#seo moonjo x reader

[nahoyasboyfriend]

Desire is a disgusting thing

seo moon-jo x fem!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: intoxication play (reader is drunk but moon-jo isn't), pwp, pinv, biting, thoughts of dying and killing (it's moon-jo, this should be expected) cannibalism mentioned (again comes with the territory), a bit of masochism because I can't help myself.

The kitchen is stuffier than normally is. The stench of mold smothering you. It smells stale, like stagnant water and mold. You blink, but it doesn't help you focus. Your vision is still misty, and the kitchen is still stifling. You stand there for a few minutes, you can't tell if you're swaying, you might be. You think you are. Your thoughts feel so distant. Insubstantial and wispy, escaping through the gaps of your fingers like smoke. so when your body is hobbling towards the stairs, it's hardly your choice. But, the journey up them proves to be a harder feat than you initially thought. Because the tip of your foot catches on the edge of a step, and you narrowly miss busting your head open.

It's difficult not to imagine yourself with your head cracked open like an egg, passed out on the stairs. You continue your hike up.

The night air is crisp, tickles your lungs. It goes down smooth like the first sip of water after a hard day. You sigh, slumping against the ledge, gazing at the buildings and the streetlights.

“It's nice up here.”

You stir, glancing besides you to look at him. Moonjo flashes you a closed mouth smile.

You forgo any pleasantries, “what do you want?”

The words come out slurred and bunched together; your tongue is far too heavy to cooperate with you.

If the words bother him, he doesn't show it. Instead he takes a sip of beer, “nothing, I came to get some fresh air.”

You don't scrap together a response because you feel no real need, letting a blanket of silence falls over the two of you. A rare sense of peacefulness envelopes you, and for a moment you foolishly believe this may not be that bad. Then your head begins to ache. A dull discomfort. You groan, squeezing your eyes shut and letting your head fall between your shoulders.

“Want a glass of water?”

You shake your head, murmuring, “m fine.”

A glass of water sounds amazing, but even in your hazy state, you don't trust him to go get it. And it's probably time for you to go to bed anyway, so you push yourself off the ledge, turning on your heel to head back inside. Maybe you're more out of it than you thought because you trip on nothing. As you get ready to accept your fate, a large hand grabs your wrist, stopping you from hitting the ground.

“Careful,” he comments, and you shoot him the meanest glare you could muster.

“I'm fine,” you huff, snatching your hand away. Not even two steps in your stumbling again and his hand is wrapping around your wrist.

“I don't think so,” he hums, tugging you closer to him. “I think you need some assistance.”

He's right, you know he's right. You can't get anywhere without him right now, and that makes your skin crawl.

“You'd like that,” you hurl back.

You don't realize how close he's gotten until you feel him mutter into the crown of your head, “I would.”

The words are so candid. So open. No dancing around your accusation, there's no hidden meaning. For once there's no mind game, and something about that makes it worse.

It stuns you.

You shudder, closing your eyes. His hand snakes around your waist, squeezing. Then he leans in and you can feel him breath you in, then exhale. It tickles and you struggle not to squirm in his hold. His teeth press into the skin of your shoulder– not hard enough to do any damage– but it leaves behind blunt indents. You wonder if he sees you as something palatable. Something to gorge upon. Another person to sate his ravenous hunger. if he's ever imagined your neck pinned between his teeth. If you'll become a slice of meat thin enough to slot between his chopsticks, if he'll grind you down between his molars like everyone else.

The thought makes your heart ache, or skip a beat. you aren't really sure. He turns you around so that you're facing him, and crashes your mouth together so hard you think he knocked your teeth out.

His teeth graze your bottom lip. And you can picture him— measuring his teeth against your skin before he buries them into your flesh. The tearing and gnashing of your body. Flesh splitting asunder. Absolution. Your blood stains his tongue like a brand.

Consumption: that's what kissing moon-jo feels like.

It's dizzying, and searing, and overwhelming. You can't help but enjoy the way the lack of oxygen makes your thoughts even fuzzier. The way your eyelids get heavier, and your body instinctively goes lax. He doesn't let your silent surrender go unappreciated because he's shuffling you backwards until your body is pressed against the wall.

His tongue is practically halfway down your throat, laving over your molars and the soft inside of your cheek. His spit felt acidic like it's nibbling away at your mouth. A large hand buries itself in your hair, and forces the kiss to deepen. He gnaws at your bottom lip, rolling it between his teeth. He pulls away, and the air rushing into your lungs is strangely sobering. Your mouth feels raw, tingly. It aches.

His eyes trail down your middle. For a second, it feels like you're being split in half, and all your innards are going to tumble out of you any second. Moonjo has a way of making everything feel too personal. There's something about him that manages to make everything feel... Intrusive. Like he's inspecting you, examining you. Everything he does picks at your brain, unspooling your thoughts like precious yarn. Carefully pulling all your strings.

He drops a hand to your neck, using his thumb to tenderly pet your larynx. Eerie delight plastered on his porcelain face. The sight makes your stomach twist, something ugly bubbles in your chest.

“You're so fucking creepy,” you hiss, digging your nails into his arm. The words don't deter him, rather his eyes crinkle with mirth, and he laughs. A harsh exhale through his nose. Your hand aches from the pressure you're extorting, but the sound makes something spark in your chest. Your eyes drop to his neck, observing the shadowy outline of his adam's apple. Noting the way it bobs as he swallows. You think of pressing into it with your thumbs, crushing his windpipe. Or better yet, you think of his neck split open. Raw and gushing. If he'd be able to laugh if his neck was leaking blood like a running faucet.

And like it's being projected into his head too because moon-jo groans, he inches forward, pressing himself closer to you. You can feel him through his pants, hard as a rock. His breath fans your ear, “you could do it if you wanted to.”

You already know what he's implying, and your heart picks up in your chest, “shut up.”

He doesn't respond, and you don't know if he's respecting your request or coming up with something snarky to say. His hips rock into yours. Slow, but not gentle. It's deliberate, enough pressure to make your mind woozy.

“You want to, so why don't you.” he murmurs. head tilted, eyes big, and black, and bottomless.

You shake your head, scowling, “that’s not– I don't want that. I'm not like you.”

He doesn't respond, not verbally at least. But his smile is sharp. Goading. Stings you like a cattle prod. His hand leaves your neck to grip your hip, the other taking your smaller hand into his own. He doesn't give you any time to wonder what he's doing before he's placing your hand on his neck.

You can feel the jump of his heart. Steady, quick beats. Blood pumping underneath in his skin. Warm and thin, flowing through his veins into his brain– into his heart. You could stop its travel, keep the oxygen from reaching its destination. Your fingers twitch without you realizing.

“You want to hurt me, so do it.”

He hums, matter of factly. The words are pointed, hitting you like a spear in the gut. You attempt to tug your hand away but he holds it there. Still smiling, still coaxing you. You want to break his nose.

“Let go,” you grit, pulling your hand back and for a second he squeezes your wrist. It takes one more tug till he loosens his grip and lets your hand slip from his grasp. You don't break eye contact as he slips a hand into your pants, fingers grazing your clit through the damp fabric of your panties.

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. You know what he's thinking: you want this. you want me. You want to hurt me. You want to kill me.

He's right, and it makes you sick.

He pulls your pants and panties down your legs, spreading your legs to wrap around his waist. Cool air nips at your exposed skin, goosebumps breaking out over your body. He languidly unzips his pants, and he lowers it just enough to expose his cock. Hard and long, and there's pre-cum leaking from the tip. He spares you no pity when he pushes in without prep. It's not too thick so the stretch is manageable, but the sheer length of it. It's like you're being speared, fish caught on a hook– flailing around and helpless. You grit your teeth, refusing to wince nor whine.

You deserve to hurt. This shouldn't be enjoyable, you shouldn't want this. If God will not allow you formal absolution, then this is the closest you can get. You sound pitfully self-righteous. A silly church girl with a pastor for a father. Maybe this what repentance does to you, makes you sound more pathetic than you already feel.

Then he's taking your face between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him. That sick smile on his face.

“You think too much,” he chides, and for once, you have to admit he's right. All you do nowadays is think and feel and fucking seethe.

You swallow down the bitter taste that crawls up your throat, mustering up the meanest glare you can, and spit out, “fuck you.”

His hips draw back, and then he slams back into you, jostling you against the wall. It punches a groan out of you, pain-pleasure shooting up your spine. back scraping against the concrete.

His pace is brutal, knocks the words out your mouth, muddling your thoughts. Stuffing you full of him. He fills your thoughts, your nightmares, the gaping hole in your chest.

You scramble to steady yourself by placing a hand on his shoulder, and another against the wall. Bracing yourself. He fucks you ruthlessly, expertly. Bumping into your g-spot with pinpoint precision. His hands grope at your hips, your tits, the fat of your thighs, and they're by no means gentle. Everywhere he touches throbs. Bruises forming by the second.

It's damning. How good it feels, how bad it hurts. The sheer disgust you're drowning in. How those feelings merge to make something intoxicating. You're barely clutching yourself together, the delicate threads of your mind held between his fingers. Your grip loosens even more when his fingers begin to rub at your clit. Tight little circles that make your tummy clench and have your cunt gushing around his cock.

You’re writhing now. Trapped dog trying to gnaw off its own leg. howling and whimpering. He makes you cum like that, eyes rolling so far back into your head your vision flashes white, back arched like a woman possessed, legs locked around his waist like a vice. Secrecy be damned. you're muttering curses, “i hate you, I hate you so much, feels s’good. hate you.”

Moon-jo pulls out when cums, spilling onto your stomach and leaking onto your mound. Your legs are shaking when he lets you down, and you hobble like a newly-born fawn.

“let me walk you to your room,” he says.

your sighs, tugging your pants back up your legs. you can't get back without him. he knows that, you know that.

“ don't do anything weird,” you huff.

[wtfaniii]

Ultraviolence

"The union you had with the man you loved was more than just skin or love, it was a unique connection, an unbreakable bond like the chains that prevent ships from going away with the tide, you became addicted to the sensations that Moon-jo could transmit to you, you swore to be faithful to him until you give your last breath.... but your eyes met a person named Jong-woo. ¿What was your surprise going to be? Your boyfriend had the same interest in him as you did"

Moon-jo x Jong-woo x fem reader

◇Warnings: polyamorous relationship! verbal and physical violence, murder, toxic relationship.

In the eyes of society, you and he were an exemplary and loving couple, a nice dentist in love with a helpful police officer, walking holding hands, short and soft occasional kisses in public and romantic dates in the moonlight.

You loved the times Moon-jo would hold your hand with courtesy and chivalry every time they entered somewhere to let you pass first,

But you also loved the times Moon-jo held your hand to stab someone at the same time, such a heartless and terrifying act gave you warmth and security at his side.

You knew you were wrong, that something was wrong in your head when you thought that, you had dealt with murderers without empathy throughout career and you constantly told yourself that you were not equal to them, no, you had different reasons and motivations, Moon-jo said that what y'all did was an art and you were his muse, a girl whose inspiration was to become equal to him.

You remembered quite well, before you met him you were a good police officer, a good loyal and honest person because your only objective was to serve society, until one day you had a fight where you broke some teeth, an event that forced you to go to the dentist.

And there you saw him, a young dentist with black hair and a cute smile, you couldn't help your heart from beating faster than normal and your hands from shaking when you had him so close.

From that moment on, a small part of your psyche that you had been hiding deep in your brain came to the surface, you began to go to him dental office more than you should, you followed him every day to the point of knowing his addresses, routine and the people around him, you were a complete stalker and in the blink of an eye your whole life revolved around him, you took photos of him without him noticing, you fantasized about having him close to you and you got angry just by seeing him be nice to some flirtatious woman.

Moon-jo noticed every day how you followed him, whether in the car or walking, every photo you took of him he felt it and the curious thing was that he didn't confront you for doing it, he let you continue, he wanted to see how obsessed and crazy stalker you could become, he wanted to see if you were one more equal to him in the world or you were simply a woman with nothing else to waste your time on.

He tested you, let you watch him during his favorite pastime.

It drew you to the depths of the world and showed you what it really was, the monster that hid under the guise of a human.

Just as him imagined, you were not scared, by this point, after having observed and followed him for months without fail, you had idealized him and now you were blinded by your devotion that his "art" seemed so normal to you, something that you could easily handle if your reward was a kiss on the cheek at the end of the day.

At first he just let you watch his wonderful work, he loved the idea of ​​having a spectator applaud his actions after each murder, then he taught you how to do it...

It certainly wasn't easy for you, you had never killed someone before and when you did you practically vomited on Moon-jo's shoes and cried like a baby, you only liked to harass day and night, not take someone's life but he insisted so much that you accepted only to receive praise, the next one wasn't so difficult and so on until killing started to be as easy for you as putting melted butter on hot bread.

He had molded you the way he wanted and despite knowing it you didn't object at all.

You shared with him your first murder, kidnapping, dinner with the peculiar meat and as a birthday gift he gave you a ring made from one of his wisdom teeth, it was wonderful and romantic for you.

However, not everything was as nice as you thought, once you helped Gi-hyeok hide a body that was not previously planned and as punishment he tied you to a chair and pulled out one of your wisdom teeth without anesthesia.

"Don't do anything again without telling me first ¿understand?" He questioned holding your bloody mouth with one hand to which you quickly nodded with tears in your eyes.

It was an unbearable pain that he put you through but you tolerated it because it would hurt more not to have him by your side.

Moon-jo leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your crimson stained lips. “I'm doing this because I don't want you to get caught ¿What am I going to do if they put you in prison? Before you do anything reckless or drastic, call me"

You believed everything he told you and from that day on you never broke any rule again, well, you didn't let him find out again, you continued helping your friends in Eden, especially Gi-hyeok, you liked him although deep down you knew that if Moon-jo found out it would be the end of you.

Your position as a police officer was really helpful, that way you diverted certain clues and knew perfectly how your unit worked, you and him had many advantages.

But of course, sometimes there were small details.

—A friend of mine called me, he says he has been kidnapped and is in danger—said your partner, standing next to you with a distressed look —Come on, you know that residence and you would be of great help.

—¿What residence? —You asked, taking a big sip of your coffee, mentally hoping it wasn't the one you think.

But when the name "Eden" came out of him mouth, annoyance began to well up inside you.

—Go to the patrol, in a few seconds I'll go with you —You said, you let him leave the police station and went to the bathroom where you locked yourself to make a call to Gi-hyeok and alert him or else everything would come to light in society.

Sometimes you considered the man a real idiot, however, you couldn't stop helping him because if he fell, all of you would too. After calling him, you left the police station and got into the passenger seat of the patrol car.

You already knew what you had to do, unfortunately this was not the first time something like this happened but it was the first time that one of your fellow police officers got involved, that was another inconvenience and you considered calling Moon-jo but that would bring more problems for everyone involved, besides, you definitely wanted to keep your teeth and above all your life.

You let your partner ask the questions and inspect the place, you also looked around every corner to make sure there was nothing suspicious and Mrs. Eom gave you a fleeting glance from time to time.

You knew that they could also help you with this situation but you preferred to do it yourself, after collecting the little information could, your partner and you said goodbye and got ready to leave but as you went down the stairs you saw someone approaching the building, the new resident.

Your eyes looked at him carefully from the first moment, as soon as you saw his face you could see that expression that was reflected by all those people who still did not have their place in the world, serenity but at the same time always alert.

As you passed by him, the aroma of his cologne filled your nose while could also feel his gaze on you, something that made you smile unconsciously.

You were going to continue walking towards the truck in which you and your partner arrived, you would continue with your plan without obstacles but the presence of this man attracted you like a magnet to metal, or rather, like a moth to the radiant and warm light among the darkness of the night.

Then you turned around and spoke, stopping him instantly.

—Hey… ¿do you live here? —You asked cautiously under him curious gaze.

—Yeah… well, it hasn't been long but yes.

The sweet notes of his voice were intoxicating to your ears, one more reason to want to hear him speak, murmur, moan or scream…

—¿Have you seen this man? —Your partner returned to your side and showed him the photograph of the missing tenant and you showed him the police badge when noticed his confusion.

While your partner asked him the routine questions, you just kept your eyes on him in complete silence to the point where the poor guy began to get nervous and uncomfortable, you were fascinated by awakening those sensations in him, no matter how insignificant were under the circumstances.

He felt your gaze as if you were trying to see through his soul, a conclusion that was not very wrong, you could see that he was a person on the verge of a collapse, as if he only needed a push to reach the mental descent from which he could never recover.

You immediately thought of Moon-jo, you knew that he would be delighted to be the one to give that push to your new obsession, he would love to break, collect, repair and mold this man to his will just as he did with you but you didn't want that to happen.

No...

You wanted to take him, fix him and put him in a glass display case to observe forever, as he it were a treasure that you were willing to obtain and keep, avoiding at all costs for it to become dirty with the darkness of your world, ¿Why? The answer was simple, sometimes you felt like you were drowning next to Moon-jo and maybe… just maybe this man in front of you who occasionally looked at you with embarrassment could be your lifesaver.

While Moon-jo would motivate and push him into the darkness, you were willing to break windows to let the light in.

You would kill and die for him and for Moon-jo.

—Well, if you see anything suspicious you can call me... —You said, taking a card with your number out of your pocket and handing it to him while you paused waiting for him to say his name.

—Jong-woo —He introduced himself and took your card.

For a few brief seconds his fingers brushed yours and you immediately pushed them away, not because you didn't crave his touch, no, you did it as if you were afraid of contaminating him with the blood that has stained your skin several times before.

He noticed this gesture and found it strange, curious, and almost came to the wrong conclusion but instead of saying something drastic he simply looked at you in silence.

—Have a nice night Jong-woo —You said a smile forming on your lips, a smile that he found a little creepy but he still wanted to see again sometime.

You and your partner said goodbye to him and returned to the car where you knew that Gi-Hyeok was already waiting, you vaguely told your partner not to get involved but he seemed so determined to do so that had no choice but to kill him, your friend took charge of suffocating him with the car's seat belt and you stabbed him repeatedly until his blood splashed on your face and the interior of the vehicle, after finishing him, you fell back on your seat, gasping for breath from the effort and felt the adrenaline diminishing from your body, but once again your heart beat like a rabbit when you saw Moon-jo walking calmly and confidently towards the car in the rearview mirror.

—Moon-jo comes here —You said with a sigh while adjusted your disheveled hair, you knew that he was not very tolerable to a fault like this, doing things without telling him beforehand was like condemning yourself with him, so you did not even move from your seat when you heard him kill Gi-Hyeok, suffocating him with his own hands until the life reflected in his eyes went out, then, you felt him move to the other side of the car where you were.

—Hi love —He said with a deep and serious voice, leaving you in suspense of what he would do with you as punishment.

You turned your head a little to look at him but as soon as you did he grabbed your hair and slammed your face against the dashboard of the car causing to gasp in pain.

—He was a failure ¿but you? I thought you were smarter than this —He said with a low and soft voice, a great contrast to the emotions that were reflected in his eyes.

—It won't happen again —You said, passing your tongue over your lips, tasting the blood that flowed through the cut he had made when hitting you like this.

Moon-jo could have killed you at that moment and asked the others to get rid of the three corpses and the vehicle but he didn't, he wouldn't throw away his creation that easily and a part of him deep down appreciated you a little.

So he let go of your hair and walked away, told you to clean up the mess and walked away, leaving you with a warning.

You wouldn't lie, you loved each and every sensation he could make you feel, fear, passion, terror, love, no matter how bad were you always came back for more.

You smiled and cleaned the outside of the car a little where there were drops of blood that had run off, you moved both corpses back and sat in the driver's seat, you turned it on, turned on music and started down the steep hill.

As you drove down the hill you looked in the rearview mirror where saw the Eden residence, you saw Moon-jo and Jong-woo together on the roof sharing a chat, then you smiled and wiped the lipstick and blood that stained your lips with your thumb.

You knew you weren't going to be the only one interested in that guy, anyway, you knew how to share.

Sorry, I'm watching the series and I definitely had to write something about him

[writeformesinpie]

Habitual Sin

Seo Moon Jo x Fem!Reader 

Lee Dong Wook x Fem!Reader 

Summary - There’s something wrong with the new priest at your church. He’s… off. No one else has noticed; he’s stunning and they all just want to be around the shiny new thing. Small towns get dull, but this priest promises to be very entertaining. 

Genre - Smut

Warnings - Unprotected sex… in a church, fingering, mentions of religion obviously, swearing, is he the devil?! Will need to go to confession after reading this fic! Beta reader needed to take breaks while reading! Read at your own risk! It’s too hot to handle! 

Word Count - 2.8k

A/N - This is a request for my impromptu 1500 follower celebration. God have mercy 🙏I know what I do, but this was too hot not to write <3 If I’m going to hell I’m taking @trashlord-007 with me (thanks for the request 😂)

There’s something up with this priest. He. Is. Off. You’re not sure how else to describe it, that feeling that makes the hair on the back of your hair stand up and triggers goosebumps on your arms, the emptiness within that lets you know something isn’t quite right.

   You’re feeling it now.

   There’s something wrong with this priest.

   He’s a priest (at least that’s how he’s presenting himself) so there shouldn’t be alarms ringing in your head, the sound clanging deep within your gut and vibrating off your ribcage as it threatens to burst out like something from a sci-fi horror film. Scrunching up your face at the thought, you shift back and forth on your heels and look out past the small group currently organising medical kits.

   It’s a beautiful day. The sun is bright, there’s minimal clouds. The temperature is perfect with a slight breeze that caresses your face. The place is packed, the turnout is amazing. Natural disasters seem to bring out the best in people.

   Everything is, for lack of a better word, perfect… yet that priest keeps catching your attention and you know, you know that something isn’t quite right.

   Placing the last thermometer into the emergency kits you’re in charge of assembling, you nod at your small group of five before moving closer to him. He’s working in the food section. It’s the largest pile and therefore the most people are in his area, though you wonder if he’s the reason for the influx of people. They’re all fawning over him. It’s pathetic, really. Don’t they see it?

   And yes, he is stunning, but hold onto your tits, ladies. Afterall he is still a priest. Even if his black shirt and black pants hug him in all the right places, and if it weren’t for that white clerical collar you would take him for any typical person here.

   But he’s a man of the cloth. Just an average priest.

   Well, not just an averagepriest. He towers over the volunteers, though that’s not the only thing catching people’s attention. It’s his wavy hair that threatens length yet doesn’t fall past his neck, and lips that defy the laws of gravity; full and plush, moving in the most peculiar ways, with teeth that peek out when he smiles. He’s beautiful but cute, a contradiction in parts, and otherworldly.

   He stands out.

   That’s what gives him away. A priest shouldn’t stand out, shouldn't bring attention to himself. They wouldn’t. After all that attention belongs to God.

   “The service was beautiful, Father.”

   Rolling your eyes, you toss a few cans into the box in front of you. The service felt off, too. The words were all correct, he knew each line but… that’s just it – they felt like lines. Something he had to say, not something he actually meant.

   “Yes, it really was! What a blessing it is to have you here. We’re so glad you came to visit us, Father Moon Jo,” one of the women drooling over the priest pipes up, her eyes flickering back and forth between his face and the food she’s packing.

   “I’m the one who’s blessed,” he says with a small smile. You’re still surprised by how soft spoken he is. You didn’t notice it at first, but his voice is deep, and there’s danger hidden beneath the allure of calm. “This really is a wonderful conjugation.”

   The women practically swoon. You scoff at their obvious infatuation, then cough to cover your slip-up when they look over. Flashing your most demure grin, you continue to pack food neatly into the cardboard box in front of you.

   Once the box is full you move to the end of the table to grab another. Your lip curls as you bend down to look for one but come up short. You search the area for a moment, hoping there’s one more box. Just one would be fine.

   “There’s some boxes in the church.” He’s behind you. From the way the ladies further down the table nonchalantly crane their necks, it seems they can’t hear him. “Follow me. I’ll show you where.”

   “Oh surely someone else would prefer…” the words drift off as you turn and come face to face with him. Well, technically face to chest. Your eyes scan the broad expanse briefly before finding his face. The look of disdain that contorts his features has you looking down to the ground, nodding your head like a schoolgirl. “Sure, let’s do that.”

   Dragging your feet you follow behind, kicking up dirt and small pebbles along the thin, paved path in a half-assed display of rebellion. That is until he glances at you with that intense, dead stare and waits for you to catch back up. When he moves again you quicken your pace to keep up with his long strides, each step taking you further away from the gossiping group now all huddled together instead of performing the tasks they’ve been assigned.

   The small church isn’t earth shattering, it won’t win any awards for its architecture, but it’s still breathtaking. Withered bricks and stained glass greet all who pass with a whisper of a broken past. The building was erected when the town was first established. The interior, however, had been damaged in a plumbing mishap a few years back. The whole place was a disaster and had to be completely stripped down to bare bones and was replaced with cheap wood pews and sleek modern white walls. Now only the exterior is holding out its original glory.

   Stepping inside you dunk two fingers into the bowl of holy water and make the sign of the cross in front of the crucifix gracing the opposite wall with a small bow before glancing around the small church for the boxes. They must be in the back. You start to walk further into the church but come to an abrupt halt when halfway down the aisle the priest turns.

   “You know, I just remembered,” he says, clicking his fingers, “I left the boxes in the confessional.”

   “The confessional?” Narrowing your eyes, you look over your shoulder towards the confession booth. It’s small, smaller than the original. Just a wooden box with tempered glass and intricate lattice inbetween to help make you comfortable as you confess your sins, keeping those inside from prying eyes as if the town and priest alike don’t know who’s on the other side. “Are you sure?”

   “Quite.” His face is still. He’s waiting for you to walk over there but there’s no way. Why would he put the boxes in there? Okay, yes, when they are not assembled it’s just flat cardboard, but still, how many could you cram in there?

   “Well,” you say, shuffling back and forth before turning on your heels. He’s a priest, what’s the worst that could happen? The confessional booth is closer to the front door anyway.

   Taking tentative steps towards the booth, you look over your shoulder just as he starts to follow, a small half-smile on his face. It’s somehow worse than if he wasn’t smiling at all, the way each muscle bends and twists as if against its own will. Swallowing hard, you continue to place one foot in front of the other until you’re in front of the booth. Reaching out, your fingers graze the smooth redwood door.

   You push it open.

   It’s empty.

   Peeking over your shoulder you’re confronted with unmoving eyes. A sharp inhale courses through your body and you step back. It has to be on the other side, you try to reason with yourself, not wanting to admit the truth. Your shoulders tremble as you shuffle over to the other door, swallowing hard as you push it open.

   Empty.

   Before you can turn around he’s behind you, caging you in with his large frame. Rhythmic beats pound from deep within your eardrums as your heart attempts to escape your chest once more. Searching the small room for anything, anything at all besides the small built-in chair, you come up empty. You’re the only weapon you have. Turning, you hold up your fists and back into the room.

   “Oh?” His smile turns into a full grin, distorting the pretty features of his face the further it spreads. “I guess they’re not here after all.”

   “What are you playing at, priest,” you spit the last word, backing up until you’re flush against the wall.

   “Hmm? It’s a simple mistake,” he says, bowing his head to walk into the tiny room.

   “It’s not in here!”

   “Are you sure? Did you check every inch of it?” He takes up the whole space with both height and presence. Even the air is magnetized by him.

   “Where?” Struggling to suck in shallow breaths, you hold out your hands in what you hope is a threatening gesture. “They’re not here.”

   “Oh?” His hands close over yours, pushing them down to your sides as he takes another step towards you. His hair falls over his eyes, making it harder to see his face in the already dim light.

   “You’re not a priest.”

   He chuckles before asking, “What am I?”

   “You’re a devil.”

   “Not the?”

   “What?”

   “Not the devil, just one of them?” He bends down, his lips brushing against your neck as he whispers, “There must be so many of us.”

   “What are you?” The whispered words wouldn’t have been heard anywhere else but the intimacy of the small room makes them audible.

   “I thought you had it all figured out.”

   “Demon.”

   He chuckles again, the sound vibrating against your skin and causing shivers down the right half of your body. His scent circles you, trying to make you bend to its intoxicating will. He smells of danger and lust, and it takes your entire being to resist. “Who’s to say?”

   “You’re vile!”

   “I’ve been called worse.”

   “What are you?” you ask again, pushing your palms firm against his chest. He doesn’t budge.

   “What if I said I’m just a priest?”

   “I’d saying you’re lying–”

   “A priest who’s concerned as to why one of God’s children is so interested in everything he does. A priest that’s noticed a particular member of the flock who’s been watching him. Keeping him close while trying to catch him doing something he shouldn’t. Trying to do only God knows what,” he says, making the sign of the cross while looking towards the ceiling.

   “You’re not a priest.”

   “Then what? Maybe I’m an actor who’s researching a role? Or a mobster who’s on the run?” He lists off the options on his fingers. “Or, no, maybe I’m part of the witness protection program. Are you trying to blow my cover?”

   Narrowing your eyes, your face scrunches as you try to read his face. Between the dull light and the monotone expression he’s providing, you don’t know what to think.

   “Or,” he continues, “maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m a devil. Maybe I’m the thing your mother warned you about when you were a child. Maybe I’m the thing in the closet, the monster under the bed, your darkest desires made flesh.”

   Desire?

   “Please let me go,” you whisper. “If you let me out of here I won’t say anything.”

   “You won’t?”

   “I promise. I’ll forget everything”

   “In His house?” When you nod his laughter fills the room and echoes off the walls. “You’re willing to allow darkness to fall on someone else. As long as it’s not you, is that it?”

   “What–”

   “You’ll forget?” His fingers dig into your scalp, tangling within your hair and snapping your head back. You jut your fists out against his chest as dread fills your body, weighing it down like cement. “What is there to forget? Have I done something to you?”

   “I… I don’t know,” you say, the words weak under your strained neck. “Please, I don’t–”

   His lips on yours stop the words forming, making you lose your train of thought in the shock of the kiss, both due to the fact that he’s a priest but also from the pleasure it elicits. Heat spreads out across your skin and the hands that had been held up in defence now circle around his back, pulling him closer. He tastes provocative, like the forbidden fruit, like power and control.

   Addictive. His scent, his taste, his face; he’s a drug, pure addiction.

   Grinding your hips against his, his cock firm under your touch, you suck on his tongue as he lifts you up by your arse. Moaning, you wrap your legs around him with wanton abandon, wanting him more than you’ve wanted anything before. Your hands pull at the tucked material of his shirt in frustration, tugging on the fabric until it yields to your will and you’re able to slip your hands under.

   He’s unbuckling his belt and you’re inspecting his chest with your fingertips, neither of you allowing a moment to pass without your lips on each other's skin. Neck, throat, ears and lips, every sensation worshipped as your tongues explore every inch within reach.

   His fingers sneak under your skirt, pulling your panties to the side so he can slip a finger inside. Currents of molten lava threaten to erupt from within as you throw your head back. His finger curls up to find that perfect spot with ease, as if he’d already found it before. His thumb circles your clit. Between the pressure of your g-spot and the bundle of nerves he’s caressing, your pussy throbs, each stroke bringing you closer to the orgasm you’ve been denying yourself for way too long.

   “This is wrong,” you mutter against his cheek as he adds another finger and nibbles on your ear.

   “Sinner.” He chuckles and between the friction of his movements and the way he taunts you with his words, you come undone in his hands, your body shuddering against his as flames course through your veins. It’s bliss.

   Is this heaven or hell? Before you can ponder the question, your muscles still spasming from your high, he removes his hand and plunges his thick cock into your dripping pussy. A guttural sob exits your lips and you tense at both the shock of your own voice and the overstimulation of your throbbing clit. Was your heartbeat always this loud? Can he feel it beating against his dick?

   “Father Moon Jo?”

   Breath hitching, you freeze. It’s one of the gossiping women from the tent. You’ve known her since you were a child but for the life of you you can’t seem to remember her name. She’s walking inside, up the aisle, looking for the man currently balls deep inside your tight cunt. This is your punishment, God is angry that you’re fucking one of His priests, or, well, someone in His church. Letting out a jagged breath, you hope she’ll give up and go away on her own.

   The priest bites into your neck and you let out a gasp. Balling up your fists still twisted up inside his shirt, you glare up at him as he continues to move inside you, long slow movements with a devious grin on his lips.

   “Ah, Father Moon Jo? Is that you?”

   She turns back, the outline of her body barely visible through the grated wood and frosted glass shielding the door. The closer she gets, the easier it is to make her out… meaning the easier it is to make you out. Breathing in a staggered inhale as tears spring to your eyes, you plead silently with the demon in front of you. His grin widens and instead he picks up the pace, thrusting inside you with a carnal hunger. You tremble under the pleasure and if he wasn’t already holding you up, your knees would surely have buckled underneath you.

   She’s only a few steps away now. Pounding your fists against his chest doesn’t help. He continues to pound into you at a frantic pace. Shaking your head back and forth, huffed pants and soft whines filling the booth, you drive your hips into his. The room is a sauna, sweat dripping down your back.

   “Ah, is someone in there?”

   “Yes! Yes!” you scream out the words as he drives into you. She says your name right as you release an animalistic growl.

   “Can you come back later?” The priest’s voice is calm, serene. “I’m in the middle of an impromptu confession.”

   “Oh? Oh! I’m so sorry! I’ll wait outside,” she says, walking quickly back the way she came, throwing a questionable look over her shoulder before she exits.

   “The face of the fallen woman is the most delicious,” he says, slamming your back against the wall. He slides his tongue along your throat and across your jaw. “You taste like starlight and broken dreams – exquisite.”

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this content! If you did, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging and/or following, and check out my masterlist for similar content. Have a great day!

[r0b1ns]

STRANGERS FROM HELL - LOVE LANGUAGE

X GN READER

Characters: moon-jo, jong-woo, gi-hyeok, jung-hwa, seok-yoon, deuk-jong (platonic)

CW: strangers from hell

WORD COUNT: 300+

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

SEO MOON-JO

Gift giving & quality time

You have a special box with oll the teeth jewelry he gives you

He's also very possessive so he really likes being with you

It's like showing he cares

The only time you're separated is when he's working (both jobs yk)

If you like his 'hobby' too you like observing with the others which makes him happy

"moon jo are you stalking me"

"...no..."

YOON JONG-WOO

Words of affirmation

It's kinda hard for him to express emotions

So when he tells you he loves you you know he means it

Doesn't say 'i love you' a lot but you know he does

Instead he asks how your day was or that he misses you

He also just talks to you about everything, which means he trusts you

YOO GI-HYEOK

Words of affirmation & quality time

Unlike jong woo, he's good with words

He can easily express his feelings

In the begging of your relationship he never told you he loves you

It kinda scared him

But when you said it first, it felt so good

Since than he says it almost every day

He also likes hanging out with you

Going on walks or just talking/working in his room

He's not as possessive as moon jo but he likes spending time with you more than anything

SO JUNG-HWA

Physical touch

She really likes holding your hand and laying down with you on the sofa while watching something

You don't see each other a lot, she's a busy woman

So when you do she's all over you

She does it unintentionally, not noticing when she grabs your hand or shoulder

It's like a habit

KANG SEOK-YOON

Words of affirmation & acts of service

He writes songs about you all the time

Not even finishing them, just writing short paragraphs about you and his love for you

He also has countless nicknames for you that he uses often

He likes doing things for you

If he's near a store, he'll call you and ask if you need anything

If you say you're hungry he'll Immediately ask what you want and order/cook it for you

BYUN DEUK-JONG (PLATONIC)

Quality time

He loves spending time with you

He's not very good with words, and doesn't necessarily likes being touched

So he expresses his admiration for you through time spent together

Mostly playing games

If it doesn't bother you, you can join the "games" he likes more

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

!GIFS ARE NOT MINE!

[angelseraphines]

what k-drama should i watch next?? by association the one you guys choose is also the one i will be writing fanfictions for!!! i have started mr. sunshine and strangers from hell but i’m only at the beginning episodes, and i have had friends recommend my name and sweet home to me!! lmk!! 😇

honestly send requests for any characters from these shows because good chance i’ll watch them all!!

[jjvr4yxc]

Lee Dong-Wook X Manager! Fem! Reader

When, Lee Dong-Wook’s covering your mouth so the other staff members won’t hear you.

Eyes tearing up while looking up to him, seeing you all vulnerable and submissive turns him on a lot.

Whispering tons of sweet and toxic words towards your ears, making you more aroused than you should have been.

“ baby, be quiet. wouldn’t want anyone to hear you being such a slut for me, right? ” he stuttered those words while in deep pleasure.

Gush, you feel so good.

Seeing you holding your moans and whimpers is adorable, so good for him, doing so well for him.

“my good girl.. f-fuck, i am coming, are you, too?” he lets out a loud groan, making you roll your eyes a little bit. how dare he be loud while i am here trying my best to stay quiet? the audacity.

Feeling the familiar knot inside your stomach, you let out a muffled whine around his hands, nodding your head as an answer to his obvious question.

He felt it, too — the way your walls tighten around his cock, noticing how your eyes rolled up as if it was at the back of your head, it’s so adorable that he just wants to fuck you raw until you need a wheelchair to go around everytime and anytime.

“you coming, yeah? i am too.” once again, you nod your head, making him smile.

tearing his hands away from your mouth, traveling it around your body, ‘til it finally reaches your neck, slightly gripping it; enough to choke you lightly, and it feels so good.

“inside or outside?” he asks, making you moan out loud. “i-inside, w-wook..” you respond, making him go wild with your answer. he held his other hand towards your waist, and starts to thrust deeper inside you, making you a moaning and whimpering mess.

with one rough thrust, you came around his overstimulated cock, him coming after you, making you both moan in unison.

after you two catch your breath, he kissed tyou forehead and cleaned you up. treating you a meal right after.

End.

Hello, guys! Did y’all miss me? I think my writing has improved since i did grammar lessons the past few days with my aunt. I missed y’all !

[allofuswantgwinam]

seo moonjo in bed

-honnnnestly think he’s a soft dom

-wants to please YOU

-10000000000% a giver

-his kisses are deep and passionate

-👅👅 kissing

-he’s gotta be a tease

-i just feel like he’s love edging you and making you beg to cum

-loves caressing your body

-massages after a rough day or just because he loves you😭😭

-but he will ask you for a massage if he wants one

-thinks you’re a walking piece of art

-“your body is perfect.”

-“such soft skin.”

-“i can’t be around you without wanting to fuck you. you’re a goddess.”

-pays attention to the way you react to every touch, bite, kiss, smack, etc.

-he wants to know what you like the most and exactly what makes you squirm and scream for him

-praise kink both ways

-“you make me feel so good.”

-is aggressive when he’s jealous

-“you’re lucky i don’t punish you in front of him then end his life.

-“i’ll make sure the next scum bag to look at you watches me fuck you, huh? we’ll put on a show.”

-spanks you and makes you count as punishment

-also if he’s upset with someone in the family/clan *idk what to call them tbh, the people that kill with him*

-he’ll take it out on you sexually

-can take it too far sometimes when choking you

-the beautiful dirty words that he speaks to you oml

-“you take me so well. slides right in.”

-“don’t you dare be quiet. i want everyone to hear what im doing to you.”

-“music to my ears.”

-he likes tying you up

-even when you give him head hes in control

-he’ll hold your head down and choke you

-“what a beautiful sight.”

-“good girl, taking all of me down your throat.”

-i want him

[tawus]

I need a new chapter of minus elytra or else I’m gonna starve to death😞

is the fic gonna be finished this year?? I cant believe it’s been more than a year since u started writing it and it’s been so fun.

pls feed a starving girl🙏🙏

Writing that chapter as we speak bbg. Using your ask as one of my biggest stokes 🙇‍♀️

I also can't believe it's been more than a year since I started it like 😭😭

Will it be finished this year? I mean I'm either gonna say no or set me a challenge of a lifetime bc I still had so many chapters planned out for this work plotwise...

Lemme give you a sneaky peeky tho (as some consolation to my slow process 🧎‍♀️). No but fr pls do not stop reminding me of it bc reminders are what keep me writing

The promised sneaky peeky:

You felt the floor beneath you pulsing as the cut on your lip bled and your prosthetic leg lay meters from you, torn away by the impact. You tipped yourself over onto your elbows and began crawling to your horrified husband like a monster. The monster. The monster you always were.

Moon-jo never once took his foot off your husband’s chest and eagerly awaited your message to his hostage.

Gripping Moon-jo’s ankle as your anchor, your goalpost, you looked in your husband’s eyes and asked him the riddle, the singular question that mystifies all who have been cheated and all who’ve been betrayed:

“Do you still love me?”

Your husband looked at you from under Moon-jo’s foot. He considered lying but your vulnerably expectant gaze was one and Moon-jo’s cold, threatening and violence-promising gaze was another. Moon-jo was the true viper, ready to strike the moment deception left your husband’s lips. This man pressing him down to the ground was the hound that had smelled blood – he was ready to tear into him.

[jantober]

Orphic

Orphic

(adj.) mysterious and entrancing;

beyond ordinary understanding

Pairings : Seo Moonjo x reader

Genre : slight fluff

Summary : the first encounter

Warning : first person pov and slight mention of blood

At the rooftop, I am trying to clear off my mind with the night breeze hitting my face. It is quite surprising that this kind of residence has a rooftop which leads to this view. It was quiet when suddenly “You're the new tenant?” I quickly turn my head towards the sound. I see a tall figure of a man with formal clothing, white shirt and black trousers, pretty neat for someone who lives here. He slowly walks towards me, closing each gap between us. I realized that I might’ve been silent for too long, I tilted my head up to look him in the face and answered “..ah..yes..” I am pretty awkward with strangers, but he is a different case, he makes me more uncomfortable, maybe because his height makes me feel unsafe. I sense something off from him and that just adds to my sensitive nature, I try not to think much about it and shrug it off. “The rooms feel suffocating aren't they? I like to go here and drink some beers, it feels less lonely up here. Speaking of beers... I brought some, do you want to drink?” His voice is deep, strangely soothing, and a hint of friendliness in contrast to his dull energy. It appears that he wants to be seen as approachable. “..sure, I would like one.” I answered, I am still uncomfortable nonetheless.

His hands open up the plastic bag that he carried and take a can of beer out of it as well as hand it to me. Even though my eyes look at his hand, but in a split second, from my peripheral vision I can see his smile, not a friendly one I suppose, it's hard to pinpoint what makes his smile feel disturbing. I grab the can of beer out of his hand and let out a simple ‘thank you’. I open the can of beer then drink it while my eyes are looking out to the view. I can hear another can pop off beside me, no question who it is, except maybe it IS a question, after all I haven't gotten his name.

“So.. you live in room 303?” His question almost caused me to choke on my beer, I immediately wondered how he knew about that. As if he can read my mind, he instantly adds “..ah.. the landlady told me before..” Although his addition seems unconvincing, I still shrug it off. I nod to his question “yes, I do.. What about you?” “room 304” Once again I just nod and sip my beer again. Despite being uncomfortable beside him, I feel a little bad because I can sense he tried to have a conversation with me and I somewhat dismiss him. What if it's just my sensitivity? Maybe he is not that bad, maybe he is a good person..? Maybe…

At this point, I don't even know why I haven't asked for his name. My eyes are still looking at the view in front of me, despite knowing the tall man beside me is staring at me. A lot of questions pop up in my mind but I am afraid to ask them. He just seems a bit too.. out of this place..? He seems to have a decent job, considering what he is wearing, I wonder why he would stay at this place. “..are you a painter?” Once again.. he manages to shock me a little. My gaze shifts towards him. ‘How does he know?’ That is the first thing that came to my mind. I know that he knows I am confused with his question. Without a word coming out of my mouth, he cleared himself by adding his way of thought. “I see some paint on your hand.” After hearing his words, I immediately check my hand and there is actually some stain on my hand. I am baffled since I remember I washed my hands before. “..I won't call myself a painter, I just like to draw and color them.. I like making art..” That last sentence comes out a bit weak, embarrassed even, since people around me always look down at me when I say I wanted to be a painter. Their judgemental eyes, their mocking expression, and their ‘advice’ are engraved into my memory. “You really.. considering painting as your job..?” “You're gonna graduate soon, get yourself some actual job” “why would you even learn drawing, it's no use” “You know, you should find a real job since you're already graduated.” Their judgements are true of course, painting or drawing is not a real job, I can't get money out of them. But I can't help it, it is frustrating, sometimes I just wanna bang their head to the wall and use their blood on my painting- wait.. stop it. And also that is why I am here, staying in this residence while getting myself a ‘real’ job.

Again, he opens his mouth, his deep and soothing voice snap me to reality. “I actually do something similar.. I dismantle, assemble, and recreate.” My gaze lands on his face, trying to make sense of his words. My confusion is visible to him, but this time he doesn't add any explanation. Our eye contact lasts longer than it should be, even though I can't look through his eyes clearly with his bangs covering them a bit. It just makes his intention more unreadable. “What kind of painting style do you like?” He asks. Without any further thinking, I straight away answer “.. Impressionism.” “Why?” This question successfully makes me stunned, not because I can't answer it, but this is my first time hearing someone interested and not judged me over something I love. “It's just because.. they're beautiful in their own way, they're not trying to mimic exactly the real thing, the painting just has the essence of the thing.” I explain as I smile, finally feel somewhat connected with another person whom I talk to. “You must be really good at painting.” He smiles at me. This is my first time hearing someone appreciate what I actually love to do, honestly I am getting flustered as I smile back at him shyly. “..ah I'm not that good yet.” And give an awkward chuckle. The night passed on by sipping on beer and stealing glances.

I guess being here isn't that bad as I thought it would be. Just as I thought my life would change for the better, instead it is gonna be my downfall.

It's my first time writing, I hope you guys enjoy it well. If there's anything that could be improved, please let me know! ☺️

[whimsimille]

THICKER THAN BLOOD

Chapter 2: "Come home to me, darling."

(Jeong Jin-Man x fem! reader)

"Why are you leaving so suddenly?" You questioned, your voice bouncing off the tapestry that adorned the living room wall of your quaint shared apartment and the oak bookshelves filled with classics.

The comforting aroma of a simmering homemade tomato sauce filled the air, mingling with the sound of sizzling pans and the rhythmic chopping of crisp, fresh vegetables on the polished granite kitchen countertop. 

Dressed in a worn-out apricot apron adorned with faded sunflower prints, your hands were occupied with diligently kneading the carefully prepared pasta dough for your dinner, a recipe passed down from your Italian grandmother.

All of a sudden, the living room's normal sounds—the soft purr of Gunpowder, his gray cat curled up on the plush Persian rug, the low drone of the television playing the evening news—were replaced by an eerie silence that made your skin crawl. 

On turning, you noticed Honda in the midst of rushing preparations for departure. He was hunched over the suede couch, lacing up his sturdy boots, his face etched with stern concentration. Against the dimly lit backdrop of the room, his figure blended seamlessly, rendering him no more than a transient silhouette.

"Where exactly are you off to? And what's the urgency?" You signed, your hands dancing in the air while you leaned against the wooden door frame. A knot of unease formed in the pit of your stomach at the sight of his hasty departure.

His gaze met yours, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips as he signed back, "I have to go. Jin-Man needs me. I can't disclose more for your safety. You know how it works."   

He continued to pack his bag—a small duffel made of worn leather with patches on the corners and straps slung over one shoulder. As he did so, you caught sight of an old photograph falling out of the side pocket; it was of you both from what looked like a summer festival years ago, grinning widely under colorful umbrellas while balloons swelled around you both.

"But can't it wait until tomorrow? Is it really necessary to depart on the day that we get back together after several months?

The worn-out leather of the couch groaned under his weight as he rose, his tall figure casting a long shadow against the faded brown wallpaper. 

Moving towards you, he avoided the cluttered coffee table littered with dog-eared magazines and discarded newspapers. His leather jacket, draped over the back of a nearby armchair, was quickly pulled on, the rusted zipper scraping against the silence of the room.

"No, it can't wait. But I'll be back in time for dinner. I promise." Even as he used a gentle swipe of his thumb to remove a stray splotch of tomato sauce from your cheek, his smile never left his face. “When I return, we can lounge on the couch, munching on popcorn and be engrossed in those old Hollywood classics you're so fond of. You can also show me your progress with that hacking project you've been working on. Maybe try not to fry the motherboard this time?"

"First of all, you better keep that promise. Second,  I’ll hold you to it. Third, for your information, that was a one-time thing!"

"First, I will. It's a promise. And second, I remember it being a three-time thing." He chuckled, his laughter warm like a summer's day.

"Shut up. But tell me, why the secrecy? Why can't you share what's happening? Jin-Man usually keeps me in the loop when a mission comes up.”

Despite your persistent questioning, Honda remained resolute, his face as unreadable as a closed book. He gently loosened your grip on his arm. "Stop nagging me like Mama would. I can't divulge any details. It's not safe. But I need to go. Jin-Man needs me. Don’t you have any government sites to hack? Or do you plan on crashing our systems again?"

"Stop it, douchebag. You're being reckless. We need to tread with caution, especially now more than ever. You know that. And that was not my fault; their security was just… upgraded."

However, he simply shook his head as he smiled at your pout, pulling you into a warm embrace. The cold, hard metal of his brass knuckles, concealed in his pocket, pressed against your side. A chilling reminder of the danger that lay ahead. Yet you refrained from voicing your fears, choosing instead to hold him tight, the rhythm of your heartbeats synchronizing.

"Alright," you conceded, swallowing your protests, "at least take some food with you." Gesturing towards a Tupperware container on the table, filled with steaming eggs and a side of kimchi jeon—both staple dishes in your shared meals.

His eyes softened at your concern, and he took the offered container, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead before making his way towards the entrance.

As he neared the door, a rush of childhood memories invaded your mind. Sometimes you stayed up late whispering secrets under the covers; sometimes you felt his pain even when he was miles away, and sometimes you both fell off your bikes and ended up in the emergency room with scraped knees. They dubbed it the twin instinct, but to you, it was a lifeline, a warning system that alerted you when Honda was in danger.

"Honda, wait!" You called out, your voice echoing off the creaking wooden floorboards. 

The desperation in your plea stirred Gunpowder from her sleep, her tail twitching softly against the worn-out rug as though caught in a dream of chasing unseen mice. Honda turned, his hand still on the doorknob, his eyes questioning in the pale afternoon light filtering through the gaps in the old blinds.

A knot of guilt twisted in the pit of your stomach, threatening to crawl out through your lips and fill the room with its bitter taste.

The two of you were caught in a moment where petty bickering had canceled all the plans you had carefully added to your shared agenda. Your hands, once intertwined in unity, had become unglued from one another, your fingers now tangled in the strands of hair sprouting from your head. The hateful words you once spat at each other—words that had plunged through the gaps of your milk teeth—had turned into a somber reality. It suddenly seemed oddly appealing to consider dying in order to keep him around.

"I...I love you, brother," you admitted, the words feeling foreign yet so right. It was something you should have said a long time ago, after your parents' deaths, when it was just the two of you against the world. But you had always been afraid—afraid that admitting your fears would make them real.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he nodded, an unspoken understanding passing between you two. "I love you too, sis," he signed before stepping out into the afternoon, leaving you in the silence of the empty apartment.

While life in the apartment carried on around you—the stove still burning, the TV blaring the evening news, Gunpowder curling around your ankles, licking your calves—you felt tears springing up in your eyes as your thoughts raced.

Come home, Honda. Come home and tell me everything about your day, from the way the sun glinted off the skyscrapers to the way the coffee tasted at your favorite café. Come home and argue with me again, about trivial things like who left the lights on or whose turn it was to do the dishes. Slam your bedroom door like you used to when we were teenagers and stomp around the house in Dad's old boots.

Come home and laugh with me, share those terrible inside jokes that only we understand. Handle your knife in the wrong way, the way you used to when you're not on a mission, when you're just my brother and not a covert operative. 

Come home and hold me again while I cry in your lap about the girls and boys that shattered my heart. Come home to fix the TV you always mess up with those greasy fingers of yours, leaving stains on the remote.

Scream at me if you need to; let out all that pent-up frustration that I know you keep bottled up inside. 

Come home and tell me how you always manage to burn the pasta, making it stick to the pots. Come home and let me nag about your messiness, about the dirty socks you always leave on the floor and about the dishes in the sink. 

But most importantly:

“Come home safe. Come home to me, Honda. Please."

2 months later

Late afternoon light filtered through the window, casting elongated, capering shadows across the glossy surface of your living room's hardwood floor.

Finally, after a whole day cleaning the place and trying to make it more child friendly, you were curled up in the embrace of the vintage couch and a soft, threadbare blanket, a relic from your childhood, was wrapped snugly around you, providing a comforting barrier against the creeping chill.

You idly stroked Gunpowder, who was as much a part of the family as any human member. Her fur was coarse, yet soothing under your fingertips.

Gunpowder was the only other living being that missed Honda as much as you did; her amber eyes held a profound sadness that echoed your own. You were grateful that Jin-Man let you take her from the animal shelter.

She didn't deserve to be alone, not when she had already lost so much.

With the monochrome scenes flickering against the brick wall, the contemporary television set in the room's corner was showing Casablanca.

Nonetheless, your mind was elsewhere, lost in a world of thought, meandering through a labyrinth of candid memories as your eyes were glued to the window, drinking in the expanse of the verdant family farm outside.

In your hands was your favorite cat mug, the one with the chipped ear and faded paint, a sentimental relic from your college days.

It was unusually quiet, the usual cacophony of farm life replaced by the relentless drumming of rain.

Not only was Ji-An nowhere to be seen, but Jin-Man's rusty truck had vanished from its customary location beside the red barn.

A glance at the old, ticking clock hanging on the wall—16:00, way past the time Ji-An usually got home from school—made your anxiety spike.

Just as you were about to pull on your trusty yellow raincoat to go look for her, you saw Jin-Man's truck pulling up the gravel driveway. He got out of the truck, his jacket hanging haphazardly off his broad shoulders, and his jaw clenched in a way that set off alarm bells in your head.

You quickly signed , "Hey! Old man! Good afternoon to you too! Where's Ji-An?" as he stomped past you, heading straight to his office. But he didn't answer; he didn't even spare you a glance.

Following him, you tried to make sense of what was happening, but he closed the office door right in your face. You were left standing there, frustration bubbling up inside you, a sense of foreboding making your heart pound in your chest.

As you paced around the living room, worry gnawing at you, the front door creaked open. Your heart leapt at the sound, and you turned around, expecting to see Ji-An, safe and sound.

But what you saw made your heart drop.

Ji-An walked in, soaked to the bone and covered in mud, carrying her pink backpack—the one her mother had bought for her last Christmas. Her uniform was clinging to her small frame, her hair plastered to her forehead, but she didn't make a sound. Not a sob, not a whimper.

Seeing her, you rushed over, dropping onto your knees to be at her level. "Ji-An, sweetheart, what happened? Why didn't you come home with Uncle Jin-Man?" you asked. A flutter of panic seized you as she remained silent, her eyes downcast. "Did something happen at school? You can tell me. I'm here for you."

“I need a bath, Noona. I don't want to talk about it right now. Is that okay?”

You looked at her for a long moment, the sight of her shivering form causing a lump to form in your throat. Her hair, previously neatly braided, was now a mess; the ties you had made for her earlier that morning were nowhere to be found.

"Yeah… Of course, baby," you reassured her, offering a weak smile.

With a sigh, you slowly rose to your feet and gently took her hand, leading her to the bedroom. You could feel her fingers tremble slightly in your grasp, her small hand cold and damp from the rain.

You then went to the bathroom to prepare a warm bath for her. You quickly grabbed a fresh set of clothes for her—a soft purple cotton t-shirt and a pair of comfortable cartoon pants that had cute little teddy bears printed on them. You placed them neatly on the bathroom counter, within her reach.

Once the bathtub was filled with warm water and a generous amount of bubble bath, you helped her undress the wet clothes sticking to her skin. 

While Ji-An enjoyed her warm bath, Gunpowder sat in front of the bathtub. Her amber eyes were focused on the bubbles, her tail twitching with curiosity. Every now and then, she would bat at a stray bubble, her paw slicing through the air with a fluid motion as if it were a game.

With Ji-An safely in the bath and the clothes inside the washing machine, you then went to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner. Using cookie cutters, you shaped the food into fun shapes—a star-shaped sandwich, fruit cut into the shape of animals, a bowl of soup with alphabet pasta. You even managed to make a small salad; the vegetables were bright and colorful. It was a small gesture, but you hoped it would bring a smile to Ji-An's face.

Throughout the days you've been living in this place, you've tried countless times to make Jin-Man and Ji-An eat at the same place, to share a meal like a family. But Jin-Man always avoided you and Ji-An like you were viruses, always eating small things before burying himself on the couch while watching movies all alone or in his office working with Pasin. It was frustrating to see the distance between them, but then again, it wasn't your job to force conversations and lovey dovey moments.

Once the food was ready, you set the table and then sat down in front of Ji-An, waiting for her to finish her bath. She emerged a while later, her hair damp and her cheeks flushed from the warm water.

Gunpowder, having finished her bubble play, twined around Ji-An’s legs as the child sat at the table. You both sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the gentle hum of the washing machine and the occasional clink of cutlery against plates.

Then, to your surprise, Ji-An was the one to break the silence.

"Today, I waited for Uncle Jin-Man to come and pick me up from school. But he was late, and it started to rain. I decided to walk home instead."

You watched as she continued to sign, her hands moving with a quiet determination. " I was walking in the rain when I saw Uncle Jin-Man's truck. He slowed down, but I didn't want to get in. I was upset with him. So, I continued to walk, even though it was raining hard. Uncle Jin-Man stopped and waited for me to get in, but I didn't."

“I wanted him to come out and apologize, to tell me he was sorry for being late. But he just accelerated and went away. I was so angry, Noona. I wanted him to understand how I felt and how it felt to be forgotten."  

"It's okay, baby. It's okay to feel upset. But remember, your uncle loves you very much. Sometimes, adults make mistakes too."

Shortly after dinner, you decided it was time for Ji-An to learn a new task: cleaning the dishes.

Filling the sink with warm, sudsy water, you showed her how to hold the scrub brush and guided her hand to clean the surface of the plates with gentle but firm strokes. You made sure she understood the importance of removing all leftover bits of food and how to rinse each dish thoroughly under the running water.

"Remember, Ji-An, cleaning is also a part of cooking. Once you're done eating, always make sure to clean up after yourself. It's not just about keeping your area clean, but also about respecting the people who will use the kitchen after you. See, we're not just cleaning up our mess; we're also preparing a clean space for the next person, " you signed, watching as she absorbed your words and continued washing the plates carefully under your watchful eye.

When you were done and completed with the task, you noticed that the sky had completely darkened, the bright hues of the day replaced by the deep blues and blacks of night. You gently dried Ji-An's small, pruney hands with a plush, soft towel and led her towards her bedroom. The room was bathed in the warm, cozy hue from the night lamp sitting on her bedside table, casting playful shadows that danced on the walls.

You tucked her into her bed. The fluffy comforter was pulled up to her chin, and you couldn't help but laugh at the way Gunpowder jumped onto her lap, purring contently.

"Noona," she signed, her eyes wide and luminous in the dim light, reflecting the soft glow of the night lamp. "Can you tell me a bedtime story? "

"Of course, sweetheart. Do you have any particular story in mind?" You asked, settling yourself comfortably at the edge of her bed, your hand gently rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"No, you choose, " she shrugged, her small body snuggling deeper into the warm covers.

You mulled over her request for a moment, your mind flipping through the pages of the countless stories you knew. Finally, one came to your mind. "There's a sad yet beautiful story from my hometown about two squirrels. They were mates—lovers for life and the town's favorite pair of animals. They were seen everywhere together, always chattering away in their own language, their tails intertwined. "

With each word, you painted a vivid picture of their life together. You told her about the female squirrel's illness and the male's devotion and his refusal to leave her side even in search of food.

As you narrated, you noticed Ji-An's eyes welling up with a faraway look. She interrupted you multiple times. "Why didn't the male squirrel eat?" "Why didn't he find another mate? " "Do all squirrels do this? "

You answered each question patiently, explaining the depth of the squirrel's love and the depth of his grief. You told her about how the male squirrel mourned for his mate, returning to their empty nest alone each year.

As you reached the end of the story, you noticed Ji-An's eyes growing heavy. Her questions became fewer and farther between, her chest moving slower until she slept. Still, she was twitching ever so slightly, hands closed and then jerking open in a rhythmic pattern that spoke volumes.

In an attempt to provide some comfort, you laid down next to her, being careful not to jostle her too much. You wrapped your arm around her small form, pulling her closer to your warmth.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of yellow and red. The hyena. It was lurking in the corner of the room, its eyes gleaming malevolently in the dim light, eager to haunt you too. You didn't even turn to look at it. It was there, but it wasn't real. You knew it.

"Goodnight, Ji-An," you murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead, placing her bunny toy in the place where you'd been seconds before. "Sleep tight, sweetheart," you added, stroking her hair soothingly. "Noona's here. You're safe."

You switched off the night lamp, plunging the room into darkness, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the window.

As you left her room, you closed the door gently behind you, leaving the hyena and the remnants of your past locked away.

Easing back into the worn porch chair, the fabric of Jin-Man's purloined shirt fluttered against your skin in the cool night breeze. A stolen moment of solitude, with nothing but a half-burnt cigarette for company. 

The embers at the tip flickered, casting an eerie glow in the darkness. Drawing the cigarette to your lips, you inhaled, letting the sharp tang of nicotine coil around your senses and momentarily dull your worries. 

Eyes shut, you allowed your thoughts to drift to the intricate web of coding and changes you had to make in Murthehelp.

The only sounds were the distant hum of crickets and the soft rustling of leaves under the night sky's vast expanse. Yet, this tranquility was abruptly shattered by the encroaching sound of hushed footsteps gradually growing louder. Your eyes fluttered open to see Jin-Man standing before you, arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed on the cigarette nestled between your fingers with a look of distaste as if you had the devil's hands between your lips.

A chuckle escaped you; the sight of Jin-Man, usually so composed, visibly irked by the cigarette, was enough to momentarily diffuse the tension. "Insomnia again?" you asked, flicking the ash off the cigarette with your thumb.

His hardened gaze didn't waver as he retorted, "I was waiting for you to come to bed."

You shrugged nonchalantly. Since your suicide attempt, Jin-Man has taken it upon himself to keep a watchful eye on you. The concept of solitary sleep had become foreign to both of you.

“What's eating at you?" he asked, his gaze softening slightly.

"Why did you abandon Ji-An at school?" 

"I got tied up and lost track of time," he replied, but his excuse fell on deaf ears. You scoffed at his words, well aware of the truth. He hadn't forgotten; he probably thought leaving Ji-An to trek home on her own would toughen her up.

"That's a load of crap, and you know it," you retorted, stomping out the cigarette under your feet. "Do you think making her walk home alone in the rain is going to make her stronger? Is that your grand plan?"

His silence was a response in itself, resonating in the quiet night air louder than any words.

"You are unbelievable, Jin-Man," you muttered. The scent of fresh paint and pine filled the air. It was a far cry from the gunpowder and blood that once filled your memory. But you couldn't help but crave it sometimes, even if it meant pain. Pain meant life; it meant survival. "You keep pushing her away relentlessly, like a stubborn child refusing his vegetables. You're so preoccupied with making her tough and resilient that you forget she's just a child. She needs your love and your understanding. You forget that she can't even communicate normally and that her aphasia is only getting worse! You don't even let me talk with her teacher, and don't pretend I don't know about the bullying she's enduring at school! We're not in Babylon , Jin-Man! We're in a small town where everyone knows everyone else. For heaven's sake, grow up!”

He retorted, his voice sharp as a blade, slicing through the heavy silence. “You should be more concerned with managing your own aphasia and PTSD. Ji-An’s not your responsibility. She's not related to you by blood. Drop this saintly act of playing mom. We're not her parents. This isn't a dollhouse and we're not Ken and Barbie.”

"Act? I kept Ji-An alive after her parents died! I trained her to communicate again! And even though it's hard, I've made her eat properly and taught her how to brush her teeth and do her homework again! I've been here for her every step of the way! You just... sit in your office or hide in your room!"

His jaw clenched tightly before he spoke again. "You think that's all it takes? Just feeding her and teaching her sign language?" He spat out angrily. The tip of his tongue traced his bottom lip as he continued speaking harshly, "It's not enough! She needs discipline! She needs structure!"

You shook your head violently. "She has enough structure! She needs us, Jin-Man! She needs our support, our guidance. She doesn't need a soldier; she needs a parent!" 

His face tightened, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. 

"Are you that afraid to care for someone, that afraid to love again? Are you hiding behind your uniform, your duties because you're too scared to face your own feelings?"

"Don't play with fire. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I think I do! And do you think Jin-Suk would like to see his daughter being trained as a warrior rather than growing up as a normal girl?" you challenged, your voice echoing with the strength of your belief.

The mention of his brother struck a nerve. A flash of anger crossed his stony features, and before you knew it, he was charging at you like a wild animal. 

Suddenly, Jin-Man's hands shot out, pushing you roughly against the wall. Your back slammed into the gnarled wooden planks, the splintered texture scratching against your skin. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through your spine, causing you to gasp as the wind was knocked out of your lungs.

"Why are you doing this, Jin-Man?" 

In response, his large, calloused hands wrapped around your throat in a vice-like grip, cutting off your airway. His fingers pressed against the delicate skin of your neck, the strength in his hands threatening to crush your windpipe. It felt like you were sinking into an abyss, the darkness of his rage engulfing you, making it impossible to breathe.

You clawed at his hands, desperate to pry them off. But his grip was unyielding; his hands felt like iron bands around your neck, tightening with every second that passed. As you gasped for breath, your vision started to spin, the edges blurring as black spots danced in front of your eyes. Your lungs felt like they were on fire, screaming for air.

Panic surged within you, a tidal wave that threatened to consume you. Time seemed to stretch, each second feeling like an eternity as you struggled to draw breath.

Finally, his grip loosened just slightly, allowing a sliver of oxygen to rush into your lungs. You gasped; the taste of air was like ambrosia—sweet and life-giving. Coughs racked your body as you struggled to regain control over your breathing, your throat raw and your chest heaving. The salty tang of tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision.

But you refused to back down, to give in to the fear. You locked eyes with him, defiance burning in your gaze. "Go ahead, Jin-Man, continue," you spat out, your voice raspy from the assault. "Kill me. But know this: my death won't change the truth.”

“Jesus, you're so weak, girl.”

A chuckle found its way through your bruised vocal chords. “Yeah? Wanna see who's weak then?”

Summoning every iota of your willpower, you retaliated against his suffocating hold. Your fingers clawed at his wrist, nails digging into his skin as you strained against his formidable strength. 

After a fierce and desperate struggle, your adrenaline-fueled power seemed to catch him off guard. With a sudden explosive kick, you managed to wrench yourself free, pushing him violently away from you.

Caught off balance, Jin-Man stumbled backwards. His feet skidded across the wooden floorboards, and his body crashed into the pot of vibrant lilies you had carefully chosen from the local market to adorn the porch. The pot shattered on impact, fragments of terracotta scattering across the floor, intermingling with the uprooted flowers and loose soil.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The only sounds were the soft rustling of the brutalized lilies and the quiet patter of dirt falling onto the floor. But inside? Inside of you, the hyenas laughter echoed through your mind, mocking you for getting what you deserved—too used to chaos and violence.

The sight of the destruction seemed to snap Jin-Man out of his rage-induced stupor, his furious gaze softening as he took in the aftermath of your altercation.

"I'm done," you said, breaking the silence. "I'm done with this, Jin-Man. I'm done with your anger, your stubbornness, and your refusal to let anyone in. I'm done with the constant battles, the endless wars. I'm grabbing my stuff and leaving."

“Y/N…” He trailed off as he grabbed your arm roughly, pulling you around to face him. Your bodies were just inches apart now, his breath hot on your cheek as he pleaded silently.

“Don’t. Just shut your mouth and let me go. I'm not your Barbie, right?” Each word was punctuated by the bitter taste of blood as you absentmindedly touched your raw throat.

“You can't sleep alone.”

“I'll manage.”

“You can't remember when you last ate.”

"I'll set a reminder.”

"You can't drive without crying."

"I'll get a taxi."

"Ji-An needs you."

I need you.

"She needs you more."

"And you, Jin-Man," you added, the sting of your words sobering the air. "You need to realize that before it's too late."

----------------

April 3:

"Are you serious? Did I actually have to buy another chip to send you messages? You know, the store owner looked at me like I was crazy."

1 missed call from Ahjusshi

April 5:

"Ji-An keeps asking for you. She asked me to tell her the story about the couple of squirrels. You know, the one about their endless love and devotion."

2 missed calls from Jeong

April 7:

"Pasin showed me the link to the site. It's pretty quick and easy to access. Even an old man like me can make requests for guns, right? Technology these days, eh?"

April 11:

"She asked me to put on Casablanca. It's one of your favorites, right? I remember Honda telling me that you're addicted to Hollywood classics.”

“Gunpowder keeps sleeping on your side of the bed. I hate it.”

3 missed calls from Jeong Jin-Man, son of a bitch

April 22:

"I have a mission for you. It's critical and requires your skills."

"Can you come home so that we can discuss the details? There's something about it I can't trust in a message."

8 missed calls from the son of a bitch

“I guess I will ask So Min-Hye to replace you then. I know you wouldn't want that."

May 7:

“Ji-An's teacher told me that you visited her today. Did you really make two boys eat dirt by grabbing her money?”

“I could've helped.”

May 9:

“Went to the market today and heard Kyung Soo say that you're a good kisser. I had to stop myself from laughing."

“I heard from the locals that he went to the hospital after being knocked out. Strange, right? Or should I say, expected?"

May 16:

"Gunpowder brought a dead bird into the house. I think she's trying to replace you as the hunter of the family."

May 21:

"I saw a girl at the market wearing a dress you would like. It had sunflowers all over it. Made me think of you."

"She was about your age, too. For a moment, I thought it was you ."

-------

As Jin-Man speeds in the direction of Ji-An's school, his heart pounds against his ribs like a war drum. His knuckles turn white as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, his forehead slick with beads of sweat. He curses himself silently, berating his own negligence.

How could he have not noticed that Ji-An hadn't come home?

The typical view of the small city blurs past him, the houses and trees merging into a hasty collage of colors under the evening gloom. The town's bakery, the park where the children play, and the old library all blur into indistinguishable shadows. But he barely registers any of it. His mind is filled with vivid images of you screaming at him for this oversight.

He imagines your small fists beating at his chest, your eyes—those captivating eyes that he secretly admired—flaring with anger and worry. 

“How could you forget her again , Jin-Man? She's just a child!"

The guilt, like a ravenous beast, gnaws at him, driving him to press the pedal harder. The old engine protests, its roar echoing through the tranquil evening. 

Suddenly, he remembers his phone.

Snatching it from the passenger seat, he dials your number hastily. The line rings once, twice, thrice, but there's no answer. He fumbles to leave a voicemail, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks into the device. "Hey, I… messed up. Ji-An... I… Just call me back.”

The voicemail ends with a beep, leaving Jin-Man alone with his thoughts and the eerie silence of the empty road. He tosses the phone onto the passenger seat, his eyes never leaving the road.

Nearing the school, his eyes flicked to the digital clock on the dashboard—it read 19:00, the hour when the last echoes of childhood laughter usually fade away. But now, the school grounds were eerily silent and deserted, a stark contrast to the daytime symphony of playful shouts and laughter. The playground, usually a vibrant hub of activity, was painted with somber shades, the swings swaying lightly in the breeze, their squeaky chains the only sound piercing the silence.

As he swung into the school's parking lot, a small figure suddenly sprang from the shadows, frantically waving his arms. 

A boy was shouting, his voice hoarse and strained, as he pointed towards the grimy basement door at the rear of the school building. "She's locked there!"

Without a second thought, Jin-Man abandons his car, leaving the engine running as he sprints towards the basement door. The door is locked, but within, he can hear Ji-An's voice, her pleas echoing through the desolate night. 

"Jeong Jin-Man! Jeong Jin-Man! Jeong Jin-Man!" she is calling, her voice scratchy and strained, likely from the first use of her vocal cords in months.

Frantically, he scans his surroundings. His eyes land on a fire safety box nearby. Inside, he spots a hammer. 

With no time to spare, he smashes the box, glass shards raining onto the worn-out asphalt. He grabs the hammer, using it to break the rusted chains and unlock the door. 

In a final heave, he throws the door open, revealing Ji-An inside. Her cheeks were flushed red from crying and her eyes were brimming with a mix of relief and fear.

She doesn't waste any time rushing at him, her small fists pounding against his chest. He doesn't move; he doesn't try to stop her. She's screaming at him, her words punctuated by her furious hits: "Why did you take so long? You promised you were coming back soon! Why did you arrive so late? Why did you let her go? Why did you let Noona go? Why? Why?"

He could only look at her, absorbing her words and feeling each syllable like a physical blow. Her pain, her anger, and her confusion were all directed at him. 

Then he did the only thing he could think of—the only thing he thought you would have done in this situation. 

He pulled her into a tight, protective hug.

For minutes, he doesn't say a word until he grabs her, holding her close.

Turning to the boy, he nods, "I'll give you a ride home."

The journey to the kid’s home was silent, save for the muted hum of the car's engine and the occasional rustle of cloth against leather. 

Ji-An was huddled against the passenger seat, her body trembling slightly. Noticing this, he pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around her small frame in the same way he did for you.

After dropping the boy off and Ji-An finally falling asleep, he drives aimlessly. The city lights flicker past in a hazy blur, their glow casting fleeting shadows on his face. He thinks of you—your laughter, your anger, and your determination. It's strange, he thinks, how the absence of someone can fill a room, a house, or a life.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sudden ringing of his phone.

Glancing at the screen, he sees your name flashing. He hesitates, his thumb hovering over the decline button. 

But then he remembers how things used to be and how it felt to hear your voice without the weight of regret and guilt. He misses when your name didn't make his chest ache, when it was just a name he heard now and then but held no significance to him.

He yearns for the days when he didn't know you, when his eyes didn't instinctively scan every room he entered in hopes of finding you there. He misses the sight of you standing among strangers, wearing that ridiculous skirt he used to tease you about but now finds himself missing.

He finds himself longing for the mundane details. How you'd take off your shoes at the front door, placing your keys with care in the small glass bowl on the corner of the kitchen counter. How you'd drape your coat over the back of a dining room chair, your socks left at the foot of the bed next to the sleeping cat.

He misses holding back your hair as you succumb to the side effects of your PTSD pills, your body rejecting the chemicals meant to help you cope. He yearns for the times when you would climb under the white blankets with him, forcefully opening his arms to encase you between them.

He misses how you would place your legs on top of his and let your hands wander to his waist and chest. He misses hearing you say, "I missed you," telling him about your day as you would slowly drift off to sleep. And he longs for the times he would secretly kiss your cheek softly before he inevitably had to leave you for work.

He misses when you were simply strangers—not two people who act like strangers in public but once knew each other better than they ever knew themselves. He misses the simplicity of those days and the innocence of not knowing what it felt like to lose you.

Because, in the end, when the lights are off and his eyes flutter shut, the back of his mind always whispers your name, calling out to you like you are the only place he was ever meant to call home .

When he finally decided to answer the call, he placed the phone on the dashboard, the worn leather creaking under the weight. He switched to speaker mode, the familiar chime filling the small space of the car. 

"Hello?"

Tinny and distant over the phone speaker, you responded almost immediately. "You left a voicemail. What happened?" In the background, he could hear the faint, unmistakable sound of a lighter flicking open and the soft hiss of a cigarette being lit.

"Your voice sounds rough," he commented, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere with a touch of humor. "How many days have you been communicating only with sign language?"

"Shut up, motherfucker. What about Ji-An?”

"I…" he started, faltering. The words he needed to say were stuck in his throat, like a bitter pill he couldn't swallow.

“Look, Ji-Man. I have nothing to do with you anymore. I’m calling you back because you sounded like a wounded little bitch and you said her name. Drop the show and spit it out.”

“I failed again, okay?" The confession spilled out of him, the words tasting like defeat. But he couldn't stop there; he had to finish what he started. "But, look, Ji-An spoke.”

He could almost hear your sharp intake of breath and the sound of the cigarette being hastily put out in the background. There was a long, drawn-out silence, the kind of silence that spoke volumes. He could imagine your surprise—the way your eyes would widen slightly, the lit cigarette forgotten in your hand. But when you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, filled with a strange mix of relief and trepidation.

"She spoke?"

"Yes. She called out to me. She used her voice, and she spoke."

"Look, I'm not going to pretend that everything is okay between us," he continued, his voice gruff, "But I'm also not going to pretend that we don't have a shared past. One that involves a little girl who misses you."

"You're such a bastard. You know how to manipulate me using her," you snapped, the sound of a chair creaking in the background signaling your agitation.

"Maybe, but it doesn't change the fact that Ji-An misses you. And you miss her too, don't you?"

A silence followed his words—not an uncomfortable one, but a silence filled with unspoken words and a shared history. And then you sighed, a deep, heavy sigh that echoed with the weight of your unspoken thoughts.

"I do miss her. But you, Jeong Jin-Man, are a pain in my ass.”

He couldn't help but chuckle at your words. "I've been told that before."

"I'm sure you have."

Another silence filled the line, comfortable yet heavy with years of shared experiences.

"By the way," he added, his voice softer now, "the key is still under the cat statue you put by the front door. You can drop by anytime."

"I'll think about it. But don't expect me to come running back, Jin-Man. We're not the same people we used to be."

"I know. But we're still us, aren't we?"

"We're something ," you admitted, a sigh slipping past your lips. "But I don't know what that is anymore."

"Neither do I. But maybe we can figure it out together, old lady."

"Old lady?" you scoffed, a hint of amusement in your voice. "Coming from a man who's 10 years older than me."

"Years are still years," he teased, a smile playing on his lips. "But whatever we are, Y/N, whatever we become, you're still… something to me. And so is Ji-An. Remember that."

"I will. I will, Ahjusshi."

[lxnerwriter]

Honesty Is The Best Policy // Seo Moonjo

Summary: Hiding emotions is Moon-jo's true talent. But when he meets Y/N's ex at a bar, jealousy takes control and leads Moon-jo to do the unthinkable. And he doesn't regret any bit of it.

Pairings: Seo Moon-jo x Reader

Genre: Smut, Toxic Relationship

Rate: 18+

Word Count: 3, 656

Warnings: Kidnapping, Extreme Smut, Oral (M), Slight Degradation, Daddy Kink, Choking Kink, Murder Kink, Obsession, Jealousy, Slight Breeding Kink, Etc.

Note From Author: hey! this is my first fanfic ever on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy! please give me some requests by message! I am still figuring out Tumblr. so soon, there will be a better way to leave requests. make sure to reblog! and have a great day!!

You were down bad. And you should have trusted your gut when he showed you his necklaces made of human teeth. Did nothing click? Did nothing tell you that this man was no good? Obviously not because here you are, heads and heels in love with a psychopath. When you first met Moon-jo, the lightbulb should have clicked on once you saw his smile. Something was off about his it. It was cute, yea, and every smile is different, but something about his smile was odd. You really couldn’t find the right word to describe it other than creepy. But it drew you even closer to him; and at the end of the day, you would try anything to see that smile. You will always remember when he told you his true identity, and when you saw that creepy smile for the first time.

It was a Friday night, and you were coming back from your classes. As you made your way into your house, a pool of blood was on your kitchen tile. A loud scream escaped your lips when you felt a pair of hands wrap around your mouth.

“Shh,” a warm breath was felt in your ear. You squirmed but eventually stopped when you realized who held you hostage.

A muffled “Moon-jo” came from your lips, and he chuckled.

“Baby, I need you to stay quiet. If you make any more loud noises, then I will be taken away for a long time.”  When those words left his mouth, you nodded and he let go of you.

You panicked. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. What did you do?”

That creepy smile spread across his face. “Want to see?” He inquired, and you hesitantly nodded. When he showed you what he had done, you ran to the trash and vomited. Laying on your living room floor was a man wrapped in a plastic bag. And when Moon-jo opened it, you couldn’t believe your eyes. The victim's face, which was bashed in, was unrecognizable (and to this day, Moon-jo will not reveal the identity of this man.) “Look at him. Isn’t he beautiful?” Moon-jo reached his hands in his pocket and pulled out a necklace. You gasped as the necklace he held wasn’t a normal necklace, but a necklace made of teeth.

Your eyes met him as you stuttered, “I-is it? A-are these t-teeth-“ Before you finished, he bent down and opened the mouth of the deceased man. The man’s mouth was empty, except his tongue which was sitting limp in the back of his throat

“I guess you have discovered my secret, dear. Don’t run away from me.” Moon-jo reached his hand out to touch your back, and in response, you flinched. But you didn’t run. You didn’t dare run. Was it fear holding you back? Possibly. Probably. Or was it love? Your love for Moon-jo kept you there. You were scared, of course, but you loved Moon-jo. You couldn’t just leave him.

And you didn’t leave him. It has been two years since your life-changing discovery. And what pains you to say is the fact that you help him. You help hide the bodies. You help bury the bodies. And it is exhausting. So exhausting. Mentally and physically tiring. And sometimes you think that you are the one being kidnapped and tortured, unable to escape from his grasp. Knowing that if you leave, you will end up in the grave like the many you helped killed. So you pretend to be happy. You pretend that your relationship is like the normal couples. And every once and awhile, you force him to go out on a date with you, just like any normal relationship.

Date night always took place on the first Friday of every month. And to your delight, it was the first Friday of the month. The morning went by slow as usual due to your unemployed state. When you moved in with Moon-jo, he told you to quit your job and live in luxury with him. He basically made you his little house wife ( without being married, of course.) Moving from his old crumby apartment, he now lived the lavish lifestyle. He didn’t build a house in the middle nowhere (which would have been his dream so he could have you all to himself) but on the outskirts of Seoul. How did he get all this money? Many patients claimed he was unsettling and uncomfortable so the dentistry he worked at fired him. But due to his amazing skills, he instantly got hired at a better dentistry which paid him way more than before. So here he was, rich and in love. What could be better? After having a stressful day at work, he always could expect you to be waiting for him, and he could fuck all the stress out of him.

~~~~~

After hours of getting dolled up for your little date, his personal driver picked you up at your house and took you to your destination. Once there, you sat at the bar, waiting for your beloved to arrive. While scrolling on your phone, a text message appear on the screen.

Moon-jo: Running a little late, love. I will be there soon.

Y/N: Ok:) Already have a two seats at the bar saved.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice said your name. Confused, you turned around to see your ex, Ji-hoon, standing there with a surprised look on his face.

“Ji-hoon? Didn’t expect to see you here!” Ji-hoon was your boyfriend of three years before he cheated on you. It is not like you didn’t miss him, because you did. But he brought you so much pain and heartbreak, but you did share good memories with him as well.

“Still look beautiful as always. How have you been?” He looked you up down with those same playboy eyes which you were all familiar with.

“I’ve been good. And yourself?”

“I’ve been busy. I’m just trying to settle down, you know?” He smiled at you with those straight white pearls of his. His smile was different from Moon-jo. Ji-hoon had a more genuine smile, and you did love his smile, but that was past.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck. I-“ And as you were about to shoo Ji-hoon away, another familiar voice was heard behind you.

“Well hello, dear,” a pair of strong arms wrapped around you as a familiar pair of soft lips left a kiss on your cheeks. “You look ravishing as always. And who is this?” Moon-jo asked as he gave you a stare which left your heart pounding.

“U-um. This is Ji-hoon, my ex. He happened to be here tonight,” you stuttered knowing you couldn't lie And knowing how possessive Moon-jo can be, you were truly scared.

“Well, it is nice to meet you.” He was lying, and you knew that. Moon-jo was a superb actor, and every once and awhile, you would joke around and say that he should star in a k-drama. He was an expert at faking emotions. For example His creepy smile would spread across his face while anger would bubble inside. He also had a very good poker face so you didn't dare look into his eyes right now.

So after the brief introduction, Ji-hoon made his departure.

“I’m buying drinks, love. What would you like?” Moon-jo asked you in a soft voice. He grabbed your hand and laid a kiss on it, a delicate one which caused butterflies to crowd your stomach. Once you made your order and he was busy talking to the bartender, you couldn’t help but wonder where his sudden calmness stemmed from. To your surprise, he was acting as if the introduction between him and your ex never even happened. Knowing your boyfriend, you expected him to take you to the bathroom and punish you. Or drag you out of the bar and speed home with you begging for forgiveness. But here you were, sitting at bar waiting for your drink.

Once your drinks were made, Moon-jo out his hand on your thigh.

“Didn’t know youwere going to have a guest join us tonight?” He rose his eyebrows as his soft lips wrapped around the straw.

“Trust me. I didn’t know he was going to be here either. I-I should have told him to leave once he walked to my table. I'm sorry... really sorry.” you stuttered. Words were just flooding out of your mouth, and he could tell. So when he grabbed your jaw lightly, you instantly stopped talking.

“I am not mad at you, baby. So please, calm down. I just hope he realized how beautiful my babygirl is, and how much he is missing out on.” Moon-jo told you as that creepy smile spread across his face once more. You blushed as his hand rose up your thigh to the hem of your dress. “You are mybeautiful girl, right?” He brought his other hand to cup your cheek.

“I am,” you replied while leaning into his hand, a fatal blush spreading across your cheeks.

~~~~~

You both spent the evening basking in each others presence and for once in a lifetime, you actually felt loved by the man in front of you. Not like Moon-jo didn’t love you because he did, you just wish his love wasn’t an obsession. And what was terrifying was the fact that you completely adored him. You couldn’t live without him, or so you thought.

After a drink or two, you could say that you weren’t drunk, but a little buzzed. But Moon-jo, well, alcohol seemed to have no affect on that man because he was still sober despite his alcoholic beverages. One thing for sure, you were exhausted and your boyfriend could tell.

“Are you wanting to go home?” He asked, and a simple nod was your response. With his hand intertwined with yours, you both made your way out of the bar and to his car. He sat you down in the passenger seat and buckled you up. You were dosing off, and he could tell. “You can fall asleep, love. I’ll wake you up when we get home.”

You smiled, “Ok.” Your eyes fluttered close, and a deep sleep overtook your body.

~~~~~

Sooner than later, you felt yourself being lifted up by a pair of arms. Your eyes opened slowly to see Moon-jo carrying you in his arms. You were still in a drowsy state, but the familiar scent of your home reached your nose. You were home. Moon-jo brought you up the stairs and into the bedroom. He undressed you with much care and love. Grabbing the nearest makeup wipe he could find, he slowly wiped your makeup off and laid you in bed.

“Moon-jo, lay with me,” you reached out of him lazily as he stood by the bed, your body fully nude and his body fully clothed.

He left a kiss on your forehead and walked to the bedroom door. “I'll come to bed soon, Y/N. I have some things I need to do.” The lights flashed off, and the door closed which resulted in complete darkness. You dozed off, entering the land of dreams once more.

~~~~~

“Baby… wake up,” Moon-jo whispered in your ears as you squirmed in your bed, not wanting to leave the restful state you were in.

“No,” your answer was quite muffled as you dug your face deeper into your pillow.

He shook you lightly, “I have a surprise for you.”

Huh? A surprise? Confused as ever, you lifted your head up from the pillow and let out a scream. In front of your eyes was Ji-hoon, tied to a chair which sat infront of your bed. He squirmed, trying to escape but with no success. How did he even get there? You panicked not knowing what to do. But you knew one thing for sure, Moon-jo was the one who put him there.

“Moon-jo, w-what did you do?” you didn’t budge, but stayed leaning against the wooden bedframe of your king sized bed. Moon-jo chuckled as he walked over to Ji-hoon and patted his shoulder.

“Well, Ji-hoon seemed like he missed you when he saw you at the bar,” he looked into Ji-hoon eyes which were filled with fear. “So I brought him here for you.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He did it again. And this time, it was Ji-hoon. You have seen this happen time and time again, and you knew that your ex boyfriend would end up in the grave. There was nothing you could do when Moon-jo was in charge. To be honest, you were scared. If you tried to help Ji-hoon, you would end up in the grave with him. It was either help kill or get killed. And death wasn’t apart of your agenda.

When Moon-jo turned his back, you mouthed your apologizes to Ji-hoon, knowing his fate. Some tears filled your eyes, but quickly disappeared when you heard the voice of your boyfriend.

“Don’t cover yourself up, Y/N. I think Ji-hoon would like to see your beautiful body once again” Moon-jo walked around the room, as if he was trying to find something, but he didn’t know what.

You didn’t realize that you were covering your nude body with the bedsheets. When your boyfriend was in a state like this, you knew not to disobey him, so without hesitation, you dropped the sheets which revealed your fully nude figure. A small gasp was heard underneath Ji-hoon’s gag; and when Moon-jo heard it, he froze where he was at and walked over to your ex with a knife in his hand.

“Oh? See something you like?” Your boyfriend guided his knife across Ji-hoon’s neck, not piercing the skin, but clearly scaring the victim. “Now, don’t lie to me. Do you find my baby pretty?”

Ji-hoon looked at you, not knowing what to do. One thing that was special about your relationship with Ji-hoon was your ability to communicate through eye contact. When you too started dating those many years ago, you could simply stare at him, and he could understand what you were trying to say. And right now, that is what you were doing. You told him to be honest through your gaze. So he was honest.

Ji-hoon nodded rapidly. And that’s when your heart dropped. Honesty was usually the best policy, but in this incident, you knew that your ex’s honesty was going to have him killed.

Moon-jo’s eyebrow shot up. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.” Your boyfriend walked over to you and drifted his hand across your check. “Why don’t we put on a show for him?”

Huh? What was he talking about? A show? You looked at your boyfriend with confusion as you questioned him. “A show? W-what do you mean?”

“Get on the floor, baby. On your knees.” Moon-jo looks at you as he sits on the edge of the bed. When he hears no movement, he turns around to look at you. “Did I stutter, little girl?”

You instantly slid to the floor and made your way infront of him. You were completely nude, and Ji-hoon eyes were focused on you which caused a blush to spread across your chest.

“Take my cock out and suck it,” your gaze moved up to meet his while he rose an eyebrow. “You know the routine; we do it every night.” His eyes got darker within a second; and you knew that at this moment that if you didn’t obey him, he was going to humiliate you infront of Ji-hoon, and you did not want that at all. So without hesitation, you unzipped his pants and took out his hardening shaft. You held in a breath as you stroked it with your tiny hand; you always were in awe of how big his cock was. It was thick and long and absolutely perfect.

After a few strokes, you took his cock in your mouth, and he let out a tiny groan.

“Yes, baby girl. You are a little slut for my cock, huh? My little cock slut,” his bottom lip was tugged in between his teeth as he made a makeshift ponytail with your hair. You took him farther into your mouth and let out a moan which sent vibrations down his dick. “Mmm.”

After you gagged around his cock for minutes on end, you lifted your head up and gave him an innocent look. “Daddy?”

“What do you want, slut?”

You looked at Ji-hoon. His eyes were wide open, glued on you. And he was embarrassed because when you looked down, you could see a tent in his pants. He was turned on by this, and to your surprised, that urged you on. “Can you fuck me, daddy?”

“What makes you think you deserve to have my cock?” He reached down and took your breasts in his hand. He squeezed and fondled them which caused you to squirm.

“B-because, ahh, aren’t we putting on a show for Ji-hoon?” Ugh, you were sick. You were disgusting. You were as bad Moon-jo. Were you enjoying this? Your boyfriend was, and you were scared that you were turning just like him.

A smile spread across his lips while he tweaked your nipple. “We are, aren’t we? I think you are actually enjoying this. You sick bitch. But you’re mysick bitch. I’ve taught you well. Get on all fours on the bed. Now.”

You looked at Ji-hoon before you scurried on the bed. Seeing him tied up with no way to escape made you wet; and you hate to admit that. After getting on all fours, your eyes looking into your ex’s, you waited patiently for Moon-jo. He was securing the restraints which held Ji-hoon to the chair, “Stay…” Moon-jo told his victim, and of course Ji-hoon obeyed due to the fear which was running through his veins. “Good boy.” Your boyfriend ran his hand down the face of the restrained man.

You were excited, and so so obedient that Moon-jo rewarded you with hard slap on the ass. You jolted in pleasure as your back arched in the air due to his touch. “Oh yes. You always make me feel so good…”

“But I haven’t even been inside you yet,” Moon-jo’s cocky spirt made way as he looked at Ji-hoon, “Did you ever make her feel this good?” Ji-hoon looked down in shame. “That is what I thought… Y/N belongs to me. You get that?” Moon-jo lined himself up with your pussy from behind. Both you and your boyfriend were in a position to where you both faced Ji-hoon. And when Moon-jo pushed inside you, you didn’t care about Ji-hoon, all you cared about was the huge cock which was stretching you wide open.

“Oh, daddy…” you moaned out of pure pleasure. Ji-hoon squirmed in his chair, not knowing how to respond to his ex getting fucked by her psychopath boyfriend. Moon-jo thrusted into you with no restraint. In and out. In and out. Over and over and over again. You just wished you could see your naked boyfriend, who was fucking you doggy style, instead of your ex who was continuously squirming his chair. “Stop moving, Ji-hoon! I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t stop moving!” You never would have expected those words to leave your mouth, but they did. Did you regret them? No, not one bit. Moon-jo paused his thrusting and a loud moan erupted from his lips.

“You wanna kill him, hmm?” Your boyfriend questioned as surprise filled his voice.

“He… he is being annoying.”

“Oh fuck. You make me so hard, my little psychotic slut. I was going to edge you until you cry, but I am so proud of you,” he started thrusting with such power that you threw your head back as he kissed your lips with passion. “No torture today. You can cum whenever you want too.” But there was always something he wanted to test out, and Ji-hoon’s jealous gaze urged him on. So he removed his hands from your hip dips and wrapped them around your throat. He squeezed your throat, stopping your breathing. You gasped, and gasped, and gasped, and then out of no where, you came. Your juices soaked the bed sheets underneath you as pleasure over took your whole body. Moon-jo let go of your throat, grasped onto your hips, and thrusted into you, trying to reach his high.

“Baby, baby, baby, baby. Please…” You moaned, urging him on.

“I’m coming for you. Fuck… You want me to come inside you? Mmm? You want to get pregnant with my children? Want to get big and heavy, walking around with my seed inside you? I own you, Y/N. You want me to mark you as mine?” Moon-jo spanked your ass and when you moaned a “Yes,” his cum coated your insides. All you cared about was him… He fled your thoughts. And you forgot that Ji-hoon watched this whole thing.

Your body dropped limped on the mattress while Moon-jo petted your hair. “Good girl…”

Once you regained your sense, you looked up at your boyfriend with a look which he had never seen prior. “What are we waiting for?” you asked as Moon-jo’s eyebrow rose in confusion.

“What are you talking about, baby?”

“Aren’t we going to kill him?” you questioned your boyfriend as your innocent eyes looked into his. And the smirk that once scared you spread across his face. "I think those nice pearly whites which sit in his mouth would make a great bracelet," once that suggestion left your mouth, your boyfriend became so happy he thought he could burst. That was right up his alley.

“We are.” And he let out his psychopathic laugh, you joined. Ji-hoon knew it was the end for him. But Ji-hoon wasn’t the only victim, you were too. You became like him, and that is all he wanted.

hope you enjoyed! 

with much love,

a writer from no where:)

Copyright © 2021, lxnerwriter | tumblr | no reposts, translations, copies, modifications etc. allowed

[nahoyasboyfriend]

nsfw alphabet — Seo moonjo

A/N: I'm still getting a feel for his character. Forgive me if these are ooc. I tried 😭

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He is surprisingly doting. Wiping you down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, massaging places he knows will be sore later. I could see him brushing your teeth for you, and helping you into a change of clothes.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn't pay attention to his features for the most part but he likes his hands. They're key to his job and the creation his "art". His intelligence & poise is a good runner-up.

As for you, I think he'd like your face. Not only because he thinks you're pretty, but because he loves seeing how you react to things. Your cheeks streaked with tears, eyes all wide and glossy. It's mesmerizing to him.

Another favorite of his is your neck & your wrists. He likes to decorate them with jewelry.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It doesn't matter to him, but he does enjoy the visual of your skin glistening with his cum. But he equally likes the closeness of cumming inside.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Hard to choose between him stalking you and watching you sleep, or the sick gratification he gets from getting you to unknowingly try human meat.

if we move past the creepy stuff, it might be his deep dark fantasy of total loss of control. To be tied up and completely at your mercy. But that takes a lot of trust on his part. I don't even know if he'd acknowledge he wants that.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he's not as experienced as he acts, but he's good enough to pretend he is. Like he's not a virgin, but he doesn't go out of his way to bed anyone. He doesn't watch porn because he doesn't get anything out of it. He prefers imagination.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything where he can see your face. He wants to be able to see how everything he's doing affects you in real time. Like how your eyes gloss over, or how your bottom lip quivers. He needs to see all of it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

nope, he treats sex very seriously. However, if he's feeling mean he'll poke fun at you a bit with that creepy little smile on his face.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He definitely trims. He has a thing about good personal hygiene & maintaining upkeep.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sex with him is very intimate in the weirdest way. Sex with him isn't usually romantic, it's more obsessive. Very all-consuming, just like him as a person. Sex is very personal to him when it comes to you, and it's like he's trying to read your soul through touch. there's a sense of control in that to him. He wants to know everything about you.

His words can be very romantic though, murmuring about how beautiful you are, and how much he loves you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not something he does often, but occasionally he partakes in a little self indulgence.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Intoxicated sex, but you're the one intoxicated. Not enough that you're not cognizant of what's happening, but drunk enough your words are slurred & you need his help to function. Honestly, he likes dubcon a lot.

Being in control all the time, and I don't mean that in the sense that he likes barking out orders (though he does enjoy it) he gets something out of being the one in control emotionally too. He loves casual dominance.

Choking is another big one. He almost always has a hand wrapped around your neck. He doesn't always squeeze, sometimes he just holds it there. He's not opposed to your hands around his neck. In fact, he encourages it. Actually violence is his kink. Threaten him, fight him, direct all your hurt at him and he's on his knees.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers to do it in the comfort of his or your home.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Gets off on seeing you angry. Something about it goes down south immediately. Maybe it's the thought of you getting so angry you resort to violence, but he loves it. Especially if the anger is directed at him.

Another is seeing you cry. He thinks hopelessness looks amazing on you. If you cry when you get angry, he's never been more turned on in his life. Not pretty kind, the ugly blotchy face with red rimmed eyes... The type of sadness that you wouldn't want anyone to see.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Watersports, there's nothing sexual about that to him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He seems like a giver to me. Watching you fall apart is deeply satisfying to him. He'd rather give than receive, but he loves your mouth. Unfortunately, he doesn't get all whimpery & pathetic when you suck him off.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He's not exactly fast but he's not slow. It's hard to explain but do not believe for a second that he won't fuck you stupid. if you ask nicely he can speed it up or slow it down.

Q = Quickies (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc)

Not a big fan. He would rather wait; he doesn't like to be in a rush.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he's not gonna go out of his way to experiment. He does things he knows he likes. He's not against trying new things, but you'd have to suggest it and it's up in the air if he'll do it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can last for an abnormally long amount of time. It's kinda scary.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does not. He doesn't see the point when he can please himself & you just fine. It's not a jealousy thing either, he just truly doesn't think you'll ever need it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can be really mean. Continuously edging & overstimulating you. He loves pushing your limits until you can't take anymore.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not too loud. There are grunts and groans scattered throughout. He talks you through it. Praising you, or if he's feeling evil, he taunts you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He does things to make sex slightly painful. Sucking a little too hard when he's giving hickeys, biting your lip too hard, fucking you without prepping you properly. He's an intense kisser, kinda suffocating. like I don't think kisses are soft and romantic with him ever. It always feels like he's trying to devour you. Pressing his lips against yours too hard, or using too much teeth. But he only has this problem when he kisses you on the mouth, gives you the softest cheek & forehead kisses.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

7 inches, it's long and pretty like him.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He doesn't really care for people, finding most of them generally displeasing to be around, so it's hard for him to want to have sex with anyone. However in a relationship, it's definitely higher.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He usually doesn't go to sleep. he's a night owl, and he seemingly never gets tired. After he gets you situated, he might even take a smoke break. If you're like him, the two of you might go for a walk, or simply enjoy each other's company. Though if he has to work the next day, he goes to bed by your side after.

[silv3rswirls]

Jealousy with Moonjo + Jongwoo

Requests are open!

Notes: Thank you so much for requesting!

Anon asks: Can I pls request relationship and jealousy headcanons for Seo Moonjo and Jongwoo for a female reader?

♡Moon-jo♡

He's so obsessed with you <3

He loves anything and everything about you and wants to know everything.

Even if you think he's crazy, he doesn't care. He was determined to make you his.

He's good at keeping his calm and cool composure with you, and in private he's very doting and caring. He always takes care of you, gets you whatever you could want, etc.

When knows you'll never leave him the crazy might slip out a little from time to time, but he encourages you to stay blissfully nieve of that side of his life.

He's always watching over you, making sure you're okay and taking care of yourself. He makes sure no one bothers you, the neighbors at Eden Residence tend to stay away as well.

He's patient with you and lets you vent and cry all you want. He listens well and takes you out to places he knows you like or want to go.

You're his baby, he'll take care of and protect you at all costs.

Typically very possessive and protective of you, he hardly lets anyone get close to you, let alone try and flirt with you.

He doesn’t want anyone trying to take your attention away from him, he’ll keep you all to himself.

He’s usually creepy and off-putting, but he really ramps it up when he catches men staring at you.

If you ignore other advances Moon-jo doesn't worry much. He wants you to be rude and ignore them, he wants them to know he’s the only one on your mind; that they couldn’t compare to who he was. 

But if you instigate it? Flirt back with them? He’s pissed, it’s probably the only time he’s truly angry with you.

You’ll never see that person again, he doesn't care, he’ll kill them so they’ll never tempt you again. You’re in for it too. He’ll lock you up and show you you’re his.

♡Jong-woo♡

A good boyfriend! He cares deeply about you and shows it. He always asks if you've eaten, how you slept, or if there's anything you need from him.

He's always testing or talking to you in his free time at work or he's bored at home.

you take care of each other. He loves it when you visit him for lunch when he's at work.

You're all he needs when he's having a rough day and makes sure you know he can be the same for you.

Always holds your hand in public, though doesn't like PDA much.

He’s such a cute and kind partner, he loves you so much and you know it. But, his mood shifts when he notices people’s stares lingering too long or that you’re paying too much attention to them.

He already struggles to keep his temper in check when dealing with people who annoy him, but it’s so hard when he knows someone else is eyeing you.

He’ll confront them, going off about how rude or disrespectful they must be. He demands they apologize and get out of his sight. 

He especially doesn’t want you around his neighbors, he has half a mind to kill the pervert living in 313 when he catches him lurking around.

He’ll be in a sour mood after these kinds of things, so you have to show him extra love to make him feel better.

[inflatuati0ons]

Can you please write NSFW headcanons for Seo Moonjo for a female reader? Reader used to be a tenant in his building, and he became obsessed with her. So he stopped others from killing her and made sure she was unaware of their killings. But when Jongwoo came, they became close friends because they were the only sane people. That made Moonjo jealous. 

-> Pairing: Seo Moonjo x Sub!bot female reader

-> Content(Warnings): Can be read as GN, Dubious-consent(?), Attempted-murder, mild Descriptions of violence, Oral fixation(?), stalking, Blood kink, Sadomasicism, Exhibitionism -implied, corruption kink(?), spit as lube, penetration, bondage, Sensory deprivation, Orgasm denial, Overstimulation, Sex under the influence of, free use kink, thigh-fucking, Cum eating, Cum play -implied, 3rd POV.

-> Author's Note: Sorry this took me so long to post. I had alot of fun writing it. Sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted, I got carried away just a bit...

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• He wanted to shove the limits of your sanity. He does everything in his power to make your life completely miserable, playing with you and your mind before he even considers killing you. Only to fall victim to you and your silly emotions when you become too friendly with Jong Woo instead of him. Watching from a hole in the wall as you spent time with the boy he grew resentful, almost spiteful. Laughing at his jokes, smiling at every little kind act, all the kind, sappy things you can think of. He hated the weak human empathy and the need to flock towards the weak, the longer he watched the more he wanted to see you crumbling into his embrace. He wanted to see you at your most animalistic, to see the bloodlust leak from every pore as you fought tooth and nail for your life, only for it to turn into unchanneled fear as he ripped your flesh off the bone.

He almost craved it, seeing you fight through the crack in the door wasn't enough. He wanted to hear your anger, feel your rage, taste your despair on his tongue. Watch as the life drained from your once vibrant eyes as he devoured every single part of you.

• But at the same time he wanted to feel the same kindness that radiated from your human soul, he wanted to be the cause of your laughter, the reason for your smile. He wanted to feel the warmth of your skin against his. Your lips pressed down firm on his, your tongue invading his hot mouth as the addictive taste of you plated on his tongue. Your warm hands ran through his dirtied hair, caressing his heated skin. Just like you did with him, he wanted to have you all to himself. Just one more night.

• The thoughts that plagued his mind at every hour of the day, wrapping around his head. You captivated him, hypnotized him, wiggling your way into his mind like a fucking worm.

• Every hour that should have been spent sleeping was used to watch you, watch the rise and fall of your breasts as you slept, the peace that adored your face, the drool that seeped from the corners of your lips, your soft human body covered by the stained white sheets. You were right there so exposed, so vulnerable. Oblivious to the danger that lingers before you. How easy it would be to wrap his, hands around your tender neck as he wrung the life from your body, your warm skin contrasts his cold hands, tightening around the curve of your neck. Grip faltering when you groaned, slowly stirring from your peaceful slumber. Watching as your breathing slowed uncertain emotions consuming him, fear, regret? What would he have to fear? He killed many in his life, humans and animals alike so why did he release you? Why did he spare your life? Why did he stop the others from killing you? Why was he so afraid of your death?

• He observed, watched, stalked, and got to know you without you ever getting closer to him. When the long-awaited opportunity sprung out and you eventually had to go to the dentist there was no way he would pass you up. And when you were finally between his teeth, he wouldn’t let you go.

• He spent unnecessary minutes just exploring the moist cavern, uncaring of your heavy pants and deep squirming. You gag on thick fingers that prod and glide around your mouth and press down on your tongue, doing so without the uncertaintyof your feelings. Simply enjoying the wet sensation of your tongue, the smooth nature of your teeth and the constant tightness of your throat he wished were wrapped around another part of him.

• He likes being in your mouth, whether it's your tongue wetting your fingers or your lips sealed to his cock, he simply can't get enough of the feeling.

His face remained professional under your flustered gaze but the hot boner he sported was anything but work friendly and he made sure you knew that, letting you get a peek of the bulge as he rose off the stool.

• But he didn’t let himself indulge too much in you, he wants you to come to him, to beg him, want him. He wanted the moments shared between you to haunt you, your emotions subconsciously drawing you to him. You just have to let them.

• He hates how close you become with his little project. He loathes how you long for another when he is the one who will give you everything. And he likes to remind you of that.

He grinds against your slick flesh, watching as he disappears through the tightly drawn meat, leaky tip peeking at the other side as you whined, groaned, and moaned on his cock. Unable to control when the little movements and sounds. He watched as you squirm desperate to feel it somewhere else, hole pulsing -begging to be filled with his sticky semen. Rough fingers pet at your damp hair, stalking down your painted neck and flicking swollen nipples. Spreading his filth across your scolding, bare body

"M-moonjo..."

He heard your pleas and sobs choosing not to listen to your squeaks and wheezes, your body told him all he needed to know. He forced his cum covered fingers down your throat without resistance, tasting yourself on him and savouring the flavour of both of you.

• He knows what you feel and he wants you to choke on it. Shame stitched into your memory of this day. The day you let yourself go.

He hovers, peering upon you. Humming with content, taking pleasure in your bare form and the distress that leaked from every pore. The position brought you nausea. Your moans taunting you, your mind spun, cunt twitching. Pleasure washed away any embarrassment, you were too desperate for a release, pride long discarded you. All you were made to do was beg.

• He would refuse any penetration, only allowing himself to revel in you when you find it in yourself to drown in him. He wants you begging for something you're not even sure you want. He likes you confused and wanting.

• and when he finally has you where he wants you, You don't even have to ask and he won't say no; He loves the thought of you coming to him for another way to calm down your discomforted heart. It doesn't matter what he's doing, make a statement(a claim), spit on his cock, and force your way down.

He adores feeling his heartbeat try to match the speed of your hips ramming against the hardness of his pelvis, moans vibrating deep in your throat as your musk fills his lungs. It's tight and dry, painful but pleasurable. It's raw and real.

• He likes to have sex with you under the influence of alcohol but not drunk enough where you can't remember anything. The alcohol both dulls your senses and enhances them. He loves to watch you function with a half-drunken mind, admiring you and the strong shape of your body as urges and impulsive consume you. Burning the images of blood sliding down your contorted face into his mind and the sweat that glides down your body creating such an arousing shine that he adores so much he tries to mimic it with his cum.

• As much as he adores taking control of the situation, forcing you through painful and forced orgasms and even taking them away. He worshiped the way you finally go out of a zone of comfort to assert dominance, fed up with his attitude and possession.

• Please, Tie him up, blindfold him, gag him. Even if he is unaware and vulnerable not able to do anything but can still feel everything. Draw lines of red across his skin, and let him feel the warm sticky fluid peel down his skin and burn.

He needs to feel you, he needs to know its you touching his everything, you who's bringing him to his peak. Even if it isn't...

• He dirted you, forced his filth onto your clean skin, and turned you into one of him. He relishes in the way you would learn the truth and accept that animalistic part of you, preening at the bloodshed and the life you take with your bare nails and the growth you cause him under your excruciating touch. He wants you to remember the pieces and work to put the entire puzzle together to reveal what you have done and why you want to do it again. Together again.

[page-soobinnie]

✂Moonjo Boyfriend Head Cannons ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

✂Special Thanks Too: Moonjo, Sfh

✂Note: I don't think it was requested if it was then it's apart of another request

✂CW: Moonjo : jealousy : teeth : mentions of hidden cameras : mentions of a pervert :

✂Taglist: no one atm but you can join by sending an ask comment or dm

✂Oh boy...ok, he doesn't let you do anything without permission.

✂If you act without telling or asking him, he'll take two teeth out your mouth and use them as jewelry.

✂Y'know that bracelet he gave to Jongwoo? Yeah you have one of just his back teeth, and he has one of your back teeth, he made it so they can interlock with one another...

✂Never takes no for an answer.

✂If you live in the Eden apartments, he'll make sure to live next door to you and basically tears the walls down.

✂The others aren't even allowed to look at you let alone talk to you, especially that perverted guy (forgot his name-)

✂He always keeps tabs on you, by that I mean hidden cameras so he can watch you while he works.

[bruhstories]

so chapter 6 of bet will be a tiny bit delayed because i can't get seo moon jo out of my head and i need to write something for that man before i spontaneously combust