.

Finally, Hongjoong pulled back. He stepped away from you in one smooth, practiced motion. But his eyes never left your face.

You reached for your hand, pulling off the ring you’d worn since you were sixteen. Thick-banded gold, three flawless diamonds, wrapped in a loop of white-gold filigree. A gift from the Queen Mother. Worth more than most small ships.

You held it out. Hongjoong went to take it—but you pulled it back an inch.

“This,” you said clearly, “is the price. For not telling anyone who I am. For letting me stay.”

The air shifted. Again. The crew watched, quiet and stunned. The fire behind Hongjoong's eyes flared again. A long pause. His hand curled into a fist.

Then he closed his eyes. “Fine,” The word landed like a stone.

You placed the ring in his palm. He turned it in his fingers, inspecting it with a slow, careful look, like it might burn him. Then that familiar twist of his mouth returned, cynical and sharp. He gave you a shallow, sarcastic bow.

“Welcome aboard, princess.”

© kysstar

taglists : : @lcvejjoong @cheolright @yeon103 @m00njinnie @sheadoreswalls @asweetblueberry2 @ateezswonderland @chanscappuccino @mis4marz @desi2go @torkorpse @jayyourbabe @napipope-ta @boredlol914 @itsmyterriblewonderfullife @peachyyunhoe @lover-ofallthingspretty @monsta-x-jagi @d3kstar @tunafishyfishylike @mountiiny @zzenkha

[captain-joongz]

Deserve you

Pairing: brother-in-law!Seonghwa x f!reader

Genre: smut, darker themes, it's a little angsty

Summary: Marrying into the Park family was already a curse in on itself, but the cherry on top comes when on your wedding night the clock strucks midnight and there's the wrong brother knocking on your honeymoon suite door. But being a mindless pawn in his game of revenge might not be the worst when he buys it out with pleasure beyond your comprehension.

Word count: 18.5k words

Warnings: unhealthy family dynamics, arranged/forced marriage, infidelity, Hwa is mean and manipulative, themes of revenge and resentment, humiliation and praise, very rough handling and manhandling, spanking, rough sex, blink and you might miss it choking, oral (f. rec.), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, pussy drunk hwa, unprotected sex, doggy, creampie, some breeding kink (would it even be my fic if there wasn't lol), squirting, biting and marking (another one of my staples), a tiny bit of body worship

A/N: it's only going to be 13k i said *insert clown emoji here* enjoy cause good half of this is pure porn lol, i wrote the smut scenes at like 3 am while i was ovulating and therefore i legally cannot be held responsible for anything inside. please do enjoy!! if you wanna, leave comments and reblog, i always love to see what you guys have to say! i recommend listening to lurk by the neighbourhood, that's what i was listening to while writing this

Annoyed, I looked over the decorated hall to where my groom was amusing himself with a bunch of his goons. Their boorish laughs carried through the five-star hotel’s restaurant and could be heard over the hum of conversation from all four corners of the spacious room. I watched, completely unimpressed, as they took another shot together, every other one holding a half empty bottle of some kind of liquor in their hands. Rum, whiskey, vodka, all the colours of the rainbow.

My attention was pulled away by yet another very uncaring, but still unnecessarily cordial congratulatory small-talk from some relative who I’ve either never met before, or it has been so long their face blended into all the other hundreds of people who claimed blood-relation to our family.

While pretending to listen to their sugary fake speech and distractedly shaking their hands, my eyes flitted over to the close family table. I couldn’t help the trace of cold rage and hostility that crept into my gaze as it landed on my father, who leisurely sat at the table pushing around some greens on his plate while holding an amicable conversation with Mr. Park, my so very enchanting and charming father-in-law. My mother sat expressionlessly next to him, ever the picture of a perfect wife, here or there entertaining some pointless chit-chat from Mrs. Park.

With disgust I watched these four interact with each other, the realisation that this is where I was headed as well slowly sinking in and making me sick to my stomach. I excused myself from the circle of insincere inquisitors and went to sit down at the head table, pretending to eat to gather my strength.

When four months ago it was announced to me that I would be marrying into the Park family, a shocked disbelief quickly melted into an absolute rage. Even knowing that we were a very high-profile family, generations upon generations of wealth and a steady successful conglomerate of companies keeping us near the very top of the food chain of the upper class, it would have never crossed my mind my father would actually sell me off like a milk cow.

Yes, arranged marriage was still very much a thing between these families, profit and merging of riches far more important than such a silly little thing like love, but I always made it clear to my father I didn’t agree with such practice, and I would like to choose my husband myself. There was an unspoken agreement between us that he would leave me free reign and I would decide between the sons of the families that were on our level and suitable for marriage.

And Parks were nowhere near my radar. Although there were two sons in the family, only one was eligible for marriage and he would be the sole heir of most of their father’s empire. That made him a favourite in my father’s eyes, but all the women around these circles knew to give him a wide berth. Notoriously known for his unpleasant character, spoiled behaviour and stupidness, no self-respecting woman would ever touch him with a two-foot pole.

And now I was married to him.

Of course I opposed the marriage. I cried and begged and raged, I bargained and threatened, but nothing swayed my father. He had already made a good deal and now all he had to do was threaten me that if I didn’t listen, he’d make sure I was cut off not only from the family, the family wealth, but also every respectable company in the city. No matter how many times I told him ‘anyone but the Park’, he’d never listen. Papers were signed, deal was made. I was sold. All that was left was coming to terms with the situation.

The Parks, while they kept their respectable front, were a family that rose to the level of the likes of my father very rapidly and somewhat recently. It was an open secret that most of their business happened in the illegal little dark corners hidden behind a few presentable companies, but what mattered the most was their money and influence. Even though there were a few skeletons in their closet.

Like the one that suddenly made eye contact with me from the close relatives table while I was pretending to enjoy the worst day of my life.

The eldest son of the Park family, Park Seonghwa.

Mr. Park, much like his younger son Yujun, also known as my amazing husband, was known for his unlikable character and somewhat unscrupulous ways and manners. Or lack-there-of. Before even officially meeting him at some boring dinner, I had already heard the mountains upon mountains of rumours about his womanising and misogynistic ways.

Therefore it wasn’t a great surprise when just five years ago a boy showed up on his doorstep, determined to claim a corner of his ever so elusive father’s paradise. Seonghwa was older than Yujun, but due to him being a bastard of a poor maid that once upon time was harassed by the master of the house into giving into him, even though he managed to weasel his way into Mr. Park’s graces he still wasn’t considered a good face of the empire, and so Yujun remained the main heir, with his older half-brother as his glorified henchman.

Back then, even though I wasn’t 18 yet, I was also privy to all the drama that went down with Seonghwa’s sudden appearance. Perhaps eager to please his father and buy his approval, he managed to beg a broken-down old hotel out of him and set to his path of a lonely businessman always chasing some old man’s praise.

That hotel? The same one we were sitting in today. Seonghwa proved to be a formidable force in the business sphere and managed to bring this place from the bottom of the barrel and turn it into one of the best establishments in the whole country. He has since bought a several restaurants and another hotel, skyrocketing into those same circles that looked down upon him still. Including his family. Especially since everyone knew Yujun was a useless fool that would no doubt tank his father’s business the moment he got his hands on it, which made Parks the laughingstock of the rich and the bored.

During the four months I spent tagging along with our mothers and a wedding planner, trying to put together a last-minute grandiose event for half the city, I saw a lot of him. He always hung around the Park residence or the various lounges we chose to sit and chat in (which I later realised was because he owned them). When he graciously offered to host the banquet in his hotel, I was grateful to him but held no other regard to his actions.

But there seemed to be a strange connection between us. Maybe it was that I saw the same resentment reflected in his eyes when he looked at his own father, or maybe because he seemed to be the only other self-aware person here. We never spoke much, but sometimes we would catch each other’s eyes and see the same emotion in them.

In present time, I finally managed to tear my gaze away from his intense one, seemingly trying to burn through me with a single glance. In truth, I was a bit unsettled by him. Not matter how human he tried to appear, there seemed to be a dark aura around him and sometimes this strange feeling possessed me, as if I was on the cusp of getting devoured by a dangerous beast. His eyes, while part compassionate, also held this underlying viciousness, like they were trying to bait me into trusting them. And I didn’t. The more the wedding approached, the more I saw some kind of depraved excitement in them, only heightening this unsettlement that dwelled in my bones every time I came across him.

So thus I pissed away the evening. I tried to dodge as many guests as possible, keeping the conversation short and sweet, always finding an excuse why I had to move on, while giving a wide berth to the family table lest I get entangled in whatever was going on there and steadily growing more and more irritated by my new husband’s behaviour. He was nearing a dangerous level of intoxication and we still had at least two or three hours of entertaining everyone present in front of us. Well, at least I did. Yujun seemed to be quite happy wreaking havoc with his buddies and leaving me to do all the work. That is most definitely going to be a staple of our marriage.

I sighed and reached for a fresh flute of champagne. I didn’t even like champagne, but this day was driving me fucking insane.

“Darling,” my mother’s voice startled me enough to lightly choke on the drink and attempt to hide the flute like I was a naughty schoolkid sneaking snacks, “it is getting quite late. You might want to talk with your husband about retreating for your wedding night soon.” I looked at her, sizing up her perfectly schooled elegant face, her slender frame draped in expensive designer clothes and sighed again.

“It’s only half past eight,” I argued back petulantly, “we still have time till around eleven.” No matter what, I just wanted to avoid talking to Yujun, especially when he was this wasted and surrounded by similar idiots. My mother’s expression spoke of quiet reprimand. She only looked at me like that when she wanted to tell me I should know better.

“Most people are going to start leaving around ten, you know that,” she scolded me lightly and picked an invisible piece of dirt off of her sleeve, not even directing her full attention to me, “Stop stalling and go talk to your husband.” With that she was done, already turning and walking away before I could even open my mouth.

I pursed my mouth to keep the expletives from falling all out loud enough to embarrass her for 10 years in advance. Just aimlessly standing around, I threw back the rest of the champagne in the flute, chugging it in two big gulps, before slamming it down on the table perhaps a little too hard and startling a poor waiter just trying to clean up the buffet table. Steeling myself, I looked determined back into the direction of the rowdy table, but my feet stayed stubbornly glued to the ground.

“I can go talk to him, if you want,” the mellow voice came from my left and this time it startled me enough to jump. His big dark eyes crinkled in amusement, lips curling gently in a pleased smile. Park Seonghwa annoyingly looked absolutely stunning in his fitted three-piece suit and long dark hair carefully swept in curls out of his face, a tiny half bun sitting at the back of his head.

I regarded him coldly, trying to keep my distance from a man that felt too dangerous to be this close to. I didn’t even realise he had moved to the table, had no idea how long he has been standing there watching me. Even now, he patiently waited for my answer with his eyes eagerly taking me in, causing goosebumps to erupt on my naked arms.

“I’m not sure how I feel about you discussing my wedding night with your brother,” I fired back when my brain finally jumped back online, and I no longer just stared at the tall slim man and his deceptive gentleness.

He smiled lightly, really it was just a quirk of one corner of his mouth, and shifted a little closer.

“I’ll just tell him fun’s over in an hour and a half,” Seonghwa assured me in a manner that was maybe supposed to be calming, but only made the dark pools of his eyes even deeper. I didn’t step back, even when my body was begging me to put more distance between us, and stood my ground.

“I’m not sure the fun will be over for him no matter what you say,” I sighed and threw one more angry stare towards the drunkards, “He’s already too drunk to even get home and we still have more than an hour to go.” Seonghwa sidestepped and turned, and we stood there side by side, just watching the madness unfold.

“There’s a honeymoon suite prepared for you in the hotel,” the tall man supplied dryly, “all you have to do is get him into the elevator.” I hummed but couldn’t tear my eyes away from the embarrassing displays of drunkenness that were beginning to scare away nearby tables, the guests side-eyeing the young men and moving to leave while throwing disgusted glances around, more often than not sending them towards me as well. As if I wanted a husband like that, old lady.

Suddenly there was an arm gently coiled around my shoulders. Before I could react, Seonghwa squeezed gently twice and then moved towards them with a cheeky wink.

“I’ll tell him, don’t worry,” he told me while walking backwards away from where we stood, “and once you get him into the honeymoon suite, you can just dump him there and go sleep next door.”

I didn’t react in any way, only sending him an unimpressed look and then watched as he walked briskly the rest of the way and slowly inserted himself into the mayhem of the groomsmen. Immediately his face completely shut off, putting on a fake pleasant expression, but none of the men seemed to notice. I watched as Yujun got up and drunkenly stumbled until he was half hugging Seonghwa, hanging off of him and laughing loudly. From Seonghwa’s expression I could only guess whatever the joke was, he must have been the butt of it, but he took it well, years of practiced patience taking over his body. He said something to Yujun and I could see his eyes darting to me before his face was split by the grossest sleaziest grin known to man. I couldn’t stop the full body shudder that went through me, and honestly, I didn’t even try. The groomsmen all started whistling and shouting obscenities, pouring more shots and patting Yujun on his back while he cackled like a madman. Seonghwa then proceeded to say something more which elicited even more hollering and back pats, now even to him to his incredible discomfort.

He then withdrew from the situation just as slowly and quietly as he entered it, quickly walking back towards me. I hated the pity in his eyes, genuine or not, so instead I just grabbed another flute of champagne and grumbled into it while I sipped.

“Sorry you had to witness that,” he whispered and I avoided his gaze as hard as I could, instead staring off into the distance. “Whatever,” I grumbled back, trying to shake off the disgust that once again started to crawl back into my bones and stomach, making me sick with the thought of sharing a bed with that man.

Just then Seonghwa was called over by one of the servers gesturing wildly to the bar. He gave me one last apologetic glance and then ran off to deal with whatever mess that needed his immediate attention, leaving me to stand alone next to the champagne tower like the drinking wreck that I was quickly becoming. From the corner of my eye I saw my mother’s disapproving face, signalling me to step away from the alcohol and mingle more, smile more and look happy to have my life ruined by father’s business, but I ostentatiously ignored her until she alerted father of my unbecoming behaviour.

That quickly shook me into action, and with his stare burning into my back, I disposed of the empty glass and threw myself back into the madness.

The rest of the evening was a frenzy of overwhelming sensations and passed in a blur. I must have spoken to every guest that was invited, held so much small-talk I was beginning to lose my voice. I still avoided the two tables that held all of the people I didn’t want to interact with and rather I listened to some old aunt’s rants about how the modern generation of women just don’t want to be perfect housewives anymore and how they bring dishonour on their husbands.

Before I knew it, two hours have passed and I found myself stationed at the main entrance, shaking hands and exchanging goodbyes with everyone who was leaving, and waving at people that were staying in Seonghwa’s hotel.

The man himself was suspiciously scarce throughout the last hour of the party, his tall lean figure nowhere in sight, which made me surprisingly jumpy. There was a mounting feeling in me that something would happen, anxiety rising with every minute ticking by, but I thought it to be just a by-product of this whole clusterfuck of an evening and disregarded it.

My husband was also missing, probably still thrashing the bar in the lounge one room over, not even bothering to see his guests out.

Soullessly I watched everything happen, empty smile plastered on my face as I was pushed from side to side, listened to the same four meaningless sentences come out of the hundred mouths on faces that all blended together in my mind.

After they were ushered out, there was suddenly a flutter of action around me, people all speaking over one another, one telling me to go there and other telling me to stay here. I stayed silent and waited like a puppet for someone to move me where I was supposed to be. My emotions were shutting down one after another, too overloaded by everything and too scared to face head on what was about to take place.

Woodenly I let my mother drag me to the elevator, mumbling something about not worrying about my husband, father would get him, he would be here any minute, there was no reason to stress out, just relax and wait for him, it was as easy as that, after all we were a man and a woman, it was all perfectly natural. I nodded when there was a lull in her chatter to keep her none the wiser, agreed when I heard her intonation climb in a question.

Finally, the elevator climbed all the way up, reaching the quiet floor with a long hall that had only four doors on it, two of which were honeymoon suites. I felt more confused than ever, as if even my brain completely stopped working, but fortunately (or not) my mother seemed to know where to go.

The room was spacious inside, with a beautiful view of the night city, a whole comfortable lounge that already held a tray with more champagne and some appetizers. To one side I could see a sleek bathroom and to the other through an arch was visible a king-sized bed that dominated the space.

Mother sat me down on one of the sofas and I just distantly took notice of how soft and comfortable it was before she again launched into some sort of a monologue I wasn’t interested in. I amused myself by looking out the window, already nursing another flute of champagne, which was promptly yanked out of my hands.

“Are you trying to catch up with your husband?” my mother’s angry voice cut through the fog in my mind, but I was beyond caring what she had to say.

“I certainly cannot go through it completely sober,” I noted dryly with a sarcastic flare, snatching the flute back. That earned me a glare that could split a mountain in half, but I stubbornly, and somewhat childishly, refused to look at her.

“You’ve done it before and you’ll do it again after,” she stated matter-of-factly, as if she didn’t understand where the problem was, “it’s just sex.” A wave of rage and hatred raised in me so strongly that I had to hold myself back from either screaming or bursting into tears.

“Just leave already,” I said coldly instead, still not looking at her, but watching her figure in the reflection of the window. She froze, her arms stuttering a little in the middle of a movement, and I could clearly feel the disappointment in my behaviour radiating off of her. Then she straightened out and without a word walked towards the door.

“Your husband will get here shortly; I advise you to prepare yourself and meet him not completely hammered.” Her cold words rang through the silent room and then she was gone.

I simmered in that silence for a long few minutes, working to get my emotions back in check. In the end I just gave up on resisting this. There was no way out of this anyway. With a bit of luck Yujun was already so drunk he’d just take his clothes off and pass out and then I can tell him the next day how he was just a wonderful lover, how I enjoyed our time together so much.

So, I had one last glass and then started preparing myself mentally, steeling myself and pacing nervously around the room waiting for my husband to burst drunkenly through the door any minute now. I flinched with every sound, strained my ears to hear anything moving outside those doors.

Only… it never came. After 40 minutes of waiting, Yujun was still nowhere to be seen.

I was beyond irritated, checking the time every two minutes and still expecting the shoe to drop. The longer he took to get here, the drunker he’d be and the drunker he was, the more volatile and unpredictable he’d get. The irritation quickly rose to anger, my mood fluctuating between rage and fear and panic.

Once it was longer than an hour, I was just tired. The clock struck 23:45 and I sighed, completely drained and resigned. It became clear that he wouldn’t get here. At least not now.

Sitting down on the sofa, I felt all the stress trickle out of me as I completely decompressed. There was a sudden numb calm washing over me and I just wanted to be done with it, so drained I became completely detached from the world. I rose to finally fucking change out of the gown and promptly found out that now I faced a different kind of problem.

My dress had a lacing I couldn’t reach on my own. I needed help to get out of my dress. There was no one else on this floor and my parents were long gone, choosing to return to our home instead of sleeping in a hotel. My husband was god knows where and most probably in a state where he wouldn’t be able to take off his own pants.

I crumpled into the sofa, half groaning half screaming into my hands, the frustration of the whole situation, the whole day, the whole four fucking months weighing down on me enough to force a sob out of me. And then another, and then another, until I was bawling my eyes out in an empty honeymoon suite. For long moments I laid half draped over the settee crying, just getting all of my jumbled emotions out in the only outlet I had. Why did everything just have to go absolutely wrong?

It felt like whole centuries had passed when I seemed to run out of tears and finally managed to calm down again; and I looked around the room, playing with the thought of just cutting myself out of the dress with a knife or scissors, but quickly giving up on the idea with a despaired laugh falling out of me.

Everything hurt and I was exhausted, and I wanted to go to sleep, alone preferably, so instead I went into the bathroom and tried to salvage my makeup as much as possible. Thankfully bridal makeup seemed to be invincible, and I just had to tap at some smudged corners to get them dry again.

With that I set out of the room, determined to find anyone that could help me out of the dress, even if it was just some poor busboy trying to make it through nightshift. But I didn’t make it far.

I had just made two steps into the hall when the elevator suddenly dinged, and the door opened. For ten absolutely terrifying seconds I expected my husband to be the one stepping off of it, but instead a tall slender figure elegantly made its way towards me, hair still effortlessly falling around his face as if it was paid to do it.

“What the hell are you doing here?” flew out of my mouth before any reason kicked in, my brain too fried to concern itself with proper manners. Seonghwa only blinked at me in amusement, lips quirking up. Something was different about him and my alarms started going off, but I’d already gone through so much that day I barely even realised.

“Is there a reason why you’re roaming the halls like the ghost of Christmas past?” he shot back, coming close enough to lean and tower over me. His eyes peered down on me over the bridge of his nose, suddenly looking a lot less amused and a lot colder and domineering. I stuttered over my words, clocking in the change in his demeanour once I noticed the darkness swimming in those usually expressionless orbs.

“I- I need help getting out of my dress,” I whispered, too shocked to comprehend what was happening, the truth suddenly slipping out unwittingly, “I was looking for someone… Yujun hasn’t-“

Seonghwa’s dark chuckle interrupted me, it rumbled through his chest close enough I could almost feel it. I looked up at him questioningly. His grin was suddenly mocking and it threw me for a loop. All my instincts screamed at me to back away from such clear savagery shining through in his expression, but I felt completely frozen, half mesmerised half terrified.

“Yujun wouldn’t be able to untie his own shoes right now,” he said meanly, the resentment towards his family he so often hid away now out in the open, raw in his voice like a bleeding wound.

“Do you know where he is?” I decided to ignore his heated stare that seemed to be penetrating deep into my being and instead focused on my goal – locating my husband so I could kick his ass and then avoid him for the rest of the honeymoon.

But Seonghwa only smirked and curled an arm around my shoulders, pulling us towards the suite doors, clearly steering me to follow him inside.

“First, let’s help you with that dress, sweetheart,” his deepened voice almost purred somewhere close to my ear and it sent shivers through me, some kind of dark anticipation setting into the pit of my stomach.

Alarm bells were blaring loudly through my mind, but I just stared him completely stunned and let him drag me. Man, maybe I did overdo it with the champagne.

I looked at his face and fully took in just how ethereally beautiful he really was, the big dark eyes and full sensual lips on a slender face framed by glossy dark hair, he was a vision that an artist would die for just to catch a glimpse of. A face that could unleash wars and bring down empires, break the honour of gods, taint them and seduce them into immorality. Such a man he was. And I saw in his eyes that he would.

Before I could stutter out some sort of answer, he was already pulling us inside the door and shutting it behind us, the lock clicking with a startling finality. Suddenly I found myself standing panicked in the middle of the lounge with Seonghwa circling me like a shark, watching my form and the dreadful dress with dark hungry eyes. Even though my mouth hung slightly open as I still processed the current situation, nothing could come out of it, as if he took my voice with just a single touch.

“How terrible, chaining you poor thing into such a dress,” he whispered sensually, his voice caressing my skin like raven black feathers, “it must have been tiring, having it on the whole day…” He trailed off, a second of silence stretching between us and putting me on edge. Then, I could feel his fingers lightly dancing down the exposed back of my neck, until they hit the edge of the lacing. My breath hitched, getting caught deep in my throat at the sudden contact, and I shivered, eyes fighting the urge to roll back into my skull.

I blushed at my body’s visceral reaction. Either I had to be even more drunk than I initially thought, or the desperation clouded my judgement enough to actually allow my brother-in-law’s advances. Both options were terrible and unacceptable. Still, I felt rooted to the spot, unable to even lift and arm to swat his hands away, not even to turn and scold him with a glare, nothing. It was as if I was deep under a spell, his aura pressing me into inaction and sluggishness, my brain muddled and confused but vaguely excited.

Just as I took in a deep breath to break the fog away and started gathering a sufficient effort to move from him, he abruptly stepped closer, pressing his front against my back with his arm coiling around my waist like a strangler snake. Now all he had to do was squeeze the life out of me. His lips touched lightly on my exposed shoulder, and I could feel his breaths hitting the crook of my neck, a wave of goosebumps breaking in its wake.

“You shouldn’t act like this towards your brother’s wife,” I managed to get out of my dry throat, the words no more than a breathless whisper. There was a mocking scoff next to my ear and his arms coiled even tighter before releasing me all at once. I heaved a sigh of relief, not realising yet this was only the beginning of his game. Oh, he wasn’t anywhere near done.

I was spun quickly, two dexterous hands moulding me to his liking until I was facing him again. There was a terrible grin on his face and an absolute terror set into the pit of my stomach.

“I’m just trying to help you out of an uncomfortable situation,” Seonghwa lied smoothly, the words slipping out of his lips easily with faux concern. We both knew it was utter bullshit, but I still floundered in his arms, not knowing what to say or do, how to combat his searing mocking gaze.

His hands started moving again slowly, sliding tenderly down my arms and back up and then making their way to my back. Seonghwa pressed himself closer again, now front to front with my face awkwardly angled around his shoulder. Before I knew it, his arms looped around me and started tugging at the ribbon tying the corset part together while his face slowly lowered until he was gently mouthing at my shoulder.

I gasped, hands on instinct shooting up to grab something to stabilise myself. It ended up being the lapels of his suit jacket that hung between us. The tall man chuckled darkly, and I was caught in the strange in-between of his gentle touch and mean demeanour.

I felt my knees shaking, the tension rising to a point that my body could barely handle it. A whole-body shiver wrecked through me, the path his mouth made on my skin burning and sending shocks of pleasure through my nervous system that had dangerous heat starting to rear its head in my tummy.

Slowly, leisurely, his hands worked on the ribbon until it was flowing freely from the top and the first few knots were loosened. My heart was beating inside my ribcage so hard it felt as if it was hitting against the bones, and my chest tightened enough to make breathing hard for me. The silence suddenly stretched between us tensely and I wondered if the man could hear the wild beating in my chest, if to him it maybe felt like a scared bird fluttering in the palms of his hands.

Seonghwa lifted his head enough to turn me again, enough to let me see the self-satisfied smirk, and I went easily wherever he wanted me to go. My brain was screaming at me to do something, say something, but I could barely think over the dull buzz of nerves and dark thrumming of my boiling blood. My body yearned and I lost all control over it, turning into a pliant little doll in the hands of a terrible master. The temptation was just too strong, what he offered too sweet.

Words were bubbling in my throat, catching on the swallowed sighs and getting stuck in the constricted little space as I fought for every breath, but I knew they needed to spill over. I couldn’t go down without at least a little fight.

“Where…,” I started but it came out all scratchy and barely audible, “Where is my husband?” Seonghwa’s hands froze where they were unhurriedly playing with the ribbons and loosening them a millimetre after a millimetre to turn this into a torturous progress, to show me that I would let him play me like this for hours if he so pleased. Then he snickered.

“You’re still looking for him?” he asked with his lips pressed into the skin beneath my ear, “Aren’t I enough for you?” It was said as a tease, but I felt the sharp daggers of bitterness in his voice, like he was daring me to insinuate he was beneath his brother. “Aren’t I the better choice?” came out with a chuckle a moment later. Now, that was a taunt.

“Any moment he can get here and then I’ll get fucking murdered for your misdeeds,” I hissed back venomously even though I still haven’t made a single move to get some space between us. Seonghwa laughed condescendingly at me, and I didn’t even have to see his face to know he was sneering madly at my insistence to discuss the other man with him.

“He won’t be coming anytime soon, don’t you worry your pretty head darling,” he bit out with a mean laugh, “I know my brother and he can’t resist an open bar. It was only a matter of waiting until he drank himself into a coma. He won’t disturb us until the morning, and even if he wakes up during the night he won’t know up from down.” This time it was me who froze completely while Seonghwa’s fingers resumed their journey. Some terrible realisation dawned upon me, and I felt as if the rug was swept right from underneath my feet and I was freefalling, straight into these dangerous outstretched arms.

“You were planning this the whole time,” I whispered shakily, trembling in the man’s hands but ultimately, I was helpless to his games. I already knew I was fighting a losing bet, and in the end I would surrender to him.

This time Seonghwa outright laughed at me, making embarrassment sink into my gut and I shrunk into myself. I felt his fingers dig into the fabric of the white wedding dress. In the reflection of the window I saw him, shoulders shaking and mouth open with the laugh, eyes crinkled in a depraved kind of amusement. The sound cut through the empty silent room, strangely as melodic as much as it was savage. I watched him equal part with both horror and reverence, the dark atmosphere finally sinking through my skin and penetrating deep into my soul. In that moment I realised I had just walked into the tiger’s den and there was no way out.

Seonghwa finally calmed down and his eyes found mine in the reflection of the window almost instantly; they were full of contempt and I shuddered under his gaze, humiliation spreading through me at his sneering lips.

“Finally you’re catching up, darling,” he spit that word out like it was poison, and even though it was meant to caress it felt more like a slap, making me sharply inhale, “how could I let my spoiled little brother just walk into this without a little price.”

Suddenly his hands roughly grabbed at the ribbons and pulled hard, almost tearing the corset apart in his haste to finally rid me of it. I stumbled under the force and almost wished there was a wall or a window in front of me, so I could lean on it. My own hands were shaking, as were my pupils while I tried desperately to catch up with the situation. His beautiful face looked almost ethereal with this much wrath and hatred pulling it into a savage grimace, all burning eyes and bared teeth. In this light they almost looked sharp enough to tear flesh apart with a single bite.

“There’s a little compensation to be had, don’t you think darling?” he sneered some more, hands feverishly working to rid me of the oppressive clothing.

Then he used the ribbons tightly clutched in his hands to pull me closer again and our bodies collided harshly. This time I did gasp out loudly but before I could comprehend or react, his face was pressed to mine, our cheeks smushing together lightly while our eyes met again in the window. Pure deranged madness was swimming around his blown-out pupils and he flashed me a beastly savage grin.

“How do you think our little prince would like that I defiled his lovely wife before he even had the chance to get his hands on her?”

There was a sound of tearing fabric ringing through the room and I felt the dress give way, sliding down my arms and torso. In panic I quickly caught it to stop it from pooling around my ankles. But I might have as well let it be, because shortly Seonghwa’s arms circled around my waist and trapped both my hands and the dress under his grip.

Without wasting a single second, he pushed us together as close as we could go, moulding around my back and feverishly attacking my exposed neck and shoulders. Quick scolding hot wet kisses were laid one after another and I felt his hands squeeze at my waist as he licked and bit into my skin, rapidly moving up my neck to the edge of my jawline.

My mouth hung open a little wider with every swipe of his tongue, little breathy sighs and half moans flowing out freely. I was helpless coming face to face with such devastating passion and desperation, how could I protest anything when I heard Seonghwa’s satisfied groans muffled by my skin, when I felt his hands tearing at the dress and never letting me part even a single millimetre from him.

Desire and duty warred through my body, leaving me desperate and frustrated and unable to make a single move in whichever direction. I never wanted this marriage and I already despised Yujun. If I could, I would have since long walked away from this, from my father and his stern unloving face, from my mother and her constant reprimand and propriety, and most of all from my awful disgusting husband. Seonghwa was offering me the same thing he himself sought with this. Revenge. But I respected the vows and despised cheating, and my moral side was begging me to end this at once and remain faithful to a man I barely knew, barely even liked. The result of this was my torn silence and inaction, never taking part but never stopping it.

It was so wrong, but it felt so good I couldn’t do anything except for stand there and take it from the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

The confusing mix of emotions tore through me and left me all bloody and aching like an exposed nerve. My hands clenched and unclenched, eyes flitted around the room in panic, mouth opened and squeezed shut, the words always just at the tip of my tongue but never quite making it out while my brain quickly sunk deeper and deeper into lust.

Seonghwa’s eyes found mine in the reflection once again and slowly bled into a condescending pity. He licked a long stripe along my neck, tasting the salty sweat and purring in content, eyes just slightly rolling back. The sight made me weak, made my body thrum with feelings I haven’t felt in a long time, the excited tension manifesting in the dull throbbing in my lower tummy and the tingles running through me whole. I felt myself clenching at the display, and quickly pushed my thighs together to chase after the pleasure.

“You’re all up in your head, darling,” Seonghwa whispered, spinning sweet webs to catch me in, “Stop thinking, pretty. Just turn off your brain and let the sensations wash over you. Just go with the flow.” His dark eyes flew over my figure for one last time and then he was gripping my jaw roughly and jerking my head to the side to finally feast upon me like he wished.

He kissed like he was laying a claim on me, hard and heavy, tongue prying my mouth open immediately and swallowing the aborted little sounds I couldn’t stop from slipping out. It was filthy and wet and I felt as if he tried to devour me whole. I couldn’t even reciprocate fully, only stand there and take it, weakly moving my own tongue against his but I was quickly overpowered by him in every sense. Then it stopped just as quickly as it started.

I opened my eyes, blearily blinking and trying to get my unfocused gaze back into working order. I felt like I was underwater, like thick molasses was pulling me deeper into the sweetness. Meanwhile Seonghwa looked beyond delighted, lips permanently quirked up and showcasing his sharp canines.

Quick hands spun me around again, one arm immediately securing me against him while the other went to my face, caressing it with deceptive gentleness. Slowly he ducked his head down and kissed up and down the side of my neck and my shoulder, and this time around his lips were tender and reverent, like he didn’t turn into a beast just a few moments ago. My head was spinning from his constant flip-flopping between kind and cruel, but I submitted to him every time anyway.

“He doesn’t even deserve you, darling,” his sugary whispered words carried a little sting to them, but he still trickled them like honey straight to my awaiting throat and I happily drank it all, “He can’t value you as he should… He can’t fuck you like he should.” He growled the word into my throat, hands migrating to grab at my ass and press me up against his crotch, letting me feel the hardness of his arousal.

I gasped and grabbed onto his shoulders, not even knowing whether I’m pushing him away or pulling him closer, but the result was the same. He kissed the same the second time around, plunging his tongue into my mouth and dominating it completely, not giving me a chance to do much else than sigh and moan filthily as he pried me open in every way.

The dress was slowly pulled down and I suddenly found myself exposed to his eyes, the white lacy wedding lingerie a contrast to my heated flushed skin. My first instinct was to hide myself away from him, shyness fighting to take control over me, but I stood still. Somehow to me it would have been more embarrassing if I cowered before him, so I faced his lust head on.

Seonghwa’s eyes hungrily took in every detail, every new inch of skin revealed, from the lacy top and the frilly ribbons in the middle, to the panties that barely hid anything and the wedding garter still firmly sitting on my thigh.

“God, look at you,” the man darkly groaned, eyes glued to my crotch, “You’d be wasted on such an idiot. You deserve so much more, darling, so much more.” On a whim I decided to gather some wit and push back a little, even though it might not be a great idea to provoke him right now.

I threaded my hand through his long locks and tugged hard, making him hiss loudly while his head jerked back. There way annoyance in his eyes, but even that couldn’t mask the sheer amount of arousal and lust reflected in them.

“And you think that you’re what I deserve?” I attempted to say coldly, but I couldn’t tell how successful I was at my delivery with my whole body shivering and succumbing to his touch already. His eyes narrowed and his face turned to stone, and I immediately wanted to take my taunt back. I did not feel anywhere near ready to have that kind of confrontation with him. I felt the fight drain out of me at the dangerous glint is his eyes, head instinctively ducking in shyness and submission.

Seonghwa must have sensed my surrender too, because his lips quickly turned into a cruel smirk and he laughed at me, hand going to lightly grab my throat. I waited with bated breaths, fear and anticipation bleeding together into an ugly kind of arousal, but I didn’t have it in me to feel much shame anymore.

The world suddenly spun around me and then I was crashing into the settee behind me with enough force to knock the breath out of me. I barely just gathered my wits back and Seonghwa was already kneeling in front of the sofa spreading my legs. His hands grabbed my hips and roughly manhandled me into the position he wanted, and once my legs were thrown over his shoulders, he wasted no time descending onto me.

He bit and kissed and licked his way down my inner thighs, the sensitive skin hurting and pinching with every nip, making me jerk and gasp in his hold to which he only chuckled coldly.

“Hold steady now, doll,” he said evenly, “I’m gonna eat your pussy until you’re cumming all over my face.” With that he smirked and dove in. His warning did nothing to stop my body jerking wildly the moment he licked a long bold stripe over the seat of the panties.

Seonghwa’s eyes flicked up full of dark reprimand, sending a wave of goosebumps over me. I saw his arm rise and descend quickly, just barely managing to hold my breath as it harshly collided with the skin where my thigh met my ass. The smack carried through the room, as well as my loud whimper. Embarrassingly I felt a gush of slick hit my panties at the action, but I had no time to dwell on it when Seonghwa bit mercilessly into the inner part of my thigh before sliding back to my centre.

For a few long moments he amused himself by skirting around where I truly needed him to touch and instead paid attention to the edges of the panties or lightly licked and sucked through the drenched lacy fabric. My whole body thrummed with excitement, begging to be finally touched where it needed it the most, but I was too afraid to writhe around or push him, so I just lied there and whined loudly, not even caring anymore. There wasn’t even anyone else on this floor anyway.

I was so wet and aroused, my cunt pulsing knowing he was so close to touching where I needed him, my brain completely melted and unable to comprehend anything beyond the burning consuming need as I trembled under his teasing touches and licks.

Seonghwa’s eyes bore into me, just endless swirling pools of arousal and arrogance, watching me battle my body to listen to his instructions and slowly falling apart before he even did anything. Once he had enough of the pathetic little show I put on for him, I more felt than heard his chuckle before he suddenly dove in.

The moment I felt his lips curl around my clit through the panties and suck, it felt like I could cum just from that as the relief and pleasure rushed through my veins and my hips kicked up a little. A long moan left my lips almost unwittingly and I threw my head back into the cushions hard enough to hurt even through the softness. My hands flew to his hair practically immediately and pulled hard, trying to keep him buried between my folds until the end of time.

Seonghwa didn’t seem to mind I disregarded his rule not to move, instead moaning loudly into my cunt in response and desperately mouthing and sucking at the little nub over the fabric. I felt my thighs tense with every move and Seonghwa’s hands gripped them harder to keep them still, his fingers sinking deep into the flesh until it was borderline painful, but the sensation only fuelled the madness of ecstasy that was warring through me and made everything just a tad bit sharper.

The man could only bear it for few more moments, before a frustrated noise sounded from between my legs and he was suddenly flying off of me. I instinctively pulled his hair to keep him where I wanted him and was greeted with the sight of his eyes rolling back into his skull and mouth opening on a silent moan. The display was enough to make me forget about the annoying lack of stimulation for just a few seconds, and I whined, high and long, as if trying to lure him closer.

Finally he looked at me, debauched pleasure written all over his face as his red swollen lips curled into a sensual grin, and then he quickly ripped my panties off and flung them somewhere across the room, only giving me the warning of hearing the fabric tear before the tatters curved through the air. I had barely two seconds to react and gasp before he was diving back straight for my pussy, his mouth and tongue finding my entrance almost immediately and licking and sucking all around it, spreading my wetness all over the lower part of his face.

An electric current went through me, my back arching on its own as I tensed and moaned at the sudden contact. And this time Seonghwa delivered, with all his might.

Only loud slurping sounds could be heard throughout the room as he wildly swirled his tongue around my folds, quickly gulping down everything he could gather and sucking intensely at my clit, making me jolt in his arms every time. Every once in a while he would move down for a moment, immediately sticking his tongue as deep into me as he could and fucking me with it with harsh fluid movements while his nose bumped against my most sensitive part and the loud chuffs of air, pants and moans vibrated through me and sent me higher; and then he’d rise back up only to abuse the swollen nub with rough flicks and well timed hard sucks.

I was falling apart under his ministrations quickly, almost embarrassingly so, my whole body jerking and quivering as my back curved up under the powerful euphoric bursts ravaging me inside out and the feeling of his warmth enveloping my folds made me almost crazy. The feeling only intensified when I looked down breathlessly and saw Seonghwa’s eyes, completely gone and glazed over, making him look like a helpless slave to the pleasure. I would have even felt some sense of power from it if he didn’t completely overwhelm me with the sensations, dutifully stimulating me in every way his clever mouth could think of.

He ate pussy wildly and messily, spreading my juices everywhere and nigh drowning in them, leaving me slack jawed under the onslaught of his tongue until I couldn’t even moan anymore, only tremble and gush even more right into his welcoming lips.

I felt myself clenching on him, the powerful feeling growing in intensity, building up from deep inside my core and my thighs shook over his shoulders. I knew I was a goner; I knew I was going to cum soon, and there was nothing I could do to fight it. So, I let go.

Seonghwa kept working my cunt tirelessly, swirling his tongue around my clit, licking through my folds, thrusting his tongue inside of me in slow and rough motions. And as he felt me getting closer, his own moans rose in pitch as if he was the one about to cum, mouth latched onto my entrance hungrily awaiting my release.

It only took a few more pumps and his nose pressing down hard on my clit, and the tension was snapping and suddenly I found myself cumming loudly, moan ripping out of my throat in shock at the strength of the orgasm, my whole body spasmed attempting to curl and arch with the euphoria, hands tightening impossibly in Seonghwa’s hair.

I blanked, everything turning to white and I could swear I could almost see stars as my ears rang. The whole feeling kept intensifying with Seonghwa still going, groaning into my pussy like it was the most delicious food he’s ever had.

When the high started coming off, I whined in overstimulation at his lazy strokes, for the first time trying to push him away instead of pull him closer, until he finally stopped and rested his head on one of my thighs. We both were breathing heavily and my whole body thrummed with the sweet release, while I could already see the darkness swirling back into his black irises. He smirked at me, half of his face completely smeared in my slick and glistening under the golden light of the room.

“See, wasn’t that refreshing?” he asked suddenly with voice raw and hoarse, a lot more joy seeping into it as he took in my boneless form and my unfocused eyes. I blinked through the tears and through the haze, rendered useless by the force of pleasure and yet still strangely unsatisfied. There were already swirls of new lust building up in my belly at his calculating hungry stare, and I was completely ready to give myself over to him in any way he requested, if only just to have him rain euphoria on me.

As if hearing my thoughts, the man rose suddenly, towering over me and once again looking down on me condescendingly over the top of his nose, but this time around I was considerably more distracted by the enormous tent attempting to push through his pants. He scoffed at me, watching me lust over his cock like I was nothing more but a bitch in heat, and then two of his fingers curled in a beckoning motion, luring me to him with a single gesture. And we both knew I would go.

I eagerly forced myself to sit up, taking a few seconds to try out my limbs again and see if I could even hold my weight now, but after some uncoordinated slips and bumbling around like a newborn fawn, I was able to push myself into a kneeling position on the sofa, my face exactly at the height of his crotch.

I looked up at him expectantly, already licking my lips at imagining having his length stuffed all the way down my throat. I knew he would do it to me, I knew he would push his way in harshly and fuck my throat until it was unusable, until I was crying and struggling to breathe. He would hold my head and force himself as deep as possible, disregarding me completely. It had me slicking up again, breathing quickening, the arousal building up steadily and quickly, the idea of it making my cunt clench in a silent plea to be filled up and absolutely ravaged. And by the look in Seonghwa’s eyes, I could tell that wish would soon become reality.

There was so much mockery and condescension etched into his features I would absolutely feel shame at myself the moment this ended, but while kneeling there I barely minded him clearly looking down on me, both literally and metaphorically. And he played with me a little, hand tangling itself into my hair and messing up the bun I had done for the wedding even more, pushing my head against his bulge, but not letting me mouth over it or touch it, always pulling away as soon as I moved closer. His cruel smirk reflected clearly how much fun teasing me he had, knowing he had me in this state after one orgasm without even fucking me. How truly pathetic I was.

His hard cock pushed at my cheek, and he pressed himself closer and firmer against me, slowly rocking his hips until he was dry humping my face, peering down at me filthily. I stayed docile in his hold, letting him rub himself over me, eyes trained on the way pleasure slowly broke through his mask, colouring his eyes with different kind of darkness. But he soon grew bored of this and pushed me away.

I held in the embarrassing whine at that, biting my tongue to keep myself together while he gazed at me looking like he was trying to figure how to destroy me. Which, to be honest, he absolutely was.

His thumb swiped over my lower lip quickly and then his hand migrated to my neck again, this time manhandling me a lot gentler as he pushed me around to turn and bend over to all fours, still perched on top of that sofa.

The furnishing moved and dented behind me, throwing me off balance a little, but then there was a body pressing into me, hips firmly digging into mine and a hot hard cock pushing against my weeping red cunt.

I gasped lightly and moved backwards, grinding onto the man to feel him sliding through my folds even with his pants still on, but he stopped me with a hiss, one hand going to push at my lower back and the other grabbing onto my hip.

“Stop being so impatient, doll,” Seonghwa taunted darkly, voice heavy and low with the accumulated lust, “You’ll take what I give you or I’ll have you watch as I cum all on my own.” Though even this threat sounded a little tempting, I immediately froze, only feeling my walls clenching in anticipation. I dug my fingers into the furnishing, almost even holding my breath to settle the wild desire running through me and begging me to just spear myself on his cock rules or no rules. But I held steadfast and was rewarded with his amused chuckle.

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you doll?” he whispered, hands grabbing onto the meat of my hips and pulling me back against him while at the same time thrusting forward. I was so wet I slid along his pants seamlessly, leaving behind a trail of my arousal, and he parked himself home perfectly, cock pressing into my folds just flawless enough to make my brain absolutely melt.

I could feel the trembling in my hips start up again and fought against the urge to cant my hips in an attempt to finally have him fuck me. I didn’t feel strong enough to hold myself up on my arms anymore, so I slowly lowered myself until I was lying on and grabbing onto the arm of the sofa, looking straight into my own eyes in the reflection in the windows.

Seonghwa behind me was fascinatedly watching where we were pressed together while his hips resumed the gentle rocking against mine, just enough to make me feel him but not enough to give me any relief. I couldn’t hold back the whine and his eyes snapped to mine in the window, face instantly crumpling into a mean smirk.

“Such a good girl,” he repeated more teasingly this time, “only want someone to push you around a little and stuff you full, huh? Need someone to throw you down and show you your place, don’t you darling? No thoughts, just a cock drilling into you and filling you with cum, that’s what you need, huh?”

His words triggered a visceral reaction out of me; shuddering I whined loudly and finally pushed my hips against his, working them in little circles right on his erection, hoping to entice him into doing something. But I clearly underestimated just how much of a menace he could be when he wanted to.

Upon his entertained laugh I searched the window for his form again, finding him amusedly watching me pitifully attempting to get myself off on his pants, and frustration rushed through me. A growl ripped itself out of my throat and before I knew it, my mouth was running off.

“God, Seonghwa, just shut the fuck up and fuck me finally.”

Suddenly we were plunged into silence as I saw his eyes narrow at me, boring right into my soul even through the medium of the window. One of his hands pushed at the small of my back forcefully, steadying my hips and pinning them away from his, while his other finally moved to his belt and zipper. But there was a dark expression on his face, all amusement draining out of him in a second, instead now giving him a colder and domineering aura again.

“Guess I spoke too soon, huh?” he said with faux anger, hand aggressively tearing his belt off of his pants, “Did you already forget what I said about taking what I give you? Well… don’t tell me I didn’t warn you…” The last sentence had me breaking into cold sweat, both a warning and a promise sounding through his voice, throwing me into panic while my cunt slicked up even more in anticipation.

Seonghwa tore his pants open, pushing them around just enough to pull his cock out and without even giving me a chance to look, he shoved himself balls-deep inside of me knocking the wind out of me. I gasped out loudly, whole body jerking forward, and my hands grabbed onto the sofa as hard as I could to battle with the dual sensation of pleasure and fulfilment with burning pain. Tears sprung into my eyes, one sliding down my cheek and falling right into my mouth open wide on silent moan, making me taste salt.

Turns out, the dark-haired man wasn’t willing to wait on that either, as he immediately started pumping his hips into me full force, using his cock to mould my walls to fit him without giving me time to adjust. But it’s not like I complained about anything, when ecstasy I haven’t known before wracked through me and I moaned out desperately with every rough thrust, quickly feeling the pain melt into mind-numbing pleasure that had fire spreading through my every nerve.

I could already feel my body responding and we were barely a couple of thrusts in, but if the rapid throbbing of my walls and my shaking trembling hips were anything to go by, I was ready to cum within few moments. And Seonghwa felt it.

His hands readjusted their grip on my body and then he upped the pace, snapping his hips into me wildly and forcefully, almost knocking to wind out of me on every uptake and sending me crashing into the armrest. He slid in so deep and so perfectly, pressing up against my sweet spot with every move and sending me into overdrive. Every few thrusts I felt like I blacked out for a few seconds as my mind and body started shutting down to only receive the pleasure and nothing more. My face was wet, and I wasn’t sure if it was from sweat, drool or tears, but still I felt like I was sitting on the edge of some terrible breathtaking revelation, like a messiah witnessing a godly act for the first time in their miserable life.

I was literally gasping for breath and on the cusp of cumming again after barely two minutes of his rough pace, cunt so wet I made a mess everywhere and every time he pulled out my juices splattered on our bodies. I was hungrily sucking him in, clenching around the intrusion in hopes of keeping him lodged so deep inside of me it scratched something wild and primal in my brain.

There was babbling and nonsense spilling out of my lips, begging the man to never stop and whining out how good he felt stretching me out like that; cock hammering into my walls with brutish force and I knew I’d never forget the feeling of getting fucked by him, of his thickness spearing me open and the spongy tip overstimulating me from the inside.

The man behind me snickered and I peeked through my half-lidden eyes to the reflection, seeing the vision of Seonghwa ravaging me with all of his clothes still on and perfectly intact, only his pants pushed slightly down, sweat running down his forehead and his cheeks, eyes crazed and trained on the way my whole body bounced with his thrusts. His eyes screamed absolute power and rendered me defenceless against him.

He kept steadily upping the tempo until he was jackhammering into me so quickly my body was crashing down under the tidal wave of pleasure, my g-spot so fucking battered I was crying and drooling into the pillows. I was so sensitive and high-strung, experiencing a wave after a wave of nearly there orgasms, always strong enough to have me breathless but never enough to quite push me over the edge.

I wanted to plead and beg for him to make me cum, but I couldn’t even speak properly through the loud whines and moans spilling freely out of my throat, tongue completely useless and wooden, and any attempt to speak got drown out by Seonghwa’s grunts and groans anyway. So I put the matter into my own hands, quite literally.

I quickly stuck my hand down between my legs and went straight for my clit, pressing on it desperately, half expecting Seonghwa to push it away and punish me, but the man only laughed, head thrown back beautifully to showcase his neck shining with perspiration. When his head lolled back, he was grinning brilliantly, eyes half-lidded and yet so alert it was scary. He was drinking it all up, taking in the spectacle and enjoying the show.

“Look at you, making yourself cum on my cock,” he teased breathily, trying to keep the same tempo but I could feel he was slipping too, “If I knew you’d be cumming your brain out within a few thrusts like this, I’d have treated you like that from the beginning, darling.” I barely registered it, instead everything inside of me screaming from teetering on the edge for too long.

And then suddenly I stuttered and gasped, everything crashing onto me in a burst of fire, and I was cumming so fiercely I screamed, cunt clenching strongly enough to restrict his movement, but he continued slamming into me forcefully as if nothing happened, as if it was nothing while I shook and jerked and cried, the feeling overtaking me with such intensity I blacked out for a moment, eyes rolling back into the back of my skull and my tongue lolling out of my mouth and dripping drool everywhere. Everything was just white noise, and all I could register were my curling toes, my fingers digging into the fabric hard enough to hurt, the feeling of my juices streaming down my thighs as I came and my cunt pumping the most delicious euphoria I’ve ever felt through my body, like sweet ambrosia running through my veins.

I heaved a deep breath suddenly, like coming up through the surface after almost drowning, my body snapping back into itself as the climax turned into a continuous shivering electric hum under my skin. I felt even barely conscious, eyes slipping closed after the intensity of the orgasm plundering through me at the hands of the beautiful man.

But Seonghwa was still thrusting into me, plunging deep and keeping practically the same tempo, and I cried out in overstimulation, instinctively trying to pull away from him, but he kept me in place with his grip, never faltering and taking what he wanted. He was grunting and loudly gasping for air behind me, clearly also on the edge of finding his release, while I was fucked into complete oversensitivity, every new thrust sending scalding hot fireworks through my tired body.

His pace changed, his strokes getting more heavy-handed as he focused more on delivering deep hard thrusts instead of keeping up his pace, the impact of our bodies strong enough to make loud slapping noises that flew through the room, and in any normal kind of headspace it would make me embarrassed, but now I could barely think about anything else other than the hard hot cock making me go crazy and slowly pushing me towards a third high.

Seonghwa curled around me slightly, crumpling with the force of his oncoming orgasm, eyes blown wide and mouth hanging open, his hands digging into me with such force I was afraid they were drawing blood.

This was pure animalistic fucking, the kind that I’ve never experienced before, and wasn’t fully prepared for what was in store for me, turning me into a lifeless ragdoll in his hands, just taking it, body jolting around on the soft settee along with his movements.

“I’m going to ruin you for him,” gasped out Seonghwa abruptly after such a long period of silence. His mind seemed to be completely gone, eyes glazed over with something insane and dangerous. His hips pumped desperately, and I felt his cock twitching wildly inside of me just begging to burst.

“I’m going to ruin you for him and for everyone else,” he continued hurriedly, the words falling out of him quickly and with force, “every time he even tries, you’ll only be thinking about how I gave it to you better than any man ever could. My sweet little sister-in-law thinking about my cock while fucking her husband.” A long groan left him, the image he was painting getting to him and pushing him towards the edge hard, his eyes squeezing shut tightly.

I moaned out weakly at that, heat clamping down on him once again in response to his filthy words, and there was an absolutely debauched high-pitched moan from behind me before I felt Seonghwa explode, cumming in strong thick spurts that filled me up quickly as his hips jerked forward with the momentum, trying to press himself as deep as possible to deposit his load.

Another wave similar to a weak orgasm rolled through me and I shivered under him, body protesting and begging me for a reprieve.

We stilled, both trying to catch our breath and recover from the highs we went through, and Seonghwa leaned down, plastering himself to my back. The heat rose at the contact of our two bodies and it was nearly unbearable, but then suddenly the man was giggling darkly into my ear and dread rolled through me at the sound. His lips attached themselves lightly to the lobe, playing with it a little before getting to the point.

“Gave you my load nice and deep darling,” he whispered conspiratorially, another breathless chuckle escaping him, “just like your pussy wanted.” There was a terrible beat of silence, the calm before storm, the dark awful moment before a disaster strikes. I felt his lips pressing closer to the shell of my ear, almost feeling the shape of his smirk.

“Wouldn’t it be ironic…” he started playfully, intentionally avoiding what he wanted to say, until he finally whispered: “How fun would it be if his first son was my bastard, huh? If I got you nice and pregnant tonight and sent you back with a little gift? Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

A sense of dread and panic started setting into my stomach, but I was too tired, too drained, and I couldn’t do anything except lie there under him and slowly come to terms with my fate. My eyes were even barely open, but I saw enough of him to know that he had more than just a little sick satisfaction from that. The only thing I could do was turn my gaze away and quietly stew in the possible consequences      of my lapse of judgement.

“He took everything of mine,” Seonghwa said with dark finality, “It’s only fair I take something of his.” I didn’t react to that, letting him ride the high all on his own while I just wanted to lie down and sleep. But he seemed to have a different idea of how this evening would continue.

With a deep rumbling laugh he gently gathered me in his arms, dislodging himself from me in the process. I blushed lightly at the feeling of his thick cum trickling down my thighs immediately, but I bet it could be barely seen on my sweaty red face. I dreaded to see the state of my makeup after all of this, or the state of the sofa where my face got smushed into the light brown fabric. Or where I, you know, got fucked into oblivion.

Seonghwa happily heaved me up and started walking towards the king bed in the other room, softly laying me down on the bedding. In my half delirious state my tired brain tried catch up with him now that he flipped again and started being all kind, but I just watched him warily as he moved about the room elegantly.

His clothes were somehow still perfectly in place, except for his pants that were open and hanging onto his hips by sheer willpower. I could see the dark stains of my slick on them alongside some colourful smudges of my makeup and I blushed again, the shame catching up on me now that my brain wasn’t as heated anymore, and I could think at least a little clearly.

I was gathering up my strength to sit up and remove the rest of the tattered lingerie (and my shoes, somehow I managed to forget my heels were still firmly strapped on my feet), when I felt a shadow fall over me. My eyes blinked open slowly, taking in Seonghwa who suddenly appeared at the foot of the bed, looking down on me amusedly.

I watched on as he slowly started loosening his tie and undoing the buttons on his black vest and white shirt. He undressed unhurriedly, the whole time hypnotising me with dark eyes and the bad premonition rose in me once more, the pit in my stomach opening. But if it was with dread or hunger, I couldn’t tell.

Once he got rid of everything except for his pants and underwear, which was on again even though there was a dark wet stain on it, I was already inched up all the way in the middle of the bed as if instinctively trying to put some distance between us. The predatory glint in his eyes told me he was very aware of that; it was trained on me like a wolf’s gaze on a helpless rabbit.

He leisurely climbed onto the bed, one leg after another, beautiful muscled torso on display, just miles of flawless honey-toned skin rippling with every fluid movement of his lithe body. Suddenly he leaned forward and his hands clasped around my ankles like shackles, but his touch remained delicate, a complete one eighty from the ruthless man before.

While keeping his eyes trained on mine, he languidly bent down and placed a barely there kiss on the skin right above my ankle, and I shivered at the caress, my legs tensing and trembling under his care. Seonghwa smirked lightly, snickered quietly and put his lips back to work.

As he unhurriedly climbed up my legs, crawling over me with his hands and lips reverently tracing my heated skin, here or there swiping his tongue over it and tasting the salt of our combined sweat, I laid there and observed him with bated breath, tentative excitement beginning to swirl in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t sure whether I could go on, but it was hard to remain cold under his lustful stare and gentle hands.

When he reached my crotch I gasped and he laughed at me, nosing a little around the sensitive area and staring like a hawk at my reaction. Trying hard not to break I pursed my lips together hard, but I couldn’t conceal whatever it was that swam in my eyes to which he seemed to be drawn the most. I cursed at my weak mind and flesh and threw my head back in surrender, thighs automatically falling more apart to give him space to operate.

My heart gave a few painful pumps, and I tried not to think about what was happening here, tried to not think about what night this was and who I was with, but the man seemed determined not to let me forget what sin we were committing here.

An amused chuckle flew out his mouth at me, I felt the puff of air hit my sensitive slit and jolted a little with a quiet gasp, but he only kissed the top of my mound and then moved on to kiss at my hip and further up.

“I’d love to clean up your naughty little pussy, darling,” he whispered into my navel stuttering and trembling with my uneven breaths, “but I want my cum stay right where it is for just a moment longer.” I shuddered at that, a pulse of heat running through me. My hands, all sweaty and clammy, desperately grabbed onto the sheet and dug deep into the mattress in a miserable attempt to not grasp onto him.

Seonghwa slowly kissed his way all the way up to my breasts and suddenly his way was obstructed by the remnants of my night-dress, the white lacy bra barely holding on after he ripped off the lower half of the set. After one cheeky glance my way he sat up and tapped my side gently.

“Arch that back for me for a moment doll, let me take it off for you,” trickled out of his mouth in a sensual drawl, hands already sliding to my back. I listened, of course I did, even though I still stubbornly refused to meet his eyes and turned my head to the side, instead looking out the window at the night Seoul. The man’s reflection was embedded there, obstructing my view and forcing me to perceive him until the bitter end. I watched as he moved fluidly, hands caressing their way up my back and searching for the clasp, undoing it with a single blind flick of his fingers.

I felt the fabric give and slide off of me slightly, before Seonghwa dutifully moved to collect it and move it away, quickly taking it off and throwing it to the side towards the closet. I kept my eyes trained on the vision he was, a dark silhouette backlit with golden light, almost shining skin like a halo, on the backdrop of the beautiful nightline. It was ethereal, he looked ethereal.

The figure moved again, smoothing himself out over the bed, anchoring himself between my thighs. I witnessed him languidly bend down, like he had all the time in the world, a soft smirk on his face that spoke of victory. The same moment his head ducked down lazily, I felt the man’s hot breath hit my skin and then he was licking a bold stripe up the strip between my breasts. In the reflection, the two forms moulded together, and I felt myself arch up into him and gasp, breaking the eye contact with the window.

I lost the battle to my hands and finally reached for him, needed to feel him and grab on to him so viscerally I almost couldn’t breathe with the desire. I ran up the smooth planes of his back until I finally tangled them into his long black messed up hair, for the second time that night.

Contrary to what I expected, Seonghwa kept himself calm and only migrated to softly play with my tit, pulling the nipple into his mouth and lightly sucking, sending tingling down my spine. He wasn’t hurried at all, the lazy strokes of his tongue around the little nub and the sucks pleasantly sending bursts of warmth through me.

His hands held my tits from the sides, pushing them together as he trailed his mouth all over them, laying down searing branding kisses, alternating between the two nipples and biting lightly. I surrendered to the feeling, letting the beautiful man play me as he pleased, curling into him and hands pulling him closer, massaging the skin of his back and his shoulders.

I was obsessed with the feeling of him under my hands, the heat radiating off of him, the softness of his skin compared to the firmness of the muscle bellow, feeling it ripple as he moved himself closer and plunged his head between my tits, feeling it vibrate with his light moans and sighs of pleasure. It felt like I was losing my mind, body melting into him and eternally begging for more.

I had my eyes closed firmly shut, head thrown back and all thoughts banished except for the sensation of his wet tongue exploring every inch of me and leaving a trail of shivers behind. Without me realising it my thighs rose to cage his waist and hips, hitching up to the back of his thighs and latching onto him so he could never leave and deprive me of this feeling.

Seonghwa was full of happy chuffs and amused chuckles, just entertaining himself by watching me struggle to contain the lust, and I could feel his eyes on me, the dark orbs taking me in as I laid there under him and pleaded for his attention without even having to say a single word.

After what felt like hours of just worshipping my tits, until not even a single millimetre of my skin wasn’t kissed or licked or sucked by his naughty mouth, he finally moved higher and settled into the crook of my neck and latching onto the soft spot right under my ear, making me keen and sigh and whimper. He paid the same attention to my neck, marking it all up with searing kisses and bites that left a gentle sting mixing into the pleasure and I felt my cunt gushing once more, getting ready to take him again.

This new position had our hips perfectly aligned and there was an unmistakable bulge pressing into my centre, and before I could stop myself or think about it, I started gyrating my hips and rubbing myself all over him.

“Being so naughty again, princess,” Seonghwa murmured into my skin with a snicker, “Need another good fucking? Want another load from your brother-in-law, is that it?” I whined, turning my head away from him in embarrassment, but he didn’t seem bothered and only pressed himself closer. I hated when he was using that name for himself, but I couldn’t deny it was the truth. I’ve done such a good job of ignoring that blaring fact, but he never failed to bring me back firmly onto Earth.

Then his hand slowly sneaked from my breasts down my stomach between my legs and he immediately pressed two fingers onto my clit, forcing a stuttered moan out of my throat.

My pussy was so raw and tender after the fucking it received, just wet and swollen and burning, burning for more and begging to be filled and ravaged again, and I knew the moment I’d get his cock inside me again it would feel like getting branded with a fired seal, but I craved nothing more than to have the tip battering my sweet spot until I couldn’t speak.

His fingers didn’t waste time and after some playing around with the sensitive aching nub, he plunged them as deep inside as they could go, giving me a nice substitute but knowing they wouldn’t fill me up enough, not in the way I craved as I began to lose my mind to the lust once more.

The residues of his last release squelched and spurted around his fingers as he began slowly but forcefully fucking me with them, turning it into even a bigger mess, but I barely cared when I had something to clench onto and ride the feeling.

I absolutely felt like I was going through a heat, like I wasn’t capable of single thought beyond getting absolutely railed by this stunning cruel man. At the back of my head countless alarms blared through the night, but I ignored all of them. So what if he did it for revenge? So what if he didn’t care one bit? So what if this had potentially devastating consequences? Nothing mattered as long as he kept fucking me and making me cum.

“How’s that, darling?” he asked on a mean turn of his fingers, forcing them deeper into me and curling them into the most sensitive patch, “Enjoying your brother-in-law’s fingers? You’re such a dirty little whore, letting me have my way with you on your wedding night.” The equally fascinated and mocking tone of his voice was back, hypnotising me with its sweetness and luring me in just to hammer my shame home even further.

I ignored the way I clenched around him at those words, though Seonghwa no doubt noticed judging by the snickers and giggles that kept escaping him as he watched me flail about on the bed under his ministrations. The whine that did claw its way out of me was completely involuntary though and I tried to cover it up with a loud exclamation of “Seonghwa!”. I truly meant it as a reprimand, but it came out as a helpless moan as I felt a shockwave of pleasure rushing through me.

And had I been watching the man, I’d see the way his already blown out pupils dilated with lust even more, as the familiar glint of aroused craze settled back into them.

“Fuck, darling, I really do like hearing you say my name like that,” he whispered breathlessly, fingers picking up the pace, “And you’re absolutely right. You should be screaming my name, you should scream yourself hoarse on my cock so you’d never forget..”

I panted heavily and my legs kept tensing with the rising feeling of another orgasm coming, this time the tidal wave rising higher and higher, the tension getting more strung up and tightening around my core like a string about to snap. But I needed more. I wanted more.

Letting go of all the inhibitions I had left, I grabbed onto the man, desperately pulling at him as I arched more, thighs falling open and hips canting up to feel his thin frame lodge into mine even more. My eyes blinked open after what felt like a whole eternity in a blissful darkness and sought out his immediately, looking into those all-consuming orbs watching my every move.

“Please, Seonghwa…” came out as a hoarse whisper, more a desperate whine than anything, “fuck, please! Please, give me something!” A wicked fucking grin split his face and I realised that it was what he was waiting for this whole time. To break me enough to beg for it all on my own. A dark anticipation ran through me, knowing I’d finally get what he’d been teasing me with.

And I couldn’t even feel bad about it when the man finally extricated himself from me, settled on his knees and pushed his trousers and underwear off, baring himself to me for the first time that night. Or early morning, I had no idea how much time has actually passed.

I was taking his lean figure in hungrily, eyes scaling up and down the elegant planes and curves that hid so much muscle and strength under deceptive beauty, and of course, his beautiful cock standing tall, thin, long and angry red at the weeping tip, all but begging to get back inside of my warmth. And who was I to take that away from him?

Clocking in how starvingly I was eyeing his length, the man smirked at me, hand going to grip my jaw and force my eyes back to his face. There was an arrogant self-satisfied grimace, knowing he’d captivated me like no other before.

“Now now, be a good girl,” Seonghwa taunted darkly, “and maybe I’ll let you suck it some other time.” The promise in that sentence sent shivers and goosebumps down the line of my body, but I couldn’t decide whether it was dread or pure ecstasy at knowing I’d get him like this again, already completely hooked on what he was offering. I licked my lips and his eyes jumped briefly down, lips absentmindedly turning into a smile and then he released me.

Now fully naked, he teasingly slowly settled over me, hips anchoring themselves between my thighs like before, but this time he went for my mouth in another claiming kiss, grabbing onto the side of my head as he pushed his tongue in immediately and eagerly drank up all my little noises of surprise and joy.

This kiss was different though, languid and deliberate and deep, the slow strokes almost lazy in nature, and I keened into him, eyes rolling back with the sensations that washed over me both suddenly and gradually at the same time.

And then, without any warning, he started pushing in, much like he was kissing me – languidly and deliberately driving into me in a slow motion, until our hips were moulded together. And this time it felt like he was even deeper, just sitting there inside of me, pushing into me in a way that was making me crazy without even moving, the weight of having him pressed there enough to choke me up on a sob.

My mouth opened on a moan and Seonghwa hungrily ate it up, mouth continuing to work me and kiss me even though I grew unresponsive in his arms, eyes glazed and unseeing.

And just like before, contrary to my expectations, he didn’t start wildly thrusting into me. Instead he just as slowly pulled out and pushed back in, hips fluidly moving in broad slow strokes and I felt like he was pumping hot molten iron into my circulation.

Our mouths disconnected with a lewd gasp, a few strings of saliva connecting us together until his dark grin broke them. We were so close to each other, our skin melded together by sweat, bodies sliding against each other with every leisured thrust. He stayed hovering right above me, our noses brushing together and breaths mingling. Seonghwa drank up every little twitch of my face with his dark blown out eyes and I couldn’t help but keep my wide open, staring right back.

The eye contact was intense, and I felt sparks jumping between us, but neither of us broke. We just breathed into each other’s lips, brushing but not initiating another kiss. It was so intimate it almost fooled me into believing we cared about each other; with one of his hands reverently caressing my side and the gentle steady pace of his hips, it would have been easy to believe that.

Seonghwa shifted slightly, so that he was leaning on his elbow placed by my shoulder, while the free hand travelled down again to grasp at my hip. Pinning me down to the bed, he roughed up the pace a little, snapping his hips to me a little harder. That finally got me breaking out of the spell and the moment he hammered into my sweet spot, my eyes rolled back into my head and I moaned whinily.

I grabbed onto him, at first onto the shoulders and then I migrated to his waist. Seonghwa chuckled and swerved to get back to my neck, giggling lightly straight into my ear.

“That’s it, darling,” he whispered devotedly, voice honeyed and curling around my senses like a snake, “Fuck, yeah, that’s it…” I took in a shaky breath and immediately tensed at another perfectly aimed pump.

“Seonghwa..” I whimpered out, arching under him even more if that even was possible, legs curling around his hips, and he suddenly pulled back his arm to grab onto my right knee and force it all the way until it hit the mattress, opening me up to him and sliding in even deeper on the next stroke. I choked on a whine, the gradual build up of another orgasm turning my tongue into lead and whiting out my mind.

Seonghwa stubbornly refused to speed up, even though I was hopelessly writhing underneath him on the king bed in the honeymoon suite, husband of barely few hours drunken halfway to death somewhere in this 60-storey building, and here I was. Falling apart another man’s cock, begging for more.

“S-Seonghwa!” I choked out again, “Please, please, fuck I need something!” My cunt felt so raw and sensitive from all the fucking and orgasms before and every time he plunged back inside, slowly to make me feel every inch, every ridge, until his tip nudged as deep as it could go, it ignited me in a way that seemed to touch deep enough to burn my soul.

I felt the sweat trickling down my body, from the creases on the inside of my knees, from beneath my breasts, down my neck and hairline, we both felt so sweaty we stuck together, every movement made smooth by it. It made the slapping noise of our bodies meeting each other wetter, along with my juices that must have by now covered absolutely everything. The heat was nigh unbearable, but it was consuming me from the inside out just like all the other sensations, making my brain even more muddled.

I fought to focus my eyes again, pull them towards Seonghwa, to see the man that was ruining me like this, to see what kind of expression was on his face. The moment I rolled my head back, he was there. The man must have gone back to watching me at some point without me realising it, because there he was, with his face wet with perspiration and hair sticking to his forehead, eyes almost black and lips curled loosely into a smug grin.

“There you are, darling,” fell out of his lips easily, in the otherwise pretty silent room it was almost too loud. I gasped and hiccupped, still hanging onto him like a lifeline.

“After this, what I wouldn’t give to have you ride me, pretty girl,” the man continued now that he had my attention again, “To see your tits bounce as you ride my cock, to fill you up with another load… I know you deserve another one, don’t you pretty girl?” He grew breathless with every word, hips losing rhythm and snapping a little faster, not much but a smidge. I appreciated it all the same, chanting a row of “yes, yes, yes!” while he laughed at me like I was pathetic.

“I’ll have you do it some other time, darling,” Seonghwa just kept going, my reactions fuel to his fire, hips now swirling with every thrust, working in little circles like he was just amusing himself, “after all, I’ll probably need to pump you full a couple times before it takes, huh? And we have all the time in the universe… now that we’re family.”

I whined, but it was drowned out by the noise inside of my head. Sparks were erupting all over my body, the steady pace he set putting just enough pressure on my g-spot to have me stiffening and growing taunt, getting pushed closer and closer to an edge that was already so familiar to me by now.

“Like that!” I couldn’t hold back the scream, head thrown back into the pillows, “Hwa! Hwa, please don’t stop!” The man in question didn’t laugh at me like I anticipated, instead he bent down until our foreheads were almost touching, hand clenching on my knee and keeping it pushed into the bedding, hips enthusiastically pumping into me in a deep circular motion. There were some soft creaks of the bed that got lost to my relieved moans, drowned in the cacophony that was us.

The shaking started up again, the feeling close to overcoming me so intense my whole body shook and trembled as I gasped and moaned, my throat hoarse and lips bitten raw (whether it be from Seonghwa or my own self).

Seemed that the man for once decided to listen to me, cause he kept his pace and aimed at that one spot until I felt the wave rising, rising, pussy clenching and squeezing. It was mounting way more intensely than before and I found myself thrashing, feeling like I was about to explode.

My fingers dug into Seonghwa’s skin, enough to leave him some nasty marks and scratches, and I heard the man hiss in pleasure, hips kicking forward a little rougher and all it took was two, three, four more pumps and then everything burst out in blinding deafening blast, body contorting as much as it could twist under Seonghwa, toes curling and the ecstasy shot through me, shot out of me in strong currents of relief and it felt so fucking good, so good I could cry (and I probably did).

Once the first wave fell off a little, I registered Seonghwa’s stuttered moans and curses, hips jerking wildly, drawing out the euphoria endlessly until I thought I might die between the never-ending pulses of pleasure. The feeling of wetness rose tenfold between us, but my brain couldn’t comprehend anything.

I kept moaning as Seonghwa kept thrusting, going with the feeling and riding the high, listening to his desperate groans and murmurs. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, not fully, everything still fuzzy on the edges and my bones molten gold, even the air I was breathing was full of ecstasy and everything swam in front of my eyes.

“Look at me darling, fuck, look at me,” his desperate moan pulled my attention, and I did my best to focus on him. Eyes blown wide and hair messy, golden skin dewy with drops of perspiration; I felt one hit my skin and splatter and it was almost burning.

“Fuck, I wanna see you when I fill you up one last time, pretty girl,” Seonghwa gasped out, hold tightening on my thigh and mouth open wide gasping into mine as our noses slid against each other with sweat.

When he came, I felt it viscerally through my whole body.

At first, he trembled under my hands, muscles growing taunt. Then his hips kicked forward forcefully and suddenly an overflow of scalding hot seed spilt into me in thick long spurts. Seonghwa’s face fell to my neck and his high-pitched moans reverberated through my chest and I lied there gasping, walls contracting, trying to keep everything inside. It was a primitive instinct, but I knew no better than to get absolutely bred and fucked after all.

There were little tremors running through me, aftershocks of the orgasm, aftershocks of feeling Seonghwa’s orgasm so close, of the raw pleasure it brought me to feel him release inside of me. But as the adrenaline started wearing off, I suddenly felt dizzy and boneless.

Seonghwa was like the devil, lips pressed to the shell of my ear and whispering, tattering off with hushed praises, hands caressing me and his weight comfortably pressing me down into the bed. I felt the warmth of his cum trickling down the cleft of my ass, escaping around his softening cock still lodged inside of me.

“You’re amazing darling, I had no idea you’d squirt for me like that,” I caught one of the things he muttered into my neck sweetly, kissing along the column of it in gently, “such a good girl for me…” Everything wavered, growing dark.

My eyes were closing by themselves, and I could barely keep myself awake enough to hear what he said next, the gravity making itself known once more and pulling my heavy body into the bedding. I slowly drifted off to his soft whispers and tender touches.

Waking up the next morning, if someone told me I got runover by a truck in my sleep, I’d have believed them. I’d fucking swear my body creaked when I tried to move, the muscles protesting and bones cracking into place one by one.

Upon stretching I realised that I was laid in clean sheets. I distinctly remembered falling asleep in a bed that was soaked through with release and sweat, the feeling of the cold wet bedding on my rapidly cooling skin was uncomfortable enough to burn into my memory. I was still naked though.

The next thing I noticed had mortification mixed with shame spreading through me rapidly and I didn’t know whether to blush or just burst out crying. I could feel the dried up cum coating my heat and thighs, meaning he didn’t clean me up afterwards.

I wanted to hate him and paint him in my mind as an asshole that didn’t give two shits about aftercare, since it wouldn’t be that big of a leap honestly, but if I got to know one thing about him yesterday, it’s that he most definitely left it on purpose.

Just as I was cursing him in my mind and figuring out how to take a shower while my entire body refused to work, there was a groan and a ruffle of sheets from behind me. I froze immediately and panic gripped me.

If the bastard didn’t even leave… Anyone could come in at any moment, there’s no explaining the fate that would befall me if I was caught here like this.

But when I finally willed myself through the panic to turn around and face it head on, there was my husband, sleeping like a baby. He was undressed and smelled absolutely horrendously, but it was him unmistakably. Unfortunately. A vague shape of a memory fought its way to the surface in my mind – blearing through sleepy eyes glued together at the shadow of Seonghwa pulling someone into the room, the rustling of sheets and nondescript cursing and thuds – before I got pulled back under.

Great. Just awesome

After few moments of struggling to stand up and balance my weight on my shaky unsteady knees, I finally managed to set out on my way to the bathroom. It was all across the suite and in the process, I got to witness the doom of our night together.

The poor sofa had a stain and a few splatters on it, and I didn’t wish to investigate their origin any further, so I moved through the tattered remains of my wedding dress that was split in the middle almost cleanly. At some point one of us had to knock over a champagne glass, because I almost stepped on it while looking over the dress, instead landing my foot in still a vaguely damp sticky pool of drying alcohol seeping into the carpet and lower tiers of the dress. I ignored the mortification and embarrassment at the clear display of complete mess and soldiered on shakily.

Getting to the bathroom was a whole ordeal, but when I made it, I had no idea the true show was yet to begin. There in mirror was my reflection, it was much clearer than the ones I had burned into my memory of yesterday, there were no blinding lights behind it, no dark sky to distract, only me covered in marks from head to toe, hair a fucked-out nest and eyes red-rimmed.

I breathed out a sigh, resignation setting in as I looked at the state of me. There was nothing I could do. I didn’t even have my makeup here, it was a hot summer outside. I would have to walk out of here eventually and I couldn’t hide even an inch of the reddish and purplish spots and bitemarks that littered the skin of my neck and the swell of my breasts. The bites tapered out a little there and I looked down, seeing the carnage that was my hips with vivid marks of fingers and hands printed on my skin.

For a moment I stood there, eyes squeezed shut and face pulled into a frustrated grimace, but then I just sighed deeply again, the tension quickly bleeding out of me. What was done, was done.

With slumped shoulders I dragged my feet to the shower, trying to make myself forget as much as possible and wash away all the evidence that could be taken off with the soft floral soap.

I hid away in the bathroom for as long as was humanly possible, going through all the extra steps of trying out the several samples of moisturizes and drying my hair until it was almost fried, even cleaning up after myself. If I had the solution, I’d even polish the fucking mirror, but eventually there came a knock on my door and a timid maid informed me I was eagerly awaited at the brunch. I waited to hear her leave, and then with shaky hands pushed the door open.

The room was already empty when I stepped out, but it was clean – the carpet with the dress were gone and the offending sofa stain was covered up with a throw blanket, I supposed until they could get to cleaning it. A single pile of folded clothes sat on the table.

I didn’t even question it until I had it in my hands and realised both the top and the skirt covered just enough to be decent, but most of the marks would be pretty much visible, the spaghetti straps barely covering anything and the slit between my top and bottom showing off the fingerprints on my waist. Rolling my eyes annoyedly I fucking immediately knew this was Seonghwa’s pick.

I was going to murder the man once I got my damn hands on him.

With no other choice left in the empty room, I put it on and made my way downstairs. It was a real walk of shame, all the eyes turning my way and examining my colourful state. Even knowing the staff were all aware it was my wedding night didn’t make it any easier, and at some point, I found the idea of them thinking this was Yujun’s job actually worse than knowing it was his brother. I shimmied quickly down the halls until I reached the little private salon where we were apparently being hosted.

Without realising how bad my day was about to get, I hurriedly rounded the partition and promptly froze in my tracks. This wasn’t a private breakfast. As soon as I stepped into the space, there was several sets of eyes trained on me, more sets than I was comfortable with.

At the head of the table sat my mother and Mrs. Park, both alternating between casting judging glances towards Yujun and towards me, on one side of the table sat three of Yujun’s obnoxious buddies and on the other I found myself once again face to face with Seonghwa.

He was eyeing me with undeniable interest, pupils dark and hungry. Proud. He liked the clothes. Liked showing me off. I flushed but thankfully the embarrassment was easily explainable by the sudden attention from everyone else, especially since Yujun’s bodies started murmuring something no doubt very inappropriate, judging by their lewd expressions.

It was awful and I wanted to fucking melt into the floor, so I stood there for few long moments battling myself to stay put and not turn on my heels and walk straight out of the hotel and into the sea.

Yujun was puffing up his chest, much to the distaste of our mothers sitting right by his side, but he was ignoring them and already sending looks to his friends and looking like a right idiot. I fought to keep the scowl off of my face, and when I finally forced myself to move to sit down in the only spot left at the table, I kicked Seonghwa who was grinning in a very much “cat who ate the canary” way.

The man barely reacted to me and continued leisurely eating his waffles, so self-satisfied it rolled off of him in fucking waves. And what was even worse, of course I had to sit in between him and Yujun. The gods couldn’t be more against me, but I soldiered on. I really had no other option.

I tried not to insert myself into the conversation too much. After the initial shock of my entrance wore off, the hum of amicable chat resumed. I ignored some very uncouth comments and soon they lost interest in teasing me when I stubbornly stared into my cup or food and didn’t react at all. The brunch dragged on with the air of awkwardness hanging over everybody, our mothers attempting to pull the table back to polite conversation while Yujun continued making an idiot out of himself by behaving like a fucking caveman.

Or maybe it was just me, my husband and his buddies certainly seemed in great spirits. I almost scoffed, managing to put my hand in front of my face last minute and cough. I heard Seonghwa’s quiet snickers to my right and registered my mother’s warning glance, and after that I didn’t speak another word.

And just when I thought I had escaped, with the empty plates signalling the end of the brunch was in sight, I felt a hand on my thigh. My right thigh. Seonghwa looked at me from the corner of his eye, lips dangerously curved into a playful smirk. I tensed, body slowly turning to stone.

Everybody else carried on.

My heart was pumping painfully, hands shaking. An awful feeling of despair set into me, my chest cavity filling with black tar while my head spun. What had I gotten myself into?

“Seonghwa, thank you for letting us use the hotel,” my mother said, completely clueless, “it was so very helpful.”

He laughed gently, hand squeezing my thigh possessively.

“Trust me, it was my pleasure.”

thank you for reading!

the divider taken from the amazingly talented @saradika-graphics

[frflyavenue]

Exam Stress - Matz ver.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Matz x Stressed!Uni student!Reader

Warnings: MDNI (18+) — Stressed reader, sleep deprived reader, university exam season, crying, eating, fluff and smut, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving, m receiving, f giving), vaginal sex, spit-roast, threesome smut, slight power dynamic, soft dom!Hongjoong, switch!Seonghwa, lots of praise

Author’s Note: Giving you guys this update early as compensation for not posting anything on Tuesday—First time writing smut, so let me know what you guys think! UYT chapter 3 still on track to be updated tomorrow <3

WC: 5.1k

School sucks. You’re a great student, one of the best performing in your major, and, according to your boyfriends, the hardest working person they’ve ever seen. You’re positive they’re just gassing you up because they love you, but you’re happy that your work is at least recognized. But it’s getting towards the end of the semester, meaning the whole University is filled with students working overtime. Exams are just around the corner, major essays and projects are being finalized and the party hubs of the city have died down as students rush to get their grades up enough to pass. You’re doing well in your classes, of course, but the end of the semester is always a rough time.

You’ve been working non-stop for the last few weeks, studying for your exams and trying desperately to finish your thesis paper for one of your classes. You lost count of how many hours you’ve worked in the library over the last few days, staying until they close around midnight and going home just to keep working. And while you’ve been able to handle the stress and exhaustion, today it all seemed to come to a head.

You haven’t slept more than a total of 10 hours the last four days, and you haven’t eaten nearly enough to sustain yourself. But honestly, the hormones from the stress were enough to suppress your hunger, so you didn’t pay it much attention. You’re exhausted, honestly, yearning to lay down in bed or even just curl up and sleep on the floor of the library, desperate for rest. But you don’t have time. You huff, slamming your laptop shut, earning a few glances from the other students working the library. You don’t dare look at them, stuffing your laptop in your bag with a sigh. You snatch it up and turn to leave, completely silent as you drive yourself to your apartment.

You fumble with your keys lazily as you try to open the door, finally sighing as it squeaks open. You slip into the apartment, taking off your shoes at the door and heading to the bedroom you share with your two boyfriends. Seonghwa, hearing you, turns around with a warm smile to greet you.

”Hey darling, welcome home. We missed you.”

You look up at him, but the second you see his warm expression, you feel your throat tighten, so you quickly look away. “Ah, yeah, I missed you guys too.” You clear your throat. “I have to work on my paper, so I’m gonna go work for a bit.” You don’t wait for him to respond to walk away to the solace of your bedroom.

Seonghwa walks with his mouth slightly agape as you turn your back to him, not able to say anything. Almost immediately after he gathers his thoughts, he rushes over to the living room, where Hongjoong is splayed out on the couch working on a song. He gently tap his shoulder, and Hongjoong removes one side of the headphones to hear.

”Joongie… I think something’s wrong with our Y/N.” He says worriedly, and Hongjoong snaps his eyes up from the screen to look at him.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Seonghwa runs his hand through his hair, clearly worried. “She came in so quiet, and her face seemed so tired… she hardly acknowledged me when she walked in.”

Hongjoong’s expression grows thoughtful, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. Your recent stress hasn’t gone unnoticed by your two boyfriends for the last few weeks. They’ve watched your eyes grow more and more tired every passing day, and while they’ve tried their best to bring you little snacks or cheer you up with little kisses to your temple when you’ve been working for a while, they’ve mostly let you to your work, not wanting to disturb you. But for Seonghwa to be this concerned now… Hongjoong trusts his boyfriend in thinking that something’s wrong. “Okay… why don’t you go talk to her, hm? I don’t want to overwhelm her with both of us, but I want to check on her.”

Seonghwa hesitantly nods, and Hongjoong presses a comforting kiss to his forehead before letting him go visit you.

You hardly register the knock at the door until it creaks open, and you freeze up, looking over at him with wide, guilty eyes. There are tears streaming down your face, your nose running and your sleeves wet from wiping your eyes. Seeing him, with his beautiful, elegant face twisted in concern taking in the sight of you, you only feel worse. You turn away, desperately attempting to dry your tears as he approaches. You hiccup helplessly as he turns the office chair around so you’re facing him, optnig to hide your face in your hands.

Seonghwa steps closer so he’s standing between your legs, gently pulling you into him. You let your face, still covered by your hands, lean into his stomach, feeling one hand resting protectively on your back while the other rests on the back of your head, his thumb rubbing comforting cicely into your hair. Almost immediately, you let go to wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face deeper into his tummy and sobbing against his hoodie.

Seonghwa feels himself tear up at the sound, his voice softly shushing you while he cradles your head against his body. He doesn’t move, holding you just like that, not planning to ever let you go.

Hongjoong, hearing the gut-wrenching sound from the other room, sneaks into the room, standing behind Seonghwa and rubbing his back. The taller man is blinking back tears, his hands holding you close to him as you let out pitiful sobs of frustration and exhaustion, sounds he’s never heard from you in the two years you all had been dating. Hongjoong, too, feels his throat tighten, distracting himself by silently comforting Seonghwa in the meantime. The three of you remain like until the sound of sobs dies down to sniffles, and Hongjoong moves to kneel next to your chair. He places a hand on your thigh, gently rubbing there.

”Hey, beautiful.” He whispers softly, gently easing your hands down for you to look at him. You do, your swollen eyes meeting his. “Hey… there she is…” His voice is soft and quiet, almost as if he’s talking to a kitten. You're grateful for it, the sound not overwhelming your mind.

You snuffle, leaning into his hand when he moves to cup your cheek. “I-I’m sorry…” you squeak out, and he immediately shakes his head, shushing you.

“No, no ‘sorry’. I can speak for both of us when I say that Seonghwa and I want you to be happy. But part of that means taking care of you when you’re sad, hm?” He just watches you for a moment, gently holding your face in his hands as he kneels in front of you. “…What’s the matter babydoll?”

You close your eyes and try to clear your blurry eyes, opening them again to look down at his loving face. “I… I just got frustrated.” You explain, your voice wobbling pitifully. “I’m so tired, and I have so much to do. But I feel stuck on this stupid paper, and I have to finish it, and…” You trail off, your throat burning as tears slip silently down your delicate cheeks and onto Hongjoong’s delicate hands.

Hongjoong nods, gently wiping the little drops of water away with his thumb, not breaking his gaze. “It’s okay, we’ve got you now. We’re going to go take a break, baby.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but Seonghwa shushes you before you can say anything. “No, no, he’s right Y/N. You need to eat and take a break, or you wont be able to get anything done anyways.” He pauses. “My mom always used to tell me that productivity is subjective. Sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is take a break, eat some good food, and get some sleep. Right now, that’s exactly what would be most productive to you, understand?” His voice is gentle but firm, and his tone gives you no choice but to tentatively agree.

Hongjoong smiles proudly up at Seonghwa, dropping his hands from your face and standing up, offering his hand to you. You take it, letting him pull you up. You sigh longingly as Hongjoong closes your laptop shut, and Seonghwa places a guiding hand on your back as he walks you three to the living room.

While it pains you to step away from your work, you immediately feel relieved as Seonghwa pulls you with him onto the couch, instinctively finding your position on his chest as he lay down with his head resting on the cushy armrest. His hand tangles in your hair, the other rubbing your back up and down in slow, repetitive motions. The steady thumping of heart under your cheek is enough to make you come undone, and your shoulders relax.

Smiling fondly at the sight, Hongjoong sits next to your tangled bodies, opening his phone. “We’re ordering in tonight. What are you feeling, pretty girl?”

The corners of your lips twitch up, though you don’t bother to open your blissfully closed eyes. “Pasta?” You respond, the thought of noodles making your mouth water.

Hongjoong laughs and pats your butt affectionately, ordering you guys a few of your favorite pasta dishes to share.

In the meantime, Seonghwa struggles with the remote, trying to put on a cute animated movie to cheer you up. Finally figuring out what buttons to press, he finds a selection of studio ghibli movies and let you take your pick. Hongjoong calls in to order the food while the two of your start the movie, and as soon as he’s done, he walks back over to the couch. You turn around so you’re laying on your back against Seonghwa’s chest, his arms wrapping around your waist while you reach your arms out to Hongjoong. He smiles brightly before climbing into your arms, laying with his head resting on the soft pillows on your chest and his arms joining Seonghwa’s around your waist. Content to be between both of them, you sigh.

It’s the best you’ve felt in weeks. Seonghwa’s chest rising and falling steadily against your back, Hongjoong snuggled up close to you, letting you tangle your fingers in his hair, the soft strings of the ghibli movie—it was perfect. When you drift off, hands resting limp and calm against Hongjoong’s back and hair and head resting comfortably back against Seonghwa’s happily beating heart… your boys can’t help but feel the same.

NSFW content following the cut ———

You awake groggily at the sudden loss of the comfortable weight on your chest, grumbling at the cold air hitting your front. You open your eyes, Seonghwa giggling lovingly at your state from behind you and Hongjoong nowhere to be seen. You pout, looking around.

”He’s getting our food.” Seonghwa explains softly, his voice hardly above a whisper. You nod, not bothering to move as you hear Hongjoong open the front door and thank the delivery person. He returns with a slight grin, holding up the bag of food victoriously.

You smile, sitting up and moving to get up off the couch. Seonghwa clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction, pulling you back to stay. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You giggle, wriggling weakly in his grasp. “To the table? To go eat dinner?” You respond, your voice already containing more of it’s usual happiness.

Hongjoong laughs and shakes his head, his eyes making pretty crescents. “No, silly, we’re gonna eat in the living room today. It’s treat.”

You gasp, turning to look at Seonghwa. Usually, he’s the one scolding you and Hongjoong about your cleaning and organizational habits, always keeping you both in check. So for him to be letting you eat in the living room…

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, but his grin never leaves his face as he gently lest go and helps Hongjoong unpack the food onto the coffee table. You gasp excitedly, sitting crisscrossed on the floor in front of the couch. Seonghwa ruffles your hair before going to making the three of you bowls of pasta.

The food is delicious, of course. You hum with satisfaction, not remembering the last time you ate a proper meal. Sure, pasta isn’t the healthiest meal, but it sure does hit the spot after not eating anything but protein snacks and the random fruits your concerned boyfriends brought you every once and a while. They seem to notice, not taking their eyes off you as you go silent to eat, eagerly slurping up pasta. Proud to see you feeling better, they also find that the food is especially good—maybe just because you look so happy eating it.

You listen intently as Hongjoong talks about the songs he’s working on, never having felt so happy just to hear him ramble as you are now. Seonghwa is silent, too focused on his food, but he occasionally bumps your shoulders with his legs, still sitting on the couch as you sit on the floor between his legs. It’s been so long since you’ve all gotten to just sit and eat together, between the weird schedule of your classes and studying for finals, Hongjoong’s production, and both of the boys' dance practices. Looking at Hongjoong’s happy face and gently rubbing Seonghwas calf as it cages protectively around your form, you feel yourself tearing up.

”I missed you guys.” You whisper in a beat of silence, taking another bite of pasta to counteract the sentimental tears forming. Hongjoong looks up at you, giving you a delicate smile. Seonghwa sets his bowl down, gently massaging your shoulders as he, also, tries not to cry, not wanting to make you upset.

”We missed you too, babydoll.” Hongjoong replies, and Seonghwa squeezes your shoulder as well in emphasis. He looks thoughtful for a moment, before clearing his throat and setting his bowl down. “Y/N?”

You look up, swallowing your big bite of pasta before responding. “Hm?”

Hongjoong laughs softly, before shaking his head and scooting closer to you, gently taking your hand and holding it in his lap. “Hwa and I love you so much. We never ever want to see you so stressed, yeah? We understand that you have a lot to do—we’re in a similar position a lot of the time. But… just like how you make sure to take care of us when we’re feeling overwhelmed, we want to take care of you too.”

You blink, taken off guard by his sudden seriousness. Senoghwa gently reaches around to tuck your hair back behind your ear. “He’s right. It’s okay to get frustrated, stressed, tired… even just sad. But it’s not okay to completely isolate yourself from everyone around you and push yourself past what your body and mind can handle.” He adds, gently combing through your hair with his fingers. He’s right, you realize. Unknowingly, you had been avoiding your friends and even your two beloved boyfriends, hiding in the library to avoid coming home and staying cooped up in your bedroom at every opportunity under the pretense of discipline. Seonghwa’s words from earlier echo in your mind. Productivity is subjective… Sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is take a break…

You nod slowly, setting your own bowl down. “Yeah… you guys are right,” you admit with a slight look of guilt. “I’ve probably been stressing myself out more than necessary because I’ve been getting so frustrated.” You explain, earning a nod from Hongjoong. You continue. “And… I promise from now on, I’ll rely a little more on you guys. I’m sorry for worrying you.” You meet Hongjoong’s eyes and gently squeeze Seonghwa’s calf, and they coo.

”Such a sweet thing…” Seonghwa praises, squishing your cheek even from his odd position behind you. You blush, suddenly shy, and Hongjoong laughs, lightly hitting Seonghwa’s thigh. The three of you go quiet for a minute, the air lighter.

Interrupting the silence, Hongjoong clears his throat, looking up at you. “Y/N?”

You nod, giggling at his tone. “What? You’ve said my name like that twice already, it’s so cute~”

Hongjoong scoffs and nearly argues, but his blush creeps up his face before he can rebut. He shakes his head. “I’m being serious here!”

You and Seonghwa laugh, but you quickly shake your head and squeeze his shoulder. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead, honey.”

He blushes at the nickname, his personal favorite from you, and clears his throat again. “Well, Hwa and I were talking while you napped, and we wanted to ask if you’d like to let us take care of your stress for you tonight? You know, help you relax a bit..?”

You smile, shaking your head innocently. “No, I’m sorry. There’s not really much you guys can do, my paper is built off of research I’ve been doing all semester. I appreciate the offer, of course, but I should really just write it on my own.”

Hongjoong blinks. He’s known you for a long time, but he will never not be astounded by how your sweet, dense brain works. He laughs in shock. “Hah… geez, Y/N… for somebody so smart, you sure are slow.” He says, and Seonghwa coughs back a laugh before pretending to scold him. You tilt your head.

”Uh… sorry?”

Hongjoong shakes your head, and Seonghwa moves to sit on the floor with you guys, feeling awkward not being able to see your face.

“No, not like that my dear.” He explains. He gently takes your hand and presses it to his lips. “We want to take you to bed, our love. It’s been a while since we could take care of you, hm?”

Your face heats up immediately. Seonghwa has always been the best of you three at initiating this kind of intimate affection, so it shouldn’t come at any surprise. But even after sleeping with your boyfriends hundreds of times… they only get sexier You subconsciously press your thighs together.

Seonghwa just chuckles at your cute reaction, standing up and grabbing the trash from your dinner. “Think it over while I clean dinner up, hm?”

You watch with your mouth slightly agape as he takes the trash to the bin in the kitchen, stunned silent. You turn to look at Hongjoong, who tucks your hair back affectionately.

”Kiss me?” You whisper suddenly, looking up at him shyly through your eyelashes.

Hongjoong smiles softly at your request, cupping your jaw and tilting your head up so he can access your lips. He kisses you softly, his plush lips molding naturally against yours. He turns his head to the side after just a moment, gently licking at your bottom lip, and you part your lips to grant him access. He eagerly intrudes your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours. His hand slowly comes up to rest on your waist, his thumb slipping under the hem of your shirt and rubbing easy circles over the smooth, delicate skin there. You hum into his mouth and rest your hands on his shoulders for support, desperate to taste more. It’s been a long time, you realize, since you’ve done anything like this with your boyfriends. You’ve missed it.

Seonghwa returns, raising an eyebrow at the sight and sitting on the side of the couch, opting to just watch for a little while. He knows he’ll get his turn.

Sure enough, Hongjoong pulls away just for a moment at seeing Seonghwa sit down, leaving you whining. He clicks his tongue.

”Tsk tsk… patience babydoll. Lie down on the couch for me, hm?”

You nod and quickly position yourself comfortably on the couch, happy when Hongjoong climbs over top of you and continues kissing you. To your dismay, he refuses giving you entrance back into his mouth, instead moving to press slow, open mouthed kisses down your jaw. You breathe heavier at the sensation, letting out shameless little gasps and whimpers when he nips sensitive parts of your neck. Almost too swift to notice, Hongjoong slides his hands up under your shirt, pulling it up over your head in one smooth motion before crawling downward to kiss your collarbone, lingering around the straps of your bra. Just before you feel yourself growing impatient, he unclips the fabric barrier as if reading your thoughts, gently sliding it down your shoulders to reveal your soft breasts.

He exhales in wonder at the beautiful sight, reaching one hand up to gently palm at the flesh there. “God, baby… how could I have ever forgotten how much I missed these pretty things, hm?”

You blush shyly at his praises, his tone of voice one that always gets you in a space ready and wanting to please. You arch your back impatiently, the cold air leaving you desperate for their touch. Hongjoong smiles, letting you get away with it for now and leaning down to gently take the soft flesh of your breast into his mouth.

You gasp slightly as his tongue caresses the bud of your breast, comforted with the feeling of his mouth tenderly kissing the plush skin there. You pet his hair in return, and Seonghwa reaches a hand up to rub Hongjoongs back encouragingly, fond of watching his lovers feeling good.

After a few minutes of getting you slowly more and more needy from Hongjoongs touches, Seonghwa finally moves to tug at the waist of your pants, easing them down your thighs and folding them neatly on the other side of the couch. He repositions himself to be propped on his elbows between your thighs, and you shiver when you recognize the position. His breath brushes against the heat between your thighs as he leans forward, turning his head to suck at the skin of you plush thighs. He gently kneads the soft flesh under his hands, slowly easing your thighs further apart as he inches up closer to where you need him. You roll your hips forward, desperate.

Seonghwa smiles, finally leaning forward and licking a fat stripe from your leaking entrance up to your clit, stopping there to suck on the bundle of nerves there. You gasp at the sudden stimulation, arching your back into his tongue and earning a delicious hum from him. “God, you taste so good…” Seonghwa moans into your dripping folds. He rolls his tongue expertly over the now erect bud while Hongjoong switches to sucking small marks into your collarbone, the combination sending you reeling.

When Seonghwa suddenly slides two fingers inside of you, you finally let out a full moan, earning a smile from both men. Hwa’s fingertips brush against the perfect spot inside, and combined with his tongue messily lapping up your juices and Hongjoongs attention back on your breasts, you nearly cum on the spot.

Hongjoong places a hand on Seonghwa’s head, signaling for him to stop.

You pant as you come down from the edge. “I want more,” you manage to get out in between breaths, looking up at Hongjoong.

He chuckles. “Such a needy little thing, hm?” You pout, and he giggles, finding you cute. “Bend over the side of the couch.” Seonghwa glances over at him with surprise at his suddenly domineering tone. Hongjoong just shrugs. “If our baby wants it so bad, then let’s give it to her. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how naughty our girl is, hm?”

Seonghwa glances over at you with concern, wanting to make sure it’s really what you want. He doesn’t have to worry for long, though, since you’re already scrambling to bend over with your elbows propped up on the armrest of the couch. He lets out a surprised laugh. “God, Joong. Maybe I did forget.”

Hongjoong smirks, his adoring eyes raking over your submissive position. “Seonghwa, tell me baby, do you want her pussy or her mouth? You get first pick today.”

The pretty man needs no time to decide. “Can I please get her pussy today, Joongie?”

Hongjoong nods and presses a sweet kiss to Seonghwa’s cheek. “Of course you can, love. Thank you for asking so nicely.”

While you can’t see them talking behind you in your current position, the way they talk to each other alone makes you blush. The three of you all love each other so much, there’s no doubt about it. And even when Hongjoong takes over a more dominant role, he’s never really mean, making sure his partners know that his priority is always taking care of them. You smile softly, in your thoughts, when you feel Seonghwa climb on the couch behind you.

You grip the arm of the couch in anticipation. Seonghwa presses the head of his dick against your folds, rubbing it along your clit and spreading your love juices around. You drop your head at the feeling, biting back a moan. When he finally slides in, though, you can’t help but groan out his name, pushing your hips back against him until he’s fully seated inside of you.

Hongjoong hums in satisfaction as he watches, reaching to rub comforting circles on the smooth skin of your back. “Deep breaths, baby. Does it feel good?”

You nod immediately, a little too eager. “Y-yes…” You hiss.

Hongjoong chuckles. “Good girl. Seonghwa, baby, don’t move until I tell you to.” Seonghwa groans but agrees nonetheless. Hongjoong walks around to the side of the couch where you’re facing, cupping your jaw. “Stick out your pretty tongue for me.”

You obey, parting your lips quickly and letting your tongue drop out for him, too far gone to be embarrassed about how much saliva you’re producing. He bites his lip, stroking his fully erect length in front of your face, giving you the most perfect view. When he finally rubs the bulbous head of his pretty cock against your tongue, you hum. He doesn’t do much more for a while, leaving both you and Seonghwa, who is essentially just being cockwarmed, impatient. But just before you lose your composure and ask hm outright to just fuck your throat, he finally slides his length into your mouth.

You eagerly wrap your lips around him, tightening them expertly and sliding your tongue over the underside of his pretty length, making him roll his eyes back.

“Hon- ah god… you’re so good, baby. So perfect-“ He pants, placing a hand on the back of your head and bottoming out in your throat. While he isn’t quite as long as Seonghwa, you’ve always thought that his dick fits perfectly in your mouth. Just enough to make you feel full without causing any painful gagging. You hum around him, and he finally breaks. “Oh god- Hwa, baby, move… I don’t know how long I can last…”

Seonghwa doesn’t have to be asked twice. Without warning, he starts thrusting in and out of you firmly, holding onto your waist for support. You gasp, not caring about volume anymore as he pounds into you, each thrust calculated and firm. Hongjoong can feel you rocking from Seonghwa’s relentless pace, and he lets out a low groan, holding tightly onto a fistful of your hair. “Babydoll, can I fuck your throat? P-please?”

You blink up at him expectantly in response, and he tilts his head back as he finally slides slowly in and out of your mouth.

Hongjoong slowly begins to fuck your mouth, savoring every inch as he watches your throat stretch around him. His hand remains steady on the back of your head, but he never pushes further than you can take—he knows your limits too well. Your eyes water slightly from the fullness, but the way both your boyfriends are moaning, praising you, touching you, has your arousal spiking all over again.

Behind you, Seonghwa is groaning softly under his breath, his thrusts now faster, deeper, his hips snapping into yours with growing desperation. “Fuck, you feel so good, love,” he pants, leaning forward to press kisses to your spine as he grinds into that sweet spot that makes your whole body shiver. His fingers tighten on your waist, and you can feel how close he is by the way his movements get a little sloppier.

“God, she’s dripping, Hwa,” Hongjoong murmurs with a breathless laugh, hips stuttering forward as you suck him harder, slurping around his cock like it’s the only thing you need. “Our baby’s soaking you.”

Seonghwa lets out a shaky whine, the sound sending heat straight to your core. “I—fuck, Joongie, I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” Hongjoong growls through his teeth, voice tight with restraint. “Wait for her. Baby,” he coos down to you, pulling slowly out of your mouth with a wet pop. “Do you wanna cum?”

You nod frantically, voice hoarse with need. “P-please—I’m so close…”

“Then do it,” Seonghwa chokes out, slamming into you just right as he reaches around to rub quick circles on your clit. “Cum for us, baby. Let us feel you.”

It takes nothing more. Your orgasm crashes over you, thighs shaking as you scream out their names, walls clenching around Seonghwa’s cock in desperate pulses. He gasps, loud and broken, and finally lets go, spilling inside you with a deep, satisfied groan, hips grinding into you to ride it out. His head drops between your shoulder blades, breath hot and fast.

The sight of his two lovers feeling so good is enough for Hongjoong. He jerks himself off over your tongue, the pace of his fist desperate and sloppy. He jerks forward, trembling as he cums in front of you, thick spurts of release painting your tongue. You swallow up every drop on instinct, humming softly as he pants and wipes the corner of your lips with his thumb, utterly dazed.

For a long moment, all that fills the room is the sound of your shared, panting breaths. Seonghwa slowly pulls out, careful not to hurt you, and places a tender kiss to the curve of your lower back before helping you back onto the couch properly.

You collapse back onto Seonghwa chest, arms wide open for Hongjoong as he makes his way back around to the seat of the couch.

“Holy shit,” you mutter with a breathless laugh as Hongjoong climbs in next to the two of you, placing a loving hand on your thigh.

Hongjoong kisses your forehead, smiling contentedly. “We’ve really missed this.”

Seonghwa hums his agreement against your shoulder, holding you tighter.

You smile, eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion finally catches up with you. “Me too,” you whisper, yawning. Wrapped between your two lovers, bodies warm and sticky and pressed together, it’s hard not to feel sleepy.

The two men notice with fond expressions, glancing at each other.

Seonghwa kisss your cheek. “Alright, love, let’s go get you cleaned up. Something tells me it’s bedtime.”

You let out a breathy laugh, nodding.

“I love you guys.”

[holybibly]

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 ℭ𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔩𝔢 | Seonghwa x reader

𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: Vampire Prince Seonghwa x Mortal maid reader 𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You've heard the story since you were a little girl—a beautiful vampire prince living in an ancient Gothic castle covered in thorny roses, waiting for his true love. But you could never have imagined that you were destined to be part of this gloomy story.  𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 / 𝔄𝔲 / 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢 : Smut, Dark Romance, Mystery, Doomed lovers!AU, Vampire!AU, Gothic!AU, Soulmate!AU ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 15k

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Vampire sex, master/servant, unprotected sex, corruption kink, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, rough oral, power play, hematolagnia, body worship, bite kink, orgasm delay/denial, wax game, blood kink, blood drinking, multiple orgasms, squirting, face fucking and more.

𝔫𝔢𝔱: @cultofdionysusnet

𝔄|𝔑: And now I've finally completed it and I couldn't be happier. I guess I'm a little too in love with Seonghwa. But can I resist the temptation to give him all my attention? And the bunnies seem a little obsessed with him too, don't they? This is a gothic fairy tale, full of depravity, filth and lust. Are you ready for a prince's cold kiss?

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis

It's always been this way and always will be: people avoid the village that stands by the sinister Gothic castle in the middle of a dead rose garden, where ancient legend says a beautiful midnight somnambulist holds the guilty legacy of his bloodthirsty ancestors. Dressed in an ancient coronation robe, the magnificent prince of vampires sits all alone in his dark, vast house, under the watchful eye of his mad and terrible ancestors, who stare at him from faded portraits, each of them prolonging their dreary posthumous existence through him. He spreads the tarot cards, tirelessly forming endless constellations of indeterminate probabilities, as if a random card falling on a regal blood-red velvet tablecloth would transport him from this cold, shuttered room to a land of eternal summer and human warmth. As if it would help him to wipe away the age-old sorrow from his unbeating heart, to allow him to feel, at last, the love for which he so desperately longs—the love for someone like him, a creature who embodies life and death at the same time.

His voice is full of distant echoes of long-forgotten love poems, like an echo under the earth: "You've come to a place from which you can't return; you've come to a place from which you can't return." And he himself is like a dark, cold dungeon, filled with the reverberation of a lonely echo, a system of repetition, a vicious circle.

He is so divinely beautiful that his beauty seems unnatural; his beauty is an abnormality, a perfect flaw, for in no hypnotic feature of his face is there a hint of the touching imperfection so natural to human existence. His beauty is a sign of fatal disease, a sign of blood full of poison; his black tears are a sign of his lack of soul.

A night-born beauty who embodies both the sin and the blessing in his existence. The Prince of immortality, lord of grief, master of endless tears.

The elegant hands of the beautiful denizen of darkness skillfully guide the hand of fate. The nails on his hands are long and sharpened to a point as sharp as a dagger of steel. These nails and teeth—magnificent, glistening dangerously in the darkness like white snow under the moonlight—are visible signs of his inescapable destiny, which he desperately tries to escape by using magic and otherworldly powers. His claws and teeth have been honed by centuries of brutal wars and bloody orgies. He is the last descendant of a poisonous, barren tree that took root in a time when humans worshipped blind Gods and believed in the powers of nature. 

As soon as the sun, bleeding with golden ichor, has set, he rises from his voluptuousness bed, which rather more closely resembles a velvety coffin than a lovelorn bed, and goes to the little round table, and, sitting at this table, he plays his leisurely, mirthless game with fate, until hunger awakens in him—an insatiable, bestial, scorching his whole being—hunger.

His lips were intoxicating wine—the scarlet madness of pure seduction. His kiss was as tender as a mother's caress, as suffocating as unspoken words, and as shattering as the agony of dying love, but it was only when his alluringly sensual smile faded in the lips of his victims that they would realise that it was not wine—it was blood—and it tasted as bitter as poisonous wild strawberries and ashes. He slowly savoured each cooling drop of blood until the eyes of his lovers became pale and sombre, like lily flowers submerged in water. The glow of the moonlight that pours in through the boarded-up windows of his castle, on their waxy skin, was their burial garb. 

The Prince's realm stretches for miles and miles, encompassing all the haunted labyrinths of misty forests and mysterious abandoned dwellings, inhabited by ghosts and all manner of midnight creatures. In addition to his poisonous beauty, he has inherited the command of an army of fleshless shadows who inhabit the village at the foot of his sinister castle, which rests in a dead garden of mourning roses like a lover in her eternal sleep, waiting for the beautiful prince to one day kiss her icy lips. These macabre shadows sneak into the woods in the guise of bats and black foxes. They crawl into the corners of the ornate rooms of an abandoned house as thick, menacing spiders that entangle everything around them in the silken canopies of their webs. Their presence is manifested in the sound of sobbing in an abandoned bedroom where a cracked mirror hangs on the wall, reflecting nothing, and in the sense of unease that grips those who wander carelessly into these desolate lands. They torment all the beautiful young maidens, pure as angels from paintings, with fits of inexplicable weakness and madness, forcing them to wander about at night like somnambulists—barefoot and naked—until their frail bodies lie in the bloody sheets of their splendid lord.

But the Midnight Prince himself is indifferent to his otherworldly, immense power; instead, he longs to be an ordinary man and to meet his love—predestined and fateful—but he doesn't know if it can happen at all. The Tarot cards are always laid out for him in exactly the same way, always showing him the same painfully familiar pattern: the Magician, Death, the Tower - shattered by violet lightning—mystery, fatality, and destruction. 

In addition to the hundreds of whispering, sexless shadows that waltz through the dusky, gloomy corridors of the hereditary castle, the handsome prince has other living servants. Bleakness somnambulistic the servants in a dumb daze tend the decomposing castle, ensuring that no sunlight enters the dreary, formerly majestic halls and that their immortal master always has fresh, hot blood to satisfy his insatiable, animalistic hunger. They are eager to fulfil his every whim and desire, as vampire minions are supposed to do, and when one of these pale servants dies, turning into an immovable, translucent dried flower, another one takes his place, and the cycle begins all over again. 

They live as long as the prince wants, until he tires of their emotionless, silent presence. He mercifully shares his immortality with them, which moulds with poisonous black blood at the bottom of their exquisite porcelain tea cups. Everything about this otherworldly Prince of the Night justifies his tragic role—lord of sorrow and terror—except the fact that he himself is very reluctant to play this unpleasant role. 

On long, moonless nights, his caring, taciturn caretaker allows him to take a stroll through the garden. This rose garden is a place of extreme darkness and melancholy, lulled into the depths of a thorny maze and a beautiful, centuries-old cemetery where the remains of his cursed family lie beneath nameless marble slabs and faceless angels in empty coffins. 

The roses, once bright and alive, have now grown into a great wall of dead flowers. Behind them, he is trapped in his ancestral castle, like an intricate cage. There is no comfort for him in his ghostly existence, which is a clumsy imitation of real life. And then he returns to the lulling magic of the tarot, slowly shuffling the cards, spreading them out, trying to read them, and then, with a sigh, picking them up and shuffling them again, endlessly guessing at the inevitable fate.

Dressed in his blood-stained lace gown, he lies in his luxurious bed all day, drowning in countless pillows. When the tired, bloody sun disappears behind the vague line of the horizon, taking with it the weight of human life, he rises from his bed to take a bath filled to the brim with rose petals and virgin's blood, which stands in the middle of a room full of mirrors, and then he sits down at his little round table and plays cards until his hunger awakens again. 

It always was, and always will be, until, on one of an endless series of overcast, recurring days, the graceful, waxen fingers of a vampiric prince—as he descended from a sacred icon—turn over a card called 'Lovers'. Never, never before... never before has the prince been a forerunner of love. He shudders and trembles, his huge, hypnotic eyes close with nervously fluttering eyelids pierced by thin, bluish veins. This time, for the first time, the beautiful fortune-teller foretold yourself love—eternal as life and death at the same time.

The prince's luxurious chambers were in a high tower covered with prickly roses, and it was a part of the castle that had not yet been completely destroyed by time and sorrow, retaining some semblance of frightening grandeur. You have never been in this wing until this night, and if it were up to you, you would never want to be here again. This castle is a place of gore and death, a place from which no one has ever come back alive, but that was the last thing on your mind as you ran away into the impenetrable forest in the middle of a moonless night, fleeing further and further into the whispering darkness—to a place where your family would never find you, even if you had to pay for it with your life.

And so here you are. Waltzing through the endless labyrinths of the crumbling family castle of the beautiful lord of darkness and suffering—the midnight vampire prince Seonghwa—serving him and tending to the gloomy halls of his once glorious family legacy.

Ashes to ashes. Blood to blood.

Your pale, trembling hand floated in the air, hesitant to knock on the heavy, solid black oak door that separated the prince's velvet chambers from the rest of the castle. You had been standing there for some time, surrounded by whispering shadows and silken darkness. Their hissing, serpentine voices, coming to your ears from those dusty, darkness corners, where the dim glow of the candles did not reach:"He knows...he hears...he feels you...feels you..."

Even though it was always bone-chillingly freezing cold in the castle, your nervousness caused a clammy, obnoxious sweat to form on your skin, rolling in thick, glistening drops down your neck to the hollow of your plunging neckline, leaving a cooling, transparent trail resembling a ghostly kiss. You swallowed hard, saliva suddenly pooling in your mouth, and drew in a deep breath, mentally counting to ten, trying in vain to calm the frantic pounding of your heart against your ribs. It shouldn't be a big deal. After all, if the Prince had wanted you dead, your exsanguinated body would have been buried deep underground in his beautiful garden by now, which looked more like an exquisite burial ground than anything else.

It was utterly foolish of you to try and delay the inevitable. Seonghwa was waiting for you; he longed to see you. The prince had personally requested your presence in his chambers this evening, and he was probably well aware of how long you had been standing at the door of his bedchamber.

The prince’s velvety, almost purring voice echoed inside the room as your knuckles barely touched the dark wood of the door: "You can come in, my darling."

A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of that hypnotic, enchanting voice. Even though it was muffled by the thickness of the stone walls, you could still clearly feel its otherworldly, terrifying power lurking behind every letter he uttered. The prince's voice was like an angel's plaintive song—beautiful and terrifying at once.

You swallowed hard again and opened the massive oak door, framed in a rich wrought-iron floral design, leaning most of your weight on the hard wood. The thorns of the bronze roses, worn by time, were as sharp as the deadly fangs of a vampire prince. Your entire body shuddered as you stood frozen at the entrance to his private chambers, afraid to step over the threshold. Something ominous and terrifying hung in the air, sending shivers down your spine.

Reflections of blackened family gold caught your eye, emanating from every corner of the room as the flickering candlelight refracted and shattered against the sumptuous antique jewellery. Even more shadows grew and lurked in the corners of the bedroom, hissing and writhing where your gaze couldn't reach them. Every detail in this room spoke of its former glorious majesty.

In awkward cascades of dusty, faded fabric, heavy velvet curtains that had long since lost their rich burgundy colour hung down the walls of the room. Now the home of delicate glass spiders and dead nocturnal butterflies, they were no longer exquisite pieces of decoration. Hanging on the walls, in massive antique gold frames, were the grim, time-worn portraits of the previous owners of this eerie sanctuary of shadow and sorrow, whose veins ran with the same black blood as Seonghwa's. They were a reminder of the vampire prince's cursed legacy. As the bone-chilling wind swept through the room, you could hear the crystal pendants of the chandelier clink. It brought to your ears the whispers of the shadows in languages you had never heard before.

It seemed to you that the air in Seonghwa's private chambers was even colder than the rest of the castle, filled with a sweet, suffocating scent that made you dizzy. Yet some unknown force drew you deeper into the silken darkness of the bedroom, where the beautiful, sinister creature lived her mirthless existence.

"My darling, you've made me wait too long for you. Come here." The command in his languid, seductive voice shot through your body like a whip, leaving your skin burning. Your whole body clenched with fear, paralysed by cold and nervousness, as you hesitantly moved towards the large archway that led into the open, mirrored space of the bathroom.

The faint splash of water was almost drowned out by the sound of the blood rushing through your veins and your heart pounding against your ribs at an almost painful rate. As you paused at the edge of the podium that held a large marble bathtub filled to the brim with rose petals, the knot of anxiety that was slowly forming in your stomach only tightened. The hot steam rising from the water clung to your skin like a lover's caress, filling the air with the intoxicating scent of the flowers, mixed with something unspeakably sweet, something erotic, something animal—a scent that could only belong to Seonghwa himself.

"What can I do for you today, my prince?" You take a deep breath of the freezing air to calm your nerves a little. The faint metallic taste of blood on your tongue.

"First of all, lift your head, my love, so I can have a good look at you." His velvety, seductive voice rolled down the length of your slightly arched spine, spreading a hot, scarlet flush across your flesh as he spoke. You could already feel how the tops of your thighs were starting to get wet with excitement. You were ashamed to admit how your body reacted to him, even though you knew it was part of his vampire personality that allowed him to mesmerise his prey before delivering his deadly, icy kiss.

Every single cell in your body urges you to run as far away as possible, instinctively reacting to the presence of something so evil and dangerous around you. But you ignored your fear and slowly lifted your head to meet the dark, hypnotic gaze of Seonghwa, who leaned back on the edge of the marble bathtub with regal casualness. A grim shiver ran through your entire body at the gaze of those large, gleaming eyes—slanting and predatory like a wild cat's. Your skin tingled at the feeling of the prince's eyes sliding slowly over your body, lingering too long on the heaving ridges of your plump breasts above the deep neckline of the tight corsage. He was staring at you like a rose, tearing you apart in an effort to get to the very core of you, deliberately slow, petal by petal. 

There is a long silence between the two of you, filled only with the loud beating of your heart and the subtle splashing of the water as the prince's long fingers lazily caress the rose petals floating on the surface of the tub. The intense eye contact was unsettling, as if you were looking at a scene that you weren't meant to see, and perhaps that was exactly what it was. 

It was hard to ignore how beautiful the vampire was and how dangerous he was. The lack of any natural flaws was so glaring that it almost made your head spin from the otherworldly perfection of it all. The greatest artists, in their quest for perfect beauty, would not have been able to describe a divine portrait of his face to this earth without even a hint of the incredible reality of his appearances. The verses of the poets could not describe his eyes; the light in them decided the fate of mankind; they had life and death, sinfulness, passion, and sparkling moisture, something that you could never have in human eyes. You didn't know if Seonghwa was the light of heaven or the flames of hell, but you were sure that he was from the first or second world. Seonghwa was either an angel that had fallen from the open heavens or a demon that had risen from hell, or perhaps both at the same time. 

His long arms stretched out on either side of his lithe, slender body, bulging with silky muscles under smooth, moist skin that shimmered like pure gold in the light of burning candle flames, and you swallowed hard at this view. You felt like you'd been lured straight into the lion's den, and he was going to eat you alive. And maybe, just maybe, that was what you wanted so badly. Every night of your stay in this castle, you have had the same dream—the one where Seonghwa feeds on you while he fucks you in front of the huge antique mirror in his dark velvet chambers. Those dreams - so intense and sensual that when you awoke, you could still feel the prince's phantom cold breath on your skin, the lingering touch of his hands on your body, the aching feel of his big cock between your thighs, and the warmth of your blood running down your naked breasts in dark scarlet streams from the small puncture wounds that Songhwa's needle-sharp fangs had left on your neke. And the longer it went on, the stronger this terrible, dark need became to feel the prince's painful, deadly kiss in reality. 

Right now, there was a small part of you that was desperately hoping that Seonhwa's call to you tonight was for that very reason—to feed on you. 

As if reading your thoughts, a sinful, predatory grin formed on Seonghwa's luscious, sensuous lips, and the look in his seductive, half-closed eyes shot through you, making your blood boil with desire. 

Your excitement was so obvious to him, but in spite of this humiliating fact, the thrilling sensation that was fluttering in your lower abdomen and sending shivers of heat between your luscious thighs only intensified. The blood pulsed in your veins so furiously that you could feel its pulse on your neck, and of course Seonghwa felt that seductive throbbing of your life as well. 

"What is your name?" His voice was like a snowy day after a frozen night, smooth as crystal and sparkling like diamonds, when the prince spoke to you again. 

" Y/N." You say it quietly, looking away from the vampire with a little shyness.

" Y/N." When he speaks your name, you get the feeling that it's always belonged to him. Not to you, but to him, it is. His tongue caresses each letter, wrapping around it as if kissing it and licking each syllable as if his sensual mouth were touching the most tender spot between your legs. He fills your name with his own meaning—impossible, forbidden, sinful—a meaning known only to him. 

The soft splashing of the water was the only warning you were given before Seonghwa stood right in front of you in all of his naked glory. Up close, his appearance was even more inhumanly beautiful, devoid of any of the imperfections of nature. He shone like a celestial being bathed in holy light, water droplets dripping down his perfectly smooth golden skin, and part of you longed to lick it. Blood-red petals clung to the chiselled muscles of his chest and stomach in the most seductive way, igniting a roaring heat inside you and fastening a throb in your heart. His long, midnight-black locks seemed to float softly and beautifully on his head, and his skin shimmered with shards of light. No living being could ever be a match for him—beauty, regality, immortality—it was all woven into every bit of his cursed, dark nature. The prince slowly licked his plump, soft lips, and for a moment, one could see the sharp tips of his fangs. 

You had no idea where to look, especially since Seonghwa didn't hide his nakedness but showed it openly. Your gaze slid down the expanse of his bare chest, his sharp collarbones, and his long neck, but you didn't raise your eyes to his godlike face, instead focusing your attention on the silky scarlet rose petals that adorned his skin.

All of the stories that you had heard from the people of your village were absolutely true. Not a single living soul had been able to leave that gloomy, grief-filled Gothic castle, and you couldn't imagine anyone willingly refusing Seonghwa's cold kiss, even if it was the last thing they would ever experience in their lives. Your attraction to him was magnetic, as natural as gravity, as natural as breathing, and so achingly tangible that you could feel it in every part of your body. 

There was complete silence in the room for a moment before his hand came up to your face, and the cold, wet touch of his fingers against your cheek sent a shiver down your spine. You tried not to breathe as he gently ran the tips of his fingers down the length of your cheek. At Seonghwa's silent command, you obediently lifted your head to look straight into those hypnotic, feline eyes, framed by the velvety lace of wet lashes. Your face burned, but at the same time, his mesmerising, bottomless gaze made you want to press your lips to the back of his palm and kiss the silky tips of his long fingers. The embarrassing thought made your mouth dry and your heart beat twice as fast in your chest.

"Aren't you beautiful, my love?" Seonghwa purred in a low, seductive tone. His luscious lips curled into a devilish smile that screamed danger and didn't bode well for you. But that sensual, soft curve of his mouth filled you with a semblance of imaginary safety, as if you were in no danger at all around him. In this scene, you're just a little mouse, and he's a snake, a coiled ring snake, ready to lethal strike.

"I…my prince, you shouldn't say that…" It was hard for you to get any words out of your mouth. You felt as if you were transparent, as if there was no longer any barrier between the air and your body.

"But it is, isn't it? You are so warm, so full of life. It's just too tempting for me to resist." He runs his long, slender fingers along your lips, pressing lightly until his sharp claws dig into the soft, pliant flesh, causing small drops of blood to rise. "I could kiss you right here." He bends down so that he's level with your face and his long tongue sticking out just to lick the blood drops from your lips. As soon as he has tasted you, Seonghwa lets out a deep, fulfilled groan and looks up at you with heavy, bottomless eyes full of animal hunger. "Or here..." Now his godlike face bends down to your neck, and his perfectly sculpted lips touch the spot where he can feel your pulse beating beneath thin skin.

A muffled half-moan escapes from your chest as his sharp incisors scrape lightly against you before Seonghwa begins to suck persistently at this sensitive area. His actions are making you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to ease the warm throbbing of your pussy. The way your body reacts to his touch almost embarrasses you, but even if it weren't for his deeply sexual vampire nature that made everyone lose their mind with lust, you're not sure you'd react any differently. Vampire or not, there was no denying the temptation you felt for Seonghwa. 

"Or even here..." With light kisses, he moved down the length of your neck to the heaving ridges of your breasts above the deep neckline of your corsage. His tongue licked slowly over your skin, leaving a glistening trail of saliva in its wake. This sent a rush of pleasure through your veins and the excited heat flooded your face with a scarlet flush. "You thought about that when you came here this evening, didn't you? Did you imagine how I would drink from you, how I would fuck you?" He asks you in a voice that sounds like that of a dark angel. God, what he's doing to you makes you feel so needy and devastated. You're sure that if he asked you to get on your knees before him, you'd do it in a heartbeat. "You know, I can feel how wet you are for me, my love."

And what would you have been supposed to say to that? He was absolutely right about all of it, and you were so ashamed of this magnetic, otherworldly attraction that you felt for the prince.

"I... I don't know, my prince. I'm so sorry..." You whispered, your voice quivering with both embarrassment and excitement. Seonghwa's magnificent eyes sank into yours, and for a moment you thought you saw stars shining in them before he drew a long fingernail, a line down the column of your throat, past your collarbones, down to the centre of your chest. The vampire tilted his head thoughtfully, and you watched as a mischievous grin appeared on his plump, sensual lips.

"You're sorry, how sweet." He immerses himself fully in the water once more and then returns to his original position on the far side of the tub. "Take your clothes off. I want you to join me." 

The sudden shock of his words running through your body paralyses you for a moment, robbing you of any ability to respond to him at all. The silence between you lingers, and you swallow loudly when his eyes narrow and the mischievous expression disappears from his face, and you open your mouth to try to squeeze out words from yourself. 

"I'm not sure I can do that, my prince. Servants aren't supposed to..." Seonghwa didn't let you finish; he cut off your words with an elegant wave of his hand. 

"A servant is not allowed to disobey his master, and that is all you need to know. Now get undressed and come here; otherwise, I'll do it myself, and sweetheart, I can't guarantee that I'll be gentle with you." 

It was useless to argue with him any further, and instead you began to obediently unbutton your corsage, but every move seemed to be an extra effort, especially as Seonghwa's hypnotic, velvety gaze never left you for a second. Your hands trembled as you pulled your clothes off your warm skin, but you couldn't tell if it was from shame that Seonghwa would see you completely undressed or from the thrill of facing the most seductive predator that had ever existed. Or maybe it was from lust as dark and raw as the look in the prince's hypnotic feline eyes. 

The cool air hit your naked body as your clothes and underwear fell in an unnecessary heap at your feet, leaving you nude before him. 

"Don't make me repeat myself, my darling." Obeying his wish, you cautiously stepped over the edge of the luxurious bathtub and slowly lowered yourself into the warm water, which was full of blood-red rose petals. You pressed yourself against the cold marble behind you, trying to put as much distance between you as possible. Maybe it was the contrast in temperature, or maybe it was Seonghwa's intense gaze that gave your skin goosebumps.

The vampire sprawled out on the edge of the bathtub again, like a large wild cat. His body was curled up in the most seductive way, so that you could see every single muscle underneath his smooth, golden skin. Like everything about Seonghwa, his body was absolutely perfect—he was lean but strong, muscular but lean; every inch of his body was brought to painful perfection by something divine, something that you would never be able to understand because of your ordinariness, your humanity. 

"Come closer to me, my love." 

The rose petals swirled around you as you slowly approached him, your heart pounding in your chest at the impossibility of what was about to happen. Perhaps this was all just a dream, like hundreds of others like it—full of lewd images and lingering touches—and you could wake up any minute, cold and alone in your small bed, with a throbbing need between your legs like every other night you'd spent in this gothic castle. You still kept a small distance between you, hesitating to move any closer to him, and it was obvious that he didn't like it as he reached his clawed hand forward to grab hold of your elbow. 

"I said come closer..." Seonghwa growled in a low voice and pulled you towards him so that your back was pressed against his bare chest. His skin was as cold and smooth as marble, and you shuddered as the tips of his sharp nails ran along the length of your shoulder. 

On the opposite side of the bathtub was a huge mirror, framed in a massive gold frame and lit by a hundred or so melted candles. In the slightly hazy reflection, you could see the beautiful face of Seonghwa as he leaned over to you until his soft lips touched your ear. Your breath caught as the sharp edges of his teeth burned the delicate skin of your earlobe and his fingers slid across your collarbone. 

A soft moan slips from your pink, plush lips as you unconsciously arch up in Seonghwa's arms, pushing your large, plump breasts forward and pressing your ass against his massive, hard cock under the water. His beautiful hands cradle your boobs, squeezing them hard in the palms of his hands, and you almost gasp for breath as the prince presses his sensual mouth to your throat. 

"Look at me, my love. Don't you dare to close your eyes for even a second." You whimper at the sensation of his sharp teeth clawing at your skin, and a sharp, delicious shiver of pleasure runs between your legs. "Otherwise..." He kisses a sensitive spot on the side of your neck, just below your ear. A kiss that makes your pussy all wet and sticky. "I'm going to bite you, but it feels to me like it's exactly what you want so badly. I'm right, aren't I, sweetheart?" In the reflection of the mirror, you could see the way that his hands were slowly massaging your breasts. The light touch of his thumbs on your hard, sensitive nipples made you squirm and writhe. "You're so perfect." Seonghwa purred. "So warm and fragile, and you moan for me like a whore, even though you know that I hold your fleeting human life in the palm of my hand. I could kill you now, but considering how wet your pretty pussy is, that thought only turns you on, doesn't it?" The tone of his voice dropped to a whisper that was as eerily beautiful as the rustling of a thousand dead rose petals. 

Seonghwa's sharp teeth sink a little deeper into your neck, practically tearing the thin skin and drawing blood from it. 

Your mind tries desperately to find a coherent excuse for his words, and you unconsciously close your eyes. Your pulse speeds up as vivid images of Seonghwa drinking from you, slowly consuming your life, sip by sip as he fucks you, fill your mind, and send sparks of excitement flying across your skin. 

Seonghwa growls low, pulling you harder against him, and before you know it, his hand is around your throat, long clawed fingers clenching at the sides of your neck, cutting off the supply of oxygen to your airways. Your eyes roll back in ecstasy, the mixture of pain and pleasure threatening to send you into oblivion and some inexplicable part of you wishes he would squeeze his fingers more tighter.

"I told you to keep your eyes open for me." Seonghwa's cool breath touches your ear. "I am tired of your disobedience, my love. How dare you disobey your prince?" His fingers squeezed harder at your throat, and your eyes opened wide - big and frightened - as you began to gasp for air. Just as you felt the blackness coming to the edges of your vision and your consciousness starting to fog up, Seonghwa let go of you and let you breathe.

Trying to connect your thoughts is like wading through a swamp as the prince unclenches his fingers and pulls them away from your neck. Your eyes begin to water and your fingers clench into his hand, as if it might help you to breathe normally again. But Seonghwa doesn't seem to be finished punishing you for disobeying his orders. He grabs your swollen nipple and pinches it roughly, making you sob pitifully at the pleasantly painful sensation.

You still don't answer to him, and with each passing minute of your silence, Seonghwa's displeasure grows, and there is something dark and utterly evil in his eyes. His fingers moved slowly down the length of your thigh, leaving a trail of scalding cold in their wake, despite the fact that you were now in a warm bath. His lazy touches continued until they slid over the delicate, trembling folds of your pussy. And just like that, the pleasant heat that had been building up in your lower abdomen turned into lava that made you melt at the touch of his hand.

"Shall I forgive your disobedience, my love?" Seonghwa slides his fingers over your cunt, touching every inch of your sensitive skin, from your throbbing clit to your tight, wet entrance, spreading your essence over your folds, making them smooth and shiny. Each time they linger over your little hole, you tense reflexively in preparation for his penetration. "Or should I punish you? Should I teach you a lesson in the proper way to treat your prince?" 

"I... I... I think you should punish me, my prince." A gasping moan slips from your lips as your head rests on his shoulder, exposing most of your pale throat to him as Seonghwa slides a long finger inside you, pressing hard against the spongy front wall of your vagina. 

"You see? It's not so hard to do the right thing, dear. You could really use some discipline, you little slut." The prince pulls his finger out of your warm little pussy, and then abruptly stands up on his feet and pulls you up behind him until you are sitting in his arms. He carefully steps out of the tub, pulling you tightly against his wet, hard chest, and steps down from the podium where the marble bathtub stands. 

Seonghwa walks over to a large, time-worn chair that looks like a throne, lowers himself into it, and turns you over. You find yourself face down in his lap, your arse held up. As his fingers slide down your thighs, leaving red marks from his sharp claws, you let out a treacherous half-moan. 

"You look so good, all flushed, my love." Seonghwa's hands cupped your buttocks and squeezed them a few times before spreading them apart, exposing your glistening wet pussy to his gaze. The feel of the cold air on your delicate folds caused your hole to clench involuntarily.

Watching your juices flowing from your pussy, Seonghwa can't help but imagine how you would taste on his tongue and how it would feel to have your pretty pink cunt smothering him as you rock on his face while he eats your sweet dripping pussy juices. Seonghwa can't help but think what you would taste like when he sank his fangs into your little mound and mixed the rich, intoxicating taste of your blood with the essence of you. These thoughts cause him to let out a deep, velvety moan as he digs his fingers deeper into the plump flesh of your buttocks.

"Look at you love, you're absolutely wet, your pussy is literally flowing for me. Are you so excited to be punished? So desperate want to be an obedient, beautiful servant for me?"

"My prince…" The lust flowing through your veins is too strong for your brain to formulate the right words. When you feel Seonghwa's cold breath on your pussy, your pulse accelerates to the point where you almost feel dizzy. He blows lightly on your sticky, soft folds, making you twitch a little.

Nothing could have prepared you for the scalding sensation of his palm coming down hard on your bottom. You scream at the top of your lungs at the throbbing pain, but still more fluid flows from your pussy. Three more slaps land on your bottom, each one leaving a delicious ache. You savoured every second of this bliss that was supposed to be your punishment, although you were terribly ashamed to admit it. He continued to spank you until your screams turned into loud, pitiful sobs and your body began to shake. 

"You are shivering, my love. Are you cold?" Seonghwa let out a grim chuckle, knowing exactly what was making you shiver and squirm. "Then let me keep you warm, my love."

As you unconsciously braced yourself for another slap, a loud scream escaped your trembling lips, as instead of the scalding cold of his palm, you felt small drops of hot wax on your bottom. Each drop that fell on your skin left a throbbing pain in its wake, mixed with a strong sense of pleasure that made you sob and wriggle in his lap. The liquid wax was almost too hot for you. Almost. But if you wanted Seonghwa to drink from you, let alone fuck you, you had to get used to the pleasure of pain. 

"You have to see yourself now, my love. You are so submissive, so warm, and so wet, you excited little slut that you are. Was this what you wanted? You wanted me to punish you, my little darling. To make this slutty pussy all swollen and wet? Look at yourself." Suddenly, Seonghwa lifts you up and turns you around so that your back is pressed against his chest again. He runs his fingers lightly down your thighs before digging into the soft flesh and spreading your legs as wide as he can so that your wet folds are beautifully exposed and you can see your dripping cunt fully reflected in the mirror. 

He reaches down with one hand and slips two fingers into your hole while using the fingers of his other hand to massage your aching clit, making deliciously tight circles that make your hips buck unconsciously in an attempt to get more of that amazing feeling. 

"I have never been able to understand why you mortals take such pleasure in being treated like toys. Why you have such a craving for it..." Seonghwa purred in your ear and curled his fingers inside you, finding the point where you began to see stars and applying the perfect amount of pressure. Silenced by the soft whispers of shadows swirling in the darkness, the moan you let out echoed through the lord's chambers. "But seeing how desperate and pathetic you look now, how needy, I'm beginning to understand. You want someone to take control of you—someone powerful to rule you at will. And my love, you are so lucky that I can bring anyone I want to their knees. And you are no exception." He abruptly pulls his fingers out of you with an embarrassingly loud, wet sound, and you involuntarily let out a cry of loss. In the reflection of the mirror, you can see long, clear strands of your own slime dripping down his fingers. 

He brings the wet fingers to his sensual lips before his long tongue slips out of his mouth and wraps around them, licking up your juices. As he begins to taste you, Seonghwa lets out a deep moan of pleasure. 

"Now show me how beautiful you look on your knees before me, my little slut."

"At your command, my prince." You obediently obey Seonghwa's command and let yourself slip from Seonghwa's lap onto the cold stone floor. From your new position, the aching throbbing between your thighs becomes even more pronounced. As did the burning sensation on your inflamed buttocks.

Slowly, your eyes slid up the length of his delicious thighs before coming to rest on the massive, velvety length of his cock. Of course, his cock was as magnificent as the prince himself—large, wiry, and glistening with the abundant pre-cum that flowed from the dark pink, swollen head. You had had a few lovers before your escape from the village, but none of them had been anything like Seonghwa. Although you weren't a virgin and you knew how to treat a man and how to give him pleasure, you weren't sure if your meagre knowledge would be enough to please the gorgeous vampire prince.

You looked up at him with your big, shining eyes, and unconsciously, you licked your plump lips. You wanted to lick his cock. You wanted to take it in your warm mouth until you were choking on it. You wanted to make him proud of you, to want you to be that one who warmed his cold, solitary bed. But most of all, you wanted to be the source of his life, the immortal vessel that he would drink your life from like precious wine. All of these desires and feelings you had for the prince were humiliatingly embarrassing, and if it hadn't been for the way he looked at you—like a predator catching the tantalising scent of the prey he was about to hunt down—you would have burned with shame. But you were wrong about one thing: Seonghwa didn't look like a predator; he was a predator and the most dangerous and seductive one that ever existed. 

"My sweet little lady, you look so desperate right now." Seonghwa purred, one hand digging into the softness of your hair to pull your face even closer to his cock. "You can have a taste if you want it so badly."

You lean forward and gently stroke the wet and flushed head of his cock with your tongue, teasing it with light, cat-like licks. His chiselled chest, covered in glistening water droplets and soft rose petals, rises and falls with deep breaths. The textured muscles of his abdomen tense as you run your tongue along the silky length of his cock, outlining the seductively swollen vein with the tip of your tongue.

"You look so beautiful like this, kneeling in front of me with your soft lips wrapped around my cock." Seonghwa whispers in a voice so dark and deep that it hits you right in your cunt. It's precious—a sweet jewel of praise from the beautiful vampire prince, which you will wear like a good servant. But in spite of the sweet praise, you hear his direct command: "Take my cock in your mouth.".

It's unlikely you'll be able to get his thick cock all the way down your throat, but you wanted to try. Your lips open and the head of his cock slides easily into your mouth and for a second your tongue rests against his slit and you taste the thick, sweet taste of his cum. Seonghwa moans softly as the head of his cock is completely enveloped in the soft flesh of your lips. A seductive sound runs through your body like a thousand scalding kisses and you raise your eyes to look up at Seonghwa.

He is watching you, looking utterly wicked and like a god himself, wrapped in the thin skin of a man. The flames of the candle danced on the perfect features of his face, shining like a full moon in a world of endless night. His eyes were stars of otherworldly shadow - a depth of infinity that could crush the souls of those far more resilient than you. But it was his lips that most attracted you. They were unjustly obscene, swollen and sinfully scarlet. Temptation and lust are one, and you crave to taste it.

These thoughts make you swallow and unconsciously let his cock slide deeper into the silkiness of your mouth and the tightness of your throat. The nasty gagging sound that you make is so sexy that Seonghwa can't get enough of it. You look absolutely sinful, and it makes him want to possess every part of you. He wants to taste you in every sense, bind you to him, sink his sharp teeth into you, make you his immortal likeness, and then rape you to the deepest depths of time, making you scream like a whore—his whore.

"Come on, darling, take it deeper. Don't worry, every fluid in a vampire's body acts as an aphrodisiac. You'll be able to take my cock all the way down your pretty little throat. Now open your mouth wide for your prince. Seonghwa said and an evil gleam flashed in his eyes.

You could feel the velvety softness of his cock on your tongue, surrounded by the warmth of your mouth as you relaxed your jaw and let his cock slide deeper into your mouth. You take him halfway before you start to choke. Tears burn in your eyes as your lips stretch beautifully around his thick girth. Seonghwa's cock is so damn big for you. It's so heavy, pulsating in the melted, wet juices of your mouth. You wrap your hand around his balls, gently massaging and sometimes touching the base of the dick with your nails. You suck diligently on the head, occasionally letting your flexible tongue run along the slit where the pre-cum oozes out.

"That feels so damn good." The words fell from Seonghwa's plush lips as he threw his head back and rocked his hips a little. The long, midnight-coloured strands of his hair shone like a halo around the top of his head. "You're doing so well, my love. Just... just take my cock like a good maiden." His grip on your hair tightened, and you looked up at him with big, watery eyes, your cunt clenching at how dark the tone of his voice had become. 

"I'll do anything for you..." You moan loudly, drinking in every reaction Seonghwa gives you. Your desire to please him grows and grows.

You so desperately want to touch yourself between your legs, a small, shiny puddle of your mucus forming on the stone floor beneath you. You want to climb back onto his lap and let him fill you with his big, thick cock. You want to feel him in your belly, in your heart, and in your blood. 

You take him deeper, relaxing your throat and bending your head down until your nose touches the smooth skin of his pubic bone. Reflexively, you swallow around him, eliciting deep moans of pleasure from his sensual lips.

"Bloody hell... Mmm. You are such a good little slut." Hwa purrs as he begins to thrust his hips into your mouth. 

His cock plunges down your throat again and again, leaking copious amounts of pre-cum mixed with your drool, filling your mouth with intoxicating sweetness each time he pulls his cock out, until only the silky hot head is left in your mouth and your tongue rests against his slit. As his cock sank fully back into your throat, his hand slid down to massage your distended throat, feeling the bulging hardness of his own cock through the delicate wall of your neke.

Whatever restraint he had before was broken by the feeling of the warm walls of your throat contracting around him and the pleasurable pressure of his hand on your neck. Seonghwa begins to thrust his cock down your throat fast and hard, a flood of praise from his lips that makes you glow with pleasure.

"You have such a perfect mouth for me, my love. It is perfect for me to fuck. Make me come, my love. I want to fill your mouth with my cum." The combination of his gorgeous body above you, glistening from the water and decorated with rose petals, the sensual praise—full of dirty, lewd words—and the way he uses your throat make you even wetter. You feel a new load of mucus pouring out of your pussy. " Look at how your throat is swelling from my cock and how the saliva is dripping from your mouth. You're enjoying this too much, aren't you? You have made such a mess on the floor; do you want me to force you to lick it up with your tongue?

You moo in response to his words. The contraction of your throat around his cock almost makes you gasp as the tender walls fit tightly around the thick, velvety length, clenching incredibly hard around it. His hips twitch, his cock pulsates, and the grip on your hair becomes brutal, but it only elicits more moans from you, vibrating along the length of his cock in the most amazing way. 

Seonghwa pushed his dick into your mouth once more before he came. It was a mesmerising sight, almost hypnotic: the thrusts of his hips were interrupted, his soft, obscenely sensual, swollen lips parted in a deep, ecstatic moan, and his body shook as his orgasm overwhelmed him. A thick, sweet cum shot down your throat, and you began to swallow the copious stream of his pleasure. His sperm was nothing like the salty, almost bitter taste of human sperm, and you marvelled again at how everything about vampires was designed to lure and intoxicate their victims in every way possible. 

As he pulled away, his sperm began to spill out of your mouth, running down your chin and dripping onto the floor, where the puddle of your slime grew larger. Seonghwa reached his hand up to your face and ran his fingers over your swollen lips. He gathered the thick, pearly liquid on his fingertips, then pushed it into your open, pliable mouth.

"Such a good girl." Seonghwa murmured as your tongue wrapped around his fingers and cleaned them. 

When he pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a slight 'pop', you lifted your watery eyes back to his. Long trails of tears shone like diamonds across the puffy, flushed cheeks of your face. 

"My prince, I beg you. I need to come so badly. Please let me come, my prince, please. My pussy so needs it." You begged, almost whimpering, as you lay at his feet. In the bliss that followed his orgasm, he gently cupped your cheek, even stroking your hair lightly with his other hand, and looked lovingly at you with his bottomless dark eyes. His long, fluffy lashes fluttered like a dying sun in the purple twilight, glittering in all the colours of the spectrum in the dim light of the bath.

"Oh, my little lady, let your prince make you feel better." Seonghwa cooed. His voice was a velvety purr wrapped in darkness.

Seonghwa rises up from his chair in an elegant manner and holds out a graceful hand for you to help you to your feet. Your fingers tremble as you take his hand and slowly rise, almost stumbling on your wobbly, shaky legs, but Seonghwa's firm grip prevents you from falling. The prince's tall, naked body towers over you like an ancient, dark deity, making you feel small and vulnerable under the weight of his bottomless, black gaze. He wraps his long, cold fingers around your chin and lifts your face up so that you're looking straight at him. 

At that moment, the room seems to shrink, and the air is filled with something sensual, hot, and dark. Something that almost makes your skin tingle with a sharp, glass-like arousal. The otherworldly presence of the prince was undeniable—a dangerous dance between living and dying. A loud sob escaped from your lips, which were still covered in the remnants of semen, as Seonghwa leaned closer to you, his beautiful, plump lips hovering just a few inches away from yours. 

"Now it's my turn to have a taste of you, my love." The first touch of his plush lips against yours sent a dizzying rush of excitement up and down your spine. You let out a loud moan into his beautiful, soft mouth as Seonghwa's long tongue pushed your lips apart and immediately took hold of your mouth. His kiss is all-consuming and devouring, as if he wants to devour your very soul and take you over the edge of life with him. He ravages your soft lips with an intensity that borders on sadistic pleasure, and you are so intoxicated by the kiss that you almost don't notice when his sharp teeth sink into your innocent lower lip and your mouth fills with thick blood.

When too much of the viscous, saturated liquid gathers in your mouth, you reflexively swallow, feeling a lingering metallic taste on your tongue, which disappears almost immediately, licked away by Seonghwa's long, flexible tongue, which wraps around your tongue like a snake. One of his hands is tangled in your hair, long fingers tugging painfully at the soft strands, causing a palpable burning sensation on the delicate skin of your head. With his other hand, he wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to his cold, hard body, using this rough grip to restrict your movements. 

You give a little moan against his lips, almost relishing the pain you're feeling—the hot excitement in your stomach twisted into a knot—too tight and painful to ignore. The insides of your thighs are uncomfortably sticky and wet, and you have to squeeze your legs together to ease the throbbing in your needy cunt. 

Your blood tastes of black roses, forgotten poems, confessions of love—it burns all of Seonghwa's senses, and you feel rather than hear him purr softly with pleasure—a velvety, decadent, almost animal sound coming from deep inside his chest. He continues to greedily lap up the blood from your mouth, sliding his tongue over your palate, your gums, and the inside of your cheek. Seonghwa roughly pulls your wounded lower lip into his vicious mouth, only to bite down on it with his sharp teeth, causing more of your blood to drip onto his tongue. 

The kiss seems endless, and your mind begins to drift; you feel like you're delirious from the feeling of the cold heat of his beautiful, sensual mouth. The spiral of lust inside you tightens; the pressure builds until it becomes too much for you to bear, and for a long, eternal moment, it seems to you that Seonghwa wants to keep you at that height forever. You barely notice when his hand releases your waist and slips between your bodies, and you squeal loudly, pulling yourself away from his incredibly seductive lips as his cold fingers suddenly pinch your sensitive clit. 

"Oh, my God. That's so... Too m-m-much...' You stammer out your words, unable to form sentences; the pain and the pleasure mix together, and you feel completely intoxicated. 'My prince, please...' As his fingers rub relentlessly against your clit, you can't stop yourself from moaning loudly. The pressure inside you increases as you rise higher and higher, but the lack of any particular rhythm makes it difficult for you to come to the edge, and the intensity of his touch becomes almost overwhelming for you.

"What's the matter, my darling? Does your sweet pussy still hurt? Don't I make it easier for you? Or are you just a greedy little bitch that has a craving for more?" The deep purr of his voice vibrates through your body as his fingers begin to roughly squeeze your clit. 

You let out a helpless moan in response to his words; the sound you make is full of both need and desire. All you can think of now is that Seonghwa is using you, that he is destroying you so thoroughly and so brutally that his mark will be imprinted on your body and your soul forever. 

"Oh, I can see it now. You're just like all the thousands of other people—a pathetic, ungrateful whore." Seonghwa suddenly lets go of your hair, and your head falls back like a doll's. And God, in all of his eternity, Seonghwa has never seen anyone more beautiful than you, especially when you have crystal tears rolling down your soft, flushed cheeks. You remind him of a broken porcelain doll, fragile and delicate, which he can glue back together in any way he likes.

"Please forgive me... Forgive me, my  prince." In the midst of this chaos of sensations, you catch a glimpse of his eyes. The Prince's black velvet eyes, heavy and clouded, his sensual lips, swollen and smeared with your blood, and his magnificent face have taken on a kind of waxy appearance—features smoothed to a painful perfection that could never exist among the living, like the face of a saint descended from an icon. It's almost frightening, but at the same time, it makes you want to beg him all the more desperately. Please let me cum, my prince. I need to cum so badly...'

"Oh, my love...' Seonghwa purrs indulgently, admiring the hot tears that are rolling down your face as his cold fingers continue to circle around your swollen clit. Your legs are trembling from his touch, and you have the feeling you could faint at any moment. As his two long fingers, wet with your own slime, slide into your quivering hole, you catch your breath and gasp for air. You're so sensitive to the slightest touch, and Seonghwa takes advantage of that, pressing his fingers against the silky walls of your pussy, causing you to arch your hips towards him in the hope of more stimulation. "Just look at you, my little darling. You're crying so sweetly for me. Begging so sweetly for your prince charming to have his way with your pretty pussy." The tone of his voice is like velvet wrapped in the darkness of the night, and his feline eyes glow with a kind of otherworldly evil that can barely be contained in the black, unfathomable depths of his irises. 

The heavy fog of lust completely envelops your mind, and you barely register his words. The prince's fingers dig deep into the tightness of your plush, plump cunt, and Seonghwa draws the cold, velvety pads of his fingers to press and rub the sweet, sticky spot in your pussy. He does it roughly and sharply, and he doesn't stop stimulating the over-excited, spongy walls of your cunt until your mucus begins to flow into the palm of his hand.

"It's too much... It's too much, my prince. I can't take it anymore. I can't. Ah, please, please! Seonghwa."

"But am I not merciful to you, my dear? Does not the touch of my hand soothe the pain, my love?" With his other hand, he cups your breast, squeezing and twisting the tender nipple between his fingers as he goes. "Do you want me to stop?" He asks as he relentlessly inserts a third finger into your squelching pussy, and the stretching of your little hole becomes both agonising and pleasurable at the same time.

'No!' You cry out, shaking your head desperately, the walls of your cunt clinging to his fingers, clenching and throbbing around the long appendages that are adorned with massive rings of precious stones, as the wave of pleasure slowly begins to roll over you. "No. Don't stop... Please don't stop, my prince. I want you to keep going... I'm too close."

Seonghwa laughs darkly as she leans down to your neck and lightly bites down on the spot where your pulse beats with her sharp teeth, almost feeling your orgasm on her tongue. 

"Will you cum for me? Cum on the fingers of your prince?" You feel like you're soaring, higher and higher, and just when you have the feeling you're about to reach your peak, the pleasure evaporates and you plummet. The loss of your orgasm makes you give a pathetic whimper.

"No, I beg you. Please, my prince...' You sob as Seonghwa pulls his fingers out of you completely, leaving your greedy, needy hole clutching at nothing, desperately trying to hold on to the melting remains of your orgasm. You collapse next to him, becoming like a beautiful, broken thing in his hands, looking up at him with your beautiful, crying eyes, begging for his mercy. 'Sonhawa...' His name tastes of violence, of the Middle Ages, holiness, and sex, and it leaves a stigma on your lips the moment you utter it. 

'Oh, my poor little girl.' A fake sense of pity fills his voice as he ignores the way your wounded lower lip quivers at the loss of relief and the way more tears flow from your eyes. A devilish smile blossoms on his gorgeous, plump lips before his hand returns to your wet clit and begins to rub the super-sensitive bundle of nerves in slow, hard, figure-eight motions. "I'm so sorry, my love, but it's not up to you whether you can have an orgasm or not. You should be grateful for what I am giving you." The vampire purrs, running his tongue along the sweet spots of your neck before sinking his teeth into the soft skin. Under the pressure of fangs as sharp as broken glass, the skin tears like paper. You squeal at the pain that ripples through your veins, but the sensation fades quickly as his fingers sink back into the silky warmth of your tight cunt. 

Seonghwa pushes his thumb down to press it against your slippery clit and rubs it roughly. And you instinctively squeeze your legs together, squeezing the plump flesh around his forearm as if that will stop the relentless stimulation of his fingers on your G-spot and his thumb on your swollen, throbbing clit. He lets out a deep, dark moan into your skin, kisses your neck, and licks the protruding drops of blood from you.

You're such a mess; your cum is dripping down the inside of your thighs, dripping onto the floor, and the sound your cunt makes every time his fingers go in and out of you is disgustingly wet, squelching, and utterly sinful. 

The prince watches you go dumb and twitchy under his touch. He plunges his long fingers even deeper into the wet, velvety walls of your cunt and bends them so that the pads of his fingers press perfectly against your golden spot, causing your sticky, wet fluid to squirt profusely all around you. He laughs as you squeal and squirm.

"That's right, my love, make me dirty. Fill this room with the divine fragrance of your excitement." He rubs your cunt randomly, and it makes your legs shake. You gasp at the sobs and moans that echo through his bathtub, echoing with such a loud, deafening echo that you're sure the sound is reverberating throughout the castle. Your brain is clouded in a haze, and all you can feel is Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa....

As if he hadn't just ripped the most intense orgasm out of you, the prince pushes his fingers back into your plump cunt, and you shudder, your pussy clenching and a pearly, slippery drop dripping from your wounded hole. 

"I can't take it anymore... don't need to...' He ignores you, preferring to sink his fingers deeper into your plush walls, your tongue flicking out of your mouth as you breathe heavily.

"Wasn't that what you wanted, dear? This is exactly what you asked me so desperately for, isn't it? I'm just giving it to you. You will cum again. And you will do this until I decide you've had enough." Seonghwa tells you and does not give you a chance to disobey his order. His fingers are thrusting faster and faster into the sloppy mess of your cunt, and your eyes are closing in a euphoria of pleasure, and you are arching your whole body to him. The beautiful veins on his forearms are surging up as he touches your cunt. "Come on, my love, behave yourself, and submit to your prince." Seonghwa twists his wrist, his fingers sliding up and down until they come to rest on your G-spot, and you squeal in exhaustion as you squirt your cum all over his gorgeous body, soiling it. The slime pools on his palm and drips onto the inside of your thigh, and he leans down to touch his lips to your open mouth as he pulls his fingers out of your used, burning pussy. He softly massages your thighs and licks your lips soothingly in a strange imitation of a kiss.

You groan as the last waves of your orgasm begin to subside, but even so, you're still a long way from the satisfaction you crave. The distant thought of the aphrodisiac in his seed floats to the edge of your consciousness, but it disappears instantly, replaced by a burning need to be filled by his cock and a feeling that you may die if he doesn't satisfy that need.

'Please. I want you, I need you, and I want to feel you inside my body. There is nothing else that matters to me, my prince." There is pure desperation in the sound of your voice. 

Seonghwa pulls away from you and watches as you gasp for breath and shiver as you look up at him through your thick, wet lashes.

"You really are nothing but a greedy little slut. Seonghwa whispers as he digs his fingers into your thighs and lifts your body up as if you weighed nothing, manoeuvring you so that your legs are wrapped around his thin, perfect waist. The head of his hard cock touches the entrance of your vagina between your slick, swollen folds. "You're so lucky your blood isn't the only thing that draws me, my love." He begins to walk slowly along the length of the tub, carrying you in his arms as if you were a fragile doll. 

There is darkness in his bedroom; the thick, icy cold fills the room and tingles on your heated skin like a hundred needles. As Seonghwa gently lays you down on his royal bed, wrapped in silken sheets, you freeze, waiting for him to touch you. He leans over you like a dark angel that has descended from the heavens to destroy you, and you open your lips to catch his ghostly breath in your mouth as he speaks.

"From the moment you entered my chambers, I could feel the sweetness of your cunt on my tongue; you're aroused; you need me so obviously." His teeth graze the skin of your throat as he speaks. 'I can feel it in your blood...' For half a second, you feel the sharp pressure of his fangs as they press against the pre-existing wounds from his previous bite. It makes every muscle in your body tingle with the anticipation of pleasure. "It is tempting and seductive, but I have a taste for you in so many more ways, my love." There was a heavy pause between you as his gaze slid down the length of your body and stopped at your glistening pussy. 'And I'm really spoilt to choose. But are you up to it, my little servant? Can you, can you satisfy my insatiable hunger?'.

His words make your toes clench, and the pleasure in your belly grows once again, turning into a real flame that lies in your veins, and you let out a long moan, filled with longing and desperation. 

"I will do whatever you want me to do, my prince. I will be anything you need me to be...'

Seonghwa doesn't answer you but instead begins to kiss your neck, slowly moving his kisses down to your heaving, plump breasts. He raises his hypnotic eyes towards you, and his lashes flutter as the vampire teases your swollen pink nipple with the tip of his sharp tongue. Your body arches up over the bed, your breath catching in your throat as he sucks the sensitive bud into the silkiness of his warm mouth. His tongue splashes and swirls around your nipple as he sucks on your breast before he releases it from his mouth with a wet sound.

"The human body has always been such a fascination to me—so soft, so delicate, so responsive to every fleeting touch." He whispers as he continues to slowly kiss your body. Seonghwa runs his tongue over your navel and licks the skin of your belly. He takes his time; he has an eternity of time, and this knowledge is driving you crazy. You shudder as his elegant palms come to rest on your thighs and as he spreads your legs wide so that your cunt is completely exposed to his gaze. With his supernatural eyesight, you knew that he would be able to see every detail of you in the half-light of the bedroom. Your heart began to beat faster and faster in anticipation of what you knew was going to happen next. The lingering feeling of your previous orgasm was once again tingling you from the inside. 

Seonghwa sits down between your legs, and you let out a stifled cry as he brings his godlike face close to your pussy and runs his tongue between the sticky folds. 

He immediately lifts his eyes to you, the flames of the candle reflected in his dark irises, the black abyss of them pulling you down into an endless, lustful wasteland. His hands are wrapped around your hips, pulling you closer to him. The pleasure wraps itself tightly around the base of your spine. Seonghwa's tongue licks your clit hard, the exquisite taste of you tingling it, tingling it under the marble-gold skin where the black vampire blood splashes hotly in veins. 

Your juices ooze out onto his tongue and onto his lips, dripping down to where the insides of your thighs are reddened by his sharp claws. He drags his tongue along your folds in slow, teasing licks, savouring the taste of you as he feasts on your cunt, so wet and sweet, so juicy and plump under his tongue. Your hips arch forward, and Seonghwa allows you to be pressed even closer to his beautiful face. The palms of his hands slide down your thighs, and you feel how his thumbs push your labia apart, just so that he can slide his tongue deep into your wet hole. A series of high-pitched moans escape from your mouth as you run your fingers through his long black hair, your nails digging into the skin of his scalp as you do so. 

"It tastes so damn sweet; you're like a wine that has been aged for centuries, intoxicating and scorching. I've never tasted anything like it before." The vampire purrs into your sensitive cunt, burying his face even deeper between your legs, his skilful tongue and his sharp nose rubbing against your clit, giving you heavenly pleasure in all the right places.

His mouth continues to move along your overly sensitive nerves, and he smiles as you begin to twitch and shake. The sensation is overwhelming, and you begin to sob openly again. 

"My prince, that feels so good... ahh!" A particularly loud moan comes out of you as his tongue curls round and touches your g-spot.

With the pad of his thumb, Seonghwa begins to run circles over your clit, and you begin to thrash around on the silk sheet, trying to get away from the abusive touch on your painfully throbbing clit. Seonghwa growls and slaps you viciously on your thigh, which manages to calm you down, before he hides his face between your legs once more and continues to tease your essence. Pain and pleasure merge together, and you can't tell where dreaming ends and reality begins. So many nights you've spent in vivid fantasy dreams, full of images that would get you burned at the stake if the people of your village ever found out. And here you are, lying in your prince's luxurious bed while he eats you as if his life depended on it.

Feeling his tongue between your velvety walls and his thumb circling your clit, occasionally scratching it with his sharp fingernail, the sensation of your orgasm has crept up on you. With his heightened senses, he knows you're close, and he's balancing on the edge of coming. One more stroke of his tongue, one more rub of his fingers over your clit, and your walls begin to clench together in the spasms of an overwhelming orgasm.   The edges of your vision go black, your sight fading as you fly off the cliff and fall into an abyss of pleasure. Your head is thrown back, and your spine is arched in a perfect arc of sin and bliss. 

An approving purr escapes Seonghwa's devilishly beautiful lips as your cunt twitches and clings to his tongue as he continues to splash in the copious slime that pours out of you, lapping up your release, insatiable and deaf to your pleas as you begin to squirm. Any attempt to wriggle away from him is crushed by the rough grip of his hand on your thigh. The nails dig into the plump flesh, drawing out your blood. Rivers of scarlet, like divine tears, flow down your scarred skin and drip down onto the bed. 

'Seonghwa...' His name rings out on your lips as his own lips continue to press passionately and relentlessly against your pussy, sucking and licking, greedily swallowing up all the liquid that flows from you. His jaw moves smoothly and somehow lazily as your body almost rises to meet another orgasm. Your fingers clench tightly in his hair, your moans and squeals blend together in a symphony of pure bliss, and you come again on his tongue, even harder than before. 

Your body is shaking in never-ending ecstasy. Ecstasy burns your body and turns it to ashes. Tears flow from the corners of your eyes as he licks you thoroughly and gently, until your body is completely boneless and soft to the touch. 

After a few agonisingly long moments, he pulls away from your cunt and blows lightly on the inflamed, abused folds after his caresses, and you shiver as his cold, ghostly breath touches your flesh. Seonghwa's chin is wet with the viscous slime of you and his own saliva. He stares at you, enjoying the sight of your helplessness and vulnerability, all of you at his mercy. The vampire can see the sheen of your juices spreading down the inside of your thighs and dripping from your swollen, reddened centre. 

You've slowly come down from your high, still swimming in a lustful haze, and even though you've had several orgasms, you're still not satisfied. You need more. Much more. Seonghwa was absolutely right—you're nothing but a greedy human whore. 

"Please... You barely squeezed out. Please fuck me... " You desperately wanted to feel him inside you. You wanted him to writhe with the pleasure of your blood and body, as you did with his favour. 

"Do you want more? Greedy, insatiable whore." Seonghwa purred, his black eyes glowing with an almost otherworldly radiance in the darkness of the bedroom. "What are you going to give me in return, my love? Shouldn't you be thanking your prince?"

You turn your head faintly to expose your neck and hear a dark, velvety laughter licking your skin before his chubby lips find a tender spot on your throat. Weightless kisses that turn to nibbles, and you whimper under his care. He hasn't hurt your skin yet; he is playing skillfully with you, and a slight feeling of unease grips you. The lack of control over your body, over where and when he would bite you, or over how rough he would be with you, was a big part of your nervousness. 

Too quickly for you to notice, one of his hands cupped your chin to hold you in place, and then the sharp pain of his fangs pierced your throat. As he began to drink, a muffled moan escaped your mouth. The shock of his cold bite passed through your body like an icy wave. Seonghwa's hypnotic eyes closed as your thick, precious blood ran over his tongue. The sensation was a temporary respite from the incessant hunger that plagued him, dulling the cravings and soothing his stomach. His plump lips curled into a smile as he pressed harder against your skin. 

He let go of your chin and placed his hand on your chest instead, gently squeezing the plump flesh. The possessive, intimate touch of his hand contrasted sharply with the sting of his fangs. It soothed you strangely, and the tension in your body eased. You could also feel the hardness of his big, thick cock against your thigh. 

Seonghwa could feel your pulse fluttering beneath his lips; his pace was fast and weakened by the rapid loss of blood. He should have stopped, unless he wants to completely exhaust your body now. The lord pulls away from you as he feels the saturation of your blood—your life flowing through his veins—the blood thickening and becoming viscous, turning a shade of deep night darkness. A sweet moment when your life becomes his. 

You try to focus your blurry gaze on him as Seonghwa pulls away from you. He smears the blood running down his chin with his fingers and licks the residue off his pads. 

"You're perfect. The most delicious food I've tasted in centuries of my life. There's something special in your blood...' Seonghwa whispers, caressing your cheek, brushing the dishevelled hair from your flushed face, and wiping away the tears that remain on your lashes. "I don't think I could ever get enough of you."

You had absolutely no energy to answer him and just lay there, melting under his touch. He continues to touch you lightly until Seonghwa leans down to suck on your nipple, his tongue swirling over it in slow, deliberate movements. Your back arched, and your lips parted in a soft moan. For a few minutes, he just enjoys the feel of your soft nipple in his mouth. He slowly sucks your breasts, and the next moment he lifts your legs and wraps them around his slender waist. 

Seonghwa wraps his hand around his cock and runs the thick, wet head of it over your trembling, sensitive folds a couple of times before she pushes it into you. The feel of his cock stretching your walls is almost immediately the trigger for another orgasm. You moaned loudly at the long-awaited feeling of being filled. Seonghwa has stretched you out so beautifully and pressed himself perfectly against your silky, smooth walls, which are covered with your juices. 

He slowly enters you with his whole massive length; you are so sensitive that you can feel every inch of him and every vein on your walls so clearly that it's almost painful. You press your hips against his, desperate for friction. Seonghwa grins as he begins to move, dragging his cock along your quivering walls and letting out a deep moan every time the delicate edges of your hole cling to the head of his cock. 

His beautiful eyes focus on your face as he moves, narrowing with his sly smile as he finds the perfect angle to make your eyes roll with pleasure.

"Look at me, my love." Seonghwa ordered. "I want to have a look into your eyes while I fuck you into oblivion."

You force yourself to meet his gaze, and the prince purrs in endorsements as he begins to thrust in and out of you at a rapid pace, thrusting so hard into your tight, squirming pussy that you can almost feel his cock in the back of your throat. Your mind goes completely blank as his cock comes all the way out of you before he plunges back into your inviting warmth all the way down to the base of his dick. The rhythm is rough and brutal, but it feels almost like heaven to you.

"You're such a good girl. Look how well you're taking it. You know, vampires can go into a frenzy when they fuck. But you're not afraid of that, are you?" The way you're tensed up and the way you're trembling underneath him almost brings him to the brink of madness, but Seonghwa holds back his animal urges and slows down his pace instead. 

You let out a wordless cry, completely lost in nothing but the obscene sound of your copulation—the sticky slap of skin against skin. 

"I am going to fill you with so much of my cum that it will drip from you for days, my love." Seonghwa wants to mark you in every possible way; he wants to tie you up; he wants to bite you; he wants to breed you. He wants you to belong only to him—to his world, to his darkness, to his blood, and to his own kind. "Everyone will have the knowledge that you are mine, for they will have the smell of my blood and my seed on you." He breathes into your ear as his pace picks up, and he sets an agonising rhythm, each movement of his cock hitting that special place inside of you.

'Seonghwa!' Your walls squeeze against him even harder than before as another orgasm begins to creep closer to you.  The prince presses his fingers against your clit, and then presses his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. As his mouth slides so passionately over your lips, as his thumb strokes in circles around your quivering clit, and as his thick cock slides in and out of you, the heat that is building up inside of you becomes almost unbearable. 

"Mmm, you feel so good." He tells you, running his tongue over your trembling lower lip. "You will belong to me forever.".

The thought that Seonghwa could turn you into a vampire and spend the rest of eternity with you was enough to bring you to orgasm. Uncontrollable pleasure engulfed your entire body. Seonghwa moaned velvetily, resting his face against your neck as you began to come. Your silky walls squeezed his cock as your climax plunged your consciousness into complete darkness. The pace of his thrusts quickened, and before long, he was muffling your cries of pleasure with his mouth, devouring every lewd sound that managed to escape from you.

"My prince... Seonghwa...' You managed to breathe out against the lips of his mouth. 'I want to be with you forever... I want you to be inside me...'

Your words filled him with a lust that was far greater than his thirst for blood, and soon he was inside of you as deep as he could go, his cock twitching as he found his own orgasm. He came in your pussy, filling you with his thick, viscous cum as he called out your name in a hoarse voice. 

After a few moments, Seonghwa came out of you and gave you a chance to catch your breath. The mixture of his cum and your own juices slowly poured out of your used pussy and started to drip down onto the sheets. 

"And you will, my love. You certainly will.'

Dressed in an ancient coronation robe, the gorgeous vampire prince circles the precious crystal coffin, his fingertips lightly stroking the cold, smooth crystal. The sneaky light of the somnambulistic stars falls on your face like the veil of a bride. He had arranged you here in all luxury: your hair was covered with diamond powder, glittering in the lace of the moonlight; he had painted your lips a delicate scarlet, the same colour as the cheeks of the radiant seraphim in church frescoes; and under your tongue he had placed petals of black violets, soaked in his midnight blood. Your body was wrapped in the most luxurious antique lace, embroidered with mother-of-pearl tears of dragons and pearls from the bottom of the sea. 

You were so beautiful... seductive, like a deadly flower that lures prey before swallowing it whole.

As he arranged hundreds of black velvet roses around your fragile body, a shy softness tinted his godlike face. Thorny rose bushes bloomed around the coffin as the castle of fairytales turned into a tomb with only one living soul. 

"You're in no danger now." Seonghwa whispered, stroking your beautiful hair. "Nothing can harm you now, and you will always be my love. Always and forever..."

Seonghwa is seated at a small round table and is playing his leisurely game with the fates. The elegant hands of the beautiful Dweller of Darkness skillfully guide the Hand of Fate. He spreads the tarot cards, tirelessly constructing endless constellations of indeterminate probabilities. One by one, Seonghwa turns over the ancient, worn cards, the corners of his devilishly sensual lips curving slightly as he sees the familiar layout: Lovers, Death, Empress, Love, Eternity, Beloved. The gaze of his fathomless, hypnotic eyes turns to you—his majestic bride, awaiting her awakening.

It's always been this way and always will be: people avoid the village that stands by the ominous Gothic castle in the middle of a dead rose garden, where, according to ancient legend, the beautiful Midnight Prince and his gorgeous bride keep the guilty legacy of their bloodthirsty ancestors. 

[yeoslattes]

How We Live In Tokyo

Genre: Smut, TFATF: Tokyo Drift AU!

Word Count: 5.8k

Pairings: street racer Matz!Hwa x street racer fem! reader

Summary: You were notoriously once known as the drift princess, but now you're Hwa's girl. In attempt to reclaim your title, you race, pissing off Seonghwa in the process. You are also Hwa's number one cheerleader.

Warnings: Hwa comes off as a meanie during certain parts, VERY minimal description of reader, Hongjoong openly flirts with reader (his bffs girl...), Hwa confesses, possessive Hwa, weed use, high sex, manhandling, ruined orgasm, oral m+f receiving, eating it through the panties..., lots of spit, spanking, mentions of Hongjoong fucking you by Hwa, Hwa is low-key into it, choking, just rough asf, reader cries during sex, deepthroating, creampie (unprotected sex asf), use of sir like once, basically Seonghwa fucks you stupid, very minimal subspace by reader, aftercare

A/N: She's here, for my first smut after a while it's not too shabby. I'm an over thinker so I kept reviewing and editing just making sure I was happy with the final product. Also I based the reader's car off Suki's pink car in 2003 movie, just cause I thought it'd be perfect for her. I hope you guys enjoy this Hwa as much as I did!

“Ready! Set! GO!” You swing the red cloth in your hand down, the cars beside you rev noisily. Smoke from the tire burnout goes up in the air engulfing you in a heavy cloud, and just like that the first racers of tonight were off. This was one of your favorite parts of the night life in Tokyo, the races. You never intended to become a car girl, but after a couple flings here and there got you into nighttime racing, the rush and thrill it brought you was simply euphoric. The crowd cheers loudly, flip phones out recording and taking pictures, you jump in the air waving your hands cheering over the loud music and screams. 

While everyone was focused on the race at hand your eyes scanned the scenery for the only man that mattered to you, however he was nowhere in sight. You walked over to your pink Supra S2000 and leaned against the door. Your manicured hand ran over the sleek paint, you smiled at how smooth the finish felt beneath your fingertips. This car was your baby, everything was thought out and hand picked. Rolling around in a ride like your own had never made you feel anything less than superior. You were also Hwa’s girl and that in itself said enough. 

As if manifested by thought, the loud exhaust causes heads to turn, the familiar midnight blue body and chrome accents on the 350Z were unmistakable. Your eyes lingered on the white lettered decal spelling ‘MATZ’ on the upper windshield, you smirked slightly as he pulled up next to you. People cheered when Hwa stepped out, clad in a long fur coat and a muscle tee underneath, he looked delectable. Despite the layers, the large letters in black ink decorating his neck were perfectly on display. 

He greets his racing partner Hongjoong and the notorious KQ Fellaz who had also built an impeccable reputation amongst the Tokyo racing scene. He smiles at you as soon as he spots you. The glimmer of his grills catch the fluorescent lights of the crowded parking garage. “Hey.” He grumbles lowly in your ear, pulling you into him and pressing a searing kiss on your glossy lips. He looked down at you, long strands of raven black hair falling over his eyes. “You look good babe.” He compliments, long fingers coming up to tap on the hoops that were slightly hidden behind the layers of your hair. You smiled up at him, your legs suddenly feeling like jelly under his stare. 

The arm wrapped around your shoulder drops as he turns around to look at the S2000 you were resting your weight on. He walks around it, a singular hand running over the paint. He lifts the hood up, whistling when he sees the engine, “V8 is looking good babe.” He closes the hood after admiring, “Thanks, can’t wait to take her out on a spin tonight.” At your words Hwa’s face drops, his small grin being replaced by a disapproving expression. “Not tonight baby.” You huff in annoyance, see before you and Hwa had gotten together, you were one of the best female racers in this particular part of Tokyo. Every Friday night you’d come out to the streets and race against other girls and even guys. More often than not you’d end up winning. Slowly, you built up a reputation for yourself, even earning the nickname ‘drift princess’ in the process. But that was before Hwa came in and dethroned all the top racers and drifters, ending your streak as well. Eventually, you fell for him, and while he looked stoic and rude on the outside he was a sweetie behind closed doors. His charm was all you needed to become enthralled in him, needless to say you became his princess; you were Hwa’s girl as everyone knew. You ate that title up every single time, however, the singular con about being his one and only was that in fear of you getting hurt, Seonghwa didn’t let you race anymore, not against the good ones at least. He’d always let you go against the newbies, those who were still getting the hang of the Tokyo streets and drifts. 

“Seonghwa.” You begin in a begging tone, but he put his ring clad hand up, silencing you. You rolled your eyes, brooding against the Barbie pink car that was begging for a race. You watched as he went back to where Hongjoong stood conversing in a group.

A frown replaces the big smile you had just minutes ago.

You look around, hoping to find someone that’d wanna take you up on a race, even if Seonghwa had said no. Majority of the seasoned drivers were men, and due to their fragile egos, they wouldn’t dare race against you in fear that you might actually beat them and they’d never be able to live it down. 

You huff in annoyance, and pull your car door open, slipping into the pink leather seats. Your mini skirt is short enough that you feel the cool leather against the plumpness of your ass. You shake your own tan fur coat off, flipping your long hair over your shoulder to give your moistened skin some air. Rummaging through your glove compartment filled with body spray and lipgloss, you pull out a roll of bubble gum, shoving a fat piece in your mouth.

As you reapply gloss and fix your hair in the mirror a female voice catches your attention, “hey,” you looked up at your friend who was polishing the car door just a few minutes ago. She nods in the direction of Matz.

Your eyes turn into slivers when you see 2 girls chatting with Seonghwa and Hongjoong. Hongjoong has his arm around the slimmer girl, he gives her a cheshire cat like smile and you could almost see her swoon, but that’s not who you were worried about. Seonghwa, is leaning against his car, arms crossed, talking to the girl in front of him. Her dainty hand comes up to touch the fur sleeve of his coat, she says something with a big smile that causes Hwa to cackle loudly. She wears a low cut halter top and a mini skirt slightly longer than yours, but the expanse of her legs made it look like a belt around her waist. 

You rolled your eyes and stepped out of the car. You walk over to them, a big smile adorning your face, “hey baby.” You say in a sultry voice, your hand comes up Hwa’s arm and you proceed, “Who’s our new friend?” You turn to look at her, popping the pink bubble gum in your mouth. 

You can audibly hear Hwa sigh, he leans into your ear so only you can hear, “play nice.” He whispers, his cold hand resting against the warm skin of your waist. You continue to look at her, and she smirks, “who are you?” You chuckle loudly at her words, catching the attention of the people that were around. Seonghwa lets out an airy laugh looking back at Hongjoong as if to say ‘are you seeing this right now’ to which his best friend just raises his eyebrows and chuckles, fully invested in the face off. “I’m his girlfriend. Who are you?” People are starting to gather around, you step closer to her and feel Hwa’s hand squeeze your side as a warning but you ignore him. There’s a look of realization in her eyes and her face relaxes, “ahh,” she starts, “you must be the so-called drift princess.” Her faux friendly expression drops into a stoic one, “Where I’m from there are no nicknames. You’re either good or absolute shit.” She spits. 

Your heart hammers in your chest but you ignore it, “Is that a threat? Cause I bet you I can give you a run for your money.” At this point you’re so close to her you can see the glitter lining the underside of her eye. “If I lose, I’ll leave but if I win…” She pauses momentarily, looking behind you at Seonghwa, who stands arms crossed against his car, a serious look adorning his pretty features. He hated where this was going. “If I win I’ll have him.” You chuckle and so does Hwa, making the girl in front of you cock an eyebrow up in confusion at his reaction. “I hope you pick something else.” You say shifting your weight from one leg to the other. Her eyes wander to your right, “oof didn’t think the puppy had a designated owner but that’s fine. I’ll take your car.” People around you gasp and ‘ooh’ at her request. When you tongue your cheek, she feigns a pout knowing she’d hit the spot. “Deal, see you in 10.” She whips around and walks off somewhere. 

Before you can take a step, Seonghwa grabs your arm tightly, spinning you around to face him. “You must be out of your fucking mind. You bet off the car you’ve worked so fucking hard on?” He scoffs, his tongue pressed against his cheek in annoyance, “you’re fucking unbelievable.” He groans, your arms cross at your chest, resting underneath your tits, causing Seonghwa to glance down for a split second. “Oh but if it was you it’d make it okay?” You leave him with his words in his mouth, walking away before he even got the chance to get a syllable out.

Hongjoong laughs loudly at your attitude and Seonghwa’s distress, he slaps his friends back in amusement. “She’s giving you a run for your money huh Hwa?” He says. The annoyed man shoots his blonde friend a glare, resting his hands on his hips he throws his head back and huffs out a breath. 

You stand on standby waiting to get the okay from your girls as they check your car before the race. Your teeth toy with your bottom lip, nervousness settling in your tummy.

You hop in your ride and turn it on, the loud engine causing people to whistle. You might’ve been old to the game but the pre race jitters were very much real. Your opponent on the other hand seemed relaxed. Your hands are clammy on the wheel but with deep breaths you manage to bring the bile rising up your throat down. Hwa stands front row and you can see him through your windshield, he stares at you before whispering something to Yunho who was part of the KQ Fellaz. The tall and slender man draws his eyes to you as Seonghwa is in his ear, and he nods agreeing with whatever your boyfriend was saying. Hwa finishes and stands still in his spot, his jaw ticks, clearly upset at what was about to happen in just mere seconds. 

A girl in low rise jeans and a skimpy top comes between both cars, your foot presses on the gas, your car sputtering loudly. “Ready! Set! GO!” The pretty girl lifts her hand up and just like that your foot slams onto the pedal. You feel it before you see it as you zoom down the spacious garage. With your opponent already a couple feet ahead of you, your heart hammers in your chest, body running on pure adrenaline.

A tight turn is up ahead and you maneuver the wheel and use the e-brake to perfectly drift around until you’re heading straight again. She on the other hand turns slightly too wide slowing her down by a couple of seconds allowing you to zoom past her. The girl is hot on your ass but you keep her at bay not allowing her to get the upper hand. Her pretty face contorts in frustration as she struggles to make any moves. 

This is when you start to relax and it’s like you had never stopped racing. Your mind becomes so aware of your surroundings and what you were feeling. From the way your new wheels felt smooth on the cement, to the low vibrations shaking through you; this was euphoria. 

Your eyebrows knit together in pure concentration as you accelerate. You hit another tight turn, performing the drift that many struggled with effortlessly. Right before the parking garage ramp that spirals upward into the main street, you keep going straight. With a heavy foot you press on the gas, giving it all you got, you can see the exit of the garage and the final drift that everyone always anticipated. 

As you neared it you turned the wheel and pulled on the e-brake, successfully drifting up the ramp till you made it out, the hoard of people eagerly waiting. At the sight of the pink lights adorning the underside of your car, Seonghwa relaxes. You had fucking done it. Your wheels skid loudly as you slow down to park your car.

People high five you and jump on the hood celebrating what had basically been your comeback after so long. You hopped out the car, pulling your slutty skirt down and jumping on Hwa. His hands wrap around your waist, stuffing his face into your neck, taking in your sweet perfume. “Good job baby.” He whispers in that deep voice of his. “You’re so fucking hot you know that?” He says pulling you into a sloppy kiss. The girl who had raced you parks her car and hops out storming over to you. “That wasn’t fair.” She argues, “you are either good or absolute shit.” You shrug, reciting her words back to her. She grits her teeth and storms off, disappearing into the mass of people. You feign a pout and roll your eyes. As people start to head back down into the garage, Seonghwa pulls you into him. “Bad girl.” His words shoot straight to your pussy, a heat wave rolling over your body.

Another Friday rolls around, it'd been precisely one week since you won your first race back. It was already 11 PM but the streets of Tokyo were calling your name. Tonight’s outfit consisted of a low rise pleated miniskirt and a long sleeve crop top. You looked in the mirror, enjoying how your belly button jewelry dangled and glimmered under the warm lights of your room. Tonight would be special since Matz had gotten challenged by two random guys who wanted to claim territory. If there was one thing you loved to do on a night that Hwa would be racing was look pretty and sit like a good girl in the passenger seat of his car while he raced. I’ll be there soon baby, you sent Hwa a message through your pink flip phone hoping that he wouldn’t be too distracted to read it. 

Singular strands of your hair stick to your glossy lips as you cruise down the somewhat empty roads, the wind blows through your hair and you sing along quietly to the Nelly Furtado CD Hwa had gifted you. It wasn’t long before you were pulling up into the infamous garage. If there were alot of people last Friday, they had tripled today, of course just for Matz. You pulled into the spot next to Hwa, your loud exhaust catching his attention. He went from talking with Hongjoong to looking at you. He smiled at your car, still not over how perfectly the pink decked out car suited you. 

You killed the engine and hopped out, already feeling the eyes running over the expanse of your body, Hongjoong and Hwa included. If there was one thing about Hongjoong was that he did not care. Yes, Seonghwa was his best buddy, but he made sure to let Seonghwa know just how delectable you were with no shame. Still, in other ways he was respectful of his best friend’s relationship but he loved to take peeks anytime he could. 

You walk over to your boyfriend who instead of the iconic big fur coat wore baggy cargos and a muscle tee, his arms on full display. “Hey baby.” You say pressing a kiss on his cheek, you smile at the slight residue of your lips on his cheek. He grabs your chin and kisses you, you try to pull back but the suffocating grip on your face keeps you in place. His tongue toys with yours, and he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before letting go with a final bite. When you pull away he grins at your flushed face and how he had basically eaten all the lip gloss off. 

“Hey Hongjoong.” You pant loudly, greeting the other man who had seen the entire exchange in front of him, he nods his head up at you, “drift princess has made a comeback huh?” He teases, you nod sheepishly. “Maybe next time you’ll take me up on a race?” You ask with big eyes and he smiles, “is that a challenge?” He asks, cocking his brow up, “of course.” He lets out an airy laugh, “that’s if Hwa lets you.” He teases, before walking towards his car. You turn to look back at Hwa who’s grip has tightened around you.

“Hongjoong is up first. Are you gonna be a good girl and cheer for him baby?” Seonghwa says leaning down so you could hear him. You nod and clap excitedly when you see Hongjoong’s car by the start line. As soon as Hongjoong takes off you and Seonghwa run towards the finish line, you both wait, watching through the small flip phone screens as people document the race. You cheer loudly when you notice Hongjoong’s car is ahead. In no time he is skidding up the ramp, drifting into the big pit. He had won! Hwa claps and whistles loudly at his partner's success, now it was up to him to win the second one to maintain the best of the best title. 

You follow your boyfriend down to the garage and hop into the 350Z, you inhale the fresh car scent mixed with his cologne. “Ready baby?” You ask him, he grips your hand and kisses it, “always.” 

Hongjoong peers in through the passenger side window, you buckle in as he talks to his best friend, paying no mind to what they were discussing. When he finishes he taps the edge of the window and sends you his infamous cheeky smile and a wink. 

You sit quietly, sucking in a breath and getting ready for the ride. Hwa exits the garage, and that’s when it becomes too real. One thing about Seonghwa was that he always preferred racing in the streets rather than the garage that almost every race took place in. You place a hand over your chest, feeling your blood pumping muscle thrumming beneath your fingers. At the sound of you sucking in another sharp breath Seonghwa turns his gaze to you. “Scared?” He asks, a teasing smirk playing at his lips. You purse your lips swallowing thickly, nodding. “It’s usually more dangerous Hwa, I hate when you do this.” You say, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Dangerous…” He scoffs, “That’s what I said last week when you raced and you still went against my word. So, sit, look pretty and hold on tight or get the fuck out.” He had gotten you there, regardless, there was no way to ever argue with Park Seonghwa. So, you shut your mouth up and look down at your fiddling hands.

The starter is another girl, she swings her bra up in the air and when it drops Seonghwa takes off. The g-force alone pulls you back into the seat, your hands grip the door handle and your seat, ironically your fear only grew. He hollers loudly already having a great advantage to his opponent, your body turns with the car as he drifts. You stared at his pretty features, his perfect skin and long nose bridge accompanied by his pink and plump lips. He’s too busy looking for the guy through his mirrors to really pay attention to anything else, the air blows violently into the car, your hair a mess now. The longer you sit in the car, the more you start to relax, the cool breeze in your face relieving your anxiety. 

Seonghwa startles you when he grumbles loudly, he hits the steering wheel out of frustration, his opponent had passed him. You weren’t too familiar with the path Hwa was taking, perhaps racing here once or twice before and if you remembered correctly he was more than halfway done. 

“Hold on!” He yells, he presses the red button beneath his thumb, immediately you are pulled back from the sudden acceleration. His 350Z zoomed by the guy in the other car and already you could see where the finish line was. Hwa keeps the man at bay as he rides his ass. As if it were clockwork the crowd of people disperse to make room for the infamous Park Seonghwa. He crosses the threshold into the pit of people, the car coming to a noisy stop. He cheers and you cheer along with him “I fucking love you.” He yells, you feel everything go in slow motion at that moment, the faces of the people cheering him on outside become a blur, it almost felt like you had ascended. “W-what?” you say in confusion, “I fucking love you. I am in love with you.” He says, smiling widely at you. 

Like a tradition, people hit the roof and hood of the car congratulating him on another victory. He pulls you into a heated kiss and when you pull away you lean into his ear. “I love you too Hwa.” He hops out of the car and you follow suit, instantly, he wraps his arms around you and lifts you up. Hongjoong comes up and gives him a hug, “we are still the best of the fucking best.” Hwa’s best friend yells.

The rest of the night you had spent velcroed to Seonghwa’s side, celebrating the win and watching other races go on. By 2am you were ready to call it a night. That's when Hwa pulls you aside, “wanna spend the night?” He asks tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear. You nod eagerly, “we can get high and do whatever we want.” He whispers only for you to hear. His hands softly caress yours. “I’ll see you there baby.”

The drive to Matz’s garage is about 10 minutes, you pull in and park in the spot Seonghwa had reserved for just you.

The garage was Seonghwa’s and Hongjoong’s working space, it was scattered with car parts as well as half built vehicles. You stepped out of your pink mobile and headed up the metal stairs, your boots stomping loudly, sending vibrations up the railing. Hwa stands at the door and lets you in.

You stepped into the warm apartment, fully expecting Hongjoong to be there but instead it's quiet. “Where’s Joong?” You wonder, not wanting to impose on his personal space and most definitely not wanting him there if you and Hwa got to it. “Found some girl at the race tonight so he won’t be here.” 

As always Hwa hands you an oversized shirt, it was a routine any time you stayed at his. Given that your clothes weren’t always the most comfortable, he’d always have an oversized tee on deck just for you. You strip in front of him, already feeling his gaze burning holes into your supple skin. You sigh gleefully at the feeling of the tight clothes being off your body. 

Seonghwa sparks the blunt, his slender fingers bring it up to his lips, he takes a long drag and hands it to you. “I don’t know if I should.” You say quietly, weed just wasn’t your thing like it was Hwa’s. “It’s indica this time baby. You’re here with me, it’ll be okay.” You take the burning blunt from him and raise it up to your lips, praying that you wouldn’t end up panicking like the first time you had smoked with him. Your eyes close softly, as the smoke rushes into your lungs, affecting all your senses.

You hold the smoke in for a couple seconds, handing it back to your lover. Seonghwa takes 2 long hits, relaxing into the couch you two were on. Your eyes linger on  him, you could see his eyes drooping slightly from the marijuana. His limbs are loosely splayed on the couch, blunt hanging loosely between his pointer and thumb. Without much thought you reach for the burning plant and take another hit, that was enough to have you feeling like you were melting into the couch. You didn’t know how, but Hwa always managed to finish the blunt, this time was no different. 

“I’m pretty high right now.” He mumbles thoughtlessly slouching down even further. As the minutes tick by you feel yourself get more and more intoxicated. You felt tingles run up and down your arms and legs and your eyes felt heavy. Seonghwa drapes his fluffy blanket over the both of you when he notices your body starting to shiver. Normally, you’d be freaking out but for some reason you felt fine, just high. Seonghwa lays his head on your lap, eyes on the TV. You looked down at him watching his eyes slowly blink as he focused on Finding Nemo. The chills had subsided, if anything you felt warm now, even warmer as you felt Hwa’s hand trailing up and down your bare thigh. 

He grins slightly when he feels your thighs twitch beneath him. He kept this up for what felt like ages, never getting close to where you really needed him. Seonghwa shifts down, the full weight of his head now resting on your left thigh. You lean your head back on the couch when he runs his hand between your legs this time. He fully reaches your hot heat. “H-Hwa…” You whimper weakly, you pout when he looks up at you. He sits up, one leg pulled in and the other one resting on the floor. He presses his lips against yours, his hands gripping your face. Nothing was neat about the kiss, it was filled with hunger and lust. His spit coats your chin now and you moan when his tongue snakes between your parted lips. He roughly pulls you onto his lap, large hands going directly to rest on your ass. You pulled away momentarily, to mumble a quick “I love you Hwa.” He pauses his actions, fingers brushing messy hair strands away from your face, “I love you too baby.”

Seonghwa grunts when you grind down forcefully on him, he pushes you off him roughly, and drags you into his room. You bask in his sheets, his scent completely engulfing you, you felt like you were drowning in him. “Been wanting to fuck you ever since I saw you in that stupid slutty outfit of yours.” He tugs his shirt off you. Immediately his lips latch onto one of your buds while his free hand toys with your other tit. You felt like you were floating and in a way he felt so far yet so close. All your senses were on overdrive thanks to the weed. “Seonghwa please.” His hands wrap around the back of your knees to flip you onto your belly, 

His hand comes down heavy on your plush ass. Hwa smiles sinisterly at the red hand print forming, he feels himself twitch in his pants. He delivers a couple more slaps, “don’t think I have forgotten how you’ve been flirting with Hongjoong.” You lift your head up to protest but he shoves you back down and you let out a yelp. “What a slut. My best friend? Really?” He grits out as he works on the button of his pants.

You can’t push down the tears that sting your eyes, despite his words you knew he knew you’d only ever pick him, he just wanted to pick on you. 

You rest tummy down one cheek pressed against the mattress, “Hongjoongie keeps messing wi-.” You’re cut off by Hwa’s hand landing on your already abused skin. “Don’t try to make it his fault.” He grits, leaning his torso to get closer to your ear, “but honestly if I was him I’d wanna wreck you too.” A wave of arousal crashes over your body, shooting straight south. 

 Hwa pauses, watching the way your thighs pressed together. You sniffle, tears rolling freely now out of frustration. “Are you fucking crying?” Seonghwa says brushing your hair away from your eyes. He scoffs, “no way you’re fucking crying.” Seonghwa clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“It’s okay baby, maybe one day I’ll feel nice and let him fuck you too. Would you like that?” He teases, flipping you back onto your back. You shake your head ‘no’. He spreads your legs open and toys with your sensitive bud that your panties outline. “No? Because you’re soaked right now.” Without slipping the dampened undergarment  off he leans down and flattens his tongue against your cunt, soiling the fabric even further with his spit. 

Hwa works his long tongue languidly against you making you writhe in his grasp. “H-hwa.” You moan attempting to shove your hips against his face. The grip he has around your thighs prevents you from doing so. He presses harder against you and loosens his grip allowing you to fuck yourself on his pretty face. You groan, involuntarily grinding against him desperately trying to chase your high. “Cum baby cum.” He sounds muffled, the weed heightening every sensation has you teetering on the brink of your orgasm rather quickly. Right before you fall over the edge he pulls away; waves of what could've been your orgasm roll through you but fade as quickly as they came leaving you unsatisfied. 

You groan in annoyance, tears pooling in your eyes yet again. “You’re leaking from both ends now, that’s new.” Seonghwa says as he cups your chin, he leans down so his droopy eyes are directly in front of your teary ones. “There's no reason to cry so stop before I give a reason to.” His words make the tears actually roll down your face this time and he grins at the sight.

He flips you back onto your belly, “all fours baby.” As high as you were, you did your best to move into the requested position, your limbs moving slowly due to your impaired motor skills. He pulls your underwear down, sniffling slightly. You can feel his cockhead prodding at your sopping hole, you whine, wiggling your hips back against him. His large hands come to your shoulder blades to hold you down while he pushes in. You gasp at the intrusion, the stretch so delicious you squirm back to get more. “Stay still.” he grumbles annoyingly. He fucks into you hard, his hips being unforgiven against the globes of your ass. You keep shifting to which Seonghwa stops and places a hand on your lower back to deepen your arch. “Don’t move.” He keeps you there, his thrusts are deep and forceful, hitting that spongy spot deliciously. 

Your mouth is agape but there’s no sound coming out. “God- fuck Hwa,” you pant, tongue lolling out of your mouth and your eyes rolling back to your skull. “Feels good huh baby” He grunts, his own pants and groans filling the room, “so fucking perfect- you’re perfect.” He whines desperately, rutting into your wet pussy, you fight for air, your gasps sounding high pitched every time you sucked in air. 

He pulls out, “Get up quickly.” He commands, grabbing you by the arm, he manhandles you on your knees. “Open.” Your mouth drops open, tongue out ready for whatever he had to give you. Seonghwa wastes no time shoving his cock down your throat. You relax as much as you can, spit pooling in your mouth and falling onto your chest in thick ropes. Through the slits of your eyes you can see Seonghwa looking down on you with heavy eyes, the ‘Matz’ scribbled across his neck stretching beautifully as he throws his head back. Spit bubbles at the corners of your mouth and he grabs your head and shoves his dick desperately as far as he could until you are fighting to pull away.

You push back, resting your ass on your heels, fighting to catch your breath. “Good fucking girl baby. Cmon get up so I can’t fuck my load into you.” Hwa says, slightly out of breath. You lay back on the bed, hips hanging slightly off the bed, he slips right back in. Your spit mixed with your wetness, allows his cock to enter your walls smoothly. Your back arches off the bed as he fucks you hard, his hands push down on your waist once more to pin you down. 

The fat head of his cock hits your spot again. Everything feels far away now, but your orgasm is fast approaching. “You’re fucked d-dumb aren’t you. Does my dick do that to you?” He asks, his tongue running over his pink lips, “look at you can’t even fucking answer me.” Seonghwa’s hand wraps around your throat tightly while his free one toys with your clit, stimulating you to the brink of your orgasm, a couple more strokes and your legs begin quaking on his shoulders, “Fuck Hwa, sir too muc- I can’t.” You cry out, bringing your arms that suddenly feel so heavy to push him off but instead he wraps his hands around your wrists and presses them into the bed, “it’s o-okay baby. I’m almost there.” Sweat drops are now falling on you. He slows down his thrusts, he grinds himself into your cervix that sends him over the edge. His hips still and he groans loudly emptying his load into you. You whine, weakly trying to get him off, but still relishing in your postorgasmic bliss. He pulls out watching the way you weakly curl into yourself, his spunk seeping out of you and he can't help but smirk. 

“Don’t float away from me yet baby.” He says tapping your cheek. He slips the same shirt you had on earlier over your head and wipes you down. Slipping on some sweats and an old shirt he tucks himself in bed with you. Your eyes are now closed, the cloudiness of your high slowly dissipating but still, you felt exhausted. You slowly blinked, now realizing that Hwa had turned off the lights and you sleepily admired the way the neon purple lights from the signs outside illuminated the room.

“Hwa?” You ask into the darkness. “Hm?” He responds, not moving from his spot, “I might’ve agreed to another race next weekend.” You say sheepishly, he rolls his eyes in the dark, and you can feel the disappointment and annoyance radiating off him, “you’re in big trouble.”

[mingi-s-dimples]

Give me attention, please... - Seonghwa

KINKTOBER DAY 18, REQ. BY 🤧 anon

~"So like reader is a college student and its like its exam season and she's busy studying day and night not giving her bf aka (Seonghwa) attention and because he wants attention from reader one night while reader was studying her ass off he went under her desk and YKYKYKKK 🤧🤧😾😾"

pairing; seonghwa x fem!reader

genre: 18+, student au, filthish

summary: Your boyfriend just couldn’t hold back anymore, the small amount of attention you've given him in the past few days, not even close enough for his hunger.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: established relationship, college au, helping from under tne desk ifykwim, oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstim, some praising here and there, Seonghwa is *needy*, completely consensual, unedited, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: My only note: Oh, and how good it would be to be eaten out by Hwa, relieving your stress, from under the table.. I'm so sorry, Seonghwa brainrot is going strong 😞😞😞 sigh. Enjoy, ml!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

As the clock struck midnight, you found yourself in a familiar spot — hunched over the wooden desk in your dimly lit room, surrounded by a fortress of textbooks, notes, and half-empty mugs of tea that had gone cold hours ago. The warm yellow glow of your desk lamp created a little bubble of light in an otherwise dark room, making it feel like you were in a tiny world of your own, where nothing existed except for the relentless blur of terms, diagrams, and equations that filled the pages in front of you.

Medical school midterms were around the corner, and every student in your program was in the same exhausted, caffeine-fueled state. But somehow, it felt like you were on the verge of crumbling beneath the weight of it all. You knew that if you wanted to stay on top of everything, you couldn’t afford to miss even a minute of study time. The stakes were just too high, and you’d poured far too much of yourself into this journey to let it slip now.

Your head ached slightly, a dull throb that reminded you of the hours you’d been locked in this position, eyes glued to textbook pages and screen displays, scribbling notes on anything you could reach. Despite your body begging you for a break, you pushed through. There was a strange kind of exhilaration in the exhaustion; each passing moment without sleep felt like one step closer to mastering this next set of exams. But still, you couldn’t deny how much you missed a certain distraction — a distraction you’d been purposefully ignoring for the sake of staying focused.

A faint sigh escaped your lips as you let your pen drop and rubbed your temples, closing your eyes for a brief moment to ground yourself. You thought of Seonghwa. He’d been nothing but patient, supportive even, as you told him — time and again — that you couldn’t spare a moment, not even for him. You hadn’t even kissed him properly in days, brushing past him with a murmured apology every time he tried to steal a moment. It tugged at you, but the weight of these exams always seemed heavier.

However, as though summoned by the thought, you heard a soft knock at the door. Without even looking up, you knew it was him. He had a way of announcing himself that was so gentle, it was unmistakable.

“Come in,” you mumbled, distractedly flipping through another page of your notes, hoping he’d understand your subtle plea not to break your focus.

He opened the door quietly, slipping inside with the same easy grace he always had. There was a comforting warmth to his presence that filled the room the moment he stepped in. You didn’t look up, but you felt his gaze on you, lingering in that thoughtful way of his that always made you feel seen, even when you were trying to disappear into your work.

“Hey,” he murmured, the softness of his voice cutting through the silence like a balm. You could hear the affection there, the way he always sounded when he looked at you.

You gave him a small, tired smile, eyes barely lifting from your books. “Hey,” you echoed, already bracing yourself to tell him you needed more time. But instead of moving closer or responding right away, he just stood there, watching you in silence, a knowing look flickering across his face.

“Still studying, huh?” he asked after a beat, his voice a gentle tease.

“Mm-hmm,” you replied, focusing on the dense paragraph in front of you, pretending that his presence didn’t send a slight thrill through you. “You know these exams are coming up. I really can’t afford to take a break.”

Seonghwa made a quiet hum of understanding, though there was something playful lurking in the sound. You could feel his eyes studying you as intensely as you were studying your textbooks. It was the way he looked at you when he was up to something, and a part of you wished you could give in to whatever he was scheming, just for a moment. But you had work to do, and you’d convinced yourself that any distraction — even one as tempting as him — would only cost you precious time you couldn’t afford.

And yet, he didn’t leave. In fact, he took a few slow steps forward until he was standing directly beside you, so close that you could smell the faint hint of his cologne, warm and familiar. Your pen stilled in your hand as his fingers gently brushed against your shoulder, a light touch that made your skin tingle.

“Are you sure you don’t need a break?” he murmured, his voice a little lower, a little softer, the way it got when he was coaxing you into letting go. His fingers trailed up to your neck, massaging the tense muscles he found there with a tenderness that made you want to melt.

You shook your head, though your resolve was starting to waver under his touch. “I can’t, Seonghwa. I really have to finish this chapter…”

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he moved his hand lower, resting it lightly on your back, his touch grounding you even as it sent shivers down your spine. “You’ve been at this for hours,” he said, his tone persuasive. “Don’t you think you deserve a little time to relax?”

Your heart skipped a beat as his hand slid lower, his fingers pressing against your lower back, just enough to make you lean into him. A part of you was screaming to pull away, to get back to your work before he made you forget about it entirely. But another part — a much louder, much more exhausted part — wanted nothing more than to surrender to his warmth, to let him pull you away from this endless cycle of stress and studying, even if just for a moment.

“Seonghwa…” you started, but the words faltered as he leaned down, pressing his lips to your temple in a feather-light kiss. It was such a small, tender gesture, but it made your heart race, the pent-up tension in your body threatening to unravel under his touch.

“You know you need this,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “And I think I need it, too.”

Before you could respond, he shifted his position, moving down so that he was level with you, his hands sliding to your knees as he looked up, a mischievous gleam in his eyes that made your stomach twist. You barely had a moment to process what he was doing before he ducked under your desk, settling between your legs in a way that made your face burn with a mix of surprise and anticipation.

“Seonghwa, what are you…” You trailed off, words escaping you as he looked up at you with that infuriatingly charming grin, his hands settling on your thighs.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he said, his tone playful, though there was a note of something deeper in his gaze — something that told you he wasn’t going to take no for an answer this time. “So I thought I’d remind you of what you’ve been missing.”

"W-what are you doing, I have to-" he interrupted you.

"No no, don't mind me. Go on with your studying, sweetie.." Seonghwa said , his voice a mix of teasing and something undeniably alluring. His fingertips began to trace slow, deliberate patterns along your thighs, his touch sending little shocks of sensation through your body. You tried desperately to refocus, to keep your mind on the open textbook in front of you, but it felt nearly impossible with Seonghwa right there, looking up at you with eyes that sparkled with mischief.

Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up your pen, trying to continue where you’d left off. The words on the page swam and blurred together, your concentration shattered by the way Seonghwa’s hands inched higher, brushing against sensitive skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"Seonghwa," you managed, your voice coming out in a strangled whisper. You didn't even recognize the sound of your own voice, and you cursed the way it quivered. But he only tilted his head, the grin on his lips widening as he seemed to revel in your helplessness.

"What's wrong?" he teased, his voice a sultry whisper, one of his hands coming to rest just above your knee, the other gently tracing the line of your inner thigh. "Is something distracting you?"

You shot him a glare that lacked any real heat, and he laughed softly, the sound warm and smooth. He leaned forward just a fraction, his hair falling into his eyes. You could see the way he was savoring every moment, his gaze locked on your face, watching your reactions.

"I'm just... trying to help," he said innocently, though the look he gave you was anything but. "You seemed so tense, so stressed. I thought a little... relaxation might do you some good."

Your pulse raced, and you knew he could feel it, knew he was aware of just how much he was getting to you. "I can't... I need to finish this," you murmured, though even as you said it, your willpower was crumbling, your body aching for more of his touch.

Seonghwa leaned in a bit closer, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. "I'll be quiet," he promised, a wicked sparkle in his eyes. "I won’t make a sound. So you can focus... if you think you can."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, and you felt your breath hitch, your hands clenching into fists on your lap. He was pushing you to the brink, testing just how much you could take before you gave in to him entirely.

Your fingers tightened around your pen, the ink smudging across the page, and you let out a shaky sigh. Seonghwa's laughter was a low rumble, and the look he gave you was both playful and dark, filled with a hunger that made your heart skip a beat.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered, his voice so soft and sincere that it sent a surge of warmth straight to your chest, making it even harder to remember why you were resisting in the first place.

Seonghwa’s playful energy softened again as he sensed your hesitance, his gaze warming with affection. His fingertips, still resting on your thighs, stilled for a moment, grounding you in the present. Slowly, he let his hands move to your waist, his touch gentle as he sought silent permission.

“Trust me?” he asked softly, his voice a delicate blend of sincerity and care.

You nodded, a mixture of anticipation and comfort settling in your chest. There was no rush, no demand in his movements. Instead, he treated the moment with reverence, his eyes never leaving yours, constantly checking in to make sure you were okay. With a small smile that melted your remaining reservations, Seonghwa’s hands moved to the waistband of your sweatpants.

He hooked his fingers under the fabric, his touch light and unobtrusive. “Just relax,” he whispered, the words wrapping around you like a gentle embrace. As he slowly slid the material down, his hands brushed against your hips, the warmth of his touch soothing any nervousness that lingered.

The sweatpants slipped down your legs in a smooth motion, pooling around your ankles. Seonghwa helped guide your feet free from them, his movements patient and unhurried, making sure you felt cared for with every gesture. As he knelt back, he let his fingers skim along your calves, offering a soft touch that sent a wave of calm through you.

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with adoration, and the smile he gave you was one of pure affection. "Better?" he asked, his voice tender, as if his only goal was to make you feel lighter, more at ease. There was no pressure in his expression, only the quiet reassurance that he was there for you, however you needed him.

You exhaled, feeling the tension start to melt from your body, and for the first time in what felt like hours, you let yourself lean into his presence, grateful for the way he held you in both the playful and the peaceful moments.

You were still, well, trying to understand something from the textbook laying in front of you, but to no avail. You practically gave up, but didn't really want to give him the satisfaction. So that you pretended to study, anticipation building in your chest as your breath got heavier.

“May I?” Seonghwa asks, refering to your panties.

“Y-yes..” you softly whined out, looking down at him.

He took them off and tossed them away, looking contently at your wet folds. He chuckled, finding the situation really funny, as you were also really eager for whatever he had in plan. He lowered your seat and slightly raised your legs, them now resting on his shoulders. He pulled you closer to his face, on the edge of the chair.

He started kissing your inner thigh, hands holding tightly onto the flesh. The sloppy kisses trailed off as close as possible to your cunt, dangerously close to it. He couldn’t keep himself back and went in, his tongue finding it's way inside your annoyingly wet hole. He buried himself in, eating you out hungrily. His nose flicked helplessly against your clit, sending shivers lf pleasure through your body. He held onto your thighs so forcefully, as if you'd run away, a reason to keep you in place, restrained. His lips flattened against your folds, finding their way to your clit, of which he started sucking and flicking with the tip of his tongue. Your head fell back in pleasure, anticipation building in your core.

“Seonghwa, I-” you couldn't pretend anymore, that you were studying. Not when your man had his tongue all up in you, hitting all your sweet spots. Your hands for his head, fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, receiving a muffled whimper from him.

He looked up at you, eyes shot with lust and desire, smiling against your folds, “you love it, am I right?” he said, going in for more.

“D-don't look at me like that.. oh f-” you moaned out as he inserted two of his fingers in, accompanied by his mouth.

“Oh- g-god-!” you whined out, legs closing on his head. His hands held you back, spreading you out as much possible. “No, no, baby, let me enjoy every moment of it.”

As soon as his nose hit your swollen nub a couple of times you came undone, feeling his tongue slurping yoir juiced greedily. But.. he didn't stop. He had other plans.

“Let's see… sweetheart. Would you give me another one? I love the way you taste so damn much..” he said, completely out of it.

Your high started building up rapidly again, followed by a new sensation thru your body. He senses you were close again and fastened his fingers and tongue, rushing the orgasm out of you. His fingers dug in your flesh as you came again, leaning even closer, eating everything.

As he finger fucked and ate you through your orgasm, you felt yourself almost instantly being washed over by another one, overstimulation taking over you. But when Seonghwa's fingers came down to a stop and he backed off for a moment, you looked at him in horror, legs trembling on his shoulders.

“Why d-does your face look so.. messy?” you said but soon realised by yourself, “oh, my g-god..” you whispered, embarrassed, burying your face in your hands. You just squirted all over him.

“No, no, look at me.” he said as he licked off the remaining juices he had on his lips and got up. He stood nearby, taking a tissue out of a box. He cleaned his face up and came back to you, smiling contently.

“Sweetie, are you feeling better? At least a little bit relaxed, hm?” he asked you, his hand caressing your cheek.

“Y-yes.. baby. Thank you..” you said, cheeks flushed red of embarrassment.

“I gotta admit tho.. that was fucking.. hot.” he smirked.

“STOP IT! I'M EMBARRASSED!” you playfully shouted at him, looking away.

“Look at me. Did I ate you that good that you squirted all over me, honey? Was I that good to you?” his voice low, teasing.

“Y-yes.. it felt so fucking good..”

“Well then, let me finish my meal, shall I?” he said and didn't let you finish your words as he lifted you from your seat and dropped you on the bed.

“I'm still damn hungry, baby. Hungry, even starving, for you..” Seonghwa crawled onto you, kisses trailing off to your collarbones.

The night was just about to get started.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @woolysium @peachy-bell26 @memorabxlia

[poweredbycoffee]

Ateez on your first date:

Jongho:

won’t try to kiss you but tucks your hair behind your ear when he says goodnight with a heart melting smile

very classy date, will splurge on an upscale meal and drinks after not because he’s trying to flex but because he wants to make a good impression

if he feels comfortable around you there will be late night karaoke

apologizes for keeping you out so late but you had too much fun with him to notice it’s nearly midnight

San:

gets you home on time to get a good night’s sleep, won’t try to kiss you but gives you the biggest hug

will pay for everything and ignore any protests that you can split the bill

if going out isn’t your thing, king of cozy first dates spent on the couch binge watching a drama eating delivery food

will show up at your door with flowers regardless of the type of date

Yunho:

kisses your hand when he says goodnight and blushes all the way to his ears the second he looks up

you’ll know he really likes you if he lets you win at trivia night or a board game

10/10 will hold your hand under the table

made for long romantic walks in the park

Wooyoung:

if he senses you’d be into it, cups your face in his hands and kisses you goodnight in way that leaves you breathless

will affectionately scold you if you flirt with him then hide behind the menu at a cafe or restaurant because he Cannot Even

most likely to rent a nicer car than what he actually drives so your date is extra special

playfully jealous of cute dogs you meet in the street because he wants all your attention

Mingi:

won’t try to kiss you but texts you an hour after the date is over to ask if he can see you again

showers you with compliments, will make you feel like the hottest person in the room wherever you go

takes you to all the best street food stalls he doesn’t tell anyone else about

might tell you he loves you if there’s enough soju involved

Seonghwa:

kisses you goodnight on the cheek with his coat wrapped around you to keep you warm if it’s cold out

loves a shopping date, will spend more on you than he will himself but please make him realize he should get the Lego Millennium Falcon he really wants

takes photo booth pics with you and displays them on the refrigerator

steals admiring glances at you every five minutes because he thinks you’re so cute getting excited over things you like

Hongjoong:

won’t try to kiss you but won’t let go of your hands when he says goodnight like he wishes you didn’t have to leave him

changed outfits twice before leaving the dorm because he got nervous and couldn’t decide what to wear

stays up late writing about how the date went after it’s over, a year later you realize he put you in a song

loses track of time having a deep conversation with you and nearly misses your dinner reservation

Yeosang:

thinks about kissing your lips but doesn’t want to scare you off, kisses your forehead when he says goodnight

prefers museum/bookstore/cafe dates because they feel less serious and awkward for both of you

gets help from a stylist to figure out what to wear that will make him look cool enough for you

likes it when you take the lead and hold his hand first

[hyalinemin]

[beabatiny]

𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘛𝘸𝘰! 𓇼 𓆞 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𓆞 𓇼 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴/𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴/𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𓇼 𓇼 𝘰𝘵8/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𓇼 𓆞 Bed Time ! - @vhyunjinverse matz x pregnant!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Handcuffed - @vampzity police!matz x criminal!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Lovely Pet - @littlefireball vampire!matz x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 The Little Things - @srslyscary ot8 x reader (scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Ways To Say : I Love You - @imagine-a-life-like-this ot8 x reader (scenarios) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 8:30pm - @dancinglikebutterflywings idol!hongjoong x maddox's sister!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Attention Please - @starminzoo idol!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Can You Hold Me? - @orshii tennis player!hongjoong x therapist!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Million Dollar Man - @holybibly rich!older!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Swapped - @daisykihannie bf!hongjoong x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Animal Crossing vs Stardew Valley - @solaris-amethyst best friend!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Deserve You - @captain-joongz brother-in-law!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 How We Live In Tokyo - @yeoslattes street racer!matz!seonghwa x street racer!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Look Like a Freak - @freyaphoria nerd!perv!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Missing Piece - @k-hotchoisan bf!seonghwa x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞

𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 As Long As With You - @xuchiya non-idol!yunho x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Body Language - @k-hotchoisan brother's best friend!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Carnival - @pocketjoong prince!yunho x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Classroom Shenanigans - @solaris-amethyst teacher!husband!yunho x teacher!wife!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Yunho + Subtle Ways He Shows He Loves You - @stayteezdreams bf!yunho x gn!reader (scenarios) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 3:33pm ♡ - @ateezscupid non-idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Cosmos - @pirateprincessblog non-idol!space traveler!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Flex - @xuchiya non-idol!yeosang x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Not Like The Previous Ones - @03jyh23 bf!yeosang x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Sweat and Seduction - @xomakara gym rat!yeosang x yoga teacher!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Be Your Solace - @makeitmingi university student!bf!san x university student!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Cheerleaders And Stereotypes - @itsbeeble football player!san x cheerleader!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Night Like These - @03jyh23 idol!san x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Second Times - @velvetydream dad!san x wife!pregnant!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Treat You Better - @starskq non-idol!san x reader (one-shot) 𓆞

𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓆞 Early Morning Live - @/bro-atz idol!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 MingiWonka - @shinestarhwaa wonka!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Save A Horse, Ride Your Best Friend - @seonghwaddict best friend!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Show & Tell [Part One | Part Two] - @jensthwa best friend!mingi x reader (two-parts) 𓆞 𓆞 Still Your Biggest Fan - @byuntrash101 idol!mingi x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓆞 I Still Hate You - @starskq non-idol!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Midnight Kisses - @mingigoo best friend!wooyoung x single parent!reader (series) 𓆞 𓆞 Silver Dive - @hwallazia bf!wooyoung x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - @lividstar vigilante!wooyoung x secret agent!reader (series) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Super Attractive - @wbtsan idol!bf!wooyoung x gf!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Hear A Siren’s Call - @the-midnight-blooms siren!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Home - @desirehorizon bf!jongho x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Not As Innocent - @ja3hwa bf!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Oh Shit, Are We In Love - @mingigoo basketball player!jongho x cheerleader!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Where Did You Go? - @solaris-amethyst non-idol!jongho x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸

[gingersxng]

⛤ MASTERLIST ⛤

the writer:

Emma 2001

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

I only write for fiction purposes! the characters I write about doesn’t represent the real people! pls understand that!

writing mostly smut! 🔞 MDNI!!

P💋rn link masterlist

Smut: 💋 Fluff: 🧸 Angst: ⚠️ Request: 💭 Authors favs: 🖤

⛤ OT8 ⛤

sending them a hot picture 💋

them sending you a hot picture 💋

NSFW povs💋 hyung line maknae line

puppy love 💋🧸

P💋RN LINKS

⛤ KIM HONGJOONG ⛤

P💋RN LINKS

⛤ PARK SEONGHWA ⛤

inappropriate touching (ft. Yunho, San & Mingi) 💋🖤

forced to pleasure💋💭

P💋RN LINKS

⛤ JEONG YUNHO ⛤

quickie o’clock 💋

sharing is caring (ft. Mingi) 💋🖤

stress reliever (ft. Mingi) 💋

inappropriate touching (ft. Seonghwa, San & Mingi) 💋🖤

cuddles (ft. Mingi) 🧸

boyfriend texts 💋

cherry baby (ft. Mingi) 💋⚠️🧸

sex is his drug 💋🖤

keep quiet 💋

playtime 💋

splash (ft. San) 💋

roommate fun (ft. Mingi) 💋

morning head (ft. Mingi) 💋

caught in the act 💋⚠️

metal attraction (ft. Mingi) 💋

rubber man 💋⚠️

midnight work 💋

P💋RN LINKS

⛤ KANG YEOSANG ⛤

P💋RN LINKS

⛤ CHOI SAN ⛤

rain & friends (ft. Mingi) 💋

sex addiction 💋

his good girl 💋🖤

inappropriate touching (ft. Seonghwa, Yunho & Mingi) 💋🖤

red 💋

splash (ft. Yunho) 💋

payment (ft. Mingi) 💋

P💋RN LINKS

⛤ SONG MINGI ⛤

rain & friends (ft. San) 💋

let’s play 💋

stepbrother 💋

sharing is caring (ft. Yunho) 💋🖤

tease me & i’ll go rough on you 💋

bad grades 💋💭

stress reliever (ft. Yunho) 💋

inappropriate touching (ft. Seonghwa, Yunho & San) 💋🖤

cuddles (ft. Yunho) 🧸

boyfriend texts 💋

cherry baby (ft. Yunho) 💋⚠️🧸

dry humping 💋

pervy boyfriend 💋🖤

roommate fun (ft. Yunho) 💋

birthday head 💋

put it in your mouth 💋

you got the peaches i got the cream 💋

who’s afraid of the big bad wolf 💋⚠️ part 2

morning head (ft. Yunho) 💋

23:31 💋

dominate me 💋

metal attraction (ft. Yunho) 💋

like what you see? 💋

sore & horny 💋

payment (ft. San) 💋

call a friend 💋

P💋RN LINKS

⛤ JUNG WOOYOUNG

P💋RN LINKS

⛤ CHOI JONGHO ⛤

P💋RN LINKS

[arilevenatz]

Ironheart

Pairing: captain!hongjoong x reader

Genre: Angst, action

Word count: 13.3k

Warnings: Child Abuse, Blood, injury, graphic Description of Injury, gore, pirate king hongjoong, lethal face card of the cameos (there will be two surprise cameos)

A/N: so yeah captain hongjoong is here. Not gonna lie, I cried while writing this. It has been in the back of my mind for a long time and I have finally written it.I don't know if it's good or not you guys will be the judge of that! and please like and reblog, it really motivates me to write, thank you!!

Masterlist

The sea was a vast expanse of restless waves and ominous clouds as the pirate ship Halazia sliced through the water like a predator on the hunt. Its sails, black as midnight, bore a crimson emblem—a snarling dragon that struck fear into the hearts of all who dared cross its path. At the helm stood the notorious Captain Hongjoong, a name whispered in fear across the seven seas.

Draped in a long, tattered coat with gold embroidery, Hongjoong’s piercing eyes glimmered with a mix of cunning and menace. His voice, sharp as the crack of a whip, commanded respect—or death. To defy him was to invite the unforgiving depths of the ocean.

The Halazia's crew, a motley band of cutthroats and thieves, worked with disciplined chaos. They revered Hongjoong, not out of loyalty, but out of fear. He was a man who showed no mercy; betrayal was met with the sharp edge of his blade, and failure was punished with cold indifference.

“Land ahead, Captain!” called Yunho, the ship’s navigator, from the crow’s nest.

Hongjoong’s lips curled into a sinister grin. “Prepare to drop anchor,” he barked. “Tonight, we take what’s ours.”

The crew scrambled, each man knowing his role as the captain’s plan unfolded. The small port town ahead was quiet, its people unaware of the storm about to descend upon them. Hongjoong’s reputation was built on raids like this—swift, brutal, and leaving nothing but ruin in his wake.

Below deck, the Halazia's armory gleamed with weapons. Seonghwa, the ship's relentless quartermaster, handed out cutlasses and pistols to the crew. “Make it quick and clean,” he growled. “The captain doesn’t like loose ends.”

As the Halazia approached the shore under the cover of darkness, Hongjoong unsheathed his sword, its blade catching the faint light of the moon. His voice cut through the night like a blade.

“Tonight, we remind the world why the name Halazia is whispered with terror.”

The crew roared in agreement, their bloodlust ignited. For Hongjoong, it wasn’t just about gold or glory—it was about power. And no one, not kings or gods, would stand in his way.

The Halazia glided silently into the small port under the shroud of night. The unsuspecting town, nestled on the edge of the island, was quiet save for the distant crash of waves against the shore. Its residents were blissfully unaware that terror had arrived at their doorstep.

“Lower the anchor,” Seonghwa ordered in a hushed tone, his sharp eyes scanning the darkened town. The crew worked swiftly, the only sounds were the creak of ropes and the splash of water.

Hongjoong stepped onto the gangplank, his boots striking the wood with deliberate force. “No mercy,” he commanded, his voice cold and unforgiving. “Take everything. Leave nothing behind.”

Yunho and Mingi led the first group ashore, their movements swift and calculated. Mingi’s massive frame carried crates of supplies with ease, while Yunho mapped their route through the maze of narrow streets.

Wooyoung darted through the shadows, his nimble hands prying open doors and snatching valuables with practiced ease. He hummed a quiet tune to himself, a stark contrast to the fear he left in his wake.

San, ever eager for a fight, kicked down the door of the local tavern, sending its patrons scrambling. “Hand it over, or face me!” he roared, his blade gleaming in the dim light.

Jongho remained by the cannons, his sharp eyes fixed on the town. He was ready to unleash hellfire at the first sign of resistance, though he doubted any would dare.

Yeosang followed the raiding party at a measured pace, his medical kit in hand. He had no illusions about the chaos that would ensue, and he was prepared to patch up the crew—or anyone foolish enough to stand in their way.

By the time the town's alarm bell clanged in desperation, it was too late. The Halazia's crew moved like a storm, looting every corner of the town. Gold, food, weapons—nothing was spared.

Hongjoong stood in the center of the chaos, his sword drawn, a chilling smile playing on his lips. The flames of a burning warehouse reflected in his eyes as he declared, “Let this be a lesson to all who think themselves safe. The sea belongs to us.”

As dawn approached, the Halazia sailed away, its hold overflowing with stolen treasures. Behind them, the once-thriving town was left in smoldering ruins, its people haunted by the memory of the dragon-emblazoned sails.

As the first rays of morning sun illuminated the island of Aphynx, its streets bore the grim evidence of the night’s raid. Doors hung off their hinges, market stalls lay in splinters, and the blackened remains of a warehouse sent tendrils of smoke spiraling into the pale sky. The townsfolk gathered in silence, their faces etched with disbelief and despair.

In the center of the town, Mayor paced nervously, his finely embroidered coat now stained with soot and sweat. His eyes darted over the wreckage, his mind racing. Every crate of provisions, every ounce of gold, every weapon had been stripped away. Aphynx was defenseless, vulnerable, and utterly at the mercy of the sea.

“This was no ordinary band of thieves,” he muttered, clutching a scroll of parchment in his trembling hands. “It was them... the crew of Halazia.”

A young messenger arrived, breathless and pale. “Sir, the kingdom must be informed,” he urged. “Without help from Wonderland, we won’t survive another raid.”

Mayor nodded grimly. He knew there was no time to waste. “Prepare my fastest horse,” he commanded. “We ride to the capital immediately.”

By midmorning, the mayor and his escort departed, the sound of hooves echoing through the barren streets. Their destination: Wonderland, the kingdom under whose banner Aphynx pledged fealty. The crown would not take this insult lightly—piracy threatened their trade routes, their reputation, and their wealth.

As the mayor approached the towering gates of Wonderland’s capital city, he steeled himself for the audience with the royal court. He would demand justice, but deep down, he feared that even the kingdom’s might might not be enough to face the legendary Halazia and its fearsome captain.

The kingdom of Wonderland stood as a beacon of strength and unity, its influence stretching across the seven seas. Its towering white walls and majestic spires reflected the brilliance of its rule, and its bustling streets were a testament to the prosperity its people enjoyed. At the heart of this mighty kingdom sat King Eldred, a ruler beloved by his people for his wisdom, fairness, and unwavering commitment to protecting his land.

But what truly set Wonderland apart was its secret weapon: the Nishi. These elite warriors operated in the shadows, their faces concealed behind eerie white masks with two eye slits. The sight of a Nishi was both reassuring and terrifying—they were symbols of the kingdom’s unyielding resolve and its ability to strike from the shadows. Trained in combat, strategy, and espionage, the Nishi were unmatched on the battlefield and in the murky world of subterfuge.

As Mayor Alden stood before King Eldred in the grand throne room, flanked by banners bearing the kingdom’s sigil, he recounted the horrors of the raid. “Your Majesty, Aphynx has been stripped bare,” Alden pleaded, bowing low. “The people have nothing. The Halazia will return unless we act swiftly.”

King Eldred leaned forward on his throne, his sharp eyes narrowing as he processed the report. “The Halazia,” he repeated, his voice measured. “Captain Hongjoong and his crew dare to challenge Wonderland’s peace.”

From the shadows, a figure emerged, silent and imposing. The Nishi wore their signature mask, their presence sending a chill through the room. “Shall we mobilize, Your Majesty?” the Nishi asked in a calm, almost mechanical tone.

The king rose to his feet, his regal robes flowing around him like the waves of the sea. “Not yet,” he declared. “The Halazia is cunning, and we will not be drawn into a hasty response. I want information—where they’ve gone, who their allies are, and what they seek.”

He turned to the Nishi. “Deploy your finest. Track the Halazia. And when the time comes, we will remind the pirates why Wonderland is unchallenged on the seas.”

The masked figure bowed and disappeared as silently as they had arrived. The king’s gaze returned to Alden. “Fear not, Mayor,” Eldred assured him. “Aphynx will be avenged, and the Halazia will pay for its crimes.”

A few days after the raid on Aphynx, the Halazia anchored in a secluded cove to divide their spoils. The crew was in high spirits, reveling in their success, but the mood shifted when a small, unmarked vessel approached their ship under a flag of truce.

A lone messenger, dressed in simple but pristine clothes, was rowed aboard. He carried a scroll sealed with the royal insignia of Wonderland. The sight of the mark immediately put the crew on edge.

Seonghwa was the first to intercept the messenger, his sharp eyes scanning the man for signs of treachery. “State your business,” he demanded coldly.

The messenger bowed respectfully, his voice steady. “I come with a message from His Majesty, King Eldred of Wonderland.”

Hongjoong, seated on a barrel nearby, motioned for Seonghwa to step aside. “Give it here,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. The messenger handed him the scroll with trembling hands.

Breaking the seal, Hongjoong unrolled the parchment. His eyes scanned the elegant script:

> To Captain Hongjoong of the Halazia,

The Kingdom of Wonderland invites you to discuse the recent events at Aphynx. We believe diplomacy may resolve this matter without further bloodshed or hostility.

You are offered safe passage to the island of Eletheris, where a representative of Wonderland will await you.

We hope you will consider this opportunity to avoid unnecessary conflict.

Signed,

His Majesty King Eldred*

Hongjoong’s lips curled into a faint smirk as he handed the letter to Seonghwa. “Diplomacy?” he mused. “From Wonderland? Either they’ve grown soft, or they’re planning something.”

San, ever eager for confrontation, crossed his arms and scowled. “It’s a trap. No kingdom invites pirates to talk unless they’ve got blades hidden behind their backs.”

Mingi, thoughtful but cautious, shrugged. “Could be a way to buy time. They might not know where we are and want to stall while they gather their forces.”

Wooyoung, leaning against a mast with a sly grin, added, “Or maybe they’re scared of us. That raid shook them up.”

Seonghwa handed the letter to Yunho, who studied it carefully. “The location is Eletheris,” Yunho noted. “Neutral ground, but also isolated. Perfect for an ambush.”

Jongho, standing by the cannons, spoke up in his usual calm tone. “We should assume the worst. If we go, we prepare for a fight.”

Hongjoong tapped his fingers on the hilt of his sword, deep in thought. Finally, he stood. “We’ll go,” he decided, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the crew. “If Wonderland wants to talk, we’ll give them a show. But we’ll be ready for anything.”

A sinister grin spread across his face as he turned to Seonghwa. “Prepare the ship. We’ll make our move at nightfall.”

The crew exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared question their captain. Suspicious as they were, they trusted Hongjoong’s instincts. The Halazia would sail for Eletheris—not for peace, but for the opportunity to show Wonderland just how dangerous a cornered pirate could be.

As the crew debated the letter, Yeosang emerged from below deck, wiping his hands clean with a cloth. His sharp eyes scanned the gathered group, noting the tension in the air.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his calm voice cutting through the discussion.

Seonghwa handed him the letter without a word. Yeosang read it quickly, his expression unreadable. “An invitation to ‘talk,’” he said, his tone skeptical. He folded the parchment carefully and looked at Hongjoong.

“If this is a trap, which it likely is, I hope you’ve accounted for the injuries we might sustain. I’m running low on supplies after Aphynx, and if Wonderland has their warriors, this won’t be a simple skirmish.”

Hongjoong’s smirk remained steady as he met Yeosang’s gaze, his voice laced with confidence. “Prepare for the worst, but we’re not backing down.”

Yeosang nodded, handing the letter back to Seonghwa. “I’ll do what I can. Just try not to get yourselves killed unnecessarily. I’d rather not have to stitch anyone back together because of bad decisions.”

With that, he turned and disappeared below deck again, leaving the others to their discussion.

The Halazia arrived at Eletheris under the cover of twilight, its black sails stark against the fading light. The crew stood ready, their hands brushing weapons as they prepared for whatever awaited them. The island, a neutral ground known for its wild forests and rocky shores, seemed unusually quiet as they approached the dock.

As the crew disembarked, they were met by a contingent of Wonderland’s warriors. At the forefront stood a tall, imposing man clad in gleaming armor, a crimson cloak flowing behind him. His sharp features radiated authority, and his piercing gaze swept over the pirates like a hawk assessing prey.

“I am General Kael of Wonderland,” the man announced, his voice steady and commanding. “Welcome to Eletheris, Captain Hongjoong. His Majesty extends his gratitude for your willingness to meet.”

Behind Kael stood a line of warriors, their stances disciplined, their weapons polished to a deadly sheen. Among them were four figures that immediately caught the pirates’ attention—the Nishi.

Clad in flowing black cloaks, their white masks with two eye slits were hauntingly featureless. The presence of the Nishi sent a ripple of unease through the Halazia's crew.

Hongjoong stepped forward, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. “A grand welcome for pirates,” he remarked with a faint smirk. “I wonder if this is hospitality or intimidation.”

Kael’s lips curled into a small, humorless smile. “Perhaps a little of both. The king values peace, but Wonderland does not take threats lightly.”

Seonghwa exchanged a glance with Hongjoong, his hand hovering near his sword. San, standing nearby, muttered under his breath, “They’re itching for a fight.”

Kael gestured inland, toward a path that wound through dense forest. “His Majesty awaits you at the royal outpost further inland. You will be escorted there. I trust you and your crew will conduct yourselves appropriately.”

Hongjoong inclined his head, his smirk unyielding. “Lead the way, General.”

As the crew followed the warriors into the forest, the Nishi flanked them silently, their presence a constant reminder of Wonderland’s power. The forest was thick and eerily quiet, save for the crunch of boots on the dirt path.

Yeosang walked near the rear of the group, his gaze flickering between the Nishi. “If this is a trap, they’ve gone to great lengths to set it,” he murmured to Seonghwa.

Seonghwa nodded subtly. “Stay sharp. If they wanted us dead, they’d have done it already. This is a show of strength.”

As they neared the outpost, the imposing silhouette of a fortified structure came into view. Wonderland was not just extending an invitation—it was making a statement.

As the crew of the Halazia trudged along the forest path, flanked by the silent Nishi and Wonderland’s warriors, tension hung thick in the air. Despite their outward composure, the pirates exchanged quiet whispers, their curiosity about the masked figures overwhelming their usual bravado.

Wooyoung leaned closer to Yunho, his voice barely audible. “What’s with the creepy masks? Who walks around like that?”

Yunho shrugged, his brow furrowed. “I’ve heard rumors, but nothing solid. Some say the Nishi are assassins, trained from birth to kill without hesitation.”

San, walking ahead, glanced back with a scoff. “Assassins? They look more like ghosts. It’s the quiet ones you’ve got to watch out for.”

Mingi, ever the practical one, muttered, “I’ve never seen anyone move like them. It’s unnatural. Did you see how they didn’t make a sound, even on the dock?”

Jongho, his tone calm but wary, added, “If Wonderland brought four of them here, they must be expecting trouble. No kingdom wastes resources like that for a simple meeting.”

Seonghwa, catching their murmurs, spoke softly but firmly. “Focus. Whatever they are, we’re not here to fight them. Not yet.”

Yeosang, his keen eyes studying the Nishi out of the corner of his vision, finally chimed in. “I’ve heard whispers in ports about them,” he said. “The Nishi are Wonderland’s shadow—their secret weapon. They’re not just warriors; they’re spies, assassins, and strategists. Their masks are said to symbolize detachment from emotion. No mercy, no hesitation.”

Wooyoung shivered, his usual smirk replaced by unease. “Sounds like a nightmare. You think they’re human under those masks?”

Yeosang gave him a faint, enigmatic smile. “Human, yes. But how much humanity is left in them? That’s another question.”

Hongjoong, walking slightly ahead, glanced back at the group with a sharp look. “Enough,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “Whatever they are, we’ll deal with them if we have to. Until then, keep your wits about you. Wonderland’s trying to intimidate us, and we won’t give them the satisfaction.”

The crew fell silent, their unease replaced by steely determination. The Nishi remained as still and silent as statues, their masks giving nothing away, but the pirates knew one thing for sure: they had entered a world far more dangerous than they’d imagined.

The grand hall of Wonderland's palace was an imposing sight, with high arches and intricate tapestries adorning the walls. The crew of the Halazia stood before King Eldred, whose presence filled the room with an unspoken weight. His regal attire shimmered in the light of the chandeliers, his eyes sharp and calculating as he regarded the pirates.

"Captain Hongjoong, welcome to Wonderland," King Eldred said in a calm, steady voice, his gaze briefly sweeping over the crew before settling on their leader. "You've been quite the thorn in my side. But I believe diplomacy is the best course now."

Hongjoong, arms crossed, met the king's gaze with a wry smile. "I'd agree, Your Majesty. But let's not pretend this is anything but a show of power. You want to make sure we don't think we can walk away from this, don't you?"

Before King Eldred could respond, a sudden movement drew the attention of everyone in the room. A man-seemingly a servant-lunged toward the king with a dagger in his hand. The room fell into stunned silence as the assassin's target became clear.

But before anyone could act, one of the Nishi moved with blinding speed. In a single motion, the Nishi unsheathed a gleaming blade and, with flawless precision, cut the assassin's hand clean off at the wrist. The dagger fell to the floor, and the man screamed in agony, collapsing to the ground as blood pooled beneath him.

The Nishi stood motionless, their white mask revealing nothing-no satisfaction, no hesitation, just cold efficiency. Without a word, the other Nishi advanced, securing the would-be assassin and dragging him away, the severity of the moment leaving no room for mercy.

The room remained still, the only sound the heavy breathing of the wounded man as he was pulled out of the hall. King Eldred, unfazed by the attempt on his life, turned his eyes back to Hongjoong.

"Do not mistake this for weakness, Captain," Eldred said, his voice unwavering. "My kingdom is protected by those who do not falter, no matter the circumstances."

Hongjoong's gaze shifted to the Nishi, his interest piqued. He had seen many warriors in his time- skilled men and women, each formidable in their own right-but the way the Nishi moved, the speed, the precision-it was something entirely different. These were not mere soldiers. They were something else.

"The Nishi," Hongjoong mused, his voice low enough only for his crew to hear. "What are they? You say they protect this kingdom, but what are they truly?"

Seonghwa, standing beside him, spoke quietly. "Rumors. They're said to be more than just fighters. Spies. Assassins. Trained from the moment they can walk."

Hongjoong's eyes flicked back to the Nishi, who stood motionless at the king's side. His curiosity deepened. "Trained from birth... and no emotion. Just warriors without hesitation."

Yeosang, who had been silently observing the Nishi, nodded. "That's what they say. They wear those masks for a reason-to erase any trace of humanity. They're tools, not people."

Hongjoong's smirk returned, though it was tinged with something new-respect, perhaps even admiration. "Fascinating," he said quietly. "They're more than just soldiers. They are something beyond. And it seems Wonderland's power lies in them.”

King Eldred observed the pirates with a slight tilt of his head. "Indeed. The Nishi are the foundation of my kingdom's strength. Without them, Wonderland would be but a memory. And now, Captain, I suggest we return to the matter at hand."

Hongjoong's gaze lingered on the Nishi, but he returned his focus to the king. "Of course. Let's talk."

But as he spoke, the feeling in the room shifted. There was an unspoken understanding now, one that Hongjoong had picked up on, and he couldn't shake the thought: Wonderland had more to offer than riches. Its true strength was in its shadows- the Nishi. And that, more than anything else, was what intrigued him.

The grand hall of Wonderland fell into a tense silence after the attack on the king, the lingering unease palpable. The pirates stood with guarded expressions, while King Eldred’s steady gaze remained fixed on Hongjoong. The Nishi, ever silent, returned to their posts, their white masks as unreadable as ever.

The king cleared his throat. “Captain Hongjoong, let us return to the reason we are here. Your recent actions on Aphynx have caused great suffering. Wonderland cannot allow such acts to continue.”

Hongjoong, unshaken, stepped forward, his tone casual yet laced with authority. “You want us to stop raiding your lands? That’s fair, Your Majesty. But pirates don’t sail away empty-handed. If you want our respect, you’ll have to offer something in return.”

Eldred’s jaw tightened. “And what is it you seek, Captain? Gold? Resources? Wonderland is not a kingdom that barters with thieves.”

Hongjoong smirked, his gaze shifting to the Nishi. “I don’t want your gold, Your Majesty. I want your shadows—your Nishi.”

The hall erupted into murmurs, and even the ever-stoic Nishi seemed to shift slightly. King Eldred’s expression darkened, his voice rising. “You dare demand my kingdom’s most sacred protectors? The Nishi are not pawns to be traded!”

Hongjoong didn’t flinch, his smirk unwavering. “You want us to stop touching Eletheris and your other territories? Then give me three of your Nishi. And not just any—I want the best. Warriors who can ensure my enemies fear the Halazia as much as they fear Wonderland.”

The king leaned forward, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the arms of his throne. “Do you think I would sell my kingdom’s greatest weapon to a pirate? You overestimate your position.”

Seonghwa, calm and calculating, stepped in. “Your Majesty, consider this: Wonderland’s resources remain untouched, and the Halazia becomes an ally rather than an enemy. You lose nothing, but gain peace.”

The king hesitated, the weight of the decision evident on his face. He turned his gaze to General Kael, who stood at his side. “What do you make of this?”

Kael frowned, his voice low. “Risky, but tactically sound. Better to have them as allies than adversaries.”

Eldred’s eyes returned to Hongjoong, his reluctance clear. “You ask for much, Captain. The Nishi are not merely soldiers. They are trained from birth, their loyalty bound to Wonderland alone.”

Hongjoong’s smirk softened into something more serious. “I don’t need their loyalty, Your Majesty. I need their skill. Three Nishi, and I swear Wonderland’s lands will never again know the Halazia’s wrath.”

The king sat back, his expression one of defeat. “Very well,” he said reluctantly. “But you will not choose. I will decide which Nishi to send.”

Hongjoong’s smirk returned. “No, Your Majesty. If I’m to trust my life and crew to them, I will choose. Send me your best, or the deal is off.”

Eldred’s fists clenched, but he finally nodded, his voice heavy with resignation. “You will have your three Nishi. But know this, Captain: should you betray this agreement, their blades will be the first to find your throat.”

Hongjoong chuckled, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “We'll see about that.”

The crew of the Halazia had been granted an unexpected stay in Wonderland, a rare opportunity to explore the fabled kingdom and observe its famed Nishi up close. The palace guards kept a watchful eye on the pirates, but Hongjoong and his crew were far from intimidated.

On the second morning, they were led to a large training arena within the palace grounds. The space was surrounded by high walls and overlooked by balconies, where nobles and soldiers often gathered to witness the Nishi in action.

“This,” General Kael announced as the pirates entered, “is where you will decide. The Nishi you seek are among the finest we have. Observe them well.”

The Nishi, clad in their signature black cloaks and white masks, were already in the arena, demonstrating their skills. They moved with an elegance that was almost otherworldly, their swords flashing in the sunlight as they sparred. Each strike was calculated, every movement a testament to their rigorous training.

Hongjoong watched with keen interest, his arms crossed as he leaned casually against a stone pillar. His sharp eyes darted from one Nishi to another, assessing their movements, their precision, and their lethality.

“These aren’t just warriors,” he murmured to Seonghwa, who stood beside him. “They’re artists of war.”

Seonghwa nodded, his gaze fixed on the display. “Efficient. Deadly. They don’t waste energy or time. You’re choosing weapons, not people.”

San, standing nearby, grinned. “Weapons or not, I wouldn’t mind seeing what they’re like in a real fight. Sparring’s one thing. The heat of battle’s another.”

Yeosang, ever observant, added, “Their discipline is unmatched. But loyalty is another matter entirely. They’ve lived their lives for Wonderland. You think they’ll follow us?”

Hongjoong’s smirk returned. “They don’t need to follow us. They need to obey orders. And I intend to make sure they see the Halazia as worthy of their blades.”

As the demonstration continued, one Nishi stood out. Their movements were impossibly fluid, their strikes faster and more precise than the others. Even among the elite, this figure commanded attention.

“That one,” Jongho said, his tone firm. “They’re the one I’d trust in a fight.”

Wooyoung tilted his head, watching another Nishi with blade, who moved with a deadly rhythm. “I like that one. Quick, unpredictable. My kind of chaos.”

Mingi, ever practical, gestured toward a Nishi with a massive glaive. “That one’s strength could turn the tide in a skirmish. We need power as much as speed.”

Hongjoong listened to his crew’s observations, his mind already working. He approached General Kael, his smirk never wavering. “We’ll need more time to observe. But I already have a few in mind.”

Kael nodded stiffly. “Take your time. The king’s orders are clear—you may choose three. But remember, Captain, they are not yours to break. They serve Wonderland first.”

Hongjoong chuckled, his gaze drifting back to the arena. “We’ll see about that.”

The days passed with the pirates watching the Nishi train, each session revealing more of their deadly skills. By the end of their stay, Hongjoong and his crew were ready to make their choices—Nishi who would become part of the Halazia’s legend, and perhaps its greatest weapon.

As the sparring sessions continued, Hongjoong’s sharp eyes scanned the arena, observing the Nishi with a mix of curiosity and calculated intent. His crew murmured among themselves, pointing out impressive maneuvers or debating the merits of strength versus speed.

But then, something—or rather, someone—caught Hongjoong’s attention.

Standing at the far edge of the arena, away from the other Nishi, was a lone figure. The Nishi wasn’t participating in the training but instead stood silently, its posture rigid, observing the others much like Hongjoong and his crew. The way it leaned slightly, arms crossed, almost mirrored Hongjoong’s stance.

This one wasn’t like the others. Its stillness was different—not passive, but deliberate. The air around it seemed to hum with an invisible tension, as if it were assessing not just the Nishi in the arena but the pirates themselves.

Hongjoong tilted his head, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “Who’s that?” he asked, his voice cutting through his crew’s chatter.

General Kael followed Hongjoong’s gaze and frowned. “Ah, that one. It is not a combatant today. A senior Nishi, more involved in leadership and strategy.”

“Leadership?” Hongjoong’s curiosity deepened. “What’s its name?”

Kael hesitated. “Nishi do not use names. They are referred to by rank or designation.”

“Then give me its rank,” Hongjoong pressed, looking bored.

“Second Blade,” Kael said reluctantly. “One of the most skilled among them. But it is not intended for this... arrangement.”

Hongjoong’s interest was piqued further. The detached aura of the Second Blade, combined with its air of quiet authority, intrigued him in a way no other Nishi had. There was something magnetic about the figure—a mystery that demanded unraveling.

“That one,” Hongjoong declared, pointing at the Second Blade. “It’ll be my first choice.”

The general’s expression darkened. “Second Blade is not for sale, Captain. It serves the king directly.”

Hongjoong’s smirk widened, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You said I could choose. And I choose it. If the king values peace with the Halazia, he’ll agree.”

Kael stiffened but said nothing, knowing this matter would ultimately fall to the king.

The Second Blade, as if sensing the attention, turned its masked face toward Hongjoong. Even with no visible expression, the intensity of its gaze was palpable. For a moment, the pirate captain and the enigmatic Nishi seemed locked in a silent exchange, one that neither his crew nor the other warriors could decipher.

“I like it,” Hongjoong said, more to himself than anyone else. “There’s something about it. A spark I haven’t seen in anyone else here.”

Seonghwa, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure about this? It doesn’t seem like the type to take orders easily.”

Hongjoong chuckled. “That’s what makes it interesting. I want the best, and that one’s the best.”

As the pirates continued to watch, Hongjoong knew he had made his decision. He wanted the Second Blade—not just as a warrior for the Halazia but as a puzzle to solve, a force to understand. And he wouldn’t leave Wonderland without it.

After days of observing the Nishi, the Halazia crew finalized their choices. True to Hongjoong’s word, the first pick was the enigmatic Second Blade, the senior Nishi who had caught the captain’s eye with its silent yet commanding presence. The other two selections were equally skilled—strong, agile warriors with ranks just below the Second Blade.

When General Kael informed the chosen Nishi of their new roles, the Second Blade simply nodded, its white mask betraying no reaction. The other two Nishi, larger and imposing, accepted the news with quiet compliance.

As the three assembled before the pirates for their departure preparations, something became strikingly apparent.

“Wait a minute,” Mingi said, breaking the silence. He squinted at the lineup, tilting his head as if trying to reconcile what he was seeing. “Is it just me, or is that one... shorter?”

The crew turned their gazes toward the Second Blade, and sure enough, it stood a full head shorter than the other two Nishi.

Wooyoung snickered, elbowing San. “You picked the shortest one, Captain. Thought you were all about power and presence.”

San crossed his arms, frowning slightly. “Size doesn’t matter if it can fight. You all saw what it did to that attacker in the throne room. Fast and precise.”

“It’s true,” Jongho added, his voice calm but analytical. “Height isn’t everything. If anything, it might make it more agile.”

Still, the contrast was hard to ignore. The Second Blade’s stature seemed almost diminutive next to the hulking forms of the other two Nishi. Yet, despite its smaller frame, there was something undeniably commanding about it.

Hongjoong, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally smirked. “You’re all looking at this the wrong way. It’s not about size. It’s about presence. And that one,” he gestured toward the Second Blade, “has more presence than anyone else here.”

The crew exchanged glances but didn’t argue. They’d seen enough to trust their captain’s instincts, even if the choice seemed unconventional.

Yeosang, ever the practical observer, leaned toward Seonghwa and murmured, “Smaller frame or not, it’s still the most intriguing of the three. The way it carries itself... it’s like it’s always thinking three steps ahead.”

Seonghwa nodded in agreement. “If anything, the contrast makes it even more dangerous. People underestimate what they don’t fully understand.”

As the crew prepared to leave Wonderland with their new recruits, the Second Blade remained as silent and enigmatic as ever. Despite its shorter stature, it exuded an undeniable authority that seemed to silence any lingering doubts.

Hongjoong glanced back at it one last time before boarding the Halazia, his smirk growing wider. “Short or not, you’re exactly what I was looking for.”

In the dimly lit barracks where the Nishi rested, the Second Blade stood by a window, its white mask catching the faint moonlight. Across the room, the two newly chosen Nishi, seungcheol and Mingyu, sat on a bench, their masks placed neatly beside them.

Seungcheol, the elder of the two, crossed his arms, his brows furrowed as he broke the silence. “I don’t understand it. Of all the Nishi, why pick you first?” His tone wasn’t hostile, but there was an unmistakable hint of curiosity.

Mingyu, chuckled softly. “Come on, Seungcheol. It’s obvious, isn’t it? The captain likes the mysterious ones. Second Blade’s got that whole ‘silent and deadly’ vibe going on. You can’t compete with that.”

The Second Blade turned slightly, its masked face tilted as if considering whether to respond. After a moment, it spoke, its voice low and measured. “The choice was the captain’s. Not mine. Does it bother you?”

seungcheol sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not really. I just think it’s strange. You don’t even interact with anyone, and suddenly, you’re the captain’s favorite.” He leaned back against the wall, his gaze narrowing. “But I guess that’s part of the appeal, huh?”

Mingyu grinned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Honestly, I’m just glad I got picked. Can you imagine staying here, doing the same drills every day, while the three of us get to see the world? Feels like a promotion to me.”

seungcheol rolled his eyes. “You would see it that way.”

Mingyu shrugged. “What? It’s true. Besides, the Halazia crew seems... interesting. They’re not exactly the kind of people we’re used to, but they’ve got their own kind of charm.”

The Second Blade returned its gaze to the window. “They are unpredictable. That makes them dangerous.”

“Dangerous to us?” seungcheol asked, his tone more serious now.

“To everyone,” the Second Blade replied, its voice calm but firm. “But that is why we were chosen. To ensure their chaos is controlled.”

Mingyu leaned back, resting his arms on the bench. “Controlled, huh? I don’t think those pirates are the type to take orders. Especially not from us.”

The Second Blade turned fully now, its posture straight and commanding despite its smaller frame. “Then we adapt. As we always have.”

seungcheol watched it closely, his expression softening. “You’re really something, aren’t you? No hesitation. No second-guessing. You just... do.”

Mingyu nodded, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, that’s what makes it so cool. Honestly, I think we’ll learn a lot from this one. Even if it’s shorter than both of us.”

seungcheol snorted, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Don’t let the captain hear you say that. He might have your head.”

The Second Blade didn’t react to the teasing, instead walking toward the exit. Before it stepped out, it paused and said, “Rest while you can. Tomorrow, everything changes.”

As it left the room, seungcheol leaned toward Mingyu, his voice low. “I’m not sure if I admire it or if it gives me the creeps.”

Mingyu laughed, patting seungcheol on the shoulder. “Why not both? Keeps things interesting.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence, both wondering what lay ahead as the newest recruits of the Halazia.

The following morning, the Halazia crew and their newly acquired Nishi stood at the gates of Wonderland, preparing for departure. The Second Blade stood slightly apart from seungcheol and Mingyu, as stoic and silent as ever, its mask firmly in place.

The pirates were busy securing their belongings and discussing the logistics of integrating the Nishi into their operations. Hongjoong, however, couldn’t shake the lingering curiosity he felt toward the Second Blade. Something about it was different—unreadable, yes, but also magnetic in a way he couldn’t explain.

As the group prepared to board the Halazia, Hongjoong lingered near the Second Blade, his curiosity still piqued. He turned to her, gesturing for her attention. “Second Blade,” he said, his tone casual but firm, “before we leave, there’s something I need to clarify. You’ve barely spoken a word since we met. Let’s change that.”

The Second Blade paused, tilting its masked head slightly, and finally spoke. “What do you wish to clarify, Captain?”

The voice caught everyone’s attention. It was soft yet sharp, calm yet commanding—a voice that held the kind of authority forged through years of discipline. But what stood out most was its unmistakable femininity.

Hongjoong’s eyes widened briefly before his expression settled into his usual smirk. “Well, well. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Mingi, standing nearby, blinked in surprise. “Wait a second... That's a woman?”

A crew member laughed nervously. “A woman? On a pirate ship? Isn’t that, like... bad luck or something?”

The atmosphere tensed for a moment as some of the crew exchanged uncertain glances.

Another chimed in, “I’ve heard the stories. Women on ships are supposed to bring misfortune.”

Before anyone could respond, Hongjoong’s voice cut through the murmurs like a blade. “Enough.”

The crew fell silent as their captain stepped forward, his sharp gaze sweeping over them. “Bad luck? Misfortune? Since when have we, the crew of the Halazia, believed in such pathetic superstitions?”

He turned to them, his smirk hardening into a glare. “Do you think the Halazia have survived storms, battles, and betrayals because of luck? No. We’ve made it this far because we’re the best. And I’ll take anyone who proves their worth—man or woman.”

Hongjoong’s gaze then shifted to the Second Blade. “And this one? This one’s already proven it’s better than half of you just by standing there. So unless you’d like to challenge that, I suggest you keep your mouths shut.”

Wooyoung scratched the back of his neck, glancing at the Second Blade. “Honestly, after seeing her fight, I’m not about to argue.”

Hongjoong turned back to the Second Blade, his smirk returning. “You’ve already got my respect, Second Blade. And that’s not something I give out lightly.”

The Second Blade inclined her head slightly, her voice calm and unbothered. “Respect is earned, not given. I will continue to prove myself, Captain.”

Hongjoong chuckled, stepping back. “I like you, Second Blade. You’re full of surprises. But if you’re going to serve on the Halazia, you’ll need a name. I can’t keep calling you by rank.”

She hesitated, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her. Finally, she said, “Call me whatever you wish. It makes no difference to me.”

Hongjoong’s smirk widened. “Then I’ll think of something fitting. Welcome aboard, Second Blade.”

She inclined her head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment.

As the crew of the Halazia made their final preparations to set sail, the Nishi stood off to the side, silent and unreadable. Seungcheol and Mingyu exchanged glances, each wondering what life aboard the infamous pirate ship would hold for them. The Second Blade, as calm and composed as ever, remained still, watching the pirates as they moved about with practiced efficiency.

Hongjoong returned to the main deck, his sharp eyes scanning his crew. “Alright, let’s get moving. Wonderland’s hospitality is wearing thin, and I’d rather not linger where too many eyes are watching.”

The crew murmured in agreement, their movements quick and purposeful as they cast off from the docks.

Seungcheol leaned slightly toward Mingyu, his voice low. “This crew is... different. They don’t seem to operate on any rules I’m familiar with.”

Mingyu shrugged, his tone light but curious. “That’s what makes it exciting, don’t you think? We’ve been stuck in Wonderland for too long. It’s about time we see how the rest of the world works.”

The Second Blade didn’t join the conversation, but its masked face tilted ever so slightly, suggesting it was listening.

As the ship drifted farther from the port, Hongjoong approached the three Nishi. “I’ll be clear with you now. You’re no longer in Wonderland. On this ship, you follow my orders. I don’t care about ranks, titles, or protocols from your past. You’re part of my crew now, and that means loyalty to me and me alone.”

Seungcheol and Mingyu nodded in unison, their movements precise and obedient. The Second Blade simply inclined its head again, its silence speaking volumes.

San, standing nearby, crossed his arms as he eyed the trio. “Can they fight in real battles, though? Wonderland’s training is one thing, but out here, it’s chaos.”

Hongjoong didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned to the Second Blade. “What do you think? Can you handle the chaos of the seas?”

The Second Blade’s voice was calm and unwavering. “Chaos is an opportunity. It reveals the weaknesses of those unprepared. I have no intention of being unprepared.”

Mingyu chuckled under his breath. “I think that’s the most poetic way I’ve ever heard someone say ‘yes.’”

Seungcheol shot him a look, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Hongjoong smirked, clearly satisfied. “Good. Then let’s see how you adapt to life on the Halazia. You’ll have plenty of chances to prove yourselves.”

As the ship gained speed, Wooyoung called from the galley, “Captain! If they’re part of the crew now, they better learn how we eat. Mingyu looks like he could finish off the week’s rations in one sitting!”

Mingyu glanced toward Wooyoung, his posture relaxed. “Only if your cooking’s as good as you claim.”

Wooyoung grinned, leaning out the doorway. “You’ll regret challenging me, rookie. Dinner’s in a few hours. Let’s see if you survive it.”

The crew laughed, the tension from the earlier departure easing. The Nishi, while still enigmatic, were beginning to feel less like outsiders and more like the newest pieces of the Halazia’s puzzle.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Hongjoong stood at the helm, his eyes flickering between the horizon and the Second Blade. That strange pull toward her lingered, growing stronger with every interaction. He couldn’t quite place it yet, but one thing was certain—this journey was about to get far more interesting.

As the crew of the Halazia made their final preparations to set sail, the Nishi stood off to the side, silent and unreadable. Seungcheol and Mingyu exchanged glances, each wondering what life aboard the infamous pirate ship would hold for them. The Second Blade, as calm and composed as ever, remained still, watching the pirates as they moved about with practiced efficiency.

Hongjoong returned to the main deck, his sharp eyes scanning his crew. “Alright, let’s get moving. Wonderland’s hospitality is wearing thin, and I’d rather not linger where too many eyes are watching.”

The crew murmured in agreement, their movements quick and purposeful as they cast off from the docks.

Seungcheol leaned slightly toward Mingyu, his voice low. “This crew is... different. They don’t seem to operate on any rules I’m familiar with.”

Mingyu shrugged, his tone light but curious. “That’s what makes it exciting, don’t you think? We’ve been stuck in Wonderland for too long. It’s about time we see how the rest of the world works.”

The Second Blade didn’t join the conversation, but her masked face tilted ever so slightly, suggesting it was listening.

As the ship drifted farther from the port, Hongjoong approached the three Nishi. “I’ll be clear with you now. You’re no longer in Wonderland. On this ship, you follow my orders. I don’t care about ranks, titles, or protocols from your past. You’re part of my crew now, and that means loyalty to me and me alone.”

Seungcheol and Mingyu nodded in unison, their movements precise and obedient. The Second Blade simply inclined its head again, its silence speaking volumes.

San, standing nearby, crossed his arms as he eyed the trio. “Can they fight in real battles, though? Wonderland’s training is one thing, but out here, it’s chaos.”

Hongjoong didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned to the Second Blade. “What do you think? Can you handle the chaos of the seas?”

The Second Blade’s voice was calm and unwavering. “Chaos is an opportunity. It reveals the weaknesses of those unprepared. I have no intention of being unprepared.”

Mingyu chuckled under his breath. “I think that’s the most poetic way I’ve ever heard someone say ‘yes.’”

Seungcheol shot him a look, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Hongjoong smirked, clearly satisfied. “Good. Then let’s see how you adapt to life on the Halazia. You’ll have plenty of chances to prove yourselves.”

As the ship gained speed, Wooyoung called from the galley, “Captain! If they’re part of the crew now, they better learn how we eat. Mingyu looks like he could finish off the week’s rations in one sitting!”

Mingyu glanced toward Wooyoung, his posture relaxed. “Only if your cooking’s as good as you claim.”

Wooyoung grinned, leaning out the doorway. “You’ll regret challenging me, rookie. Dinner’s in a few hours. Let’s see if you survive it.”

The crew laughed, the tension from the earlier departure easing. The Nishi, while still enigmatic, were beginning to feel less like outsiders and more like the newest pieces of the Halazia’s puzzle.

The Halazia loomed over the coastline of a small, unsuspecting island, its black sails striking a foreboding figure against the azure sky. Hongjoong stood at the bow, his piercing gaze fixed on the settlement below.

“Alright,” he said, turning to his crew. “We go in quick and clean. Take only what we need—gold, weapons, supplies. Leave no loose ends.”

The main crew gathered around him—Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, Mingi, Wooyoung, Jongho—all ready for the raid. Beside them stood the three Nishi, their white masks gleaming ominously in the sunlight.

“This time,” Hongjoong continued, his smirk sharp, “it’s just us. No extra hands, no distractions. Let’s see how well our new recruits handle the chaos.”

San grinned, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Finally. Let’s see if they’re as good as they looked in Wonderland.”

Wooyoung chuckled, glancing at Mingyu. “Think you can keep up with us, big guy?”

Mingyu tilted his head slightly, his voice calm. “I think the better question is if you can keep up with me.”

Seungcheol sighed, ever the level-headed one. “Let’s focus on the task, shall we?”

The Second Blade, as always, said nothing, but its presence was palpable.

As the crew descended on the island, chaos erupted. The inhabitants, though armed, were no match for the seasoned pirates. And then there were the Nishi.

The Second Blade moved like a shadow, weaving through the fray with unnerving precision. Its twin blades flashed, striking down attackers before they could even raise their weapons. Every move was deliberate, efficient, and terrifyingly silent.

Seungcheol, meanwhile, was a powerhouse. His strikes were methodical and brutal, each one designed to incapacitate swiftly. He moved in sync with the others, covering blind spots and ensuring no one was overwhelmed.

Mingyu, despite his easy going demeanor, was a force of nature. His sheer strength was undeniable, and every swing of his blade sent opponents flying. Yet, there was a grace to his movements, a calculated elegance that belied his size.

The Halazia crew couldn’t help but notice.

“Did you see that?” Mingi shouted, fending off an attacker. “That’s insane!”

Yunho, navigating through the chaos, grinned. “I think we made the right choice bringing them along.”

Jongho, in the middle of taking down a group of armed guards, smirked. “Not bad for newcomers. But let’s see how they handle the next wave.”

The fight raged on, but it became clear that the Nishi were unstoppable. By the time the dust settled, the islanders had been subdued, their weapons confiscated, and the pirates stood victorious.

Hongjoong, standing amidst the wreckage, surveyed the scene. His eyes lingered on the Second Blade, which was wiping the blood from its swords with calm precision.

“Well,” he said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “I’d say you’ve all more than proven yourselves.”

Seungcheol, ever the professional, inclined his head. “We’re here to serve, Captain.”

Mingyu leaned on his sword, grinning. “That was fun. When’s the next one?”

The Second Blade remained silent, but the way it sheathed its blades with a flourish spoke volumes.

San, catching his breath, clapped Hongjoong on the back. “You weren’t kidding when you said they’d be useful. I don’t think we’ve ever had a raid go this smoothly.”

Hongjoong chuckled, his sharp gaze still fixed on the Second Blade. “Useful? They’re more than that. They’re exactly what we’ve been missing.”

As the crew gathered their spoils and prepared to leave, the bond between the pirates and their new allies had grown stronger. The Nishi had not only earned their place on the Halazia but had also become a force to be reckoned with—one that the seas would soon learn to fear.

As the crew regrouped on the beach, the spoils of their raid piled high behind them, Wooyoung let out a dramatic sigh, collapsing onto a barrel.

“Well,” he said, wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead, “that was easy. Almost boring, actually.”

Mingyu, standing nearby, chuckled. “You call that boring? You screamed when that guy lunged at you.”

Wooyoung pointed a finger at him, indignant. “It was a battle cry. You wouldn’t understand.”

San smirked, shaking his head. “Pretty sure it sounded more like a dying seagull.”

“Seagull?” Wooyoung gasped, clutching his chest as if wounded. “You wound me, San. I’m the voice of this ship!”

“More like the noise of this ship,” Jongho muttered under his breath, earning a laugh from Yunho.

As the crew bantered, Hongjoong stood slightly apart, his eyes fixated on the Second Blade. She was meticulously cleaning her twin swords, every movement precise and deliberate. Despite the chaos and bloodshed of the raid, her calm demeanor remained intact, and Hongjoong couldn’t help but find it fascinating.

Seonghwa, noticing his captain’s lingering gaze, sidled up to him with a knowing smirk. “You’ve been staring at her for a while now.”

Hongjoong didn’t look away, his voice low and thoughtful. “There’s something about her, Seonghwa. The way she moves, the way she fights... it’s mesmerizing.”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “Mesmerizing? Or are you just—”

“Don’t,” Hongjoong interrupted, shooting him a sharp look. “Don’t even start.”

Seonghwa chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything, Captain.”

Nearby, Wooyoung leaned toward Mingi, whispering loudly enough for everyone to hear, “I think the captain’s got a crush.”

Mingi snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that. She’s not exactly the talkative type.”

Hongjoong turned sharply toward them, his glare cutting through their laughter. “Focus on the loot before I throw you both overboard.”

The crew burst into laughter, but it quickly subsided when the Second Blade stood and approached Hongjoong. Even under her mask, her presence was commanding, and the air around them grew quiet.

“Captain,” she said simply, her voice steady and calm. “Your orders?”

Hongjoong cleared his throat, straightening his coat as if caught off guard. “We’ll load the spoils onto the ship and set sail immediately. Good work today, Second Blade.”

She inclined her head and turned to help with the loot, her movements fluid and efficient.

As she walked away, Hongjoong couldn’t help but watch her again, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Seonghwa leaned in once more, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re obsessed.”

Hongjoong didn’t deny it. “Maybe. But there’s something about her, Seonghwa. Something I can’t quite figure out.”

San walked by, overhearing their conversation, and quipped, “Careful, Captain. You keep staring like that, and she might think you’re planning to challenge her to a duel.”

Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head. “If I did, I’d probably lose.”

The moment the words left Hongjoong's mouth—"If I did, I’d probably lose"—the deck went completely silent.

San, mid-step, froze. Wooyoung dropped the sack of loot he was carrying. Yunho, who was tying down a sail, turned so quickly he nearly tripped over the rope. Even Jongho, typically stoic, looked like someone had just smacked him in the face with a fish.

Seonghwa stared at Hongjoong, his jaw slightly slack. “Did you... did you just say you’d lose a fight?”

Hongjoong blinked, realizing what he’d said, and immediately tried to backtrack. “I mean... hypothetically. It’s not like I—”

But Wooyoung wasn’t about to let this go. He clutched his chest dramatically, stumbling backward. “The great Captain Hongjoong, admitting defeat? To anyone? Oh, this is historic! Someone write this down!”

Mingi, trying not to laugh, nudged Yunho. “You think the world’s ending? This feels like one of those moments.”

“Maybe he’s sick,” Yunho said, pretending to inspect Hongjoong from a distance. “Captain, should I call Yeosang? You might be delirious.”

San, smirking, crossed his arms. “Or maybe... you’re just that whipped.”

The entire crew burst into laughter, the kind of loud, boisterous laughter that echoed over the waves. Even Seungcheol and Mingyu exchanged amused glances, clearly entertained by the pirates' antics.

The Second Blade, however, remained silent, standing as still as a statue. Her head tilted slightly, as if she was processing the conversation but chose not to comment.

Hongjoong, trying to salvage his pride, raised his hands. “Alright, enough! You lot have had your fun. Get back to work before I start assigning punishment duties.”

But his threat only made Wooyoung laugh harder. “You can’t scare us, Captain! Not when you’re this close to writing poetry about the Second Blade!”

“I do not write poetry,” Hongjoong snapped, his cheeks faintly red.

Seonghwa smirked, leaning in just enough to whisper, “If the mask comes off and she turns out to be beautiful, you’re doomed.”

Hongjoong glared at him but didn’t reply, his mind briefly wandering to what might be beneath that mask.

As the crew slowly returned to their tasks, still chuckling under their breaths, Seungcheol spoke up, his tone even. “Is this how your crew normally behaves, Captain?”

Hongjoong sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Unfortunately, yes. They’re skilled, but they have no sense of decorum.”

Mingyu grinned. “I like them. Feels more... lively than Wonderland.”

Seungcheol hummed in agreement, but his sharp eyes flicked to the Second Blade. “Though I’ll admit, I’ve never seen someone affect a group so quickly.”

Hongjoong ignored the comment, instead turning his focus back to the horizon. But as the laughter of his crew faded into the rhythm of the ship’s movements, he couldn’t shake the faint heat rising to his cheeks.

He stole a glance at the Second Blade, who was quietly inspecting her weapons near the mast. The sight of her—silent, enigmatic, and completely unbothered by the chaos she caused—only intrigued him more.

And though he would never admit it, not even to himself, Hongjoong knew one thing: he was whipped, and he wasn’t entirely sure he minded.

As the days turned into weeks, Halazia sailed through the vast oceans, leaving a trail of fear and fascination in its wake. But amidst the looting, planning, and endless chaos that came with being the pirate king, Hongjoong found his thoughts increasingly occupied by one thing—or rather, one person.

The Second Blade.

She was unlike anyone he’d ever encountered. Her movements were a study in grace and lethality, her silence spoke louder than words, and her presence was magnetic. Hongjoong had always viewed his crew and allies as tools to further his goals, weapons to carve his path to dominance. But the Second Blade… she was different.

She wasn’t just a weapon; she was a treasure. And as the self-proclaimed king of the seas, Hongjoong always took what he wanted. Right now, he wanted her.

He often found himself watching her, more openly than he intended. Whether she was sharpening her blades, silently observing the crew’s antics, or simply standing at the bow of the ship, her mask reflecting the sunlight like polished ivory, Hongjoong couldn’t look away.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and red, Hongjoong leaned against the railing, his sharp eyes fixed on her.

“She’s something, isn’t she?”

The voice didn't startle him, and he turned to find Seonghwa standing nearby, a knowing smirk on his face.

Hongjoong scoffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Seonghwa said innocently, though his tone was laced with amusement. “I’m just pointing out the obvious.”

Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She’s not like the others, Seonghwa. There’s something about her… something I can’t quite figure out.”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “You mean besides the fact that she could probably kill us all in our sleep without breaking a sweat?”

Hongjoong chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Exactly that. She’s a mystery, and you know how much I hate not knowing things.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re so drawn to her,” Seonghwa mused. “You’re used to being in control, Captain. But with her, you’re not.”

Hongjoong didn’t respond, but the truth of Seonghwa’s words lingered in his mind.

Later that night, as the crew gathered for their usual round of rum and storytelling, Hongjoong found himself drawn to her again. She stood apart from the group, leaning against the mast with her arms crossed. Even with the mask, he could feel her sharp gaze cutting through the revelry.

He approached her, his boots clicking softly against the wooden deck. She didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge him, but he knew she was aware of his presence.

“Why do you always stand alone?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

She turned her head slightly, the white mask catching the moonlight. “I’m not part of your crew, Captain. I’m here because I was ordered to be.”

Her words were cold, but Hongjoong detected a faint crack in her usual stoic tone.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning casually against the mast beside her. “But you’ve proven yourself more than just an order. You’ve earned your place here.”

She didn’t reply, and the silence stretched between them. For once, Hongjoong didn’t mind.

Finally, she spoke. “You’re different than I expected.”

“Oh?” His lips curled into a smirk. “What did you expect?”

“A tyrant,” she said simply. “Someone who rules with fear and takes without thought.”

Hongjoong chuckled, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I am those things, Second Blade. But even a tyrant can appreciate something extraordinary when he sees it.”

Her head tilted slightly, as if she were studying him, trying to unravel his words.

“Goodnight, Captain,” she said finally, her voice softer this time.

As she walked away, Hongjoong watched her disappear into the shadows, a strange sense of longing settling in his chest.

For the first time in his life, the pirate king found himself wanting something he couldn’t simply take. But he was determined to have her—one way or another.

The clash of swords and the thunder of cannons filled the air as chaos reigned on the Halazia. The navy had come prepared, their ships surrounding yours with ruthless efficiency. The crew fought valiantly, their cries of defiance rising above the din of battle.

You moved through the fray like a shadow, your twin blades cutting through enemies with practiced precision. Every movement was deliberate, every strike lethal. You had faced battles like this before -chaotic, bloody, and merciless-and you thrived in them.

But then, a presence caught your attention.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a man moving toward you, his stance predatory and his sword glinting under the sun. He was no ordinary soldier; the way he carried himself spoke of years of training, and his eyes locked onto you with singular intent.

You met his first strike with one of your blades, the force of the clash vibrating through your arm. He was stronger than most, but you didn't falter. Instead, you pushed back, twisting to deflect his follow-up strike with your second blade

“You're nothing more than a masked puppet” the man taunted.

The two of you exchanged a flurry of blows, each one testing the other's limits. For a moment, you thought you had him, your blade finding an opening in his defense. But then, he sidestepped with surprising speed, his sword coming down in a powerful arc.

You raised your blades to block, but the force of his strike was immense. His sword slammed into yours, the impact sending a shockwave through your arms. Before you could recover, his next strike came, aimed high.

His blade scraped against the edge of your mask, and you felt it-the sharp crack of the material breaking under the pressure.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to slow. You felt the pieces of your mask splintering, the fragments falling away from your face and scattering onto the deck.

The man froze for a split second, his eyes widening in shock as he took in your uncovered face. The noise of the battle seemed to fade for an instant, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

You didn't hesitate. Using his momentary distraction, you surged forward, your blade slicing through the air. The fight wasn't over-not yet-but you knew one thing for certain: the secret you had guarded for so long was now exposed.

The man fell before you, your blade driving cleanly through his chest as he crumpled to the deck. You pulled your sword free, standing over him, but the usual sense of victory that came with a kill was absent. Instead, a cold weight settled in your chest.

Your mask was gone.

You could feel the open air against your face, the stares of those around you. The battle continued to rage, but in your world, time seemed to slow, every sound muffled as if you were underwater.

Your hand instinctively twitched toward your face, but there was nothing to cover it with. The scar- the mark that had defined you in more ways than one-was exposed to the world. It stretched from the corner of your lip to the middle of your cheek, a cruel, jagged line that almost mimicked a half-smile.

A mockery.

You didn't need to look around to know what they were seeing. A warrior, unmasked, scarred, and vulnerable. The thought alone made your stomach churn, a bitter taste rising in your throat.

You could feel their gazes-some fleeting, others lingering. Enemies paused mid-battle, caught off guard by the sight. Even your crewmates, the ones who had fought beside you for weeks, faltered for a moment.

"Second Blade!"

The sound of Hongjoong's voice snapped you back to reality. He was fighting his way toward you, his sword cutting down anyone who stood in his path. His eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto yours.

For a split second, you saw something there- surprise, yes, but also something else. Something softer.

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to focus. The battle wasn't over, and neither was your duty. You turned sharply, ignoring the weight of the stares, and threw yourself back into the fight.

But no matter how many enemies you cut down, that feeling of exposure wouldn't leave you. The scar wasn't just a mark on your skin-it was a reminder of what you'd endured, a testament to your survival. And now, everyone on this cursed ship could see it.

You had always been the Second Blade, a faceless warrior, a weapon to be wielded. But now, stripped of that anonymity, you felt exposed. Vulnerable.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt defeated.

The battle raged on, but your focus wavered, a rarity for someone of your skill. Each strike of your blade felt mechanical, detached, as though the strength you once carried had been siphoned by the shattering of your mask. The scar burned—not from pain, but from the weight of being seen.

You cut down another attacker, breathing hard as the chaos around you began to subside. The navy soldiers were retreating, their numbers dwindling under the relentless force of the Halazia crew.

"Second Blade!"

Hongjoong’s voice rang out again, this time closer. You turned to see him approaching, his sword slick with blood, his expression unreadable. Behind him, the rest of the main crew was regrouping, their faces a mix of triumph and exhaustion.

And curiosity.

You stood still as Hongjoong stopped in front of you, his sharp eyes scanning your face. He didn’t speak at first, his gaze lingering on the scar.

“Your face…” he started, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“I know,” you interrupted, your tone clipped. You turned your head slightly, as if to shield the scar from his view, though you knew it was pointless. “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” San commented, stepping up beside Hongjoong. His eyes flicked to your scar, but there was no malice there—only curiosity.

“Looks like a story,” Yeosang chimed in.

Wooyoung, leaning on his weapon with an almost playful grin added,“And you know how much we love stories around here.”

“Enough.” Hongjoong’s voice was firm, silencing the murmurs of the crew. His gaze hadn’t left your face. “Are you injured?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” He took a step closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “You don’t need to hide from me, Second Blade. Not here. Not with us.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Before you could find the right words, Yunho called out.

“Captain, we’ve got their ship retreating! What’s the plan?”

Hongjoong straightened, his commanding presence returning in an instant. “Let them run. They’ll spread word of what happened here. That’s enough for now.”

The crew began to cheer, their energy renewed despite the toll of the battle.

Hongjoong turned back to you, his voice quieter but no less authoritative. “We’ll talk later.”

With that, he moved to rally his crew, leaving you standing amid the aftermath of the fight. The scar on your face still felt like it burned under the weight of their gazes, but there was something about the way Hongjoong had looked at you.

Not with pity. Not with disgust.

But with something else entirely.

You exhaled, steeling yourself. There was no room for weakness on the Halazia, but maybe—just maybe—there was room for something else.

The dining hall of the Halazia was alive with the usual banter and clinking of cutlery. Plates of food were passed around, and the crew reveled in the aftermath of their victory against the navy. Yet tonight, there was an unusual air of curiosity lingering in the room, all eyes subtly drifting to the three Nishis seated among them.

You sat at the table, your mask broken and discarded, your scar fully visible under the warm light of the lanterns. To your left, Seungcheol and to your right, Mingyu sat quietly, but the absence of their masks drew more than a few glances.

San finally broke the silence, gesturing toward the two Nishis. “Alright, I have to ask—what’s going on here? I thought the masks were, like, sacred or something.”

Mingyu, ever the more casual of the two, shrugged nonchalantly. “They are. But when an upper rank removes their mask, it’s tradition for the lower ranks to do the same. Out of respect.”

Seungcheol nodded in agreement, his tone more formal. “It’s a symbol of unity. If one’s identity is exposed, the others stand with them. It’s the least we can do.”

The room fell quiet for a moment, the weight of the explanation sinking in.

“So, you’re saying it’s because of her,” Mingi said, gesturing to you with a nod.

“Obviously,” Wooyoung chimed in, grinning as he leaned forward on his elbows. “Makes sense. She’s the top dog, after all.”

“Second Blade,” Jongho spoke up suddenly, his voice cutting through the chatter. His expression was unusually curious, his gaze fixed on you. “How did you get that scar?”

The room fell into an awkward silence, the air heavy with tension. Hongjoong, seated at the head of the table, immediately narrowed his eyes at Jongho.

“Jongho,” he said sharply, his tone carrying a warning. “That’s not your place to ask.”

But before he could continue, you raised a hand, stopping him. “It’s fine, Captain.”

You set your utensils down and leaned back slightly in your chair, your gaze sweeping over the expectant faces of the crew. It was rare for you to speak, let alone about something personal, but tonight was different.

“If you want to know, I’ll tell you,” you said, your voice steady despite the weight of the memory.

All eyes were on you now, the room completely silent as the crew waited for you to begin.

The house was cold when the men came for you. Your mother’s hands trembled as she clutched the doorframe, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Your father stood stiffly behind her, his jaw tight as if forcing himself not to speak.

You tried to hold back the fear clawing at your chest as the soldiers stepped inside. Their uniforms were spotless, their movements brisk. You’d heard the stories—families giving up their children to the military for better housing, steady food, and money. You just never thought it would happen to you.

“Come along,” one of the soldiers said, his tone curt but not unkind.

Your mother’s lips moved, forming silent words. Maybe a prayer, maybe an apology. She didn’t look at you as she gently pushed you forward.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Your father’s eyes flicked to you for the briefest moment before he turned away. “It’s for the best,” he muttered.

The soldiers took you by the arms, and as they led you out of the house, the weight of abandonment settled heavily on your chest. You didn’t cry, but your throat ached from holding it back.

The training camp was a harsh, unfeeling place. From the moment you arrived, you were thrust into a world of grueling drills, barked orders, and punishments for the smallest mistakes. It was exhausting, but you pushed through, clinging to the faint hope that surviving this would lead to something better.

But then, the whispers started.

“She’s got potential,” one of the camp hosts murmured, their eyes lingering on you.

“For more than just combat,” another added, their tone making your skin crawl.

At first, you didn’t understand what they meant. But when you were summoned one evening, it became clear. The hosts eyed you like a prize, their polished appearances and honeyed words hiding something far uglier.

“She’s got a face that’ll sell,” one said, their gaze raking over you.

“Such a waste to send her to war,” another added with a smirk.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. They didn’t see you as a soldier in training—they saw you as a commodity.

When the general was informed of their plan, you were dragged to his quarters. General Rael was an imposing figure, his towering frame and sharp eyes making him impossible to read. The hosts explained their intentions, their voices sickeningly eager.

“She could make us a fortune,” one said, as if you weren’t standing right there.

The general listened in silence, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to you.

“You,” he said, his voice like gravel. “Come here.”

You hesitated, fear and anger warring within you, but the sharp tug of a soldier’s hand forced you forward.

Rael’s gaze bored into you for a moment before he spoke. “They think you’re too pretty to be a soldier.”

His words made your stomach churn. “I don’t care what they think,” you said, your voice trembling despite your attempt at defiance.

“Good,” he replied, pulling a dagger from his belt.

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as he stepped closer. “W-what are you doing?”

“I’m fixing the problem,” he said flatly.

The blade was cold against your skin as he pressed it to the corner of your lip. The first cut was searing, a pain so intense that you couldn’t stop the scream that tore from your throat.

“Stop!” you cried, tears streaming down your face as he dragged the blade across your cheek. Blood poured down your face, warm and sticky, soaking into your shirt.

“Stop struggling,” Rael barked, his grip like iron.

When it was over, he stepped back, tossing a rag at you. You caught it with shaking hands, pressing it to your wound as sobs wracked your body. Your legs felt weak as they gave out and collapsed on the floor.

“Still think she’s worth more off the battlefield?” Rael asked, turning to the pale-faced hosts.

They left without a word, their greedy smiles replaced with wide-eyed shock.

You sat there trembling, blood dripping onto the floor, the rag clutched tightly against your face. Rael said nothing as he turned away, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room.

That night, you lay in your bunk, the pain of the wound throbbing with every heartbeat. Silent tears slid down your face as you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing with anger, humiliation, and despair.

You weren’t just scarred—you were marked. A cruel reminder of what had been taken from you. And yet, somewhere deep inside, a spark of resolve burned.

They had tried to break you. But you would not let them win.

The room fell eerily silent as you finished speaking, the weight of your story settling over the table like a heavy fog. Your hands were still clenched tightly, the memory of the pain and humiliation as fresh as if it had happened only moments ago.

The crew, usually so brash and unfiltered, seemed almost reverent in their silence. Their eyes locked onto you, no longer the fierce, untouchable warrior they’d seen before, but a person—a woman with a past far more painful than they could have imagined.

Hongjoong’s gaze softened, his usually sharp and calculating eyes filled with something different—sympathy, perhaps, or understanding. But before he could speak, you lifted your chin, your voice cutting through the quiet like a sword.

“You wanted this,” you said, your tone firm and unwavering. “You asked. So I told you.”

The crew exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of shock, admiration, and something else—something that mirrored your own unspoken resolve.

Jongho, usually the most forward of the bunch, was the first to break the silence. “I... didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just curious.”

You nodded once, sharply. “Curiosity has consequences. But you wanted to know, so I told you.”

Hongjoong leaned back, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re not just some weapon, are you?”

You looked at him, eyes hardening slightly. “I never was.”

A heavy silence passed between you all, and for the first time, the crew seemed to understand you better. Not just as the deadly, cold warrior they had seen fighting beside them, but as someone who had been broken and reforged into something stronger. Something they couldn’t quite fathom, but now respected even more.

“Let’s eat,” you said, your voice cutting through the tension. “We’ve got work to do.”

And with that, the crew reluctantly returned to their meals, the weight of your story lingering in the air as they silently processed what they had learned. The bond between you had shifted, subtly but unmistakably.

The bond between you and the crew had grown stronger with each passing day, but there were moments when things shifted, when the air between you and Hongjoong became a little heavier. He noticed the way you held yourself—how you kept your distance, how you threw yourself into your duties with a fierce intensity, but never allowed yourself to relax, never allowed anyone to get too close.

One evening, as the crew settled around the ship’s deck after a long day of sailing, Hongjoong approached you. You were leaning against the mast, staring out at the horizon, your arms crossed over your chest in that familiar defensive posture.

“Second Blade,” he said quietly, standing a few paces away from you, his voice low enough not to draw attention from the rest of the crew.

You didn’t turn to face him, but you acknowledged his presence with a slight tilt of your head. “Captain.”

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, his words measured and thoughtful. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you? More than anyone should have to endure.”

You didn’t respond, your gaze still fixed on the endless ocean. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you, but you weren’t ready to let the walls down, not yet.

“I get it,” he continued, a slight edge of frustration creeping into his voice. “You’re protecting everyone else. The crew, the ship, the mission... but who’s protecting you?”

The question hung in the air, but you kept your silence. You couldn’t afford to let anyone protect you. You couldn’t afford to need anyone.

Hongjoong stepped closer, his presence a comfort and a challenge all at once. “You don’t have to do it alone, Second Blade. You’ve been protecting everyone around you, but what about yourself?”

You finally turned to look at him, meeting his gaze for the first time. There was an intensity in his eyes, a longing that you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t have time for that,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “I have to protect the people who matter. The ones who can’t defend themselves.”

His gaze softened, and a small, understanding smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I understand,” he said, his voice low and serious. “But while you’re out there protecting the world, let me protect you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest at the simplicity of his words. It wasn’t just a promise—it was an offer. A chance to be seen, to be cared for. Something you hadn’t allowed yourself to consider in a long time.

“I don’t need protecting,” you said, though your voice was quieter now, less certain.

Hongjoong’s expression softened even more, his eyes holding a quiet intensity. “Maybe not from the world. But from yourself, Second Blade. Maybe you need someone to look out for you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you standing there in the soft glow of the evening. The crew continued their chatter behind you, unaware of the subtle shift in the air.

You swallowed, the weight of his words sinking in. Could you really let someone protect you? Could you allow yourself to lean on someone else for once?

But before you could speak, Hongjoong gave you a small, almost teasing smile. “I’m not asking you to let your guard down completely. Just... let me take care of you when you need it. It’s what a captain does, right?”

A small part of you wanted to refuse, to keep your distance, to push him away. But another part of you, the part that had spent so long alone, finally relented.

After a while, you sighed, “But don’t expect me to make it easy for you.”

Hongjoong chuckled, a rich, warm sound that made your heart beat a little faster. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

And as you stood there with him, the weight of his words still lingering between you, you realized something. You had always been the protector. But maybe, just maybe, it was time to let someone else guard your back for a change.

[sweetreasures]

in action

director’s assistant!seonghwa x pornstar!reader

shower sex, fingering, deep throating, dom hwa, sub reader, slight degradation, praise, heavy petnames (angel, star, etc), overstimulation, multiple orgasms

minors dni, ageless blogs will be blocked

happy birthday, seonghwa ❤️

masterlist \\ read part one (our little star, mingi x reader)

seonghwa led you by the shoulders, supporting your bathrobe as you tightened the fabric around your waist. it was only a short walk to the dressing rooms, though the tension in the air was palpable and suffocating.

he hadn’t wasted a single moment after your audition—acting quickly in order to get you cleaned up. and more importantly, get you all to himself.

he couldn’t exactly act on these desires; no, hongjoong wasn’t joking when he said seonghwa wasn’t paid to fuck the talent. in fact, it was strictly forbiddened. hongjoong had no desire to complicate his work by fraternizing, dreading the thought of how many brilliant minds were brought down by needless sexual conflict. this did not stop seonghwa, who regularly found himself tongue deep in a hole to whom he would later have to file their payroll. however, he knew that if he wanted to do this right, he had to get you away from prying eyes.

you noticed the way he looked at you—hungrily, full of an implacable lust, like you were less a human and more a delicious midnight snack. it was a far cry from the person you met when you walked through those doors, the one who rid your body of its anxieties with just one warm smile.

you liked this seonghwa more. you held your breath as this seonghwa pushed open the entrance to a dressing room and motioned for you to step inside. lockers lined the wall, each individually marked with a name—undoubtedly belonging to the actors. you were all too familiar with mingi, but you also recognized “yeosang”, an actor whose niche was primarily workplace taboo.

the thought sent a chill down your spine. how on the nose could this get?

chilled air nips at your skin. seonghwa worked meticulously to strip you back down to nothing, letting his fingers graze lightly over your newly exposed skin. for a second, you expect him to take you right then and there. your cunt throbs, its walls having just recovered from being molded into the shape of song mingi.

“i’ll be right outside,” seonghwa informed you, motioning to a single door on the wall that led into a tiled shower. he presses a long kiss to your forehead, “let me know if you need any help.”

with that, he winks, closing the door and leaving you alone with yourself and his words. where had seonghwa expected you to encounter a problem using a shower, you wondered. the while situation frustrated you—he needed to stop with the mind games and get inside you quick.

the water of the shower warmed your skin as your eyes fluttered shut, allowing yourself to relax with the moment. with every pass of the washcloth, you made sure to give extra attention to your reddening areolas, massaging your nipples in a circular motion. a soft gasp escaped your lips, and you are instantly grateful for the cover of running water that masked your sounds of desperation.

“mmm…nngh…” you groaned as the texture of the cloth teased the overly sensitive buds. the water rushed between your cleavage like river water rushing over glistening rocks. the whole scene was so painfully soft and erotic, you made a mental note to include some similar in your next video.

you allowed the washcloth to venture down, stopping to lightly rub the area between your inner thighs but halting just short of the aching nub hidden within your folds. the heat radiating from your eager cunt was enough to fog up the shower doors all on its own, and the longer you spent trying to get yourself off, the more it drove you crazy.

“you okay in there, star?” seonghwa called from the dressing room, barely audible above the shower water. the words came out before you have time to react, though you didn’t care.

“seonghwa…please…help me…”

you didn’t know when seonghwa finally entered the shower, steam obscuring your vision as he kneeled on the floor beside you. you kept repeating those pleas until a hand takes hold of the cloth, slowly extracting it from your grasp.

“it’s okay, my baby angel. let me take care of you, hm?”

there was that distinctive warmth, his maternal nature complementary to the lustful undertones of his mannerisms. placing your full trust in him, he props you up against the tiled wall, separating your legs so your pussy came out in full display.

“what do you want? use your words, y/n.” his tone is firm yet caring. you didn’t know what you wanted—you hadn’t thought that far ahead. you wanted your dumb pussy sucked raw, you wanted seonghwa to pick a hole and pump you full of his seed. seonghwa looked at you expectant, unwilling to move on until you followed his commands.

“need your cock, hwa. please… need you inside me,” you whimpered, legs pressing together as you instinctively sought out some sort of friction. seonghwa forces them back over, positioning himself to wear his heavy cock lied between your folds. he began to move his hips, rubbing his length against your clit in a slow and deliberate fashion.

you let out a sharp cry every time his cock pressed against your entrance. precum leaked from seonghwa’s reddened tip, and he continued smearing it around your hole as if preparing you for his length. seonghwa watches you squirm like a prey animal, taking in the sight of your pathetic and reckless display of need. he was a man who loved taking his time—preferring to draw out his partner’s orgasms with his tongue or his fingers, anything before introducing his beautiful cock into the picture.

but the way you pleaded with your large doe eyes as those vulgar words came from your innocent lips…how could he not give you exactly what you wanted?

“do you think our mingi has loosened you up enough for me?” he was practically singing as his tip slipped into your slick cunt, watching himself sink halfway inside before pulling out completely.

“fuck me, seonghwa,” you began bucking your own hips up as he moves his cock away, responding to your neediness with a light tap on your pussy.

“i need you to be good for me,” he inserts himself back inside, eyes squeezing shut as you reflexively suck his length deeper into your walls. “can you be good for me?”

you nodded your head furiously, droplets of water landing onto seonghwa’s bare chest. he smirks, removing himself again with a harsh pop.

“words.”

“yes, sir.”

seonghwa snaps his hips against yours, cock bottoming out all at once as you screamed into your hand—uncaring of who was listening in. even seonghwa, who knew this was an hr (hongjoong) visit waiting to happen, did little more to silence you than stuff the wrung out rag inside your mouth. all efforts to be discrete—if any—were futile as the sound of his thrusts echoed off the shower walls.

“so tight…you’re so perfect for us, hm? little pussy was made to take cock. natural little cumslut.”

his words traveled through one ear and straight to your cunt. you couldn’t even form a full thought in your head, all cognitive abilities overwhelmed by the sheer desire to be full and feel good. a primative, subconscious need.

seonghwa continued at his brutal pace, taking a hold of your breast like handlebars. his only goal was making you cream all over him—he knew he had to have you when you finally arrived and provided a gorgeous face to the stories mingi kept telling about you. a million dollar pussy, an ass that deserves an oscar of its own. he was pleasantly surprised to see how receptive you were to his advances, leaving you soaked off just his gaze alone before mingi and hongjoong had even entered the room.

“oh, angel. you shouldn’t be so quick to give in like this,” seonghwa chastised, hypnotized by the way his length disappeared within your slick folds, “can’t have just anyone thinking they can touch you.”

“no, no, just for you. needed you so badly, hwa.” you alternated between drawn out mews and staccato gasping, breathlessly moaning out demands for seonghwa to go faster, harder…

your body no longer felt like your own. the sensation spreading throughout you numbed you from head to toe with pleasure. you were about to cum for the second time, this orgasm building to a much faster peak than the last.

he’s breathtaking, you thought to yourself as seonghwa angled you upwards, his tip pressing right against the sweet spot. hongjoong kept him out of view for a reason, and you figured it was jealousy—who wouldn’t want a body this pleasing all to themselves? you could both leave together, make a name for yourselves in erotica as the hottest film duo to see in action. then, you almost couldn’t believe what was happening to you, dick so good it had you planning a future with him.

“‘m cumming again…fuck it feels so fucking good, hwa,”

seonghwa sandwiches a hand between the two of you as he rubs at your clit, you nearly jump back from the sudden overstimulation. “cum for me, star. make a mess all over my cock. feel me on your clit and let go. just relax.”

he talks you through your orgasm, pace slowing down momentarily as you shook beneath him, vulgar swears escaping your lips in choked gasping phrases. seonghwa pulls out, stroking at his cock as he observed you coming down from orbit, kneading at your supple breasts.

“it’s my turn now, pretty angel. can you do something just for me?”

you didn’t have a moment to answer before seonghwa once again has you in his arms. this time, he lowered himself beneath you, positioning his mouth right below the mess that was your leaking cunt. you had taken up the job of stroking his length, spreading your juices and saliva down his shaft. he moans against your clit, impatiently exciting the sensitive bundle of nerves by attaching himself with powerful suction. you took hold of his lean thighs, body still in recovery from how strong the last orgasm had been.

seonghwa giggled as he studied the way you responded to every stimulus. he slipped three slender fingers inside your cunt and you instinctively began to ride his hand while taking his cock into your mouth. and you worked with desperate haste, relaxing your throat around his girth as best you could while he took control.

“cum for me, angel. you can do it,” seonghwa urged, his fingers pumping out of your hole at an unthinkable pace. his chest tightened—he’s definitely close, too. you felt him twitch inside you, coming up briefly for air before sinking down on his length one last time.

with your own release building up, you barely have time to comprehend seonghwa’s staggering movements before the familiar feeling of hot seed traveling down your throat made your own pussy clench around his fingers. for a moment, everything seemed drowned out by the roar of the shower as both of you rode out your orgasms in blissful silence. you let seonghwa fill up as much of your throat as he could before releasing him from your mouth, allowing the access to wash down the drain. seonghwa licked and sucked at your secretions, loving the way it dripped down his chin.

despite the running water, it made you both feel utterly filthy. seonghwa half expected hongjoong to come bursting through the door—though he’s both relieved and a bit disappointed when the door didn’t immediately open to reveal his short/tempered partner.

“god…i’m so fucking happy i decided to come here.” you said out loud to nobody in particular, hands massaging to soothe your aching cunt.

“me too, star. this has to stay a secret though, okay?” by the time you were able to gain a sense of reality, seonghwa was once again crouched beside you, washcloth hovering over you as he began cleaning you off—for real, this time.

you pouted playfully, “you sure? you don’t want to get that on camera next time?”

seonghwa chuckled, growing more endeared by your joviality with every passing second. “i’ll run that idea by the boss.”

if you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading!

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