#the first time he’s way more corrupted and they fail to get him out. but they find out why the code took him there plus maybe other answers

[iced-souls]

Damn i really be theorizing so far ahead that i feel it is just the most bizarre outcome that could happen.

[rene-darling]

Innocent scaramouce first time with dom fem reader?

Innocent little kabukimono

...yandere reader...red flag reader!...toxic relationships please do not imitate irl...I think.. I took way too much creative liberty with this..but-...im tired of seeing innocent readers x corrupted men. We need so corrupted yandere-ish readers!...

...kabukimono x yandereish reader...

Innocent little kabukimono who knows nothing of real life, and is just oh so naive. And you, this corrupted person who goes around doing whatever they please, leading on a man and then ditching him for good, a cruel harbinger who revels in the suffering of the innocent, and oh my is he innocent.

Kabukimono who doesn't know right from wrong, he doesn't even have life's most basic skills. The perfect man for you to corrupt.

Kabukimono who doesn't know that kisses are only meant to be shared by lovers and to be done in private, so you might be in the middle of talking to another harbinger when he approaches you and casually leaves a kiss on your lips.

The other harbinger and your underlings are left in a state of shock. He kissed you And he still has his head?? Kabukimono notices their weird stares and questions them "Hm? Do you not know? This is something friends do with each other!" he informs them proudly. He's your dearest friend.

Dear little kabukimono who gets scared when you come home drenched in blood, but you just smile at him and open your arms. He knows he can't deny you, you told him that denying your friend's hug is very rude!

So he hugs your bloody form, shivering a bit. You're so cold, like a corpse. It's okay. You reassure him, that you were just getting rid of some bad guys. Some real baddies who harm the innocent. This reassures him, wow, you're so cool! You help people by getting rid of bad guys right? Wow!

Innocent kabukimono who admires you so much. You're the coolest person out there, and he trusts you.

Pure little kabukimono who tries making you some yummy food, only to fail since for some reason it always turns out to sour, too hot, or just burnt. It was like someone was messing with him and doing it on purpose.

And when he tells you that he's messed up yet again and sees how your face falls, he can't deal with it. He's so dumb, so stupid, he can't help it! He can't do anything without you. So he starts crying, soft little hiccups turn into full-on sobs as globs of tears fall from his eyes.

Who hugs you and apologizes over and over, he's sorry he's such a dummy! He'll learn! He'll be more useful to you, he doesn't know where the dish went wrong! Please don't abandon him, he's sorry for being useless!

And it brings him so much comfort when you hug him back, holding his tiny waist as you almost feel bad for purposefully messing up his dish, not that you'll actually apologize and tell him.

When you're sitting on the couch and you pull him onto your lap, it startles him. He shifts around a bit uncomfortably, but it's fine, he'll manage. You tell him that this is what friends do! And since you both are such close friends he doesn't complain when you pull him into your lap, even in front of other people

Eventually, he gets used to it, when you assure him that, this is what friends do- and you're his dearest friend aren't you?

He's used to it. He's trained for it. He could simply be doing some work around the house but the second you pat your lap he drops whatever he's doing, crawling onto your lap like a cat.

He doesn't know any better, so while you're in important meetings with the harbingers he'll simply crawl onto your lap like it's his own personal bed. The other harbingers always stutter in their next words- they just never seem to get used to your little boytoy

Some of the harbingers find it rather amusing, questioning why you've kept him around this long. They've never seen you with one of your boy toys after the first 3 weeks. You simply shrug, perhaps it's his innocence, his naivety to the world..and people, around him. Whatever it is, he proves to be entertaining. Which is why you just can't get rid of him yet.

Cute little kabukimono who ignores any red flags. You following him around whenever you have some free time, or sending one of your henchmen after him whenever you aren't available. What do you mean that's weird? No- you just care for your friend, he's your dearest friend after all! You just wanna make sure nothing bad happens!

Innocent kabukimono who you've quickly learned has no idea of what intimacy is. He doesn't know the first thing about- love making.

Kabukimono who sits on your lap like another day, resting his head back onto your shoulder, you can hear his quiet breaths and whispers as he mumbles and rambles about his day thinking you were listening. You on the other hand were occupied by your own deranged thoughts, ...it's been long enough..hasn't it? You're sure he can handle you- fondling him further..right? You mean he should. You've done so much for him, and he can barely even cook a proper meal for you.

Biting down harshly on his neck while he was leaning it back on your shoulder eliciting gasps and whines from him. He tries grabbing your head, trying to push you away. It hurts! But you're too strong. So he sits there helpless tugging at your hair softly as he lets out little moans as you suck on his neck. He feels heat pool in between his legs... it's so weird..he doesn't like it.

Later that day he stares at himself in the mirror. Examining the big red purple-ish mark you left. Afterward, he questions you about it. Huffing as he asks the reason behind this strange good feeling mark you've left.

You reassure him, it's simply because he's your dearest friend. And you just want people to know that he's yours, he belongs to you. And no one else.

[xueyuverse]

It's ironic to me that part of the fandom insists so much that Hua Cheng's personality revolves around Xie Lian when in fact MXTX created Hua Cheng first and then had to make Xie Lian his ideal type. Like, the truth is that Xie Lian was molded for Hua Cheng. I find this contradiction very funny, I'm sorry.

But they were indeed created for each other.

Hua Cheng has a strong personality, he is firm in his ideals and beliefs, assertive in his opinions, cold in his justice and someone who does not bend the rules just to fit in, he creates a third way instead of adapting to a world that hates him and was cruel to him.

His ideal type would have to be someone as confident as him, who not only does not bend the rules, but also does not get corrupted by difficulties, someone benevolent enough to see people like him with kindness, because only someone faithful in his beliefs would be able to be so different from everything that the world says is right — because the right thing is for you to annihilate people like Hua Cheng, whether they are innocent or not, just because of a supposed curse that they did not ask for.

This meta is based on this excerpt from the afterword that MXTX put in TGCF ↓

When it comes to character designs, the Shou’s were decided on first for the first two novels, but I was torn over the Gong’s for a long time, and needed a run-in period. Hua Cheng, however, was an exception. Inspiration struck and there he was; inspiration struck again, and I blinded one of his eyes.

[...]

It was actually the Shou, Xie Lian, who tortured me for up to half a year’s time. When the novel started serializing, I was still torn over him for a long time.

[...]

But the most important thing is, by my instincts, someone like Hua Cheng will most definitely love someone like this. So, after a good half a year’s worth of qualms, in the end I still typesetted him: It’s you!

Speaking more about this postscript, I found it interesting how for MXTX, Xie Lian was the most difficult character she has ever played. People tend to think that Xie Lian only has two personality traits: (false, for many) kindness and idiocy. The idiocy may even be right lol, but when you stop to think about it, Xie Lian is a really difficult character to create and, mainly, to develop.

For all the layers he has, he could easily be a snobbish prince, a vengeful and bitter ex-prince, a fallen prince who rises again to reconquer his kingdom and reclaim his throne or a spotless saint who is always intelligent and wise and is above things like sadness, anger, lust, etc.

We know that Xie Lian is none of these things, he was not made for these plots. But if he is none of these things, then what could he be? Honestly, I find it very difficult for anyone to come to the conclusion that your protagonist is a "loser" who failed and has no ambition to rebuild his kingdom and become the new king. It's bold to make your protagonist a poor and extremely unlucky nomad, especially with the princely background that you gave him, we can see from the amount of stories out there about protagonists who lost their kingdoms and then have a path of reconquest that it's difficult not to be tempted to follow that path.

Of course, Xie Lian is a god, something greater than a prince or king, but he is a poor god, known as "the joke of the three kingdoms", he has no wealth and for 800 years he only had 1 believer that he didn't even know existed and he is also known as the "god of plague" and "immortal scrap collector", unconventional titles in the literary world lol

He must experience youthful ignorance, overestimation of his own abilities, have been laughable, been foolish, made mistakes, despaired, felt hatred, gone crazy. But he can’t run, and he can’t hide; everything is what it is. All this was killing me. Not just within the text, but outside the text too. My mediation was useless, and I’ve no energy anymore either, so in order not to be affected, I stopped looking at comments altogether. Since I always habitually vaccinate myself before a serialization begins, speculating on all the worst possible scenarios and preparing myself mentally, by the time serialization started I had already expected how all the negative comments would go down. But after much hesitation, I still thought, why not try all different kinds of characters? I haven’t tried writing a main character like this before.

— MXTX

[mistywaves98]

Hii! Its my first time asking on here but could you do top!servant!scara with sub!noblelady!reader, also i dont know if you’re fine with writing corruption k!nks but if you are pls include that too ^-^ if not then completely disregard this part AHAHAH.

Also not related to the req but i love your works 😅 i

Aww thank youuu 🫶🫶

✧･ﾟ:* ->Servant! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Corruption kink, Praise, lots of praise!

How you ran the estate inherited from your parents was beyond Scaramouche, with your weirdly optimistic views and naive tendency to try and see good in everything despite the cruel ways of society. It was so clear that you were overly sheltered as a child. Still, it was always a pleasure to work under you. And over you as well.

Your hands clawed at the sheets beneath you, hair splayed out around your face as Scaramouche absolutely ravaged your pussy. The slick sound of his cock sliding in and out of the gummy walls of your pussy reverberated throughout the space of your chambers. "Mmnh... Mistress, you've no idea how I've longed to do this to you... Fuck, you feel so good—" He barely manages to groan out as his hands rest on either side of your head.

It's felt like hours now since he finally caved into his desires, thrusting into your aching pussy with rhythmic jerks of his hips. It's truly not Scaramouche's fault, you know. Your innocence was just absolutely endearing, the fact you knew almost nothing about intimacy just making you all that much more corruptible. The soft expression that always adorned your face never failed to make his cock painfully hard. Oh, how he yearned to make those pretty eyes roll to the back of your head as he made himself at home within the confines of your tight cunt.

You look even better than he imagined, the needy noises slipping out of your throat as your plump lips part in pure pleasure are like music to his ears. The sight of you, splayed out under him and completely bare for his eyes alone sends Scaramouche into a frenzy as he fixates on the way your perky tits move each time he sinks his length back into you.

He suddenly grabs the back of your thighs and maneuvers them to rest over his shoulders. The sweet sound you let out as the blunt head of his cock meets your g-spot sends a shiver down his spine and he swears he just got hard all over again. You feel like you're seeing stars at this point, incoherent babbles and pleas leaving you as your hands reach up to cling to his back, manicured nails leaving crescent marks on the skin.

"Hn... You're so cute, y'know that? Taking my dick like a good girl...—Hngh— God, look at you..so cock drunk you can't even respond properly... You gonna cum? Yeah, that's it..make a mess for me.." He smirks as he feels you clench around him even more, practically suffocating him as he reaches between you both to rub gentle circles against your swollen clit, coaxing you towards orgasm.

His encouragement and extra stimulation makes the knot in your stomach tighten ever so slightly. You're so close... Release feels like it's right there, just getting closer, closer... You jolt as he suddenly delivers a sharp pinch to the sensitive bundle of nerves and that's all it takes to have you screaming his name for the nth time that night as your walls spasm around his cock. Scaramouche delights in the feeling of your cum coating his length as he buries himself inside you over and over again.

Your servant doesn't stop, simply slowing his pace a bit to help you ride out your high. He leans in and captures your lips in a tender yet possessive kiss, swallowing up your noises as his tongue slithers past your lips to explore the wet cavern that is your mouth,"Hmm.. Good girl, you're just as good at following orders as you are dishing them out... You looked so beautiful as you came, I want to see that expression of pure bliss again. Think you can give me just one more?"

[runningthroughthegarden]

meeting you at the wrong right time

summary: youve encountered benny a few times. but never at midnight, while you were crying and stranded

warning: sucky guy (not benny) word count: 1.8k

the vandals were the type of guys your mother had always warned you about. yet you couldn't seem to pull your eyes away from them whenever they were near. you were absolutely not the type of girls they would want; you were the type of girl they would want to corrupt. which honestly scared you, but you'd be lying if you said it didn't intrigue you.

you were a secretary. you loved to wear light pink dresses. you loved the way gold jewelry looked on your tan skin. you loved curling your hair to frame your face. you loved to spray your skin with decadent perfumes. you loved painting your nails while listening to your records.

you were the complete opposite of them. yet a part of you wanted so badly to even get a sneak peek into their lives.

when you first saw benny, you were completely entranced. you were enjoying your saturday walking around town, when you saw him leaning up against his bike smoking a cigarette. you were shocked to see him without the usual crowd of rowdy men. hoping to finally sneak a long glance, you watch as you continue walking. but when he looks up its like your world stops. quickly snapping out of your haze, your cheeks immediately tint to a bright red.

you knew you were in for it when he took one last drag before flicking his cigarette to the ground. leaning off his bike he took just a few long strides to reach you.

"y'know mothers say it's not nice to stare" he smirks while looking down at you

"mothers also say it's dangerous to talk to mysterious bikers" you bite back, wondering where your sudden confidence came from

"i wouldn't say we're mysterious anymore. ive seen you before. seen you looking, but you run always run off"

it was so hard to read him. you couldn't tell if he was flirting with you or trying to scare you off. maybe it was both.

you look down letting out a little giggle so he can't see the very apparent blush on your face.

"i'll see you around doll" he says, the roughness of his voice sending shivers down your spine

walking back over to his bike he shoots you one last look before he races off

you were left standing there in a complete daze. just as you had worried, you were already craving more.

it had been a few days since your interaction with benny and it was all that could fill your head. you did your absolute best to avoid the vandals common areas. because you knew you would walk right into the palm of his hand if you spoke to him again. this plan ultimately failed. it was like the universe was pulling you together. but as always, you would see them and scurry away. sometimes you would catch bennys face in the crowd, and he always had that stupid smirk.

deciding enough was enough, you decided to put your emotions elsewhere. it was no secret boys around town had hoped for a chance to be with you. so in order to stop thinking of benny, you decided to take a chance with one of them.

although a part of you wanted benny, you knew your parents would kill you. you needed someone practical, someone that could take care of you. even if that person didn't make you half as excited as you were when you saw benny.

curling your lashes and putting on your favorite lipstick, you started to have doubts in your mind. you knew it was best for you to step away from benny, even though nothing has happened. you've formed this version of him in your head. the boy you were going out with had his whole life planned. sometimes security was more important than what you really wanted.

the sound of a car horn pulled you away from your thoughts as you took one last look in the mirror. racing down the stairs and kissing your parent's goodbye, you braced yourself for the night ahead of you. sure, this boy was handsome, but the fear of him being a typical college boy scared you. he would probably spend the night talking about himself and hoping to get lucky.

and god did you hate that you were right.

the second you got into the car; you knew this was someone you would not want to see again. he bragged and bragged about the school he went to, the job that was practically already laid out for him, the money he was going to make. did this really impress other girls? you found yourself drifting off while he kept talking.

on the way to the diner, you passed by the vandals club. and for the first time ever, you wished you could be in there. even if it was filled with loud and stinky bikers.

the dinner carried on the same way. no questions were asked about you. and you found yourself only being able to hum in agreement with his statements. not even sharing a full sentence.

dinner was finally over, and you couldn't be more excited to get home and sleep or daydream or hell even stare at a wall. anything would be more interesting than this.

"so do you want to come over to my place?" he asks, pulling out of the parking lot.

"actually, i was thinking of calling it a night" you reply, playing with the hem of your dress.

"are you serious?"

"yeah, i mean its getting pretty late" you whisper, trying not to make him angry

"i sat through an entire meal, paid for the damn thing?! and what i cant even get a kiss" he slightly yells

"well no, i thought that was all this was, a dinner to get to know each other" you reply, starting to grow weary

"of course it wasn't. you're all the same. just wanting a free dinner and nothing else. i bet you're a whore anyway" he scoffs

"hm no i think you're the whore actually. taking girls to dinner, talking about your boring life the entire time, and hoping you can get them in the back of your car after" you scoff, feeling your anger bubble up

he quickly pulls over on the empty street and grabs your arm with such a force you know it's going to leave a mark

"get the hell out of my car" he seethes

pulling your arm away, you can feel tears threatening to spill. quickly grabbing your purse you climb out, slamming the door. he doesn't even wait a second before he is racing away.

feeling utterly hopeless and stranded you sit on the curb. in your nicest dress, you feel like a fool. a fool for ever thinking a man boy like him would ever have good intentions. bracing yourself for the walk home, you try to calm your breathing. but you're all worked up and you can already feel your arm beginning to bruise.

the sound of engines starting quickly catches your attention, and you begin to realize you were just down the street from the vandals club. not even wanting to deal with any of them, you find the willpower to start walking back home.

feeling a presence behind you, you're ready to tell a guy off. but when a hand comes up to your bruised arm you suck in a sharp breath. turning to find the man that lived in your daydreams. you must've looked a mess, because his face was instantly washed with concern.

this only made your feelings come back ten times stronger and before you knew it, you were crying all over again. it might have been a dumb idea, but you were so scared, and you needed someone. your face hit his chest, and your hands clung onto his jacket. scared he might disappear.

his arms immediately came up to surround you, pulling you tightly against him. making soft shushes to try and calm you down.

"hey doll, its alright, just look at me for a second" he whispers, pulling your face away from his chest to cup it in his hands

"what happened, are you okay?" he quickly asked, eyes flickering trying to find any injuries

"i went out with this guy, and he got mad that i didnt want to go home with him. he grabbed my arm and called me a whore. he kicked me out of his car and left me on the street" you explained between sniffles and hiccups

bennys face changed in an instant. bringing his hands to your arm, slightly brushing over the bruises that were forming. you suck in a sharp breath, and he knows it hurts. but he begins to slowly pepper kisses along your arm. he's holding you so delicately, like he's scared you'll break at any second.

"whats his name?" he asks, it felt like he was holding back anger

"benny its okay i promise" you reply, not wanting to cause trouble

"no its not okay, no one hurts my girl"

you couldve melted when you heard him say my girl.

"andy clark" you whisper

"c'mon, wait by my bike for a second and i"ll be right back i promise okay" he says, holding your face in his hands one more time

slowly nodding you walk over to his bike. looking around you feel so out of place, but you also feel safe. it must've been a sight. you in your light pink dress, standing next to benny's bike, with the rest of the club standing around.

benny must've explained what happened, because the next second a few of the guys you recognized were walking behind him. he looked the angriest you've ever seen him, but as soon as he saw you his face softened.

"i'll take you home alright doll? the other guys are gonna take care of it" he whispers, going to hold your waist

slowly nodding, benny begins to climb on the bike. helping you on after.

the drive home was almost peaceful. the other guys left in the other direction, you just hoped they wouldn't cause too much trouble. you were sad when benny pulled into your neighborhood. you didn't know how you would be able to stay away from him after this.

"thank you benny, for everything"

"i'll be here for you, okay? wont let anything like that ever happen to you again" he replies

you nod, slowly walking up the stairs to your house. pausing, you say something you might regret, but it felt right.

"do you think you could stay over? think i would feel safer" it came out almost like a whisper, scared that you were reading benny wrong

"of course, doll"

you never would have imagined that you'd be tucked into your bed with benny by your side. but the way his arms curled around you, shielding you from the world. you knew you would never be able to stay away.

[suashii]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒮𝐸𝒳𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝒮𝐸𝒯𝒯𝐸𝑅𝒮 — the setters and their top kinks

info ⭑ includes: miya atsumu, oikawa toru, akaashi keiji, sugawara koushi, semi eita ﾉ f!reader, nsfw (minors do not interact) ﾉ degradation ﾉ impact play ﾉ daddy kink ﾉ dumbification ﾉ edging ﾉ body worship ﾉ praise kink ﾉ dacryphilia ﾉ virgin kink ﾉ corruption kink ﾉ all characters written 18+.  

₊˚ପ⊹ ATSUMU + DEGRADATION & IMPACT PLAY

he’d never call you such lewd, dirty names outside the bedroom, but he can’t ignore how each one goes straight to your pussy. his personal favorites are “whore” and “toy”. he never thought he’d find so much pleasure in bullying, humiliating, you. and he’ll never get over the way you tighten and flutter around his cock when his hand makes contact with your clit or ass. your surprised squeals are like music to his ears and the marks he leaves behind are always a pretty reminder of the night’s activities the next day.

“listen to you, whimpering like a whore when i slap your ass. i’m starting to think you like getting spanked. mm, maybe i should give you another one.”

₊˚ପ⊹ OIKAWA + DADDY KINK & DUMBIFICATION

he gets some sort of rush from hearing you call him daddy. maybe it’s the way you peer up at him through your lashes as you do so. or maybe it’s the blatant embarrassment that you try and fail to hide by biting your lip. can you blame him for wanting to see you completely fucked out? you’re just so pretty when your eyes are staring off at nothing, tongue lolling from between those soft lips. he can’t help the sense of pride that swells in his chest when you’re reduced to such a mess, and all because of him.

“you stopped talking, princess. did daddy really fuck you that hard? can’t even think straight while you’re taking this cock, huh?”

₊˚ପ⊹ AKAASHI + EDGING & BODY WORSHIP

his hands wander about your figure as his mouth travels down every inch of your skin, only ever stopping to tell you how gorgeous you are. you deserve the world and he’s set on giving it to you, even if his method seems slightly cruel. by now, he’s an expert at continuously getting you nearly to your climax and pulling you back just before you can reach it. he’s a patient man and is more than willing to spend all night in the bedroom if that means giving you the most earth shattering orgasm you could imagine.

“god, you look so beautiful like this. you want to come? don’t worry, you only have to wait a little longer, angel. i promise it’ll feel good.”

₊˚ପ⊹ SUGAWARA + PRAISE & DACRYPHILIA

you’re such a sweet thing for suga, always doing what you’re told and making the prettiest noises for him. why shouldn’t he let you know how much he adores you—how proud he is of you? the smile that graces your face and the sparkles in your irises at his approval are really all he could ask for. but a little part of him can’t help but get excited whenever he sees tears of pleasure pooling in your eyes, threatening to spill over your lash line. maybe he’s greedy; or maybe he just wants a reward of his own.

“you did so well for me, my good girl. and you look so pretty with tears streaming down your cheeks. should i clean them up for you?”

₊˚ପ⊹ SEMI + VIRGIN KINK & CORRUPTION

he has this unexplainable desire to take you—someone that was once pure and untouched—and make you his own, to ruin you as he pleases. of course, he’d never tell you so; where’s the fun in that? he’s fixed on watching the authentic experience of your first time. he wants to see how your face scrunches up in pain before it turns to pleasure. he wants to hear your breath catch in your throat before you’re moaning in ecstasy as your orgasm hits. he needs to be the one who gives you a taste of what you’ve been missing out on.

“is it everything you thought it would be? yeah? i never pegged you as the type who liked being used. guess i got lucky with you.”

hihi~ manz here :3 ! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[httpsserene]

kinktober '23 table of contents

welcome to serene's f1 kinktober special! i do not know how many posts i will be doing for this event, but, reblog and save this masterlist for any updates concerning my f1 kinktober.

posts will be tagged with: # httpss :// kinktober 23

view playlist? ↴

upload 1 : charles leclerc / max verstappen x reader | corruption kink

innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things.

upload 2 : carlos sainz jr x reader | were/wolf shifter & predator/prey

for all people believe that werewolves are dangerous creatures, your wolf is pretty tame, even with some of his...quirks. this halloween you let him be the big bad wolf to your little red riding hood, while you give out candy to trick-or-treaters. what he doesn't know, is that you have your own trick-or treat planned for him after this– you're his treat tonight, but he's going to have to chase you first.

upload 3 : oscar piastri x reader | car sex & squirting

your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren.

upload 4 : daniel ricciardo / max verstappen x reader | overstimulation

you can't remember the last time you've gotten to spend more than three days at a time with both of your boyfriends. you understand how demanding their job is but, you just can't remember the last time they really exhausted you...pleasurably. and then winter break comes around, and they have all the time they need to make you lose your mind.

upload 5 : lewis hamilton x reader | tender sex & cockwarming

your husband comes home to his monaco apartment after achieving p2 in spain. from the texts you sent him before he boarded his flight, he expected you to be awake when he arrived. however, you’ve fallen asleep–but that’s not a problem. he’ll sneak into bed right next to you and catch a few extra hours of sleep. you’ll commemorate the podium come morning.

upload 6 : george russell x reader | vampire & hickeys/biting

george has created a serious problem. you two have been dating for over three years, and he fed from you the first time about three months ago. the problem lies within the fact that he conditioned you to orgasm every time he used you as his glorified high-class wine bottle. on second thought, that’s a pretty good problem to have; his thirst is sated, and yours is as well.

upload 7 : pierre gasly x reader | witchcraft

witch!reader and potions master!pierre run a shop to fulfill anyone’s magical needs. it’s nearing valentine’s day, and the shop is bombarded with desperate humans looking for love charms & potions, even though there’s no magic spell strong enough to replicate true love. oddly, news travels from a few villages over that there’s a potions master who managed to make a real love potion. pierre has to get his hands on it—for the bit, obviously. there’s no way it will work.

upload 8 : lando norris x reader | pussy worship

if lando achieved a podium at silverstone, you promised you’d give him anything he wants. he thinks about it the whole race weekend, and when the two of you are celebrating his second-place finish, he tells you that he wants to take care of you. you’re disbelieving–he takes care of you every waking hour. lando, on the other hand, said that with his chest. and he’ll prove it to you.

upload 9 : charles leclerc x reader | orgasm delay/denial

the 2023 season has had a despicable effect on charles’ self-worth. it pains you to see how he attributes ferrari’s failure to deliver to himself. you can’t stand to see him berate himself for things that are out of his control. when the emilia-romagna grand prix is understandably canceled, you start forming a plan. if charles doesn’t believe he’s as good as you say he is, you’ll make him internalize it–using any means necessary.

upload 10 : yuki tsunoda x reader | ab-riding/frottage

your mental state is suffering–you’re not sure if you can handle alphatauri posting another thirst trap of your boyfriend to disguise their inability to build a car that doesn’t break within the first ten laps. but, when yuki posts his own half-naked picture on main? he’s asking for it, at this point. clearly, he’s been spending too much time with pierre.

© httpsserene 2023

[vampiresfromxenon]

Kiss It Better

Astarion x gender neutral! Reader/Tav

Around 2.2K words 

Tags: Fluff, kissing, blood, soft!(ish?) Astarion, hurt/comfort, angst, 3rd person, no use of y/n

CW: Blood, deep wound on hand, existential thoughts (?)

Summary: After accidentally cutting your hand on your blade, Astarion is the only one in the camp to help you deal with it. You’ve been seeing him for awhile now, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually care. Perhaps he does feel the same way about you…

~

With the daylight fading, you rest just outside your tent, wiping the blood off of your blade with a damp rag. As you sit there, shining it to perfection, you can’t help but analyze your reflection, thinking about the events that led you to having newer, fresher scars on your face. It’s been a few months since the start of this nightmare, since the start of having these things inside your head. The tadpoles weren't that bad to deal with, but your feelings were worse. 

You’ve grown to love all the companions you’ve met along the way, laughing and enjoying their company as you travel across the land, searching for answers, for a cure. You all keep each other safe in one way or another, and while you hate to get too attached, knowing this won’t last forever, you feel as though you found your family, especially since you can’t remember your real one. God, your real family. One you once knew but now have no memory of. Your past is a mystery, and it haunts you, much more than the gnawing idea that you could become a mind flayer at any waking moment. 

You want to remember. Oh, so desperately do you want to remember, but you can’t. That is not an option for you. And besides? What good would that do you now? You can only confront the horrors that lie before you. The thought of losing your friends, the thought of losing yourself. The thought of losing… No. You can’t bear the thought of losing him.

You find your heart sinking in your chest at the thought of him turning into a mind flayer. Your chest aches at the thought of where you promised you’d stab him if, Gods forbid, he turns. Looking into his eyes and seeing nothing, no life, no character, but a vessel. A vessel for these wretched things. It was becoming too much to handle. Your body begins to tremble from these false images enveloping your thoughts, these twisted and sickly ideas corrupting your mind for far too long. You’re so distracted by these terrors that you fail to notice the fact that you started to scrub the blade harder, or even more pressing, the fact that you dropped the rag. 

In one swift movement, your palm forcibly glides across the blade, drawing both blood from your palm and a string of curses from your mouth. The images disappear, fleeing your mind as you pick up the rag and crush it into the palm of your hand to stop the bleeding. The blade was no longer important in this moment, tossed off to the side for later. You storm into your tent, clutching your hand, searching for any sort of healing potion or power that you could find. Shadowheart and the rest of the camp had left to explore the town for the night, leaving you all to your lonesome, or so you thought. 

You sit on a cushion, exasperated and upset with yourself and your doomed existence. Removing the cloth, you take a closer look to see just how bad the wound is, trying to ignore the stinging feeling. Distracted by the blood, you fail to hear a visitor’s light footsteps approaching. 

“Oh dear, what happened to you?” A charming voice rings out. 

You turn to see a pale, slender elf standing in the opening of your tent, his white hair perfectly styled as always, his piercing red eyes invading your soul. Shoving the rag back into your burning palm, you attempt to hide your mistake, though you know he smells the blood from miles away. 

“I had a moment of clumsiness, nothing more.” You stated in a nonchalant tone, attempting to downplay your embarrassment. 

You turn your hand away from him, your eyes drifting around your tent, avoiding his gaze. He slowly approaches you, kneeling down on the cushion you are sitting on. He moves his head to meet your gaze, not wasting a second of eye-contact. 

“Mind if I take a look, darling?” He purrs, asking more nicely than usual. 

Your heart begins to race as he leans over you a little, prying into your personal space. If it were anyone else, you would push them away, but he invited himself in so much that you couldn’t help but miss it when he left. However, in this moment you did not want to feel this vulnerable, this embarrassed at your mistake; you couldn’t help but push him away just a little. After all, he is not known for having the best 'bedside manner’, if any at all. Meeting his eyes, you give him a knowing look.

“I’ll be alright on my own, thank you, Astarion. Besides, I thought you went into town with the rest of the camp?” You inquire, suddenly aware of just how much your feelings of being alone may have been an illusion. 

“I had no need to go, and honestly I couldn’t take any more of Gale’s whining about ‘needing to eat magical artifacts’. I know everyone complains about my diet, but let’s be realistic here for just a moment…” He looks away smirking, proud of his own snarky comment. Turning back to you, there is suddenly a shift in tone on his face. While he still has his typical look, one that is oozing with flirtatious energy, he looks a bit more serious, concerned even. You’ve never seen this side of him before, and it shocked you considering just how insignificant he’d find a wound like this normally. 

“Let me see it, please.” His voice was low, softer than usual, but commanding. One of his hands reaches across you, his hand ghosting over yours. You can’t help but lift your bloody hand so his palm touches the back of your hand. Never breaking eye-contact, he pulls your hand closer to him, gently pulling the rag from your white knuckles. Looking down, he notices just how bad the cut is, taking up most of your palm. 

“Oh, my dear… How did you do this?” His voice is more concerned now, his thumb gently rubbing circles into your wrist. His eyes soften, and you can’t help but think back to what put you in this mess to begin with. Your body trembles once more, eyes breaking his gaze as you stare down at your hand. 

“My hand slipped while cleaning my blade. It’s alright, I just need to wait for Shadowheart to come back…” You trail off. 

“Why wait for Shadowheart? I can make you feel better, you know…” His free, slender hand reaches down and grabs your chin, gently raising your head to face his again. You blush from his touch, his willingness to command your body. Your mouth falls open a little, unsure of what to say or how to respond to such a comment from him. You were used to his flirting, but this unlocked a whole new feeling in you. He could sense your speechlessness, and so he did the one thing he knew how to do best: make you even more flustered. 

“Would you like me to kiss it better?” He asks in his normal, teasing tone. This offering catches you off guard, breaking your immersion in this intimate moment. You can’t help but laugh, thinking now that he was only just charming you like he does everyone else. Continuing to laugh, you call him out. 

“Very funny, Astarion. Hilarious. Need I remind you of when I was opening up to you not that long ago and you said almost the exact same thing? Seems to me you’re running out of tactics here.” You roll your eyes, not amused by his antics.

You feel his grip tighten on your bleeding hand, pulling it closer to him. Looking to see what he is doing, you connect with his eyes one more time, seeing an almost predatory look. You stop laughing, your face heating up once again, your heart pounding as his soft lips connect with your wounded palm. It still stings, and you wince a little at the contact, but you can’t seem to look or pull away from him. He kisses all along your palm, and you can feel him gently sucking at the blood. Not only was he kissing you better, but he was feeding on you. 

If you weren’t so attracted to him, you’d be much more upset. Instead, you sit on this cushion while the vampire of your desires kneels before you, kissing and sucking at your wounded palm. You can feel his tongue lapping at your skin, his fangs ever so slightly poking out from behind his lips. Yes, he was feeding, but was he… actually kissing you too? His hands continue to massage the back of your hand and your wrist, trying to provide you comfort without completely invading your space. Eventually he stops, planting a final kiss on your wrist, his mouth covered in blood. He licks his lips, and you can’t help but tremble now but for a whole new reason. 

“Better?” He asks, smiling enough to show his fangs this time. 

“You just wanted an excuse to suck at my hand, didn’t you?” You raise an eyebrow, an attempt to see through him.

“I am always looking for any excuse to suck at any part of you, my sweet.” His voice is low once more, a rumbling laugh escaping his lips.

He finds a section of the rag not absolutely soaked in blood and pushes it back into your, now much cleaner, palm. Your whole face is flushed now, unable to think of any more witty remarks or comebacks. For the second time in just a few small minutes, he found yet another way to leave you completely speechless. The sly vampire decides to take advantage of your silence once more. 

Letting go of your hand, he leans forward, his lips connecting with yours. It’s soft, gentle, and new. To be fair, while you have spent a few intimate nights together, this moment here alone feels so much more real, so much more genuine. Almost as if he was kissing you… because he wanted to. A real, genuine want. His hand caresses the side of your face, his other landing on the small of your back as he continues to kiss you. Without hesitation, you lean into the kiss, your body elated by his touch. It’s not long before he deepens the kiss, his tongue parting your lips, wanting more from you. 

He tastes of iron, what more could you expect, but for once you don’t hate the taste. You invite it more into your mouth as he continues to lean even further over you. He begins to push you back, your body relaxing into the cushion. He breaks from the kiss, planting small kisses on your face, trailing them down your jaw and to the side of your neck. You can’t help but close your eyes, softly sighing as he kisses at your skin, sucking softly, his fangs once again poking you. He had been feeding off you almost every night now for weeks while you were dead asleep, and while it was unusual for you two, it was so much more enjoyable to experience it this way. He lifts his head, meeting your eyes as a way of warning you he was about to bite. He opens his mouth, his fangs protruding, ready for the taste of your flesh and blood. 

“Helloooo? Astarion? Tav? We’ve got some goods!” Yells out Karlach, just a few meters away from your tent.

Shit. He sits up, kneeling over you, looking dissatisfied. You sigh and throw your head back into the cushion, frustrated. His cool hand caresses your cheek before tracing down your arm. He leans in close to your face one last time, his breath warming your skin. 

“Shall we finish this later tonight, my love?” He purrs, not even remotely finished with you.

You nod, still unable to speak from the last few eventful minutes. He kisses your cheek before standing. “Find me in the woods at our little spot, just after everyone has gone to bed. Don’t keep me waiting.” He flashes one last cheeky smirk before exiting your tent. 

“Hello, Karlach. Gale find any boots to devour today?” He quips, and you can’t help but laugh when Gale offendly responds.

The camp erupts in conversation, and you find yourself leaving your tent after a few minutes to track down Shadowheart. She heals you in her tent, though she has quite a few questions. Giving vague enough responses, she accepts them and lets you be on your way, but she’ll definitely be curious about it for a while. 

No matter, the only thought you could think of now was what Astarion had planned for both of you tonight; you knew exactly what was going to happen, but there was this whole new sense of excitement now that you could tell there was something deeper, real, and authentic going on between you two. You lie there in your tent, waiting for the snoring and sleep talking to begin to resonate throughout the camp, eager to scamper off into the wilderness with the elf you adore.  

-

Author's Note:

Hello! I haven't written any fan fiction in a loooooong time, and none of it was ever good to begin with- I've been struggling with writer's block for awhile now, and this was the first thing to break me out of it... lmao. I am very new to BG3 in general honestly, and I just barely started act 2. Please no spoilers, but also if Astarion is sorta OOC, I hope that explains why too :)

I've only had Astarion for what, two, three weeks now, and this man is just so whewww. I thought of this fic idea right as soon as I started a longer drive, and I started recording my thoughts on video so that way I wouldn't forget anything before I could start writing hahaha- I blushed so hard writing this, hope y'all feel the same

Hope you enjoy!

[acidinduceddaydreams]

Skz corrupting reader Pt 2 ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

Synopsis: ot8 corrupting innocent crybaby reader slowly but surely. Again.

Part 1 here

Warnings: dub/con corruption kink; big time; mean skz bc i want them all to bully me so badly; unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it folks; anal; spit; hair pulling; reader is really Innocent and really dumb; cries a lot too; kind of leans in to age play but never really gets that far; humiliation kink; daddy kink; deepthroating.

a/n: thank you to @vivienne-sim @skzskzskzskzskzskzskzzzz @gnab-nahc for requesting a part 2💗

The boys suggesting you all watch a movie that’s more mature and you’re not up for it but do it anyway because your best friends are very convincing. In one of the more raunchy scenes a girl gets slapped during a make out session. Why did that do something to you? Why did it make you feel good down there? You sat in binnie’s lap and all the boys definitely saw the way you tensed up, sharing knowing glances.

When you watch the two main characters kiss this time and were about to cover your eyes binnie stops you right there.”What did we say about being shy sweetheart?” “Here we’ll teach you.” Hyunjin piped up next to you. You didn’t want to protest. You wanted to feel his lips on yours. Maybe you weren’t so innocent after all. His pillowy lips were rough against yours. It felt almost like all the pent up sexual energy you caused them was going to manifest in them being rough and having their way with you. You didn’t know what to do when his tongue slid in to explore your mouth but you knew you didn’t want it to stop.

Suddenly you were being passed from Changbin’s lap into Seungmin’s. Laying on Seungmin’s lap you accidentally exposed your panties to him while still being in shock, head fuzzy from your very first kiss. Hyunjin’s smirk made your tummy fill with butterflies. Seungmin’s dick hardened instantly when he saw your bright blue and pink hello kitty underwear. He wanted to ruin you. “Wow puppy, is that really what you’re wearing.” He says between laughs. “I didn’t think I was friends with such a baby.” The blood rushed to your cheeks but made you feel wet. Why are they making you feel so naughty?

You couldn’t hold back your tears anymore. You were embarrassed and utterly humiliated. Before you knew it you hot fat tears rolled down your cheeks. Trying to defend your childish choice of underwear and failing miserably. Suddenly being made to keep quiet by Seungmin’s fingers in your mouth. “Shut up. Do you ever stop crying?” His hands never caught your eyes until now. They were so long, so perfect. You needed more of them, now. “Minnie” you say muffled against his fingers. “Need more.” Fuck why were you so needy? Why did your existence have to turn them on? Why was their innocent friend looking ready to be ruined?

“Oh sweet girl, what a slut you are. Only for us.” Jisung piped up. Felix’s smirk growing wider. “We’re going to fucking ruin you.” The feeling of your hair being harshly tugged on made your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Cupcake, do you know what a safe word is?” Minho questioned you. “Yes.” You let out shakily as his grip on your hair tightened. “What do you want yours to be?” After a while it came to you. “Gummy bear.” Even though your safe word was just as childish as you were it was still a safe word all the guys took very seriously. Making sure they all heard and registered it before continuing. Tilting your head harder so you could face his mouth directly, your mouth automatically widened seeing his spit leave his mouth wanting it all to land in yours. “Good little slut.” He chuckled. While you were stuck in your own little euphoria Seungmin was still staring at your panties. You were soaked and your nimble little underwear did nothing to hide it. He hooked his fingers through the sides of your panties and slid it down your legs.

You still had your light pink sweater and frilly skirt on. White knee high socks added to your overall look. Even though your clothes were still on the removal of your panties left you cold and eight pairs of eyes staring at your princess parts made you feel very shy. “Fuck, pretty. You have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” Changbin broke the silence. “She’s a beauty.” You heard Chan say. You tried to cover your lower area to no avail. Your hands were immediately swatted away by someone else’s. You were so shy and their comments didn’t help with the blood rushing to your cheeks.

You needed more than just their eyes on you. “Please, need some friction.” That was all the affirmation they needed to get to work on ruining your innocence. Your skirt was the first to go, landing somewhere on the floor. Eight pairs of hands were on you. Exploring your half naked body. Your sweater was being removed now. “Lift your head for Jinnie, angel.” Jeongin uttered. You did as you were told. You always did with them. “Please.” “What are you begging for, sunshine?” Felix questioned. “Need you all to make me feel good.” They all seemed to chuckle at that. “And how would we do that, little one?” “Touch me, please?” “Our pretty baby doll isn’t as innocent as she seems, hmm?” Chan said in a mocking tone watching your little hole clench. “Shit, she liked that. What else do you like, honey? We’re here to make it happen.” Seungmin answered for you “The bitch liked it when that girl got slapped, bet she likes that too.” The hot sting from his hand on your cheek cause tears to fall but man did it feel so good. The moan you let out was all they needed to know.

Eight hands were exploring every inch of your body. The sounds you were letting out were warranted since you’ve never felt this before though that didn’t stop your friends from being so irritated with all your whining. “Now the crybaby will finally shut up.” Jeongin said as he shoved his now very hard cock down your throat without warning or prep. He barely fit before the tears in your eyes started again. He was just so long. As Jeongin was abusing your little throat you were allowed some time to breathe when he repositioned you to be on all fours. Chan sliding in underneath you wrapped his hands around you upper back to remove your thankfully less childish bra. “Hey bubs.” He finally let out. “Hi Channie.” “We’re gonna make you feel good m’kay?” “If it hurts just tell daddy, sweet girl.” Daddy? That was almost all you needed to cum untouched right then and there. You looked down. He’s huge. You couldn’t believe that he was going to break your little hole. As he slid in you had to grip down hard on his shoulders. Jeongin still abusing your throat. As Chris started moving Jeongin’s load was shot down your throat. He pulled out a little for some of it to land on your tongue. “Don’t even think about swallowing yet, angel.” Felix’s face replaced Jeongin’s pelvis near your face. You two started making out. Exchanging Jeongin’s cum and spit. Felix stopped to allow you to catch your breath. Chin messy, lips puffy. “Put it all in my mouth, sweetheart.” You did just that, pooling up all of the mixed saliva and cum into Felix’s mouth. Just for him to spit it out onto your tits.

Chan started moving in and out at a slow pace for you to get used to once he laid you out on you back. Eventually speeding up. The pleasure was almost too much. You felt like you were going to burst… or pee. You hadn’t ever felt this knot in your stomach. “Daddy, stop it feels so good, but I need to pee really bad.” “Dumb baby, you don’t need to pee it’s called cum.” Seungmin said giving you another harsh slap. This time to both your tits. “Dada, I’m cumming.” “Cum for me, little one. Make daddy’s cock dirty.” The knot in your tummy broke leaving you to ride out your high while Chan was still pounding into you. His cum coating your wall white. “Fuck, fuck, baby see what you’re doing to us.” You turn to see all the other guys ready to bust their loads. Binnie came first. His shooting hot cum landing on your tummy. Hyunjin was next. Landing his cum in your hair, ruining your two plaits. “Fuck, lovely” Lixie was next cumming on your tits. He loved painting them apparently. Jisung and Minho were helping each other with their hands. Cum from both of them landing right on your face. It was hot and sticky. You felt naughty. Still not believing what you and your best friends had just done. Head too floaty to think. “Daddy, can we do that again.” “Sure, but not now little girl. You need rest. Your body must be so exhausted.” “Let’s clean you up, hmm?”

You were almost fully asleep when you felt yourself being placed in a bath tub. Hyunjin sitting on the edge, ready to wash your hair. Then you were out. “We love you, our pretty baby.”

[captain-joongz]

Space for two

Pairing: demon!Kim Taehyung x f!reader

Genre: smut, both angsty and fluffy, dark themes, positive ending, historical au (maybe like 18/early 19th century Joseon)

Summary: Trapped in a marriage arranged by our families, married to a cold, uncaring man and taking care of a farm in the middle of nowhere, I had sunken to the lowest lows. Aware of my husband's gambling habits and love for brothels that often kept him from home, I'd gotten used to the feeling of falling asleep in a cold, empty bed. But that changed one day, when an uninvited guest made himself quite at home and brought with him warm touches and scorching dreams. Gentleness coming from the one least expected may just be the push into the right direction.

Word count: 25.4k

Warnings: some dark themes, demon Taetae (he's a sweetie though), he's messing with the reader a little tho, he does have some slight yandere vibes, themes of depression and loneliness, infidelity, a shitty husband, some themes and mentions of domestic violence and verbal abuse (at one point the husband grabs her by the hair, throws stuff around the house), mentions of death and murder

NSFW warnings: slightly dubcon-ish (at first he visits her dreams), reader is inexperienced and embarrassed, slight innocence/corruption kink if you squint really hard, wet dreams, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, making out, handjob, unprotected sex (it's joseon :// you be careful out there), some slight breeding kink, half clothed sex

A/N: super late but finally here!! i'm sorry for all the delays, but this just kept getting longer and longer and i had to juggle it between schoolwork, but i hope it is worth the wait! this is actually based on a korean folklore story of prince cheoyong, which i explain in the end notes so i don't spoil anything hehe

I was preparing the food in silence, the only sounds in the room the clanking of my knife on the cutting board and slight bubbling in the pot over the fire. It was winter and so I kept the doors leading to the yard closed, but I still heard the thuds of my husband chopping firewood, the dull thumps of the wood hitting the ground, the swish of his axe in the air.

I was already well used to this, to the silence of this place.

It was a quiet that could only come from unhappiness and spite, the kind that made you feel lonely and desolate, knowing the only other person around rather chose to not speak than engage with you. It was what I had come to know very well in here.

I had found myself married quite abruptly. It was a little over a year ago, when a messenger from the Ryu family of the neighbouring village arrived at our door. My father accepted him, but didn’t speak of what the meeting was about, which raised some suspicions between the women of the family. I was the second child of the family and the eldest of the daughters, and way past the age when women of my standing usually married. It felt like we all knew what it would come to.

My unmarried status was a bit of a controversial story around these parts.

I wouldn’t call our family exactly disgraced, but we weren’t at the full glory the Kangs used to stand at, back in the days of my great great great great-grandfather, who built the family into a considerable fortune, but whose grandson to the family’s great embarrassment failed the gwageo examinations several times and couldn’t secure an official position. The family had tried to bribe their way into the office, but the local official came from a family that had been feuding with ours for a few generations, over something that was no doubt petty and no longer relevant. He basked in the desperation of our family and wished for nothing more than to see them crash and burn, thus if we couldn’t secure a position through the examinations, he wouldn’t allow any bribery in order to destroy our clan.

The embarrassment continued as neither his son, nor his grandson were able to pass the qwageo and our family was stripped of our title. We had been living on the rapidly thinning fortune, trying to keep some sort of decorum, but feeling the full force of shame the other inhabitants from our area showed towards us. To them, we were pathetic. Just some thirty years ago we were strolling through these streets as if we owned them and now, disgraced and quickly running out of options, here we were – on the same level as them.

My father was able to break the family curse by starting a successful shop with trinkets, toys and other useful little devices, which allowed us to stay afloat money-wise, but cast us further into shame, considering our family had once been part of the yangban class and thus weren’t supposed to work. Even if disgraced, rules applied to us, and we were a great embarrassment to those who we used to call friends and allies.

The curse was further broken when father in his quite advanced age managed to pass the gwageo and got a spot in local office. He pushed my younger brothers into studies, as his pride never took this situation lightly. He was brought up to be an aristocrat, but here he was, working his days away like a commoner. In the end, his obsession was fruitful when two of my three brothers also passed their examinations and entered into civil duty, one striving for the office and one for the military service. The middle son, who struggled with his studies, was put in charge of the shop where he excelled.

As such, we were suddenly catapulted back into our previous standing, after several generations of disgrace, after struggling financially and fighting for survival every month, we were back to walking the streets with our chins held high, wrapped from head to toe in silk.

And that’s where the controversy about my marriage started.

As most young people, I had been promised and engaged to a young boy from a different neighbouring village. Due to the fact that we lost our title, I couldn’t strive for marriage withing the yangban class – after all, social standing was inherited after the mother, so I couldn’t be more than a concubine since I would curse my child with low social status. But that would be a hit to my father’s pride. Therefore he rather engaged me to a son of a lower middle class trader. To them, I was someone of a better status as they had never received a title, and my family would expand their funds.

But then several things happened all almost at once.

We regained our status, thus our marriage in my father’s eyes was no longer appropriate, even though finding someone from the yangban who would want me to marry their son would be nigh impossible. He demanded the breaking of the engagement, which was something the society looked down upon, especially since he had sealed the deal years ago. The two families started feuding, the trader now even more eager to secure me for them, and my father with his regained confidence insisting upon marriage to someone “of our class”. And during this time, the boy fell ill and promptly died.

Since we were engaged, I now was to be considered his widow even though we hadn’t had our wedding, but my father insisted that the engagement was broken off and I had no such obligation. The trader of course claimed the complete opposite and demanded we go through with everything as was arranged. The people in the area, even if they followed the drama between the two families closely and listened to gossip religiously, they themselves couldn’t tell who was telling the truth. Our engagement had been in place for years, but it was also widely known that my father has changed his mind and demanded for the wedding to be off.

In the eyes of some I was free to marry, but some viewed me as a young widow, a ghost bride, and thus I couldn’t find another husband unless I wanted to bring huge shame on the family and reap cosmic consequences. But most simply disliked my father for his underhanded tactics and newfound arrogance.

But this situation had made the question of my marriage impossible to solve. It was already unlikely that a match of my father’s expectations would be willing to take me as a first wife and honour me as such, since the yangbans looked down on us heavily, and now I had become tarnished goods in the eyes of potential suitors. My family still tried desperately to pawn me off to someone, but we had turned into a huge joke between the families in the area and I was doomed. Some even started to view me as a cursed woman, touched by black magic, that would bring death to any man who would want to marry me, and that was a final nail in the coffin of my marriage.

But my father wouldn’t give up so easily. He still had something that many desired enough to risk a curse on their family – money and power.

Thus, when the messenger had come and father refused to divulge any information about the nature of the meeting, the wives and daughters that had amassed in our house over the years all whispered about a potential engagement. I thought it was possible, but it was probably for one of my younger sisters. I was wrong.

The Ryu family used to be a powerful local aristocracy, but over the last few generations they had fallen considerably. Their disgrace wasn’t as openly talked about as ours, even though they were the centre of some mean-spirited jokes, however they had one powerful advantage. They didn’t lose their title, just most of their money. While their children still could live their lives telling everyone they were yangbans, they didn’t have the money to uphold the lifestyle. Only one of their sons had an office and it wasn’t enough to keep the whole extended family afloat. There were rumours of gambling, addiction and unwise spending, which were the most probable factors in their fall.

They knew no one self-respecting would marry their children, who were all pushed into working for their livelihood, and they couldn’t marry under their standing lest the children lose their status. That’s when they came up with the bright idea to get into talks with our family.

My father didn’t waste any time. For him, this was perfect – the right class, family with still some respect left intact, he had enough money, so he didn’t mind striking a business deal with the mostly impoverished family and I was used to working, as I had also grown up before our rise. It was just the perfect deal.

From the moment I had first heard about it, it was barely two months before I found myself fully engaged and a week away from a wedding to a man I’d never met before. He was the second son; he had a house on the foot of the mountain a little further away from the town that was the heart of this area. It would take some travelling, but still remained close enough to keep close ties.

Our wedding ceremony was brief and awkward, a lot of stilted conversation and pretend joy, while my mother and sisters all gathered around me in silent support. I saw their sad and worried eyes, the graveness of their usually more cheerful voices, the barely masked sympathy they looked at me with when I interacted with my stone-faced husband. Marriage was something I had since long made peace with, after all it is what every woman has to face at some point in her life, so I had just squeezed their hands and smiled at them gently, whispered words of assurance and prepared myself for the long journey to my new home.

I had soon found out he was a cold quiet man, rough and unhappy. Most of the time he wouldn’t address me with much more than grumbling complaints, cross when I tried to speak to him, when I asked him questions or requested something to be bought, turning away from me and rather spending time tending to his house and to his animals.

I was suddenly confined to a few rooms within an unwelcoming dark house, knitting or sewing or cooking, trying to lose myself in the mindless tasks of caring for a man and a household instead of dwelling on the growing despair in the pit of my stomach. Since then the situation between us has considerably worsened, but I found that the angrier he grew with me, the less he wanted to see me and the more he avoided me, which had begun to bring me relief. I was lonely and I did feel abandoned, but it was better than surviving in the same room as him.

I had gotten used to the air of gloom hanging over this dwelling.

My hand reached over for another carrot and found none, and I startled myself out of reminiscing. The vegetables were cut and the stew was boiling vigorously, so I busied myself with finishing. The sounds of chopping wood have ceased and I could no longer hear any traces of my husband’s presence.

Curious, I opened the door and peeked outside. The bitter coldness of the air immediately bit into my face and I shuddered, my body shocked by the sudden freezing temperatures when it was so warm from the kitchen fire. Looking over the yard, I didn’t see the hulking form of the man I’d come to live with, but I did see his fresh footprints in the snow leading towards the pig sty. Satisfied I walked back in and closed the door again. Rubbing my hands on my arms and cheeks I hurried back to the pot to warm up.

Soon the sun would go down and night would fall, so he was tending to the pigs for the last time tonight, making sure they had everything, which gave me a little more time to finish up dinner.

Some maybe half hour later the door finally opened roughly and he made his way in wordlessly. There were wet footprints on the floor left behind and a puddle was slowly gathering as melted snow dripped from his coat. I bit my tongue and said nothing, just pulled out the table and started setting it for dinner.

No words were traded and yet the atmosphere chilled considerably, the mood dropping low along with the sun on the horizon. We sat down, we ate in silence. Once he was done, he again got up, put a fresh coat on and was out of the door before I could even wish him a good night.

I used to ask where he was going, but there was no longer any need for that. He spent his evenings and nights in the same place every day, it was a habit that must have started a little before our betrothal. He had found himself some new friends from the town, friends that very happily spent most of their time playing cards, smoking opium, drinking and crawling from brothel to brothel.

Around the time of our wedding, he only joined them a few nights of the week and usually came back in the middle of the night. Back then I saw it as a problem and oftentimes tried to dissuade him from throwing away money this way. His family lost all they had because their young lord lived this exact lifestyle, it was foolish for him to fall down the same trap, but it was a frequent cause of arguments between us and the more I pushed for him to not go out and spend so much money, the more he wanted to. Gradually he went more often, came back later, until I had started waking up to an untouched, unslept in bed.

But I do have to admit that nowadays I saw it more as a relief that he never spent his nights home, even if that meant our already hard-to-come-by money was being thrown out the window like it was nothing. I’d come to prefer spending time alone.

I cleaned up after dinner and started preparing myself for bed. The ritual of changing clothes, brushing out my hair and smoothing out the bedding on the mats was helping me calm down every evening, but tonight I couldn’t find rest for some reason. While I sat on the floor and carefully brushed my hair, the house felt chillier than usual and I kept hearing soft creaks from the outside as if someone was walking around on the porch. It’s just the wind and the frost, it must be.

Unsettled I lost the battle with myself and went to look out into the yard. The moment I got near the door, suddenly a gust of chilling wind bust the door open and I screamed with shock, covering my naked arms to shield them from the frost. Immediately I jumped towards the door to close it back up, not before looking out into the yard and the forest beyond the walls of our house. There was a full moon hanging over us in the night sky and its light allowed me to see everything with startling ease, casting an eerie silver glow over the murmuring trees. I quickly shut the door and sat back down to help my heart calm down, as it was beating so hard I feared it might tear right out of my ribcage.

After I laid down, it took me a long moment to settle down enough for sleep to start licking at my consciousness. I kept startling myself with every crack and every hum of the wind outside and the fright from before still coursed through my veins, making me shiver and trying to persuade me there was something wicked hiding behind the darkness, lurking in every corner and waiting for an unguarded moment.

But somewhere along the way I did nod off and when I woke up in the morning, I was certain the strong arms that at some point found their way around my waist and pulled me into a warm wide chest were nothing more than a dream. An embarrassing dream that just spoke of my sombre solitude.

In the first months of our marriage, much to my chagrin, Minhwan practiced his marital rights almost nightly. Some nights he would return late from his outings with friends and immediately roll over on me and demand I submit. I did of course, it was expected of me and I was well aware of that. I had been taught that.

But over the course of several months, the frequency of such encounters lessened as I wasn’t getting pregnant, until we no longer even spoke to each other and his side of the bed became permanently unoccupied.

Of course, there was a simple, and really the only, reason for my introduction into this family – a child. A son. That was the end-goal of this union and the purpose for my existence in their eyes. After I had failed to fall pregnant despite months of effort, the man I married who already wasn’t very kind to me slowly turned into someone crueller, angrier. I could see the frustration taking over him until he completely lost himself in the rage at my uselessness.

He couldn’t divorce me, even though my inability to bear him an heir would be a legitimate reason. His family was already teetering on the edge of respectability, and this would make them the laughing stock of the town, since they definitely wouldn’t be able to find him another bride. That was because of the other issue. Money. They bought me with what last they had left and if divorced they would not only lose my father’s protection and financial help, but also wouldn’t be able to scrounge up enough money to buy another woman, if they even found one that was willing.

Minhwan knew that, knew that he couldn’t get rid of me, and even though his status would allow him to take a second wife or even a concubine, he couldn’t afford them. What little he had he gambled away and spent on girls in the red district; and not much was left for actually running the household and keeping us alive. No self-respecting family would let their daughter enter a family like that and women who were after money and status wouldn’t find anything here. And if he had an illegitimate son from a kisaeng, he could hardly bring it here and claim him as an heir, his father would never let him disgrace the bloodline like that.

Thus in his eyes I was worse than useless. I was his doom, a wasted effort that only pushed him further down and he no doubt felt that the best thing I could do for him was to die, so he could remarry. That’s why I preferred when he didn’t return home for the nights. Living alongside such pure hatred was draining.

When I was sitting by the mirror in the morning, I had just heard him return home. I opened the door a crack and peeked outside, just catching his eye as he was changing into fresher clothes. He held the contact for a few beats of my wild heart and then looked away.

“Breakfast?” he asked gruffly, not even forming a full sentence, while still looking away from me. I followed his gaze and found it stuck to the door leading into kitchen. I sighed quietly, making sure he couldn’t hear me lest he gets angry with my insolence.

“I will prepare it in a second,” was my short answer. He wasn’t interested in hearing anything more, the less I said the better. Thus my morning routine had to be cut short. Walking past him, I was suddenly bombarded with the smell of smoke, stale alcohol and cheap perfume and powder. The stench was a bit too strong for my queasy morning stomach and I felt it roll a few times, threatening to spill even though it was empty. I subtly covered my nose and busied myself into the kitchen smelling pleasantly of food and spices. This room has become my refuge. I knew he wouldn’t overstep here, this was my domain and I felt at least a semblance of power in here.

As distracted as I was, I kept finding my tools in places where I didn’t leave them in. I would turn around and suddenly my spoon would be laying two paces further into the room then I remembered leaving it. I told myself I was just tired, I was feeling unnerved by my husband’s hulking presence on the doorstep of the room, watching me prepare porridge as if fearing I’d poison him if he’d look away for a moment, I was still flustered by my dreams and nervous from the scare the night before. Surely it was that.

That day I spent mostly inside, sitting by a dying fire trying to mend broken and torn clothes, worn thin by hard labour and years of wear, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling of unsettlement that has been plaguing me since yesterday’s evening.

By the time the night fell and Minhwan left again, I found myself quite anxious to be left alone in the cold house, still feeling like a presence was glued to my side, invisible and watching me, but every time I would look over my shoulder, I’d find an empty room. Before settling down to sleep, I walked out and checked the courtyard again, and just like the previous evening, it was illuminated by a silver light so brightly it was almost shocking.

I looked to the sky and was stunned by the giant full moon hanging over my head. The night was calm, much calmer then yesterday, no wind shaking the trees and the only sound was the distant cawing of a bird. The white snow reflected the night sky and blinded me, but not enough to not notice the stark contrast of pitch black footsteps disrupting the otherwise clean coat over the ground. I could see their path clearly, leaving the house and disappearing behind the gate, and they filled me with gentle sadness. With my mind off of the ghost of a feeling that’s been following me the whole day, I made my way back inside to sleep. But I wasn’t prepared for what the night had prepared for me.

As soon as I closed my eyes and started drifting off, I felt the mat and bedding shifting as another body laid down next to me. I had fully accepted it, not questioning the arms making their way around my waist and pulling me into a warm hug. It felt as a very clear dream, and I found myself fighting to open my eyes to see, but instead chose to sink into the comfortable atmosphere. There was a hum behind me, but the voice was so deep and pressed so close to me it almost felt like a purr. Non-consciously I answered with my own, drifting with the current. I fooled myself into this, so desperately needing to feel a nice touch that I didn’t even want to think about why somewhere deep down I felt alarmed and unsettled at the situation. I buried that away and let the hands run along my sides, basked in the quiet humming somewhere right behind my ear and the warmth it filled me with.

When I woke up in the morning, it was to the sound of a door slamming open and heavy steps and sighs. I was confused for a few moments, subconsciously searching for the comfort I had felt in my sleep, only to be hit with a wave of embarrassment and mortification. I had been dreaming again, imagining inappropriately a stranger’s presence in my bed, hoping for a touch and comfort of man’s hands.

I felt the blush spill over my face just as the door to the bedroom flew open and my husband found my gaze. I saw suspicion in his eyes, most probably not used to seeing me in such a flustered state and questioning what could stand behind it. His eyes shifted subtly over the room as if looking for a hidden lover and in my mind I chuckled. He dragged me away into the woods, and living in the middle of nowhere and not allowed to leave the house without him or an attendant I couldn’t afford, how could I have possibly found a lover? No one came here and I went nowhere, the only company I knew was the animals and a warm fire, a needle and a thread and worn books, I couldn’t take the same liberties he has been taking for a better part of our marriage.

When Minhwan made sure I was completely alone, just as he left me, he looked back to me and asked for breakfast. That broke the strange silence and I was thrown right back into the routine of my normal days.

Over the following few nights, the dream kept coming back to me, but every time the unknown man in my fantasy went a little further. More often than not I found myself waking up with a start, blushing red from head to toe at the daring hands that kept straying more and more south, embarrassed with myself but also not wanting them to stop before I had the chance to experience whatever my subconscious wanted to grant me.

At first, his hands would only lightly caress along my side, as if trying to console me and help me sleep peacefully, while he hummed along some kind of a lullaby behind me. Everything always felt pleasantly fuzzy and I’d come to think of him as my dream guardian. My days, in comparison, felt dull and sad, and I’d found some sort of peace in these dreams.

But soon, the direction started to change. The hands strayed lower onto my thighs, grabbing the flesh lightly and teasingly, or going over my stomach until they were right under where my breasts were. I could feel him pressed closer to me too, his front moulded around my back, shoulders caging me in, the sweet humming slowly turning into something more akin to satisfied purring, causing me to flush red and a rush of excitement to flow through my veins. He always laid behind me and his existence felt like half here half not, but the closer he pushed himself, the more solid his presence was, the warmer I felt in the embrace and the more flustered I woke up.

Clearly, I hadn’t been taking proper care of my body and it was screaming for some sort of attention, there was no other explanation for these embarrassing dreams. The shame I felt from such urges surfacing in this manner was overshadowed only by the pressing loneliness, and I kept telling myself that even if I am a married, proper woman, dreams are dreams, and indulging in them a little wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? So, I let myself slip into sweet sleep every night, anticipating where my mind would take me.

During the day the little slip ups would continue. I would misplace things, find them in completely different places then I’d left them before. Sometimes it felt as if I was losing my mind, that the combination of the strange dreams and my sudden scatteredness meant I was finally feeling the effects of the situation I’d find myself in. But I could swear sometimes I would catch a glimpse of shadow or hear a gust of wind that sounded suspiciously like a laugh when I couldn’t find something. It made me feel even more insane.

The moment I realised what was truly happening came a few days later. Even though I was a little unsettled, I’d grown accustomed to the dreams and I treated them as my little escape, no matter whether I should have been concerned or not. I felt comfort from them and they felt like a dirty secret of mine, something I shouldn’t have been doing but it felt so nice I couldn’t stop myself. My husband spent all his nights god knows where doing god knows what with god knows who, I could allow myself this little thing.

Usually, I would sleep through the night without a problem and in the morning I’d be woken up by Minhwan coming back home and barging into the bedroom to ask for a breakfast, but that night for some reason I was shaken out of my sleep somewhere in the dark hours of the early morning. There was some noise outside, something that sounded like a wolf howl, and it was so close I was almost afraid to check the yard in case there was a wild animal there, but I had to go see whether the rabbits and chickens we were keeping were peaceful, just to be sure.

I moved to get out of the bed, but found an arm around my waist pinning me to another body and keeping me in place. My first instinct was to panic, but quickly that was overridden by utter bottomless embarrassment. What if Minhwan has been returning home earlier than I thought and this whole time my mind only substituted some unknown man in the place of my husband as I was falling asleep? Had I been embarrassing myself in front of him the whole time, dreaming about such immoral things and imagining a stranger’s embrace? But he had never touched me like this, and even when we shared a bed at the beginning of our marriage, he never showed the habit of hugging something while sleeping. He always kept himself to his side and never touched me unless completely necessary, even during marital activities. I couldn’t imagine him slipping quietly into bed in the middle of the night and embracing me so tenderly.

Complicated emotions flooded me, not knowing what to make of this, but in a moment of weakness I fooled myself into thinking this could maybe be a beginning of a better marriage. That was shattered the moment I reached back to gently pat at his thigh to wake him up to go check on the animals. There was some shuffling, the arm tightened around my mid and suddenly I could feel him nosing at the crook of my neck, laying a single long wet kiss there. I froze and flushed, completely flustered and even more confused by the situation. Then he chuckled and ice cold flooded my veins. I felt myself freeze in place, terror keeping me so still I barely even breathed. That wasn’t my husband’s voice. It was deep and velvety, rich like the dark chocolate I’d once gotten the chance to try in the city, completely different from Minhwan’s quiet rough commands.

Fear was making it hard to think, but I knew he realised I was awake based on how stiff I’d gotten, I could hear him quietly breathing and waiting for my reaction. There was certain amusement to him, I didn’t know how I felt it, but somehow I just did, something about him gave off excited anticipation and I imagined a sly smirk stretching his lips as he laid there. Then suddenly as if everything caught up to me, I felt my body jumping into motion, tearing his arm away and flying out of the bed. I grabbed the first thing I could see, which were my shoes, and turned around to try my best in defending myself against this stranger that’s apparently been sneaking into my bed deep into the night.

But the moment my eyes fell on the bed, it was empty. No sign of anyone being there. Frightened out of my mind, I searched the room with my eyes, but it was mostly bare and there wasn’t a place that could hide a man. I knew he was bigger than me, I’d felt him behind me and I was sure he couldn’t have been hiding in the sorry state my bedroom was.

For a moment I just stood there and processed before my knees gave up on me and I slid down to the floor, shoes still tightly clutched in my hands, heart beating out of my chest. I wasn’t going insane. My mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. There was something not human in my bed.

Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night sitting on the bed leaning on the wall and watching the room. My eyes frantically jumped to any movement, even the tiniest flickers of shadows would make my hands twitch, fingers tightening around my slippers, ready to jump out and fight for my life. But nothing happened. The only sounds I could hear were coming from the wind tearing into the walls of the house and messing with the trees and branches outside, and at some point the room was so still I almost felt as if I fell through the cracks into a painting and was now stuck inside.

Thus I had hours to sit there and stew in my fear and humiliation. Whatever the being was, it must have had nefarious intentions, why else would he sneak in like that and make my dreams turn to such depravity? And here I was, fooling myself into thinking it was okay to feel such cravings and giving into them, anticipating them and with bated breath hoping maybe the next night the dream lover will finally cave and touch me in a way I’d barely ever felt in my life. Instead I almost gave myself over to a demon, let him have my body and feed off of my energy, damn my soul and prove that I truly was cursed.

I also had a lot of time to think of my next steps. But what could I really do? I could never tell Minhwan and ask for his help, he’d chase me out as an impure woman. Once I’d tell him the nature of the encounters,  he’d accuse me of adultery and use it as an opportunity to get rid of me. If I was returned to my father in such a manner, death would be more welcoming than facing his rage and humiliating the family. Telling him would do more harm than good.

I could buy myself talismans and hide them around the house, but there were many, each of them used for a different ailment. I’d have to visit the village shaman and pay her to exorcise me and our home. I’d have to explain to her the troubles I’ve been having so she could paint me appropriate protective talismans. It was obvious that the being must have been a demon of lust and once I admitted that, the delicious  gossip would no doubt spread and I would be as good as dead.

No, I couldn’t tell anyone what was happening. I had to chase him out myself, no matter what it took. Come morning, I was completely exhausted but determined to deal with the situation myself.

When Minhwan barged into the house, pale in complexion and with dark bags under his eyes, I was already preparing the breakfast on the small table, looking similarly dead on my feet. The man’s eyes flitted over me, but he didn’t seem to take notice od my state and only grunted, pleased at not having to wait for food or scream for me to leave the bed.

I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t even notice when he left for the yard, didn’t even have time to process the usual air of coldness and disinterest he brought with him, as I was too preoccupied thinking of the unwelcome guest. The little tricks with misplacing things must have also been him. I felt rage lick at the edge of my mind, suddenly making itself known in such an intensity I surprised myself. I’d fully start to believe I was no longer capable of feeling such strong emotions, but here I was. Thinking of million ways to get back at someone who’s been making a fool of me for his own entertainment for the past weeks.

The next few days were suspiciously uneventful. No more visits, no more “dreams”, even all my tools stayed suspiciously still and didn’t suddenly appear at places they weren’t supposed to be, but I wasn’t a fool. I knew he wouldn’t give up so easily, not to mention I still couldn’t get rid of the feeling of being watched or messed with.

And slowly he had begun giving me subtle hints he was still as present as ever. The books that were put in order, the robe that was waiting for me on by the partition one evening, water refilled in a cup I knew I’d finished. He suddenly switched to being helpful instead of messing with me, but I knew it was all just entertainment to him.

One of the bigger ones was some days later in the evening. I’d taken to walking around the veranda checking on the yard and the forest outside of the yard walls. As usual, there were footsteps in the snow, my husband left them there every night when he left, but that evening there was something different about them. I frowned, trying to discern what about them caught my attention. I leaned over the railing to inspect them closer with a sense of foreboding looming over my head like a silent monument. The moment I realised what it was I gasped and dread and anticipation filled me. The footsteps, they didn’t lead from the house. They led towards the main entrance.

This must be it, I thought to myself. This must be the night.

When I walked back inside, I lingered around each room a little, watching the surroundings like a hawk and expecting him to jump out at me from every corner and every shadow. But the house was still and silent, not even any sounds from outside creeping in. I slowly walked towards the bedroom and found it empty and in the same state as I’d left it. I made it through my little nightly ritual without a hitch, but anxious and expecting something to happen any moment. It didn’t. Lying down in bed, I continued sharply watching the room, but to no avail. Even though I could basically taste the anticipation in the still air of the room, and knew the demon was most definitely watching me back, he didn’t make any move. I fell asleep suddenly, without realising I was even teetering on the edge and when I woke up, I wasn’t sure whether the fingers I felt gently carding through my hair just as I succumbed to sleep were my imagination or not.

He didn’t return abruptly, instead he slowly built it up, as if testing how far I’d let this go. Sometimes he would hand me things when cooking or I would be looking for something only to find it gingerly sitting on the table a few hours later, as if suddenly becoming helpful would make me more accepting of whatever his end goal was and I would let him return like nothing happened.

The problem began when he started leaving flowers for me. The gentle quivering of my heart when I saw a beautiful little flower in bloom laying by my bedside was alarming to me, and I didn’t want such a confusing feeling to enter my life. But I couldn’t help myself.

Without thinking I picked it up and brought it to my nose. It smelled sweetly, almost too ripe, the scent permeating the air and everything around it, making me slightly dizzy. I couldn’t remember when was the last time I received a flower like this, maybe when my little brother was still a child and brought it for me from playing in the fields. Our father scolded him then, for running around with other boys instead of studying, but after that whenever either of us saw the little white blossom, we would giggle at each other, sharing smiles like tiny secrets.

I was startled by a tear sliding down my cheek at the memory, the sudden reminiscing of my family, of the one person I was truly close to before he joined the military and went to Hanyang. He was to be married soon too, already at that age when the promises turn to actions and I couldn’t wait for the spring to come so I could travel for his wedding. I’d met the girl before, she was a shy quiet daughter of a smaller aristocratic family who just recently got their title for their merits. I quite liked her, even if I didn’t get much time with her before leaving.

He was the one person in our family who had a chance of a happy marriage, I hoped he would. No matter what our father tried to create out of him, he was a sensitive boy, full of mischief and laughs. I so desperately wanted his life to turn out better than mine did. Or that his marriage wouldn’t end up like our eldest brother’s did. He had married first, when we still scrounged for money, I remembered going to his wedding as a young maiden and being swept away in the celebrations, wishing for my own wedding with red blushing cheeks as young girls did. His wife was a practical woman, strong and resolute, but kind. They never had much affections between them, but they had an understanding and their marriage functioned well. I believed my brother respected her as a husband should his wife, but I was wrong.

After our title was restored, our father started pushing my brother to divorce her so he could marry a lady from an aristocratic family, but he couldn’t do that. She had given him children and wasn’t causing him any troubles, so a divorce wouldn’t be allowed. So my brother did the next best thing. He married a woman of a high standing and made her his main wife, pushing the first wife into a secondary position in the family and robbing her children of their inheritance of the title. Since then she became quiet and withdrawn, no longer she was allowed to make any decisions and lived only to serve a man that didn’t even look her way anymore, couldn’t even explain to his firstborn son that he no longer would inherit his estate and left her to pick up the ashes and survive such disgrace.

It was terrifying when it happened. While she never showed much gentleness, she always smiled at the children and sometimes would sneak me sweets like I was one of her own, even when I was the second oldest child of the family. My heart bled for her, and I started to fear my own marriage, knowing I would never get any aristocrat’s respect due to our family history. At that time, I had no idea that what would happen to me would be even worse.

I was startled by a sudden touch on my cheek, a finger wiping away the few stray tears falling down while I sat on the ground and stared at the pretty flower. I gasped and tried to flinch away, but another arm snaked around my waist and I could feel his head leaning on my shoulder. He sat behind me once again, like always, holding me as if he didn’t want me to see him.

“Shhhhhh…,” came his deep honeyed voice, whispering in such a gentle way that I could feel a wave of goosebumps hitting me, “I didn’t know it would make you cry.” Against my better judgment, I could feel my body relaxing into his embrace and a few more tears slipping out. He rocked us from side to side, trying to console me, but it was like my dams broke and soon I was sobbing in his arms, pushing my face into his shoulder and clutching the single blossom in my shaky hands.

I couldn’t say when the last time I was held so tenderly by someone was, but it must have been when I was a child still, begging for my mother’s touch any time something happened. I was warm, wrapped into him, and soft. There was a hand in my hair, carding through the locks and caressing me like a lover would. I couldn’t stop the stream of tears and emotions and I felt ashamed and scared. I couldn’t trust him, and it hurt because no one’s ever treated me so softly, but I knew. Knew it might be just a way to get closer to me. So I decided to allow myself this just for a moment.

I let him hold me, listened to him hum some kind of a song I didn’t recognise, let him lull me into a half-asleep state until I was draped over him, boneless and numb. His hands never strayed like before and he seemed to be genuinely trying to console me. In my mind I scolded myself, believed myself pathetic for falling for such tricks and for being so desperate I would let a demon embrace me just to feel some warmth, but outwardly I didn’t let anything show. I was too drained for that.

When I quieted down and just limply hung off of his frame, he must have decided it was time to sleep. He grabbed me and carried me onto the bedding, making sure my head was pushed into his shoulder so I couldn’t look at his face. I found it strange, but had no energy to ask him anything, just letting him manoeuvre us around until we were lying just like we used to before I caught him, on our side with him behind me. Sleep came and claimed me suddenly and out of nowhere, but I found myself strangely comfortable.

When I awoke in the morning, the house was silent and the bed was empty, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Would I have confronted him and demanded answers? Or did I allow myself to be vulnerable around someone that wished for my downfall and now I found myself inappropriately attached? One thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t like thinking about it, and so I got up and went about my day as if nothing had happened. I did find myself wondering what happened to the flower, as it was nowhere to be found, wondering whether it even was real or if I hallucinated it. But after that night, a fresh blossom was waiting by my bedside every evening, leaving me full of complicated confusing emotions. No sight of my demon, though.

“Do you want that?” a gruff voice by my shoulder growled and I barely stopped myself from scowling. The hairpin I had been staring at was suddenly plucked from the table by the eager merchant who understood that question as my husband’s intention to buy it for me. The older man pushed it towards me and started reciting all the reasons why such a lady like me absolutely had to have such a decoration, hoping to pitch it to a loving husband doting on his wife. Unfortunately, his guess was completely wrong.

“How much is it?” I asked towards the merchant, who seemed confused by me talking to him while Minhwan stared daggers into my back. His eyes flitted between us, awkward silence taking over for a few seconds before he stuttered out the price, looking at no one in particular. I went to fish out the amount from my purse, but my hand was stopped by another much bigger and rougher one.

“You don’t need it,” Minhwan said resolutely, voice leaving no space for discussion, “Don’t waste money on useless things.” I gritted my teeth, minutely losing control of my expression as rage swept through me at his statement, but as soon as I saw my husband’s eyes narrow in warning, I schooled myself and pulled from the stall.

“Of course,” I answered with false demureness, shooting the merchant an apologetic smile before ducking my head down and following after Minhwan through the market like the picture of the perfect wife. We walked around for some time, from stall to stall, haggling for vegetables and tools, whatever was needed around the house. Minhwan didn’t like it when I spoke to the vendors, he had me trailing behind him with a veil on or my head demurely ducked down like an obedient wife, and I was to speak only when he asked me something. Thus I spent most of the time in the market saying only “yes, we need it” or “no, I think we still have enough”. I hated it, but there was nothing that could be done.

The ride back to the house was also incredibly tense. I could still feel my husband’s rage at my earlier behaviour and knew that the moment we walk back through the gates of our farm, he’ll have some things to say. So I sighed and waited for the endless journey to finally reach its final destination.

To my shock and unease, nothing came when we walked back into the house, supplies in hands and struggling to pull the baskets through the door. Silence was all that greeted me. Minhwan helped me pull things into the kitchen and then with one last burning hateful stare he walked across the house. I watched him rummage through a chest, pulling out his only other jungchimak he usually wore when outing with his friends. It was the better one, in deep indigo colour, that made him look like a young affluent yangban. I snickered behind my hand and pretended to sort through the different bags and baskets we brought back.

When Minhwan was done changing, he charged out of the door without even a second glance. I looked out of the kitchen door facing into the yard and watched him until the gate slammed shut behind him, then I returned to the task at hand with a sigh. He didn’t do this often, but sometimes when I would make him angry, he just left. Without a word. He likely wouldn’t return until late noon tomorrow morning.

I’d long since given up on trying to stop him when the sun was still high up in the sky, he would still leave, just significantly angrier, which would result in him throwing out more money, so it was better to not get in his way when he wanted to drink, smoke and fuck his frustration away god knows where with the other young men.

I busied myself cleaning around the house and caring for the animals, finishing the work he had left. I found myself gritting my teeth in anger and annoyance as I chopped the firewood, wildly swinging the axe around and taking it out on the logs. When the time to go to sleep came, I was drained, both emotionally and physically, too strung out and tensed to even enjoy my nighttime routine like I usually did.

When I turned to the bed, a single hairpin was lying on the bedding. A beautiful, red, lacquered hairpin with a carving of a flower and a single red gem in the centre. The one I’d been looking at while we were in the town and almost bought to spite Minhwan. A mix of emotions overtook me, the most prominent one being sudden anger. My heart stuttered under the weight of it, the frustration of the day and the past weeks bursting through me in one big eruption.

Our uninvited guest was keeping himself surprisingly scarce after that night I had cried, but kept bringing me flowers. I accepted them with complicated feelings, but I had convinced myself into believing that since they’re already here, since they already have been plucked, it would be cruel of me to not accept them. So, night after night I tucked them away so Minhwan could never find them. I didn’t even know where the demon was getting them, since we were in the middle of a tough winter, but after all, I should care for them all the more, right?

But the hairpin was a step too far. I did not need to be reminded of my shameful behaviour and of the fact that my husband felt it appropriate to blow all his money away but couldn’t spare a single silver to let me buy a hairpin, and definitely not in such a way.

“Okay, come out,” I spoke loudly into the empty room, “We need to talk. This can’t keep happening.” I looked around, but everything stayed silent and still. Then, a soft voice rang out.

“Close your eyes.”

I stood up and crossed my arms defensively, spinning around to try and catch a glimpse of the being.

“Why?” I asked gruffly, speaking to an empty bedroom like a lunatic, “Why do you not want me to see you?”

“I can’t let you see me until you truly want to,” the answer came, the voice just as melodic and soft as it was before, as it was always, and I involuntarily shuddered.

“I do want to see you, right now,” I replied, ticked off. He just wanted to have the upper hand and not face me head on, I was sure of that. There was silence again, seemingly even the wind outside the door quieting down to listen to us, the room unnaturally still.

“You want to scold me,” he answered petulantly after a moment, sounding more like a child. I could hear the pout on his lips, the childlike upset of doing something wrong and not understanding why. My resolve softened a little, but I pulled myself together, determined not to let the demon play me like that. I couldn’t keep letting him get away with everything.

“So you know,” I stated, the anger seeping back into my voice, “You cannot keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” I could hear genuine curiosity in his question, one that filled me with exasperation.

I gestured to the hairpin wildly. “This!” I exclaimed loudly, “The leaving of gifts, the creeping around, nothing of it. Leave while I’m still asking nicely.” Even as the words left my mouth, they felt like an empty threat. What could I possibly do against him? I’d let him go this far, what could I do to stop him now? But he completely ignored the second part and focused solely on the gifts.

“Do you not like them?” there was slight dejection present in his voice, like he didn’t understand why it was such a problem, “I thought you did. You never threw them out.” I cursed my soft heart. I should have never let him get away with bringing me flowers, I shouldn’t have let him get to me like that. I should have been resolute and told him to leave right then, not let him coddle me and embrace me when I felt sad.

I hesitated for a moment, not knowing how to answer. I found myself not wanting to upset him by saying no, falling victim to his sweet demeanour. Again. I groaned with frustration and hit my forehead with my palm.

“It’s not that I don’t like them,” I started a little softer than before, “It’s just embarrassing.”

“Why?” I groaned again. Good lord, this was going to take a while.

“Because…” I stuttered for a moment, the vulnerability of words on my tongue shocking me, “It feels humiliating. My own husband wouldn’t buy it for me and it feels like an insult for a demon to do that.” There was a beat of silence, in which I almost managed to persuade myself that there was never anyone there and I had been talking to myself the whole time, but then he spoke again.

“I didn’t mean to humiliate you,” his voice was quiet, contemplative, “I wanted to make you happy.” That shocked me enough to have me stutter over a few breaths, wildly looking around the room with wide eyes. “W-why?” I managed to squeak out, flabbergasted at such admission.

“It felt like you needed it,” came his simple reply, as if talking about the weather. That statement drained the whole fight out of me, leaving me standing there unsure and confused, filled with shame and wonder at the simplicity of it all.

“What?” I whispered, not really looking for an answer, just voicing out my inner turmoil.

“It felt like you needed it,” he replied a little louder, “You were always so sad. I didn’t like it. You shouldn’t be so sad.” It was such a simple statement and yet it pulled down the walls of my heart and made it flutter. I chided myself for being so easy to fool with a few sweet words, but I couldn’t stop the lightness taking over my heart, the relief bleeding into my every pore.

Someone saw my suffering, I thought to myself. Someone noticed my pain.

“What are you?” I whispered the question into the empty house, but no man stepped out into the light, no shadow moved. He was silent for a moment and then said: “Close your eyes.” And this time I did.

The moment my lids fluttered closed, I could hear slight shuffling of clothing behind me and light footsteps. On instinct I went to turn around, but a hand suddenly tightly covered my eyes, startling me slightly. I jumped a little, pushing myself back straight into his chest, which embarrassingly enough was a position I’d gotten used to over the past weeks. Then a silken ribbon touched my cheek and the hand moved quickly to tie it over my eyes.

“So you don’t try to cut this meeting short,” he explained lightly, voice full of amusement.

“But I do want to see you, is it not enough that I no longer wish to scold you?” I asked, confused by the strange rules.

“You need to desire to see me, truly, with your soul,” he said lowly, voice deepening into the honeyed register I was used to hearing from him and I shuddered lightly, feeling the words trickle down my skin and bite into my very being.

“S-so I can only see you when I want t-to-“ I couldn’t bring myself to finish that thought, the sinful image burning into my brain making me stutter and blush so fiercely I felt as if I burst into flames. I ducked my head, but his chuckle followed me, melting over me. There was no longer any amusement in his voice, now there was something darker and heavier, threatening to consume me from the inside out.

“Smart girl,” he whispered and I couldn’t help the wave of goosebumps that hit my skin when I felt his breath on my ear and neck. The sudden turn from his earlier more innocent voice and words left me confused and flabbergasted, blushing at his newfound confidence. I felt him lean closer into me, nose almost touching the crook of my neck, only to whisper: “Time to sleep.”

Before I could react, he swooped me into his arms and I yelped in surprise, before hiding my face in my hands in embarrassment. He carried me to the bed and very gently laid me there, his hands smoothing down my nightgown and pulling the blanket over us. My face burned, but I stayed silent and let him happily chirp behind me as he pulled me closer to his chest and made himself comfortable.

It felt like years before I fell asleep. I just laid there, feeling his chest move and his breathing deepen until I was sure he was sleeping, but even then I didn’t reach back to untie the ribbon. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust his words. That’s how I finally got pulled under, with my heart trembling with careful hope.

Come morning, something new happened. When I woke up, his strong arms were still wrapped around me and as soon as I started wiggling in his grip, he woke up with a content groan and a big stretch, like a cat. I blushed again, which seemed to become more of a permanent thing in his presence. I went to call out to him to scold him, when I realised something. I didn’t know his name. I haven’t asked him for his name all this time.

“Good morning,” came his morning raspy voice, then he burrowed his face somewhere deeper into the bedding and my hair. The ribbon slipped during the night and with my movement it unravelled onto the pillow, making me freeze slightly. I reached for it, playing with it between my fingers a little, before I spoke to him too.

Good morning...” I trailed off uncertainly, not sure how to ask him his name, “d-demon?” I flushed in embarrassment. Truly perfect, why not just call him a pervert if I was going to be like that? Behind me, the man chuckled and wriggled a little, presumably to make himself more comfortable. I couldn’t believe I let myself lie with a man like that, but it was better to just not think about it.

“Taehyung would be a bit better, but I’ll take it,” he replied nonchalantly, but then suddenly stiffened. Before I could truly register his alarm, the entrance door slammed open and heavy footsteps made their way into the house. I panicked and flew out of the bed, but when I turned to warn Taehyung, I was met with an empty bed. The other half was even made as if nobody slept there.

Seconds later, the doors to the bedroom slid open and my disgruntled husband peeked in. His hair was a mess, his face taunt and white, bloodshot eyes adorned with dark circles underneath. He looked like death itself, the exhaustion seeping out of him in waves, but he still managed to scowl when he laid eyes on me still in my nightgown. I wondered what time it was, but concentrated on schooling my expression and not showing my flustered state, my heart still beating wildly in my chest. He regarded me with slight suspicion in his eyes, but ultimately decided not to comment on it.

“Make me a breakfast,” was all he said and then he disappeared into the house. I glanced at my little vanity sitting in a corner of the room and noticed the hairpin sitting gingerly right in the middle of it. I swiped it away quickly putting it with the flowers, and started getting ready for the day. But the thoughts of Taehyung and his words and behaviour wouldn’t leave me for the rest of the day, plaguing me when I was making breakfast, when I was cleaning up the melted snow Minhwan carried into the house on his shoes and clothes, and embarrassingly enough even when I went to wash up that evening, wondering whether he could see me now too.

The peak of the winter came and went, but the layer of snow stayed thick, blanketed over the world and painting it pure white. I had found myself much fonder of the quietness it brought, how it swallowed all sounds and created a bubble of calm over everything, especially when my husband was gone from the house, which has become more and more frequent. Lately he left earlier and came back later, turning more and more pale with every morning. He didn’t speak to me about what he did, he barely ever spoke at all, but the tension in his shoulders and the troubled angry expression that has made itself home on his face told me that he must have gotten himself into some big trouble. I found myself just as anxious, waiting for him to tell me we would be losing it all because he made a bet or let himself be swindled.

Taehyung, during that time, worked hard on trying to distract me, bringing me little gifts and messing about the house trying to help me. Anytime I would come across clothes that have been rearranged or things that have been cleaned up, but put into the wrong places, I would sigh and jokingly glare around the room, but I couldn’t stop the fluttering of my heart and the fondness that spread through me at hearing his disembodied giggles.

During these evenings he took to covering my mirror, sitting behind me and brushing my hair for me. We would spend this time in comfortable silence, resting against each other and enjoying the simple companionship. It was such an intimate act, like we were lovers taking care of each other, like husband and wife who love each other, I would find myself flustered and blushing, feeling like it was my wedding night all over again. It was such a strong contrast to how tensed and hostile the silence was when my husband was around, that I often shamefully dreamed and pretended that Taehyung was my spouse, that this was a part of our life and our routine. He would caress my hair, my sides, press soft kisses to my shoulders, play with my hands and my fingers, and when we retired for the night, he hugged me tightly, pressing himself into me and making me feel safe and secure.

The longer this went on, the more torn with fervent longing I was, wishing this was my life and not just pity that a passing demon took on me. I was choked up with emotions, the words “stay”, “show yourself to me”, “love me” always on the tip of my tongue, fighting to spill, chest heavy and full like I was about to burst. It hurt. I hurt. I wanted a life I couldn’t have; I wanted a man that would take my soul and leave once he’d gotten what he came for, and I hated myself for it and I hated my life.

Taehyung felt this in me, felt this shift from happiness back into tortured silence, I could feel it in his touch, in how gently his hands and fingers regarded me, how reverent his lips were on the skin of my shoulders and neck, I felt it in his voice whispering praise to me. The desperation to make it all better, the frantic beating of his heart against my back because he feared he did something to upset me. No matter how much I wanted to ease him, the words would just not leave my mouth.

And my body, it betrayed me. It lit up with every touch, heat pumping through my veins with every brush of his lips, I could feel it swirling in my lower belly and oftentimes found myself hoping for his daring hands to explore as they had been doing back then before I caught him. But Taehyung stubbornly never strayed from the safe spots, never returned to his previous antics.

One night when he didn’t show up, I had a lot of time to think about where this was going and how I was dangerously teetering on the edge of improperness. When I sat alone by the bed and worried for him, called out to him and then promptly spiralled into believing he had grown tired of me, the feelings of pain and despair it filled me with shocked me. I missed him. I missed his touch, his presence, his voice. I didn’t want him to leave me. I’d grown attached to him, to a shadow that spoke to me and treated me with gentleness and kindness.

I wanted to see him. I looked at the ribbon lying on my vanity, the one he used every night to cover my eyes so I couldn’t swindle him and peek when he wasn’t paying attention. I wanted it gone.

I wanted. I longed. I needed.

Falling asleep that night was a challenge, I couldn’t find a comfortable position when I suddenly laid alone once again, too used to a warm comforting body behind me. And when tiredness finally overcame me, he visited me in my dreams, his bold hands exploring places that haven’t been tenderly touched before; drawing out sighs out of me, body trembling with unknown pleasure as his fingers dipped between my legs and leisurely moved in little circles over the bundle of nerves. My dream self was moaning and writhing in his arms, begging for him to never stop as the pleasure mounted until it burst out in a bolt of pure ecstasy. I jolted awake, breathing heavily and still shaking from the intense sensations. Startled I realised there was wetness coating my intimate parts and the top of my thighs, the sticky feeling making me blush in embarrassment. My whole body seemed to be tingling from this experience and I couldn’t calm myself down.

“Taehyung?” I called out carefully, checking that he wasn’t around to witness this. When no answer came and the man himself didn’t come out and shown himself, I quickly ran to the vanity to grab the first cloth I found and cleaned myself. My shaky hands couldn’t hold onto anything properly and I couldn’t get my breathing back under control, the experience leaving me full of confusing feelings, longing filled with arousal mixing with shame until I my head was spinning and my chest hurt. After that, I didn’t fall asleep again, instead I sat on the bed and tried to make sense of my own heart.

The only thing that saved me from getting suspicious stares from my husband was that he himself barely looked at me. But it felt different from his usual coldness, he looked haunted and worried, too preoccupied with his own thoughts to even realise anyone else was present. It made me anxious. Whatever he’d gotten himself into, it seemed bad and if it came to it, he’d drag me down with him. For the first time in so long I found myself wishing he’d just talk to me, tell me what was happening so I could stop drowning myself in worry. But I knew that if I had come to him and asked him, he would get angry. So I waited for my life to end with bated breath.

Taehyung returned after two days and acted as if he was never gone, as if he didn’t suddenly disappear without a word and left me spinning, thinking he’d never return. When I heard his voice ring out it the empty house for the first time in so long, I couldn’t stop the tears of relief and he spent the whole evening and night holding me and consoling me, whispering into my ear how he’d never leave again.

More than ever I realised the burning desire coursing through my veins whenever he touched me. I wanted him, like wife should want a husband, and it was getting harder to ignore the way my body responded to him. I wasn’t sure if Taehyung was aware of my plight, if he registered how I seemed to stiffen anytime he pushed me closer to himself, how I held my breath when his arms snaked around my waist, how I shuddered when his hands slipped through my hair when he tied the ribbon over my eyes. I didn’t know if he noticed, but if he did, he didn’t say or do anything. Sometimes he would get closer to me, nose at my neck or play with my ear and then he would suddenly stop, as if he remembered himself, and pull away. And I wanted to scream at him. To not go. To do more.

And the more the situation went south in my marriage, the more I realised that my heart has long since been stolen by a being I haven’t even seen, but whose actions spoke louder than thousand words.

And so I decided to take the situation into my own hands. Or, well, to put it into Taehyung’s hands.

Some nights I would dream about him, even when he laid behind me I just wouldn’t have enough. And in those dreams, he would do the things I desired from him. It felt like my dirty little secret, enjoying him in such way in the privacy of my own mind, but knowing he was there. That he could be witnessing me be improper, could be witnessing my needs resurfacing in this manner. He never showed it, but sometimes I wondered if he knew, if he was waiting to make a move. And it excited me even more. The tension kept thickening, and I boiled, I boiled until one day I just… burst.

I had woken up in the middle of the night, woken up by my own dream as usual, hot and breathless, but just short of release, pent up and frustrated and needy. Taehyung behind me stirred, but his breathing stayed deep and stable, arms minutely tightening before he relaxed again. I felt my wetness seeping down my thighs, squeezing them together on instinct to chase the pulsing and throbbing there, choking out a little whimper and squirming in my place.

That seemed to shake Taehyung out of his sleep, I could hear the shuffling of his clothes, his hand flexing on my belly. He raised his head and murmured something, but I couldn’t hear through the rushing of blood in my ears. I was so aroused my head was almost spinning, my mind zeroing only on getting back to the pleasure I had been feeling. I squirmed in his arms again and whined.

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” came his quiet raspy voice by my ear and I could feel goosebumps breaking out over my arms. Without saying anything I reached for one of his hands and pulled it lower, until it laid over my thigh. There was silence behind me and neither of us moved for a moment.

“What?” he whispered again, confusion lacing his voice as he started caressing my thigh, thinking I just needed comfort, “Did you have a nightmare?” I shook my head, frustrated at myself for not being able to get the words out of my mouth, so instead I grabbed his hand again and this time I gently laid it over the very top of my thighs, the tips of his fingers just grazing my intimate area. Taehyung froze for a moment, and I held my breath, fearing his reaction.

But then he released a long breath and his hand moved, grabbing onto my nightgown and slowly pulling it up over my legs. “Are you being naughty?” he asked me playfully and I trembled with anticipation, the searing heat seemingly reaching a crescendo with the promise of his touch. The moment I felt him gently caressing up the naked skin of my thigh, I whimpered again and immediately lifted my leg to grant him access to where I wanted him the most.

Behind me, there was a chuckle, so deep and rumbly I felt it in my bones, satisfied and overjoyed with my eagerness. Taehyung nosed up my shoulder, until I could feel him laying searing wet kisses into the crook of my neck. His hand suddenly shot up back to my knee, grabbing it so he could hook it over his legs and keep me spread. I blushed, but another gush of wetness seeped onto the skin of my thighs at the prospect this finally happening.

“Want to have your pretty little cunt played with, hmm?” Taehyung whispered into my hair, the smirk evident in the smugness of his voice. This was his element, and I ducked my head into my arms, embarrassed by the words and the actions, embarrassed by my body screaming for him. He didn’t seem to need an answer, pleased with my shyness and with how my body responded for me, arching into his touch and begging for more. So he indulged, both himself and me.

His fingers descended between my legs suddenly, shocking a moan out of me as they glided through the wet folds until they settled over the little bundle of nerves. He touched me teasingly, circling it lightly, tapping and pressing on it and then sliding his fingers down to play with my entrance, as if testing how much I would be able to take.

I trembled whole, overflowing with relief, pleasure and burning need for more, spilling out of me on sighs and whimpers. I lost the control of my body as it swayed and arched, pushing into his elusive playful fingers. When my whines took on a more desperate tone, Taehyung finally seemed to be satisfied enough to stop teasing. He started playing me masterfully, fingers drawing tight quick circles on my clit, making me choke on my spit, brain not comprehending the sudden onslaught of sensations.

I found myself hurling towards that edge of ecstasy quicker than I’ve experienced before, my whole body singing under his touch, thrumming with the fulfilment of all the desires that had been piling up over the past weeks.

“Let go whenever you need to, don’t be afraid,” Taehyung whispered to me, voice low and aroused, and I arched with a silent scream as the release overtook me, bursting through my body in a single white flash. Taehyung carried me through it, fingers slowing down but never stopping, little quiet groans leaving him at seeing me blissed out. When the pleasure ebbed away gradually, I pushed his hand away with a quiet whine, feeling too much all at once.

He led me down from the high gently, hands running over my body, over my sides, his voice murmuring loving words into my ear, telling me how lovely I was, how well I did for him. I soaked it all up, preened under his care and attention and loved every moment of it, the fear and insecurity about his intentions taking the backseat for a few calming moments. My body thrummed with the after-shocks of my climax, and I pleasantly floated on the feelings of relief and release.

I was still catching up to my brain, when the words “I want to see you” tumbled out of my mouth. Taehyung’s hand stopped for a moment and then grabbed onto my arm gently. He hummed, non-committally, fingers suddenly teasing again as he lightly dragged them on my arm up and down.

“Do you really?” he whispered sensually, almost purring, and I gasped at the sensation. Before I could reply, he was suddenly gone. I heard him moving around in the room, the sound of his steps, his stable breathing and the light clanking of items as he moved them. I had no idea what he was doing, but when he was satisfied, he returned to me. Taehyung leaned down to me and grasped my arm, pulling me up to stand.

“Get on your feet, darling,” he told me sweetly, the sudden nickname making me blush as if we weren’t just wrapped in each other in such sinful ways. I stood, knees still a little shaky, but managed to hold my weight. I was a little achy, but it was a pleasant and boneless feeling, as if everything had been drained away and all that was left were soft sweet clouds.

Taehyung’s hands left me, and I could hear him stepping away, his heels hitting the wooden floor heavily. I held my breath in anticipation, my hands trembling, my body still confused from the screaming pleasure it was put through just moments ago.

Then, he spoke.

“You can pull the ribbon down.” His voice was smooth, kind and happy. My arms moved as if they had a mind of their own, lifting up to my head to grasp at the ends of the ribbon to pull. When it fell away, at first I was left blinded by the light for a moment. I blinked; eyes hurt from getting flashed with white after so long in the dark. I hurriedly wiped away the few stray tears and gently pressed on my eyelids to alleviate the pressure. When I opened them again, he stood in front of me.

He was beautiful, absolutely breathtaking. I gasped as I took him in, the softness of him.

He had long black hair, half done up into a bun at the back of his head. He was dressed in a black cheollik with red hems and pulled together by a silk red string adorned with dark grey jade, and his underclothes were also in black. He was barefoot, standing on my cold wooden bedroom floor like he didn’t feel the chill at all, when I already started shivering in my thin night robes. My eyes shot back to his face. He was ethereally pretty, all sharp edges but still looking so soft and lovely it stole my breath away. Even though his eyes were shockingly blue, I could see the kindness in them, unlike his mouth that was pulled into a mischievous smirk. Just I as I imagined he so often had.

I could see he started nervously fiddling with his sleeves, face flashing with panic and unsureness. He stepped from foot to foot, looking at the ground bashfully, before looking back up at me with wide round eyes full of pure-hearted earnestness.

“What do you think?” he asked, as if I was looking at fruit at the market. He squirmed in his place again and I couldn’t bare to let him believe that I didn’t think he was the most beautiful man I have ever seen. In a few quick strides I crossed the room to him and threw myself into his arms. He caught me, as always, and I had begun believing he always would, and pressed me closer into him. Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled him down by his neck and pressed our lips together.

Taehyung caught on quickly, wrapping his arms around me and taking charge, kissing me like a man starved, passionate and hungry and all-consuming, filling my head and my heart with him and only him. I dreaded my husband’s return, because it would mean my little fantasy dream life would dissolve and Taehyung would have to disappear again, but for now I focused on his mouth claiming mine with such fervour it left me breathless.

Seeing Taehyung made things both easier and more difficult. Nothing much changed between us, only now I saw him messing with my things and “helping out” around the house. I heard his endless giggles and sometimes would catch a glimpse of his figure before he disappeared into a different part of the house, and I always trailed behind him and looked for whatever it was he misplaced or swapped.

I found that even though he was visible to me most of the time, he still didn’t talk much, preferring to sit by me and watch me with fond eyes. He would silently take heavy things from my hands and carry them for me, only sending a playful grin my way, or push me away from the cutting board to prepare the ingredients himself with a simple quiet “let me help”. I liked it. Taehyung filled the space with his presence, with kind eyes and gentle laughs and comfortableness I haven’t felt with anyone else. Sometimes laughs would just bubble out of my throat at his antics or at his expressions and I stopped, surprised at my own ability to laugh. I was happy. I felt content.

I loved him, and I knew that. I wanted my life to be like this from now on until the end of time. More and more often I found myself thinking how married life wouldn’t be that bad if my husband was Taehyung, and I blushed at those thoughts, but couldn’t fully fight them away. I imagined him chopping the firewood in the yard (he already did that for me after he saw me with an axe one), taking care of the animals (it wasn’t unusual for him to feed the hens and the pigs after sundown, since Minhwan was already long gone around then) and then coming home to happily eat supper I worked so hard on (he loved my cooking and never failed to compliment me). I loved watching him walking around the farm as if it was him who owned it, him who married me. Him who loved me.

And during the nights… Taehyung was more than happy to dote on me, naughty hands suddenly insatiable once I showed interest, bringing me to the peak of pleasure every morning, wandering around my curves and gently squeezing and loving on every inch he could reach. I melted in his hands, my brain suddenly interested only in how to get him to please me again. But he never moved it further, no matter how much I gently probed, tried to touch him back or insinuated that I would like to do more, he always grasped my hands and pulled me into a tight hug until we ended up falling asleep.

I was confused. I wasn’t a virgin. I knew how it worked between men and women and I trusted him with my body and my pleasure, and I wanted to return it too, learn how to please him too, but he didn’t seem to want that to happen. He would always give me this unsure smile and then hold me all the tighter and I didn’t want to push him.

But while I found my domestic bliss in Taehyung’s presence, it was harshly brought down every time my husband returned home. Even though he’d become strangely withdrawn, he always seemed to fill the house with gloom and uncomfortable tension, choking every spare inch in despair. I was dancing on eggshells around him, trying my hardest not to draw his attention lest he redirects his ire to me.

This explosiveness was also new. He’d been angry at me before, but never like this, never with bloodshot eyes and shaking hands, spewing poison until I was trembling with fear and shame, and then walking out. He would scream at me for the food not being warm, about spilling something on the floor, about not cleaning proficiently enough, and I begun to dread his returns, because he would always smell of alcohol, opium and other vices, and immediately find something to vent on, only to become silent and absent the moment after.

I could see on Taehyung he was worried for me. I wasn’t a fool, I knew he was present and heard everything, I could feel it in his sad tender eyes, in his loving caresses and the little gifts he would leave me. I wanted to assure him that everything was okay, that this was just my life and I had to deal with that, that him being around the house was already making a dreadful reality all the more bearable, but sometimes he just zoned out and I saw the cogs turning in his head, trying to come up with a way to somehow deal with this. But there was nothing that could be done.

While Minhwan spiralled and came home looking worse and worse every day, Taehyung tried his best to raise me up and make me feel better. And I couldn’t be more grateful for that.

One afternoon we were enjoying a particular sunny day, the door to the kitchen cracked open to let in the crisp freezing air, but I couldn’t feel the chill, not with Taehyung plastered to my back. He hung off of me, hugging me and whining playfully, his hands ever so often straying to my thighs or breasts, trying to rile me up while I made broth. I would always slap them away, but I couldn’t hide the blush on my cheeks or the way my body started responding to him and demanding his attention lower.

I was playing with the idea of letting him pleasure me right in the kitchen in the middle of the day, when Taehyung behind me stiffened, arms tightening around me. At first I didn’t register it, but when the sound of snow crunching under someone’s shoes reached my ears, I panicked. Throwing the wooden spoon away I turned and pushed Taehyung away from me.

“Quick, disappear! Minhwan must have returned!” I whispered urgently, almost sobbing with frustration when the dark-haired man just continued standing there as we both listened to the footsteps getting closer. He was looking out the door, his face curious but impassive, as if he didn’t realise the impending doom.

“Taehyung!” I cried out desperately, pushing him away just as the doors slammed opened. I froze and turned to the door, while Taehyung’s arm snaked around my waist and pulled me into his chest. At first I recognised the gesture as protective, but then I realised it was too casual.

I forced myself to see through the panic and registered that in the door stood a complete stranger. He regarded us both with a bored expression, his eyes sliding down my panicked frozen face and then skipping to Taehyung, sneering lightly in a pretend angry manner.

“So this is where you spend your days, I haven’t seen you in forever,” he grumbled a touch whinily and made himself comfortable on one of the seating pillows in the corner. He had elegant gestures and moved about in a graceful manner, he was also dressed in expensive clothes, showing off to everyone his status as a son of a wealthy yangban family. His face was sharp and impassive, but I could see a strange spark of something in his feline eyes.

“Hyung,” Taehyung said cutely and pulled me towards the man in expensive robes, “this is Y/N.” I stared dumbly between the two men, flabbergasted at the situation I had suddenly found myself in. Hyung? Was this another demon?

The man in question nodded towards me, showing polite interest. He looked intimidating, but whenever his eyes jumped to Taehyung, there was softness in them, and his face would suddenly relax and look more human and boyish.

“This is one of my hyungs,” Taehyung said towards me and then leaned closer until he could whisper into my ear: “He’s a tiger spirit.” I gasped lightly and looked at the man. He gave me a goofy toothy grin, his posture loosening as he made himself more comfortable. I slipped into the hostess mode and started offering drinks and food and he indulged happily, even getting Taehyung to take a glass with him. I listened to their gentle teasing for a while, content with watching him be so happy and carefree.

“So if one wants to see your face around these parts, they have to come here, huh?” said the tiger with a little smirk and winked towards me. I giggled and added: “As long as my husband isn’t home.” I immediately blushed, but the feelings of shame I used to feel over this have ebbed away and now I could only feel a little twinge of it as a phantom pain, before I put it away and focused on the men in my presence.

“Oh, I know your husband very well,” the man said, his face turning into a mysterious sharp hungry grin, “He isn’t home very often.” Taehyung tensed behind me, and I glanced at him, before throwing a confused smile at the visitor.

“What do you mean you know my husband well?” I asked, ignoring the way Taehyung’s hands tightened around me. I refused to turn his way, instead focusing my all attention at the dangerous being sat in front of us.

“He plays cards out of his league,” the man stated, eyes glinting with some feral contentment, “He lost a lot of money to a lot of people. An especially big sum to a certain very dangerous man that likes to prowl around those parlours.” It felt as if I was thrown into a freezing water, the panic seizing me at this information. I had known, to a certain extent, that he must have gotten himself into something, but losing in cards and owing money to someone dangerous, that would absolutely destroy my life alongside his. Distressed, I looked to Taehyung, who immediately pushed his hand into my hair in an attempt to comfort me.

“Hyung, stop that,” he scolded the man gently, “Stop scaring her.” I blinked at Taehyung owlishly.

“You knew?” I whispered the question, my heart aching when the dark-haired man looked away with guilt etched into his handsome face.

“I told him,” the older man piped up again, gently inserting himself back into the conversation he himself started, “I happen to have an insight into the situation. Don’t fear, dear, this is between your husband and the forces he messed with.” The vague statement did nothing to ease my anxiety and my eyes flitted between the two men again, but I chose to not say anything anymore. They shared a resolute look, full of determination, and then moved on from the topic.

Mr. Min, as I finally learnt his name, stayed for a better part of the afternoon, only departing once the night fell with only the moon lighting his way. His sharp eyes seemed to glow in the dark and once again I was reminded that he was a spirit of the mountain. I snickered gently at that. Look at me, the cursed widow dining with a demon and a tiger. If the old ladies in my home village knew that, they would lose their minds.

Taehyung wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we watched his friend go, looking at my amusement fondly, but the way his hand squeezed me I could tell he was worried about the conversation we had. I looked at him, truly looked at him, and contemplated whether to bring it up again.

He sensed it, his face turning a little guilty and sheepish again, before turning to me, grabbing both of my shoulders and saying: “Y/N, do you trust me?” Did I? Of course I did. I loved him, I loved him more than I have ever loved anyone. He never failed me, never gave me a reason not to trust him. So I nodded firmly.

“Then know that it will be taken care of,” he stated, voice gentle and kind, “I wouldn’t let this impact you.” I nodded again, looking at him fondly before caving in and seeking the warmth of his embrace. He held me tightly, then and through the night, whispering words of love. I trusted them.

I should have known that this would smudge lines, that me living my little fantasy with Taehyung and him living in the house fully visible would lead to us being careless and slipping. But still, when it happened, I was sorely unprepared for the whirlwind it started.

We depended too much on the belief that Minhwan wouldn’t return home early. He didn’t, in the past weeks. Every morning, I would watch the sun climb pretty high up on the sky before the door slammed open and he trudged in wordlessly demanding food. Taehyung spent the mornings lazily spread out in the bed, stretching like an over-sized cat, grinning at me lazily and watching me get ready for the day. And usually I would be woken up by his gentle hands or kisses, or by the sun shining through to my face, or the cold would make me turn and snuggle deeper into my lover’s arms.

So when I got woken up by a scream, I was shocked and confused to my core. I jerked up into a sitting position, eyes wide open and looking for the source of the commotion, heart beating out of my chest and throat tight. It was a cry of rage, a man’s ire bursting through the quiet comfortable space of early morning.

There was a flash of movement and then suddenly I was being painfully pulled out of the bed by my upper arm. I cried out, legs fighting to get into working order and stop the pain from the uncomfortable angle. Suddenly I was face to face with a seething Minhwan, his face red and bloated, twisted into a grimace of pure primal rage. He grabbed onto both of my shoulders, nails digging into my skin until I feared he would draw blood, shaking me violently.

He screamed something, but I was too tired and shocked to fully comprehend what has happened. Panic started pumping through my veins, my breathing getting out of my control as I choked on the instinctual fear of being met with a man in such an emotional state. He shook me again and I got dizzy. Behind me the bed was empty, but very obviously slept in.

 As if wading through a thick fog, I finally realised he must have seen Taehyung in the bed and my knees buckled. He let me fall, let me knock painfully into the wooden floor as he paced around the door. Thoughts going a mile a minute I scrambled to try and come up with something, with anything instead of just sitting there staring dumbly. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, slipping slowly down as my mouth opened and closed. My head hurt, my chest was so tight I could barely breathe and my heart was beating so fast I feared it might just tear right out of my body. I looked at my shaking hands and released a few strained breaths.

“Are you even listening to me?!” Minhwan was suddenly screaming right into my face and I flinched. It was as if a filter lifted off of the world and the sound was suddenly getting to me fully, the thumping of his feet on the floor, his ragged breathing, his enraged mumblings. I stared at him blankly for a moment and in a split second decided to play it the only way I could.

“W-what happened?” I asked quietly, still looking at him with wide confused eyes, movements sluggish. I put a hand to my head, shaking it from side to side. At least I didn’t have to pretend I had a headache.

Minhwan stopped pacing and regarded me with suspicion. Come on, I prayed to myself, I know you must have seen him disappear in front of your eyes. He watched me for a moment, and I made sure to look as disoriented as I could, blinking blearily around and pulling a blanket closer over my rapidly cooling body. The seconds ticked away as he just looked around the room, watched the bed, the doors, as if measuring whether the man could have gotten away around him. He wasn’t saying anything for the longest time, and I felt like I was losing my mind, fearing any moment he’ll decide I was a liar and do god knows what in a fit of rage, but then he looked at me again with eyes filled with more confusion and fear than rage.

“Do you really not know?” he inquired, and his voice was grating to me, rough from speaking and drinking the whole night. I nodded slowly and then asked again: “What happened? Why were you screaming?” His face filled with determination, and he wordlessly walked out of the room. I scrambled to follow after him.

“Where are you going? What’s going on?” I hammered him, looking for a confirmation that I was safe, at least for the moment, but he just silently started fastening his hat back on. Finally, right before walking back out of the door, he turned to me and said: “I’m getting the exorcist.”

The next few hours I spent sitting in the house in panicked silence, wondering what my fate would be beyond this day. What would the shamaness say? How will this go? Do I have to pretend to get exorcised? I tried calling out to Taehyung, but he didn’t respond once. I bit my nails and paced around the house, counting every second ticking by as if waiting for execution.

By the time the door slid open again and stone-faced Minhwan stepped in, my nerves were completely frayed, and I could barely support my own weight on my shaking knees. My head snapped into the direction of the noise, and I saw a man and a woman step inside. The moment their eyes landed on me, they bowed slightly to me, but said nothing and instead followed my husband through the house into the bedroom. I hurriedly trailed after them, shaky hands with nails bitten almost bloody grasping onto my skirt to ground myself at least a little bit.

When I stepped into the room, Minhwan was gesturing to the bed, still unmade as I was too panicked to clean, and explaining what had happened.

“I walked in and saw four feet instead of two,” he said darkly, anger shining through to the surface again, “They were clearly man’s feet. I threw a shoe at him and started screaming, but then he was just gone. He disappeared into thin air. When she woke up, she was disoriented and had no idea what was going on.” I listened to him with a lump in my throat and when they all turned to look at me standing in the door, my knees almost buckled. I hoped that my nervousness would be interpreted as my unawareness, but when the woman’s eyes bore into me with a startling intensity, I couldn’t help but flinch and look down.

She came over to me and an expectant silence fell over the room, all of us collectively holding our breath and waiting for her judgement. She grabbed my chin, not roughly but definitely not gently, and moved my head so that I was looking at her. Her eyes flitted across my face, in search of something. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but I wondered how I must have looked to her. Did I look guilty? Did I look sick? What did she see?

She examined me for a moment and then let me go and stepped back to the man. She looked at him and nodded.

“It is a demon of sickness,” the man spoke, “He was draining your wife’s life energy, eventually saddling her with plague or similar illness. It is good you caught him before he did irreparable damage to her.” I touched my own face, wondering how bad I looked for her to come to the conclusion I was getting drained in such a way, but felt immense relief. Before I caught myself, I swayed, the feelings of anxiety crashing onto me, leaving my body too weak to stay upright. I crashed into the door and barely managed to catch myself before I hit the floor full force. The woman rushed to me and pulled me up, holding onto my arm and helping me stand in a manner she must have believed was comforting.

“Don’t worry, darling, he will not get you,” she whispered in a raspy old voice, “We will take care of this.” I mumbled something out, an insincere thanks, and propped myself up by the door. Instinctively I looked to Minhwan and found him already looking at, eyes coldly assessing me. He was scaring me, I had no idea where I stood with him and what was going through his mind, but I hoped this would buy me some time. I looked back to the floor and started smoothing out my skirts with shaky hands.

“We will get the supplies we’ll need and return tomorrow with the dawn,” the man spoke again, looking mainly to Minhwan, “For tonight, hang garlic and onion around the house. The foul smell will keep the demons away. I will draw you a talisman for your door and main gate, plaster it on the wood and keep it there until we come.” My husband curtly nodded.

The pair started moving towards the door to leave and Minhwan followed them out. I took the time to slide down to the door. I was trying to keep myself calm, but the stressed tears came anyway, rolling down my cheeks and there was nothing I could do to stop them. Once Minhwan returned, I was silently sobbing on the floor, too overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in these few hours.

Minhwan regarded me silently and then moved to the main room, sat by the fireplace and didn’t speak again. I sat there, filled with dread, and waited. Waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to fly off of his handle and do something, but the house was eerily silent. In the end I pulled myself together and moved about my day as if nothing was happening, as if Minhwan wasn’t sitting in the other room counting minutes before sun went down. The uncomfortable atmosphere stretched over us like a suffocating blanket and even though I went with the motions, cooked food and served it, I wasn’t even interested in eating, and neither seemed to be Minhwan.

With dark setting over the dwelling, the moon shining over the snow and creating a silver glow over everything, I found myself anxiously glancing at my husband to see whether he would leave, but he stayed firmly sat. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I had to have a talk with Taehyung, confide in him and see what he thinks we should do. I desperately craved his comfort and calming presence, I needed him to hold me and kiss me and whisper about all the things he loved, I needed him to whisk me away into the woods and keep me away from this life I had found myself in.

As I paced around the bedroom nervously, I realised that. I wanted to leave with him. I wanted to flee into his reality and leave my own behind. I needed to talk to Taehyung soon.

The door slid open, and I flinched and instinctively moved a few steps further into the room. Minhwan looked at me, his eyes empty and dark, and then moved to the corner of the room, sitting down and staring soullessly at me.

“Aren’t you going to get ready for bed?” came his gruff voice when I stood there frozen for too long, watching him out of the corner of my eye. I could hear a certain accusation in it and my heart jumped into my throat. Without saying anything, I mechanically moved to my vanity and started brushing my hair while keeping an eye on my husband’s dark form slouched in the corner. His eyes never left me, slowly with every second ticking by filling with more and more pure hatred.

The room felt as if it was freezing, the air so heavy with tension I could taste it on my tongue. I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest, my clammy hands squeezing around the brush.

“I feel quite stupid now, you see,” Minhwan started suddenly, his cold voice startling me. I turned around to look at him, trying to keep my expression neutral but knowing I probably looked truly scared and guilty. He stared at me expectantly, but when I failed to say anything, he continued.

“I saw it,” he simply stated, “the hairpin.” It felt as if time stopped, the blood freezing in my veins with one simple word. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, but I ultimately failed to say anything. He knew I wouldn’t be able to go back to the market to buy it myself, there was nothing I could say to excuse that.

“I saw how certain mornings you seemed to be flustered,” he continued quietly, “how you changed, I saw the flowers you tried to hide.” He chuckled darkly, mirthlessly, but stayed sprawled out in the corner, watching me. I sat frozen in front of my vanity, brush still in hand, thoughts going a mile a minute.

“I ignored it, of course,” Minhwan carried on, seemingly okay with being the only one to talk, “I know how hard it is to get here and there’s no one close enough to sneak here like this. But when I went to town for the shamaness, I started remembering these moments. I saw the hairpin in my mind, as clear as day. And it made sense. Whatever he is, you knew about him.” I gulped, but said nothing, staring at my hands. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movements and I looked up startled. Minhwan was now moving towards me, slow and calculated, and dread filled me.

I looked up at him and couldn’t help a few stray tears escaping me. Minhwan watched me coldly, but it was so different than what I was used to from him and it terrified me. This was a different kind of rage, the kind that made people unpredictable, the kind when you know the person is so angry they’ve become calm.

He slowly threaded his hand into my hair, gripping it tightly until I could feel slight pain. He angled my head, watching the tears slide down my face with a scowl. Then he pushed my head away and released my hair, sending me crashing into the vanity. I caught myself on my hands, but the impact still hurt and I whimpered through the tears.

I heard Minhwan moving about the room, thrashing the chest I kept some of my belongings in, tearing through my fine robes and sending little reminders and keepsakes flying through the room and crashing into the floor and the walls. With every crash I flinched again and again, shrinking into myself and slowly slinking into the corner behind my vanity.

Minhwan finally got to what he was looking for – the dried flowers and other little gifts Taehyung has been bringing me. Whatever he got his hands on, he destroyed, tearing the flowers apart or breaking things by throwing them on the floor. I watched him helplessly, now fully sobbing as I witnessed my life being torn apart.

Minhwan paid me no mind, his eyes catching onto something in the chest. He bent over to pull out the object, and I eyed him carefully before I realised what it was. The hairpin. He glanced over at me and when he saw my eyes trained to it, he smirked with such malice it made shiver. He gripped it with both hands and then with a quick gesture broke it in half. Before I could stop myself, I cried out with my hands outstretched going to grab it, grab him, just do anything to stop it from happening, but I couldn’t. Minhwan threw the broken pin on the floor, and I watched the little gem break away and fall through the tiles.

Minhwan walked over to me again and crouched down so he could look at me closer.

“Did he get you pregnant?” he suddenly asked, and it was such an unexpected question it shocked me into silence as I just stared at him dumbly. Then I just slowly shook my head. Minhwan’s face stayed impassive. He just stared at me until I started squirming in my place, my skin crawling with fear and nervousness.

Then he just got up and walked out.

I stayed put, not daring to move from my place, but I strained my ears to hear whatever he was doing. He walked around the main room for a moment and then his footsteps seemed to get further away until I heard the door slide open, slide shut and then silence. I held my breath, waiting for a moment before I allowed myself to decompress, immediately slumping down onto the ground. With the stress rapidly draining from my body, I found myself a shaking crying mess. I crawled over to the chest and grabbed onto whatever destroyed piece of memory I could, cradling them to my chest and desperately hoping that I could mend it, that it would all go away. That I’d wake up in Taehyung’s arms and he’d console me and tell me it was all a bad dream.

I didn’t sleep that night. And Minhwan didn’t return in the morning. The shamaness and her husband came knocking with the dawn and I sat on the porch and expressionlessly watched the main gate rattle and shake under their fists, listened to their raised concerned voices calling to be let in. I was drained, empty and exhausted. I waited until they got tired of it and left, and then I continued sitting there watching the trees move, the sun travel the sky. I could barely feel the frost biting at my fingers, my arms, my face. I could barely feel anything.

For two days, I waited. I sat around the house and watched the walls, walked around the yard and looked outside, into the forest and the trees. Minhwan didn’t return. Taehyung didn’t return. I was completely alone, in the silent house, just wondering whether I was forsaken by both of them, wondering what would happen if neither of them came back.

On the dawn of the third day, I heard footsteps in the yard. My stomach dropped and my heart felt like a piece of ice. Footsteps meant Minhwan. Footsteps meant the end of my life, meant my husband was back and there was no telling what he would do.

I drew the blanket closer to myself and resignedly made my way outside. I would accept whatever was to come. Except the moment I slid the door open, I saw a sheepish Taehyung nervously stepping from foot to foot in our yard. I could only guess how I looked, but when he saw me, he closed the distance between us in a few quick strides, arms immediately pulling me into his chest. I felt my resolve break and desperately clawed at him, pulled him closer, just needing to touch him and make sure he was real and he came back.

He pulled back and I whined, but he took my face into his hands, gazing upon me with tenderness and sadness and despair. His fingers smoothed out the worried lines on my face, touched the puffy cheeks and eyes, gently caressed my face until I could see my vision blurring with unshed tears. Taehyung sighed and bent down to lightly kiss my forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered quietly, his voice like soft caress for my soul after days of loneliness and solitude, and sudden onslaught of emotions hit me like a stone wall. I grabbed onto his robe and looked into his kind beautiful eyes.

“Where were you?” it came out choked on a sob and I couldn’t even wait for his answer before the dam broke and I started crying. Taehyung held me through it, he took me in his arms and carried me inside, petted my back and held my face, whispered to me and it almost felt like a huge déjà vu to the first night I let him get closer to me. He apologised again and again, and I should have pressed for more answers, but I was so relieved he returned, I couldn’t bring myself to ask more.

When I calmed down, Taehyung’s attention was finally drawn to the state of the house. I didn’t clean up the bedroom, I barely even slept, and all the broken things were still lying around. It must have been quite a sight – a broken life, and in the middle of it all, a broken me. But instead of saying anything, he just reached over to grab the remnants of the hairpin. I watched him wordlessly, heart struck with grief at the sight of it, but he played with it for a moment, eyes peeking over at me and grinning mischievously. I returned it shakily, heavy emotions still weighing the corners of my mouth down but I tried, head leaning on his shoulder.

He encased the broken parts of it into his hands and shook them little. I thought nothing of it, watching his hands turn from side to side, expecting this to be just a way to distract me, but when his hands stopped, he uncovered his palm with a grand gesture and I gasped. There, lying on his palm, was the hairpin in one piece, looking as if it’s never been broken.

I immediately went to grab it, but he moved his hand away, keeping it out of my reach. Instead, he grabbed my brush and started slowly brushing out my tangled unkept hair. I let him care for me, I sat there on the floor of my thrashed bedroom, leaned on him and listened to him hum as he played with my hair. When Tae was satisfied with it, he tied my hair with his red ribbon and then pushed in the hairpin.

The fondness in his eyes when he looked over his work warmed my heart, and I relaxed into his embrace.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Taehyung whispered again, “I shouldn’t have left you alone.” I shook my head and tightened my arms around him.

“There was nothing you could have done,” I told him and attempted to smile. I wanted to ease his worries, but I still felt too shaken.

“I should have been here,” Taehyung reiterated, “You needed me, and I failed you.” I squeezed his waist, trying to share comfort to him as he did to me. He looked at me fondly with a little smile, then kissed me gently.

“Where were you?” I asked again, this time much more calmly. Taehyung’s face fell immediately and I expected him not to want to tell me, but with some difficulty he started talking.

“I went to my hyung,” he admitted to me, and I realised there was guilt in his expression, “I asked him to sort something out for me.” I looked at him confused, but his face has turned hard and cold, gazing out of the room. I wanted to ask more, but I couldn’t bring myself to. It didn’t matter now, all that mattered was that he returned.

“We need to leave,” I blurted out suddenly, the calmness leaving my body. I turned on my knees and grabbed onto his clothed shoulders, looking into his eyes with urgency. Taehyung smiled at me and attempted to sit me back down, but I wouldn’t let him. “We really need to leave, before my husband returns,” I continued, the words falling out of me quickly, “I don’t know where he went, he hasn’t returned for a few days, but when he returns I cannot say what he will do.”

Taehyung’s hands pushed onto my shoulders, gentle smile on his face, mouth opening to tell me something, no doubt to calm down, but I jumped in before he got a chance.

“No, you don’t understand Taehyung, he knows,” I whispered urgently, “He knows about us. When he returns… Taehyung, I’m scared of what will happen…” I trailed off, hands flexing and bunching up the fabric of his robes. A few stray tears escaped my eyes, and I was surprised I even had some left in me, after the last few days.

Taehyung gave me a soft smile, hands coming up to hold my face. He gently wiped my tears away and bent down to kiss my forehead, my nose and finally my lips. I watched him, despair mixing with love and fear inside of me, making me feel like I was about to explode. I didn’t know how else explain to him that we weren’t safe here.

“I’m ready to leave,” I whispered again, desperate and broken, “Please Taehyung, I’ll go with you. I’m ready to go. There’s nothing left here.” He said nothing, but caressed my hair, fingers smoothing out the edges of my cold wet face. His eyes were trained on his hands moving on my skin, as if he wasn’t registering what I said at all. I could see in them that he was battling something, lips pursed in a bittersweet smile like they were trying to keep in some awful truths.

My heart gave a few painful pumps before it felt like it stilled completely. My hands fell from him as despair and hurt took over. Suddenly the realisation hit me, the realisation of what this must have been for him. A goodbye. My lips curled around a silent sob, but I couldn’t cry more, there was nothing left inside.

Taehyung noticed my plight and immediately pulled back into him, and I realised why he looked so guilty when we sat down.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” the words barely left my mouth, so quiet they could be barely heard, but Taehyung reacted to them immediately, arms tightening around me.

“No, darling, of course I’m not,” he replied, but I didn’t want to hear more lies, not now and not ever. My own hands balled into fists in my lap.

“Please, tell me the truth,” I said resolutely, looking straight into his eyes that were coloured by confusion at my statement. “What are you talking about?” Taehyung asked, lost and worried. His hands travelled across my shoulders and back, grabbing onto anywhere they could and then passing on as he tried to comfort me without fully knowing what was happening.

“You didn’t respond before,” I told him, and the realisation seemed to hit him almost instantly. “Oh, darling,” he whispered and kissed me softly again, “of course I want you to leave with me. But…” He seemed to struggle there, looking down to his lap guiltily, fingers digging into my shoulders nervously. I grabbed onto his shoulders too and pressed a little closer, until our faces were just a breath away.

“What is it?” I asked, desperate for a resolution, desperate to leave this all behind and go into the woods with him, follow him wherever he’d take me.

“Your husband…” Taehyung started and I tensed at the mention, but I wasn’t prepared for what came out of his mouth next, “he isn’t coming back.” I scrunched my face up in confusion. Taehyung avoided my eyes again, this time looking towards the door with a quiet resolution painted on his face.

“What are you talking about?” I pushed out of my mouth, mind muddled and tongue tied, “Of course he is, and he’ll bring all hell back with him.” Taehyung sighed, hands flexing into my skin.

“Y/N, you don’t understand,” he reiterated, urgency taking over his sweet, honeyed tone, “He isn’t coming back. Ever.” I froze when I finally put together what he had tried to tell me. I wish I could say I was terrified. I wish I could say that I was filled with dread and panic and disgust instead of relief, I wish I could say that I pushed him away, confused and hurt, instead of letting out a shocked laugh, hands immediately searching for his face. I turned him so he’d look at me.

He was painted with shame and guilt, with fear that I would hate him for the implication, so I gently caressed his face and laid a little kiss over his furrowed brows. He closed his eyes, sighing in relief. My heart was beating fast, but I couldn’t tell if it was out of nervousness or joy. I wondered whether that made me a bad person, whether I was cursed after all. But when Taehyung opened his eyes and gave me a toothy grin, it didn’t seem to matter much.

“What did you do?” I asked the question in a hushed whisper, as if discussing my husband’s demise was a thrilling secret just between the two of us. Based on the dark-haired man’s reaction to it he was expecting to hear a horror-struck tone, not the casualness with which I spoke about this matter, but he shook the surprise quick enough.

“Do you remember my hyung? The tiger?” Taehyung begun his explanation, a small smile taking over his face when I nodded in answer, “He was the one your husband owed money to. It was a matter of time before he’d gotten himself reaped, I just called in an early favour.” I frowned slightly at that.

“You mean that my husband was always destined to die?” the question was asked more out of curiosity than concern, but Taehyung still seemed to be a little on edge, fearing my reaction and attempting to gauge my emotional state. Still, he indulged me.

“He was since the moment he decided to play cards against a spirit,” Taehyung explained, “Tigers don’t play for money. We have no need for earthly possessions. But the more the human loses to you, the more under your power they are. With the mounting debt, the spirit only bides his time, terrorising the soul and pushing them into losing more. Then the spirit only waits until they’ve lost the amount of money that could buy their soul, before reaping. Your husband was a lost cause since Yoongi set his eyes on him.” I took in the information slowly, but to me his death was inconsequential now. Taehyung would take me away, I didn’t have to fear being left behind and collected by a family-in-law and living out the rest of my life as a proper widow, a property of my husband’s relatives. With that my only concern was taken care of and I found myself empty of any big reactions regarding his impending sudden demise.

“Do souls have prices, then?” I inquired more, interested in his earlier statement. Taehyung’s eyes sparkled slightly, as if he was delighted I wanted to know more, delighted that I wasn’t mourning, that I didn’t think him a murderer.

“Yes they do,” he answered simply, “a saint would be hard to tempt, the amount would be higher. A tyrant on the other hand, a sinner, they don’t take much.” I hummed quietly, absent-mindedly playing with some of Taehyung’s long hair. It didn’t take much to know which category my husband fell to. Getting my questions answered, I was satisfied to let this subject go. I felt as if a great weight has been lifted off of my shoulders and off of my heart. I found myself cautiously hopeful, looking forward to leaving this house and everything in it behind, letting it rot and fall to the ground and never return. But Taehyung seemed to have something else on his mind still.

“It was me,” he confessed quietly and suddenly, leaving me confused what he meant. He looked at me, gauging my reaction, fingers nervously playing with the edge of my jeogori. “It was me who told hyung to seek him out and tempt him into playing,” the man finally got out and it seemed as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders too.

I said nothing, hands migrating to caress his hair gently, smiling softly, and then getting up. I walked across the room to where my possessions laid strewn across the floor as if they were violently gutted from the insides of the chest. I found a cloth big enough and started piling the most important things inside. Taehyung watched me quietly, unsure of where I stood, still believing I could shun him for this. I smiled at him again when I caught his sad eyes watching my hands move. He returned it, in the same cautiously hopeful way I felt, and I could just think to myself. How perfect. We’re perfect like this.

“I just need to grab a few things and we can go,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile. His returning one was as bright as the sun itself and I felt my drained heart tiredly jumping in joy.

When I gathered everything, he took the bundle from me gently into one of his hands, the other holding mine as I quietly led him out of the cold empty house. Outside, the air was crisp and freezing, but the sun was shining and it filled me with happiness. The snow was sparkling, reflecting the rays of sunlight, blinding me slightly, but I had everything I needed, and it was a beautiful day outside. I squeezed Taehyung’s hand and he returned it.

Once stood in the gate, I turned back to the house wordlessly. I could see through the open doors the mess that was left inside, the state of the bedroom, and the two trails of footsteps leaving forever. Taehyung watched me carefully, making sure I was okay. I nodded at him and he grinned gently. We both turned and walked away.

He led me through the forest, up the mountain path. I’d never been here before, and it seemed that it was a long time since someone else than the demon himself took this path. Briefly I wondered if it even was visible to other people or if it was one of those paths you see once out of the corner of your eyes and then never find it again, even if curiosity kills you from the inside.

Taehyung was walking confidently now, once we crossed the threshold into his world he gained strength and resolve and led me through the trees until we reached a little clearing with a dwelling firmly in the middle of it.

It was smaller than our farm, but it looked much nicer, with little windchimes and colourful decorations hanging from the beam over the porch. Their clanking created a nice ambience in the background and their colourful flashes reflected off of the snow. I smiled fondly at that, feeling at ease.

The house only really had two smaller rooms and a kitchen, but they were filled with books and clothes and paintings. Taehyung seemed to be a lover of arts, his walls full of various pieces varying from flowers to landscapes and portraits. I peeked at them curiously, but Taehyung seemed eager to pull me along until we reached the other room, where a bed was unfolded but untouched. There was a vanity on one side, very similar to the one I had, ready with a brush and another beautiful hairpin sitting next to it, waiting for their owner. I smiled at that, heart filled with so much love it felt like bursting.

Taehyung carefully laid the bundle with my things on the ground and then skipped back over to me, plastering himself to my back, arms possessively coiling around me and lips and nose immediately running over the expanse of the skin at my shoulder and neck. I shuddered lightly, noting his palpable excitement at bringing me to his home.

“This will be our bedroom from now on,” he whispered in a rough voice, laying a series of wet open-mouthed kisses down my shoulder, “This house will become a home.” His hand splayed over my stomach and pushed me more into his form, his heated body melting over me instantly, lips travelling wherever a sliver of skin presented itself to them.

I shuddered lightly, squirming in his arms. I managed to turn to face him and immediately was met with fond eyes full of unshed tears. I grabbed his face and gently pressed our lips together. I meant for the kiss to stay innocent, but Taehyung clearly had a different idea, descending onto me with an urgency of a starving man, lips devouring mine in a hot all-consuming kiss.

I moaned lightly into his mouth, hands tightening in his clothes and subconsciously pulling him closer to me. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue inside my mouth, sighing with content when it met mine and twisted and pushed around each other. He towered over me, with every second bending down a little more, making me arch into the kiss. The dark-haired man was grabbing onto my hips, as strong as a vice, digging fingers into the layers of fabric with such force I still felt his nails biting into my skin. My own hands slowly travelled up, tangling into his hair and wrapping around his neck. When I pulled on the strand lightly, Taehyung sighed into my mouth and pushed us closer together.

My mind was quickly becoming muddled, only thoughts of the man in my arms swimming around in my brain, body heating up rapidly and begging for his attention in the way that he used to give me. And with the way he held onto me and pressed into me, he was in a similar state.

Without interrupting our kiss, Taehyung started slowly sliding down to the floor and pulled me with him. I gasped slightly and finally broke our kiss to breathe and take in the new position, but Tae didn’t get discouraged and continued his path down my jawline and my neck. I had enough mind to breathlessly move my head out of the way and present my neck for him, which made him hum appreciatively, his low deep voice purring into my skin. All I could really do was hold on to him and let the sensations sail me further.

I could feel his hands inching higher, until they were kneading my waist, thumbs slipping under the jeogori and messing with my undergarments. My whole body trembled like a plucked string, desire wreaking havoc on my psyche. I released a shaky sigh and decided to be a little bit braver. I grabbed one of his hands, Taehyung making a little questioning sound in the back of his throat, but didn’t stop his ministrations, and I pushed it towards the bow tying my top together.

Taehyung paused only for a second, eyes searching mine for any kind of hesitation, but I only blushed under his heated gaze, the lust taking over the control of my body and pushing my chest more into his curious hands. He no longer wasted time after that, leaning a bit back and making quick work of the binding and soon he had me sitting in his lap in only my undergarments. My lips found his again, needing to feel his touch more than I needed to breathe oxygen.

With new skin now visible Taehyung seemed to be over the moon, a little content sighs and quiet moans leaving his mouth as his fingers travelled across the expanse of my shoulder blades and my arms. The intensity of the kiss kept increasing, my body confusedly trying to move with the motions and seek even more pleasure. When Taehyung gently bit on my lower lip, my hips jerked forward on their own and I could feel a hardness sliding across my centre. We both gasped, Taehyung’s hands jumping to my hips to stop them, but I felt as if a lighting struck me to my core, pleasure zapping through me on a jolt. I gasped, hips mindlessly chasing after the feeling again. Taehyung separated the kiss on a groan, his head falling to my shoulder, hands now encouraging my hips to move instead of stopping them.

For a moment we just enjoyed each other, mindlessly kissing here, grabbing onto each other and chasing the pleasure, moving against each other. I managed to get Taehyung out of his outer robes too and he was clad only in a thin undershirt that teased a little bit of his collarbones, which I immediately covered in kisses. We didn’t speak and the room was filled with the sounds of shifting clothes and airy little gasps and moans, but I needed more. I needed so much more.

Taehyung’s lips travelled down to the edge of my undergarment, kissing the soft swell teasing my breasts, and I gasped and arched and curved into him, but I could feel the smirk settling on his face as he moved away again. I whined, mind gone and begging for more solid touch, for his hand between my legs and his lips biting into my shoulders.

I pushed onto his shoulders and as Taehyung wasn’t expecting it, he went easily, slight alarm painting his face, but I just grabbed him and pulled his face back to mine. The moment our lips crashed together, I keened, licking into his mouth desperately. The dark-haired man chuckled, but he seemed to take pity on me.

With one hand gently laid on my lower back, he slowly toppled us over until I was lying on the ground with his weight settling gently on top of me, legs tangled and lips intertwined. With a wet smack our lips separated and for a moment we both just looked at each other breathing hard, but then the time and reality caught up to my overheated excited brain and I immediately started tearing at his clothes, untying anything I got my hands on and pushing the fabric away until his whole torso was on display.

I choked on a moan, the desire reigniting within me tenfold. He was beautiful, strong and lean, honey-toned skin blemishless and perfect. Distracted with all the possibilities and my body screaming at me to have the man take me now, take me as soon as possible, my hands wildly flitted over his chest, kneading the skin but not settling anywhere for too long. I decided to pay back the favour and my lips latched onto his neck, making him shudder and moan. I played around lightly, just like he had, kissing anywhere I could, moving south to his pecks and then back up all the way to his ear with wet open-mouthed kisses, revealing just how far gone I was and how needy he made me with his earlier ministrations.

Taehyung buried his face into the crook of my neck, skin rippling with every touch, releasing low groans right into my ear, which made me work even harder. I was ecstatic that I was finally able to touch him too, ecstatic by the prospect of returning the pleasure he had been bestowing me with all these mornings that would have otherwise been cold and lonely.

With that thought in mind, my hands shifted to his hips, at first seemingly just sitting there and holding onto him, but slowly moving downwards, pushing the pants down. Taehyung didn’t seem to notice at first, but once I got low enough to expose the v of his hips and the thicker part of his happy trail, he let out a loud excited groan, body shaking with anticipation.

His lips pressed into my ear. “Do you want to see me? Touch me?” he whispered, voice rough and aroused. I gasped quietly, legs falling open more so that he could settle his hips more comfortably and I could see the moment I finally pushed them low enough, breath held in excitement.

“Yes, please,” I answered in a similarly debauched hushed voice, “please, Taehyung.” His chest rumbled happily, lips busying themselves with biting and kissing into my neck. I must have been absolutely covered with little red and purple bruises and the thought sent a bolt of arousal through me, my body jerking underneath the bigger man.

“Go ahead then, darling,” he said sensually, regaining back a little control. His hips stiffened, allowing me to pull them down the final stretch, releasing his erection. It hit his lower stomach with a tiny noise, the wet tip leaving a little smear of clear liquid there. I clenched on nothing, a gush of wetness suddenly leaving me at the prospect of having him inside of me. He was watching me closely, a wild look on his face, and the more excited I felt, the hungrier he looked.

Then Taehyung pressed his face to mine again, lips caressing the shell of my ear as he whispered: “Do you want it? Do you want my cock, darling?” I nodded, a whimper escaping me, thighs and pussy throbbing with pure burning need. I was so aroused my head was spinning and every thought inside curled around the pleasure this man was providing me with. He clicked his tongue though, and shook his head a little, giving me a playful grin.

“Then you need to say it,” he stated meanly, eyes sparkling with mischief, “Good girls always ask for it.” The way his tongue wrapped around the words good girl made me borderline delirious, back arching and thighs spreading even further, until my hips hurt and I was gasping with the liquid lust coursing through my veins.

“Please!” I whined out again, hands grabbing onto his searing hot skin and attempting to pull him closer, but he didn’t budge.

“No, no, no, darling,” his voice seemed even darker and richer than usual and I was losing my mind on the little rasp, his tongue peeking out to play with the lobe of my ear quickly sending me spinning, “You need to say it.”

“Please, Taehyung,” I choked out, a few tears of frustrated arousal slipping down my cheeks, “I want you.” He smiled, giving me false sense of victory, but still kept his hips away from mine. I whined again, not knowing what else to do.

“I want to hear the words from your mouth, darling,” he stated firmly, “Say ‘Please Taehyung, I want your cock’.” I gasped at his words, the flush on my face deepening despite the lewdness of the situation I already found myself in. My tongue darted out to wet my dried lips and Taehyung’s eyes zeroed in on my mouth, fascinated.

“I want your cock,” I whispered, the arousal pushing me into boldness I’ve never displayed before, “Please, Taehyung, I want your cock so bad.” He groaned and I saw the exact moment his pupils expanded with pure lust and his eyes were overtaken by desire to have me. While his lips crashed to mine, his hand grabbed one of mine and pulled it towards his cock and wrapping it around it.

I squeezed on instinct and Taehyung moaned into me, hips bucking gently. I took a moment to feel him out, just gently ran my hands over the ridges and curves. I could feel the way Taehyung trembled, the way his breathing stuttered on tiny, muted groans, his eyes firmly shut. His hands grabbed onto my thighs and dug into them through the underskirt still half covering me from his eyes.

When I began sliding my hand up and down the shaft, Taehyung’s head once again fell to my shoulder, open mouth pressing into my skin and releasing rugged moans. His hips jerked forward in tiny motions, thrusting lightly into my curled hands. I was content with touching him, but my body also screamed for attention, thighs shaking and muscles in my belly contracting in pleasurable little ripples. I was so wet I could feel my essence sliding down my thighs and my bottom, leaving a little puddle on the bedding under us.

I squeezed around him lightly and he jerked into my hands harder, a debauched groan leaving him. I spasmed, pussy pulsing around nothing, begging to be filled up to the brim, an answering moan leaving my own lips. Taehyung looked at me through half-lidded eyes, reason completely overridden by the need to push himself into my tight wet heat at the clear need depicted on my face, he shuddered again, pre-cum leaking out the red tip of his painfully erect cock.

His hands scrambled to grab my skirt and push it up my legs until it pooled around my stomach, wet pussy exposed to his needy hands. He didn’t waste any time and pulled his fingers through my folds, teasing my clit for a moment and punching out desperate moans out of me, whole body spasming at the sudden onslaught of pleasure cursing through me, but then his fingers hurriedly slid down and pushed inside of me. At the feeling of his fingers getting so easily swallowed up by my wet cunt he groaned, thrusting them in a little and scissoring to make sure I was absolutely ready to take a cock, but both of us were beyond gone with desire.

I was enjoying the feeling of finally having something inside of me, but it didn’t last for long. After a few hurried thrusts of his fingers, Taehyung pulled his hand away and I whined, arching my back, pussy chasing after him. He quickly swatted my hands from his length and lowered his hips until we were pressing into each other, his cock snuggly sliding through my wet folds.

Our breaths were knocked out of us on deep satisfied groans. He moved his hips back and forth a few times, coating himself in my juices to ensure easier slide, and then pushed inside with one firm motion, cock driving inside of me without any resistance, filling me absolutely all the way up on the first thrust. I threw my head back, mouth open on a silent scream, the contentment of finally having him inside me lighting my every nerve on fire and satisfying something deep inside of my core. I trembled, desperately holding onto him as my brain turned to mush with barely anything.

Taehyung was having more trouble staying silent, mouth open and instantly pumping out groans and moans, shaky hands keeping my hips still and desperately trying to stop himself from immediately mindlessly driving into the divine pleasure that was the feeling of being enveloped by my wet tight walls.

I whimpered and squirmed underneath him, grabbing onto him. I wasn’t even fully aware of myself, body and mind consumed by the heavenly feeling of being filled by him.

“Please!” I whined out loud, desperately needing him to finally start doing something, like there was an itch deep inside of me that needed scratching, “Please, give me more!”

Taehyung chuckled above me, trying to stay suave and smooth but I could hear how breathless he was, could feel his hands tightening and loosening on my hips. His hips trembled against mine, jumping with excitement at my words.

He pulled his hips back and slowly slid back in, making us both sigh with content. He kept the pace slow and deep, covering me with his body and claiming my mouth with his while I fell apart on his well-aimed pace. I moaned on every stroke, arching my hips and spreading my thighs to let him hit deeper, pull him in closer.

The slow build up of the pleasure had me losing my mind. I felt like I was getting gradually submerged into boiling water, the heat steadily rising with every thrust filling me with deep primal satisfaction. My hands roamed over Taehyung’s body, appreciating his smooth skin and muscles as they jumped with movement, soaking up Taehyung’s little hick-uped groans when I passed over sensitive areas.

Taehyung changed the angle a little bit and when he pressed all the way inside, his tip pressed into a spot that had me keening loudly underneath him, eyes tightly shut and mouth wide open. My hands instinctively grabbed onto his waist and squeezed, nails digging into his skin, and Taehyung groaned loudly, hips jerking into me roughly, punching out a whiny moan out of me.

That seemed to break us into a frenzy, my hands sliding down his body and grabbing onto his ass, pushing him into me and encouraging his movements. Taehyung happily took the sign and started thrusting faster and harder, filling the room with sounds of our moans and the wet slapping of our hips. I couldn’t stop the sounds spilling out of my mouth, his every stroke hitting deep inside me and lighting my every nerve on fire, stoking the lust and the bliss in pulsing consuming waves.

I felt myself getting close to the peak I was so familiar with from his hands, the sensations drowning me and washing over me in over-powering waves. Taehyung’s moans were reaching crescendo, getting higher and whinier as his hips unfalteringly pounded into me.

“So close, darling,” he croaked with a raspy voice, “going to paint you with my seed, going to fill you to the brim.” I moaned in response, pussy throbbing and clenching around him, sucking him in deeper. I needed us both to peak, I needed it more than air to feel him unwind and release, get consumed with pleasure I provided him with.

“God, just a little more,” I answered to him breathlessly on a pleasured sigh. My hands squeezed his bottom and pushed him a little rougher. His breath hitched, but he changed his pace accordingly, slowing down but snapping his hips into me harder and rougher, making me wail with pleasure.

I felt myself spiralling into the heat, knowing I wouldn’t last too long like this. Above me Taehyung watched me through half-lidded eyes, mouth open and face consumed with raw lust at my blissed-out state. I caught his eyes just seconds before my whole body spasmed and then stilled, climax exploding over me with force that shocked a raspy scream out of me. I blanked out, trembling and overflowing with bliss and ecstasy, legs spasming and toes curling with the sensation of the fire consuming me inside out. It was the best feeling I’ve ever felt, the most intense thing my body has ever gone through, but I loved every second of it. It felt as if all the stress just drained away from my body and was replaced by molten gold.

Taehyung fucked me through the orgasm, and it took him only a few more thrusts before his hips jerked wildly, pleasure mounting until he released deep inside of me with his head thrown back and a long drawn-out moan. I felt his cock throb and pulse inside of me as it spurted his seed, his hips lightly swaying in circles to ride it out, until the boneless weightless feeling set in and he collapsed on top of me.

I was feeling so content, body pleasantly light and thrumming with aftershocks of our shared moment, eyelids heavy with sleep. I felt Taehyung slip out and move away from me, his release running down my legs and making me blush again, but I didn’t have any strength to move or wipe it away, so I just laid there and waited for the man. He returned with a piece of cloth, still just as naked, shooting me a little playful wink when he saw me looking at his body. I turned around, embarrassed, even though we had just enjoyed each other like husband and wife.

I heard his little chuckle, but then the cloth suddenly pressed onto my thighs, making me gasp quietly. Taehyung squeezed my leg in apology and continued cleaning me up. I couldn’t help the little sighs of content leaving me, the warm cloth and his gentle touches filling my heart with love.

When he was done, he threw the piece of cloth away carelessly, before jumping onto the bedding and snuggling up to me. We ended up like we always have, Taehyung holding me from behind, hands pulling me as close to him as I could go, lips and nose pressing into the crook of my neck and into my hair, trilling happily.

I let it gently lull me to sleep, melting into his loving embrace, listening to his content purrs, our bodies moulding perfectly together like it was always meant to happen. I closed my eyes, and welcomed sleep, feeling the most comfortable I’ve been in years.

I couldn’t remember what I was thinking right before I slipped under, but I did with the feeling of just everything being right.

I would be okay. We would be okay.

hope you enjoyed yourself and see you around <3

A/N: the story of prince cheoyong, the son of the dragon king who neglected his wife to which a demon of pestilence took a liking and sneaked into her bed - one day cheoyong returned home and saw four feet sticking out of the bed instead of two, and he chased out the demon with singing and dancing, saving his wife and becoming a guardian god - it was said that no demon or evil spirit could enter a house as long as there was a likeness of cheoyong there, so people bought his portraits or talismans with his face and put them on their door, but i kind of switched the sides hehe

[idontcaboose]

Haunted car Au part 14

So, it has been a week, and it feels like when you wake up from an unplanned 30 minute nap and have to ask 'What year is it?' While feeling like you have been run over by a whole procession of clowns, clown cars, and maybe a camel for good measure. Granted, that may be from the ragweed that is pollinating like crazy, but oh well... new part!

THIS IS YOUR WARNING! SWEAR WORDS! Plenty of cursing ahead! You have been warned!

Previous. Masterpost

It had been over 24 hours since Jason saw Danny. The most troubling thing was, there were no whispers of a trafficking group in that area. He couldn't fathom what had happened to the kid. Barbara couldn't find the kid on her cameras either, so he might need to go to the cave and look at the Batmobile himself. The footage Babs pulled were just as corrupted as the ally cameras were. Maybe the kid built himself a little jamming device, wouldn't be his first strangely useful creation. Whether or not he had a jamming device, he was still missing and none of the other street kids had seen him. He knew they were probably not harboring him with the bounty for finding Danny being as lucrative as it was. Jason knew offering to cook 3 meals a day for a week would get all of his street kids looking, some adults too.

Jason was a little surprised to see Duke looking at the Batmobile's underside when he drove in. Normally only Bruce and Jason worked on the cars since they had the most hands-on experience with them. Case in point, Duke had the car up on the lift with the front doors open. Did he have to sit Duke down and go through safety in maintenance 101? Maybe he could borrow little Timmy's version “The importance of Maintenance Safety: Or why you don't let Megan write safety plans.” It would hit all the important bits and sear the information in with neon yellow and blue comic sans font.

“So, Glowstick, mind telling me why the fuck you are trying to get yourself crushed?” Jason growled at the kid, the helmet making it even more menacing.

Duke gave Jason an unimpressed look. “B got a stick up his ass and thinks I somehow was involved with the Batmobile running weirdly." Duke sneered as he continued. "Last night when Red Robin activated his emergency beacon, the lead goon got in it and ran over some of his goons. The fail safes for theft didn't activate. Somehow, it was my fault. Perks to being the closest non-injured, I guess.”

Jason was surprised at the bitterness the usually sunshine-y kid had.

“Well, good news, we can swap for a bit, and I can teach you properly how to maintain this beast.” Jason offered.

“Why are you so interested?”

“I can't be nice?”

“You are here willingly, and no, you usually are not ‘nice’. So what is it?”

Jason was not expecting such hostility from Duke, but if Bruce had his panties in a twist and took it out on Duke, he could forgive some of the bite. Couldn't hurt to get Duke in on his hunt for Danny anyway.

“I… need help. One of my guys mentioned they bet a kid, named Danny, some money to put a sticker on the Batmobile. No one has seen the kid after entering the alley where the car was parked. Oracle said the cameras were corrupted at the time the kid was there with it. Figured I would check the car for clues.”

“Oh…. Sure.”

They both looked at the undercarriage of the car in silence before Jason gave a snort.

“The kid really did put a sticker on the oil pan. That is hilarious.”

Sure enough there was a Green Arrow sticker, one where he had his arms crossed and looking smug as all hell, positioned in such a way that eluded that when the oil was drained it would look like Green Arrow was pissing.

“That is amazing, if you find the kid let me give them a high-five for that. What does he look like anyway?”

“Adoption bait, pretty much a mini me with a more ‘polite’ mouth.” Jason was sure Duke could hear his smile when talking about the kid.

“No shit? You with manners? I don't think I can imagine that from a Alley Rat.” Duke teased.

“Watch it Narrows, us Alley Rats are all a little rabid.” Jason found himself teasing back before sniffing. “Besides, Alfie would have my head if I didn't have some manners.”

They went back into a more comfortable silence while working, Jason took to looking through the center, hoping to find some sort of clue of a struggle if Danny got nabbed. Duke was focusing on the engine compartment and any wirings that he could follow. It was rather relaxing until Duke went to move some rubber piping to get a closer look at a relay.

Neither person expected the car to shudder and produce a kind of creepy giggle. Duke froze and Jason reacted by tackling him away from the car and pulling one of his guns at the Batmobile.

“What in the ever loving fuck?” Jason screamed, the Batmobile responded with its own car alarm going off.

“Don't shoot! I'm sorry, I didn't expect that to happen, we are still trying to figure things out!” Duke had jumped back up and put himself in front of Jason, waving his hands and trying to keep attention on him.

“We? What the fuck Narrows?!”

“Just, both of you, stop! Hood, gun down, Car dude, stop the alarm. Please.” Duke all but whined the last word in desperation.

Jason took a Very deep breath, and growled out in the now silent cave.

“Car. Dude?”

Next

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422 @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism @thespacedragons @atinygracie @okami-love @lesbian-spider-drone @1n0sss @forgetmenot-bluepurple

[nerdy-novelist017]

Borrowed Bites (Eric Draven x Rebel!Reader pt 2)

Added another part since the last one was received so well! Thank you for the kind words and appreciation! I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts on this part! 💕

Eric Draven Masterlist

Word Count- 2.9k+

Summary- He just couldn't get away from you. You were corrupting his routine, his life, his thoughts.

Eric sought refuge in the library, a quiet sanctuary where the weight of the facility’s sterile air seemed to lift, just a little. The room was a cocoon of silence, the faint scent of old, yellowed books filtering through his senses. Here, amid the shelves of dusty volumes, he could be transported to somewhere else, somewhere where the walls were not closing in on him little by little every day. 

He was supposed to be assigned to cleaning the room for the next hour, but he was finished within the first 30 minutes, so now he sat in the aisle, leaning up against the shelf. He was lost in the pages of an old art book, the kind that made him ache for life outside of these walls. He was staring at a particular page of a charcoal drawing of a horse, the scene bringing back his own past in a swirl of paint strokes, charcoal lines, the delicate dance of light and dark. 

But that moment was shattered by the sound of the door opening and footsteps approaching him. His heart sank, a heavy stone sinking into the pit of his stomach. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The air around him seemed to buzz with a familiar energy, one he had been trying – and failing – to avoid. 

“You hiding out in here, artist boy?” your voice broke through the stillness of the room, a playful tone that underscored something sharper, something that pricked at his defenses. 

Eric’s eyes glanced up, catching just a brief look at your face above him before dropping back to the book in his lap. He knew by just the few times of your interactions since your arrival to the facility a week ago, that his disinterest would not be enough to make you go away. No, it seemed that you could not take a hint, no matter how obvious it was. 

“This place is a real snoozefest,” you said as you lowered yourself on the floor in front of him, sitting cross-legged. You leaned forward on your hands, trying to peer at his book. “I didn’t peg you for the library type.”

“It’s quiet here,” he muttered, his voice almost devoid of emotion. “That’s why I like it here.”

“And here I thought you came for the thrilling company,” you teased, your voice taking on a hint of something more – a curiosity perhaps, or an understanding that he didn’t want you to have. 

“Shouldn’t you be off trying to seduce the guards?” he bit back, referencing your words from his first unwanted interaction with you. 

You grinned mischievously as you brushed a strand of your unruly hair out of your face. “I’m still working on that, don’t you worry.”

“I’m not interested,” his fingers tightened around the edges of his book as he spoke with a certain level of finality, attempting to completely sever the connection you were trying to forge. 

“Not interested in what?” you pressed, tilting your head in a way that Eric came to understand as you attempting to figure him out, like you were trying to put together the puzzle pieces of his mind. 

He hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He didn’t know how to answer, how to articulate the mind-jumbling swirl of emotions inside him. He finally grumbled, “In whatever game you’re playing.”

A brief flash of hurt flickered across your face, so quick that he almost missed it. But then you recovered with that infuriating grin. “Who says I’m playing a game?”

Uncomfortable with that reaction, his gaze fell back down to his book, as if the words would allow him an escape of whatever trap you were setting. “Just leave me alone.”

But of course, that wasn’t enough to deter you. You weren’t the type to back down so easily. Instead, you leaned back against the opposite shelf from him, folding your arms as if preparing for a long conversation he had no interest in having. 

“You know,” you started, your voice a touch softer now, “you’re not as invisible as you might think.”

Eric’s jaw tightened, the words hitting him hard. He had spent so long trying to be just that – invisible, a ghost passing through unnoticed. But you saw him, and you wouldn’t look away. 

“I’m not hiding,” he retorted quietly, but the words sounded hollow even to himself. 

“Then why won’t you look at me?” Your question hung heavy in the air between you, a challenge he wasn't sure how to meet. 

He forced himself to look up at you, your direct gaze sending his heart to his stomach. He refused to admit it, refused, but something about you drew him in like a moth to a flame, something about your eyes that refused to look away. 

“What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice low. 

You didn’t answer immediately, your gaze evocative as you studied him silently, as if searching for something beneath the surface. “I want to know you,” you said finally, the simplicity of the words cutting through him. 

Eric stared at you, his mind racing to find a response to that strange statement, something that would push you away, make you see that there was nothing worth knowing in him. But all he could manage was, “Why?”

“Because,” you said as you leaned forward slightly, your voice barely above a whisper, “you’re different. I can tell.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to respond to the sincerity in your voice. The way you seemed to genuinely care unsettled him, the way you saw him and refused to let him fade into the background like he wanted. 

“You don’t know me,” he said after a moment, his words heavy with frustration and something else that he didn’t want to examine too closely. It was the same words he had told you a week ago when you first spoke to him and flipped his world upside down, but he couldn’t find anything else to say to you. You didn’t know him, that was true. But you definitely wanted to fit yourself into his life, to know him as he knew himself. 

“I think you’re worth figuring out.” A small smile tugged at your lips.

He wanted to scoff, to brush off your words as naive and misguided, but there was something in your tone, in the way you were looking not just at him but through him, made it impossible to miss. You were being sincere, and that shook him to his core.

“I’m not,” he retorted, his voice weaker than he intended. “I’m just another screw-up, just like everyone else in here.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so. I think you’re more than that.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, didn’t know how to process the unfamiliar warmth swirling in his chest. All he knew was you were getting way too close, digging too deep into feelings he’d locked away a long time ago. He reached for the book, flipping it open to a random page in a futile attempt to avoid your intense gaze. But the words on the page blurred, the images that had once brought him comfort now seemed distant, unreachable. 

Before you could say anything else, the sound of the door opening again startled both of you, shattering the temporary bubble you were enclosed in, and Eric looked up just in time to see a guard round the corner of the aisle, his heavy footsteps thudding on the worn carpet. He instantly sat up straighter, his heart racing slightly when the guard’s eyes caught sight of the two of you. 

“What are you doing in here?” The guard’s voice was a harsh intrusion, his gaze narrowing between you like a hawk sizing up its prey. 

Eric shot you a nervous glance your way. To anyone else, your expression would have looked completely neutral as you regarded the man nearing you both, but Eric could see the tension in your jaw, the way it ticked ever so slightly, betraying the anger brewing just beneath the surface. 

“I’m not doing anything,” you replied casually, almost dismissive. But the guard’s wasn’t in the mood for games. He cut you off before you could say anything more.

“You know the rules,” he barked, his voice echoing in the stillness of the library. “No fraternizing.”

You put your hands up in mock surrender, a gesture that might have seemed playful if not for the sarcasm dripping in your voice as you replied, “Yeah, right. God forbid anyone make any friends in here.”

The guard’s gaze darkened, his eyes narrowing to slits. Without warning, he grabbed your arm and yanked you to your feet with a roughness that made Eric flinch  “You’re not here to make friends. You’re here to get sober and stop being a burden and a piece of shit to society.” 

The harsh words hung in the air like poison, their words seeping into the cracks the moment. Eric felt a surge of panic in his chest as he snapped the book shut, the sound like a gunshot in the tense silence. He stood quickly, instinctively knowing it was best not to argue, not to escalate the situation further. Just follow the rules, he told himself, a mantra he clung to since he got here. But he knew you well enough now that you wouldn’t – couldn't – do that.

“Wow, tell me how you really feel about it,” you shot back, your voice clouded with defiance. 

“You think this is funny?” The guard hissed, his voice dropping to a menacing low. “Keep running that mouth and you’ll find out just how serious we are.”

For a brief moment, Eric saw a flicker of something in your eyes – a flicker of doubt, maybe even fear – but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same defiance that both worried and awed him. 

Eric felt the weight of the moment bearing down on the room, the oppressive atmosphere of the facility closing in. He knew he should say something, do something to alleviate the tension, but the fear of the repercussions, of going back to solitary confinement, held him back, rendering him silent and still. 

“Come on,” the guard snapped, pulling you towards the door. “We’re done here.”

As you were dragged away, you cast one last look over your shoulder to Eric, and he could see the mix of emotions in your eyes – anger, frustration and something that resembled regret. And Eric’s chest tightened at the sight because you weren’t just leaving as you always did. You were being taken away, and he was powerless to stop it. 

The door slammed shut behind you, and the silence that followed was deafening. Eric stood frozen, staring at the spot you occupied just moments before, his mind racing. He gripped the book in his hand with a white knuckle power as he realized he had let the guard take you without so much as lifting a finger, without saying a word. The realization twisted like a knife in his gut, a painful reminder of his own helplessness. 

*****

Eric didn’t see you for the rest of the day. He tried not to think about how he even noticed your lack of presence and especially how it made him feel. The day passed with the same level of dreadful monotony that he had been subjected to since the very first day he’d arrived in this hellhole. 

It wasn’t until lunchtime the next day until he saw you again. The cafeteria thrummed with the repeated sounds of everyday life here – the clatter of trays connecting, the gentle murmur of quiet conversation, the sporadic eruptions of laughter or from souls lost in their own struggles. Eric sat by himself at a table near the corner of the room, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of his tray as he picked at the array of bland, tasteless food before him. The harsh fluorescence above cast a stark, unforgiving light over everything, rendering the room devoid of any warmth. 

He was halfway through forcing another bite of the food when you suddenly materialized across the expanse of the bustling room. You slid into the seat across from him, a mirthful grin on your face. 

“Did you miss me, artist boy?” you asked with a tilt of your head, that signature smirk playing across your lips.

He wasn’t going to answer that, not even for himself. He averted his gaze to his tray instead, afraid that you would be able to read through his expressions as you so often did. That didn’t seem to bother you though because without hesitation (or permission) you reached over and swiped a roll from his tray, taking a bite as if it was casual. 

“Hey,” Eric protested softly, though his voice lacked any true anger, more like mild annoyance. In fact, he was actually relieved to see you, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. There was a brief moment last night as he lay awake in his bed going over the interaction of the library when he wondered if you had been locked in solitary for your actions. He didn’t think you had said or done anything to warrant such an offense, but you were unpredictable. He had no idea if you continued to fight, to mouth off after the guard dragged you away. Seeing you here in front of him was confirmation that, for once, you had refrained from doing anything to further your punishments here. 

“What?” you asked with a nonchalant shrug. “You weren’t eating it.”

Eric rolled his eyes, a silent gesture of exasperation. “You could’ve just asked.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You quipped as you leaned back in your seat, your gaze sweeping across the room as if you were just examining the scene before you, waiting patiently for something – anything – to disrupt the routine. 

He watched you for a moment, captivated by the restless energy that perpetually seemed to follow you. It was as though you were perched on the edge of some unseen cliff, ready to plunge off the side at any given moment. The near constant state of heightened alertness was both exhausting and irresistibly captivating for him, an anomaly that left him simultaneously drained and drawed in. 

“Why do you do that?” he asked suddenly, the question catching himself off guard, and he instantly wanted to take it back. 

“Do what?” you replied smoothly, not missing a beat. 

“Act like . . . I don’t know. Like nothing matters.”

You blinked at him, momentarily taken aback. Then you smiled and with a half shrug, responded, “Because it doesn’t. 

But Eric could see the flicker of something more profound, a bit sad even in your eyes, and it casted doubt in the authenticity of your words. 

“Right,” he muttered, his voice laced with skepticism. Your gaze left his and he took that as a sign of your wanting to drop the subject so he returned to his food, though his appetite was severely diminished. 

For a while, silence enveloped the two of you. It was a surprisingly comfortable silence, albeit still surrounded with the rest of the cafeteria buzz. When he glanced back up at you, he could see the sudden change in your eyes as you glanced about the room once again. He had witnessed that look before – one that usually preceded your reckless actions, the calm before the storm. 

“Don’t,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with caution.

You turned your attention back to him with a look of feigned innocence. “Don’t what?”

“Whatever it is you’re thinking of doing,” Eric replied, his tone now carrying seriousness. 

A familiar spark of chaotic energy ignited in your eyes as you grinned. “What makes you think I’m planning something, Eric?”

“Because you always are.”

You giggled, clearly amused at his concern, and he tried to ignore the rush of butterflies that hit his chest at the sound of it. “Relax. I’m not about to blow up the place or anything.”

“That’s not comforting,” he muttered, though the faintest hint of a smile betrayed his true feelings. 

Before you could respond with yet another one of your signature quips, a guard ambled by, scanning the room with hawkish vigilance. You immediately straightened up, your playful grin fading as you donned a more neutral, guarded expression. 

As the guard continued his stroll, you leaned forward, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial low. “Meet me by the west wing storage closet after lunch.”

Your tone left no room for negotiation or refusal, but Eric hesitated, a storm of instincts battling within him, urging him to resist. But there was something in the way you looked at him – something that compelled him to nod reluctantly. 

You shot him a quick, satisfied smile before rising gracefully and sauntering away, leaving Eric alone once again with a whirlwind of emotions and a nagging feeling that he was about to be pulled into something he would regret. Yet, despite the better judgment that screamed caution, he knew he would go. Because as much as you exasperated him, left him bewildered, and sometimes even frightened him, there was a part of him that was irresistibly drawn to you. A part that yearned to unravel the mystery of why you were the way you were. 

"Fuck," he murmured under his breath.

-Tag List-

@redwitchbitch1 @marshm3770fluff @one-of-thewalkingdead @rubyfruitjungle @mrsvalbaker @m00npjm @maimai-0603 @at-midnight @fandom-fanatix @spoiled-bat13 @alinahdee @a-differentbrandof-jeans

[igbylicious]

bound [hongjoong x seonghwa]

pairing: necromancer hongjoong x revenant seonghwa

rating: 18+

genre: darkfic, smut, angst, fantasy

summary: Seonghwa will die for Hongjoong, over and over again, and he pretends it means something every time his master brings him back.

wc: 3.4k

warnings: dom Hongjoong, sub Seonghwa, oral; 69, face-fucking, rough sex, choking on cock, cum swallowing, temperature play (sortof), toxic relationship; Seonghwa’s soul is contractually bound to Hongjoong, violence, blood & injury, resurrection; Seonghwa dies but he gets better

a/n: idk if i’d call these doves dead but they def ain’t the pinnacle of health ^^;; pls mind the warnings!

Seonghwa might die for Hongjoong today.

It won’t be the first time he has died, and it won’t be the last. He can live with that.

There are a lot of things that Seonghwa can live with, or so he’s discovered ever since he signed this contract. He can live with blood on his hands; he can live with the uncertainty of whether that blood is innocent.

He only cannot live without Hongjoong.

“Well done, pet.” His master’s voice is delicate today, a soft purr that never fails to make him shiver. Hongjoong reaches a cool hand to cup Seonghwa’s blood-splattered cheek, tainting his fingers with spilled life. “Hold the rest of them off while I finish the ritual, won’t you?”

“Yes, Master.”

“My brave obedient wardog,” Hongjoong either praises or mocks him — Seonghwa is never sure — and he presses his cold lips against Seonghwa’s warm mouth in a shallow kiss. Sometimes Seonghwa wonders which one of them is more alive.

Hongjoong’s intoxicating scent wraps around Seonghwa and he bites back a whine as a clever tongue briefly teases against his lips; but Hongjoong is gone before Seonghwa can lose himself in the kiss. His master turns away with a billow of his heavy fur cloak, snow crunching underneath his leather boots as he makes his way to the ancient stone altar site.

The fresh body of a careless scout lies on the dais, limbs contorted and flesh ripped. Dragged here after Seonghwa had disposed of him; an easy lonely target who wandered too deeply into Hongjoong’s net. The scout’s lack of caution volunteered him for one of Hongjoong’s aberrant ceremonials, ensuring he will never report back to the hunting party that follows behind.

Hongjoong bends down next to the body and runs a gentle hand across the torn skin, and jealousy pierces through Seonghwa like a fiery hot blade. He tries to shake it off, reminding himself there is no cause for envy. His master holds no contract with this miserable scout; no soul will be pulled from the wretched remains that Hongjoong is about to lay his hands on. This unremarkable corpse is nothing like Seonghwa.

No one else is like him.

He is special.

He does not know why Hongjoong choose Seonghwa’s body and soul to bind with his. Seonghwa is a gifted warrior, but so are countless others. He was desperate when Hongjoong found him — but who isn’t, in this war-stricken land? Out of an overabundance of choice, Hongjoong still picked him.

That means something. It has to.

Otherwise, none of this means anything at all.

Seonghwa focuses himself back to his task, extending out his awareness to the forest around him. Heightened senses are one of the benefits to his contract; his revived body finely attuned to the world. Death has brought him closer to life, so Hongjoong likes to say.

Seonghwa closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and makes note of every sign of life in this otherwise dead forest. Ever since his master made this place his ritual site, wildlife has long fled the area. Driven off by the slow petrification of thickets and flowers, drained of their vitality. And as Hongjoong’s circle of corruption expands, any living thing here is threatened by the same fate.

Except for Seonghwa. Seonghwa thrives.

Just as his master feeds on life, Seonghwa feeds on him; and Hongjoong always provides him a rich meal.

It does not take long for the hunting party to skitter into the edges of Seonghwa’s eyesight, though he sensed their imminent arrival long ago. They have not split up, tactics abandoned by the blind faith in their superior numbers. It is their first mistake.

They close in on Seonghwa, believing him to be the true threat to eliminate; their second mistake.

Hongjoong is the true threat, and Seonghwa is nothing but his fierce guard dog.

He protects his master not only with his body and sword, but by concealing him in the shadows of Seonghwa’s reputation. He covets anonymity, and so Seonghwa eagerly feeds into the horrid myths of a black-clad warrior of otherworldly beauty. By now, there is not a single soul in the land who has not heard of the infamous Black Repose.

Even his attire is deliberately imposing. Black leather covers him from neck to toe, stitched with intricate golden patterns that flatter the elegant lines of his body. His head is left unprotected; exposing the coldness of his dark eyes to his enemies. The delicate, icy beauty of his face is framed by long strands of black hair, slightly curled by melted snow.

He holds up a heavy long sword in his hand, the double-edged blade resting across the back of his shoulders as he waits for his prey to trap itself. Darkened steel flashes in muted sunlight as he slowly moves into position, putting himself between Hongjoong and the soon-to-be-dead.

The first hunter to gather his courage goes for Seonghwa’s unhelmeted head. They always do.

It never works.

Blade clangs against blade in the petrified forest, and Seonghwa is unleashed. He deflects the blow easily, his face contorting in fury as he lets out a rage-filled shout and goes on the offence. Soon the clearing is filled with violent chaos, with Seonghwa at its centre. Steel connects with steel over and over again — until steel finally connects with flesh.

His blade bites deep into muscle, hot sprays of vivid red smeared across the snow-covered grounds. Every move is graceful, filled with purpose, a dance of macabre beauty that Seonghwa performs at his master’s every whim. And Hongjoong doesn't even spare his performance a glance.

No, he is fully immersed in his ritual, nearing completion. The air thickens with rot, permeating Seonghwa’s senses. He can taste the decay on his tongue, a thin film of something cloying gathering on his skin.

Soon there is only a trio of hunters left, confused and shaken by the curdled air around them. One of them finally notices the cloaked figure on the stone dais, and Seonghwa sees the moment of realisation on her face; she has recognised the true source at the heart of this corruption.

She charges forward at the altar.

Seonghwa has no choice but to admire her commitment, as desperate and foolhardy as it is. But fools can make for the most dangerous of opponents; and this is one of them.

The hunter moves so suddenly that Seonghwa is forced to wildly fling himself between his master and the threat, skewering himself on the incoming blade. Adrenaline overrides pain, but Seonghwa knows the wound is deep.

Ah. So he will die for Hongjoong today.

Seonghwa smiles faintly, even as every breath draws blood into his lungs. Imminent death is no excuse to shirk his duties.

The hunter crumples to the ground with her sword still sunken into Seonghwa’s chest. The remaining two watch in horror how Seonghwa still stands, seemingly unencumbered by the grievous injury. That horror is their downfall, holding them frozen in place as Seonghwa’s blade finds their necks in one last brutal swing.

Silence falls in the clearing, only broken by Seonghwa’s heavy, gurgled breaths; and the skittering of bones. Hongjoong’s new servant has returned to this earth in a soulless mockery of life.

Faintly, Seonghwa hears his master call out to him.

There is concern in Hongjoong’s voice, or so Seonghwa likes to imagine. In the moments before death, he always allows himself these sweet indulgences.

Seonghwa collapses as the light leaves his eyes; but it will be back. His master will make sure of that.

It starts again with a heartbeat.

Sluggishly, the heart pushes at the blood that has accumulated at the bottom of this body, forcing a current to flow through drained arteries and veins once more. Function returns to the body’s organs; to its undamaged ones, at least.

An impulse sparks through a vast network of nerves, shooting all the way up the spine into the brain. It has one clear message for the newly reborn cognition inside this body’s skull:

Pain.

Muscles flex to open this body’s mouth. The mouth screams.

The pain is excruciating, it is all-encompassing. Anything in this body that is capable of sensation, senses nothing but agony. Torn flesh, punctured lung, shredded skin, all freshly knit together but still filled with memories of past injury. Even the unmarred pieces of this body are screaming in pain, death still clinging onto its meat with clawed fingers. Nothing else exists, endless and endless and endless—

— until it is endless no more. Even the infinite cannot survive superior power.

The pain is not gone, not entirely, but it has receded just enough for the brain to remember its body’s name. Seonghwa.

The entity that knows himself as Seonghwa realises he is naked and cold, and his muscles have regained enough strength for him to shiver uncontrollably. His skin’s nerve-endings send a cacophony of information to his brain, which he slowly untangles to know he is laid down on rough stonework, scraping against him with every twitch of his body.

A pair of familiar hands runs over his skin, a distant voice whispers by his ear.

To translate sounds into language into meaning is still a challenge for his freshly revived brain, but Seonghwa knows the voice belongs to Hongjoong, and that is enough. Seonghwa’s vocal cords vibrate when a jumbled noise escapes past his lips, and he prays that he just begged “please”.

He aches for Hongjoong; the pain of his need for his master is just as agonising as his resurrection, if not moreso. His soul is unmoored on this mortal plane, threatening to drift away, and only Hongjoong can anchor him.

Bleary vision returns to Seonghwa’s eyes. The forest is dark around him, and Hongjoong’s cloaked figure is nothing but a distorted shadow above him. Seonghwa whimpers, not understanding why the blurred image does not clear up — until his master reaches to wipe away his salty tears.

Hongjoong’s fingers are wet, smearing blackened blood across Seonghwa’s cheeks. Its metallic, festeringly sweet scent invades Seonghwa’s nose, but underneath it all he can still smell Hongjoong. His scent like a frigid winter’s morning, all sharp ice and no gentle snow.

His master’s delicate hands on his body go down, down, down, until they find a part of Seonghwa where Hongjoong’s touch causes him to shudder and arch. Pleasure. That's the sensation that throbs through him like a fever, heat flooding his newly alive body. His heart beats faster as it sends blood down to where Hongjoong’s hands stroke and tease. Sharp breaths fill Seonghwa’s aching lungs with oxygen, the air returning out his throat as even sharper whines.

“Are you back, my pet? You performed your duties so admirably today…” Hongjoong coos, his weight settling on Seonghwa’s thighs. As he shifts, his heavy fur cloak falls away to reveal a naked, lean body. He is unbothered by the night’s cold, already hard for his loyal servant. “Allow me to reward your devotion.”

The crescent moon provides little in the way of light, but Seonghwa’s enhanced vision allows him clear sight of the faint glisten gathered on the tip of Hongjoong’s cock. This is why Seonghwa’s master never mocks him for dying, never treats it as a failure in the line of duty. It excites him too much.

“Master…” Seonghwa rasps, feebly reaching for Hongjoong. He can barely lift his arms; his muscles are still weakened from his temporary demise, leaving him entirely to Hongjoong’s mercy. (Then again… isn’t Seonghwa always at his master’s mercy, even at his full strength?)

Dark satisfaction flashes across Hongjoong’s face at his pet’s desperation, knowing exactly what Seonghwa craves. Hongjoong leisurely palms at his cock, smearing his fingers with the clear fluids of his arousal. He then laughs lowly at how Seonghwa’s face contorts in pathetic pleasure as Hongjoong feeds it to him. Seonghwa’s long tongue swirls around cold fingers, moaning at the salty flavour. He always wants the first thing he tastes to be Hongjoong. He needs it to be Hongjoong.

“Such a diligent servant I found,” Hongjoong says with a slow, wicked smile, delighting in Seonghwa’s whine when he pulls his hand away. “So faithful, so greedy. You want more, my loyal soul?”

yes yes yes—

Seonghwa’s voice cracks as he tries to answer, his airways scratchy and raw from his earlier screams.

Hongjoong laughs again — fondly, Seonghwa convinces himself. He is allowed these sweet indulgences in the moments after death. A wired excitement thrums through him while Hongjoong repositions himself, caging Seonghwa’s head between his knees. Seonghwa eagerly cranes his neck to run his tongue over the underside of Hongjoong’s cock, unwilling to wait even a moment longer before he attends to his master.

Hongjoong hisses, his thighs flexing above Seonghwa’s face. “Patience, pet. Find your strength first,” he chides, bracing a hand on Seonghwa’s hip to lean over and wrap his lips around Seonghwa’s flushed cockhead. Seonghwa groans at the wet heat of him; the inside of Hongjoong’s mouth is one of the few parts of him that runs hot. Even his lips are cold, a constant contrast to Seonghwa’s senses as Hongjoong engulfs him, sliding up and down at a torturously slow pace that has Seonghwa writhing underneath him. He is always sensitive, but even moreso at these times, like death has torn the memory of pleasure out of his body, every experience new like it's his first time being ravished by the skillful hands and mouth of his master.

Even in his weakened state, Seonghwa can't stand it anymore; can't stand being the one attended to when it should be him, him on his knees before Hongjoong in ardent worship. He tips his head up to lap at a throbbing vein that runs along the length of Hongjoong’s cock, then takes him inside.

Seonghwa’s worship is clumsy, his muscles stiff from revivification, but he is devout, eager, and Hongjoong accepts what is offered with a zealous groan. He uses Seonghwa’s mouth with deep rolls of his hips, his moans rippling through Seonghwa’s own cock — then a cruel chuckle when Seonghwa gags on him. Hongjoong bucks again, forcing himself deeper down Seonghwa’s throat, like he does not care if his devoted servant suffocates right on his altar. Seonghwa does not care either. He would die for Hongjoong right here all over again — just as long as Hongjoong comes on his tongue first.

Pleasure crackles through Seonghwa’s veins, his eyes tearing up as Hongjoong overwhelms him, his cold lips dragging over his length only to be replaced by his hot tongue, deftly suckling and licking at him. Throbbing arousal floods Seonghwa’s senses, every emotion heightened by the sheer force of physical ecstasy brought to him by his master.

Seonghwa can feel it, how his release pulses closer and closer. How all physical and emotional sensation blends together into a volatile melting pot, the strong catalyst needed to fully align his body and soul after their brutal separation; the final stage to his resurrection to prevent future deterioration. Seonghwa chases it mindlessly, light-headed from Hongjoong fucking his throat, his cheeks puffy and flushed and wet from tears.

He whimpers when Hongjoong’s nails scratch across his thigh, then down to graze over Seonghwa’s ass, two fingers rubbing around the sensitive rim of his tight hole. Drool leaks from his mouth, choking out a moan when Hongjoong ruthlessly pushes him to the very edge of his limits with wet, noisy slurps. He squeezes a hand around the base of Seonghwa’s cock, tongue swirling around the tip as Hongjoong presses his hips down, forcing Seonghwa to take him and keep taking him, staying deep as Seonghwa garbles around his cock, throat spasming.

Oxygen becomes harder and harder to come by as Seonghwa’s nose clogs up, muffled sobs barely able to escape his mouth. His hips buck uselessly when Hongjoong’s lips disappear from his aching cock, but they are replaced by a cool palm that burns against his feverish skin, and Hongjoong brutally jerks him off while sucking at his testes.

The rough edge is just what Seonghwa needs, the soft warmth spreading through his core turning sharp. He cries out, his nails digging into Hongjoong’s ass and hips as he convulses, light-headed with pure pleasure. He uselessly tries to gasp for breath with strangled whimpers, electricity shooting through his nervous system as ropes of white spill over Hongjoong’s fingers and onto Seonghwa’s stomach, swiftly cooling in the night air. Static rings through his ears, exhaustion setting in as the dizzying euphoria clears up — yet Seonghwa also feels stronger, more complete, and while the ritual might be done, Seonghwa is not yet finished.

He hollows his cheeks and curls his tongue around Hongjoong’s throbbing cock, warmed by the wet heat of Seonghwa’s ardent mouth, who groans when his master’s hips move again. Hongjoong presses his hands against Seonghwa’s chest as he grinds down, thighs flexing.

Seonghwa’s eyes roll to the back of his head, darkness flickering across his vision as consciousness threatens to fade. But he hangs on, desperate to please. Crude wet squelches fill his ears, almost overpowering the sound of Hongjoong’s pitched whines. Seonghwa moans in satisfaction when Hongjoong shudders violently, the taste of him bursting on Seonghwa’s tongue, down his throat as he greedily swallows down his master’s essence.

Cold air sears through Seonghwa’s airways and fills his no longer aching lungs when Hongjoong pulls away, slumping down next to his faithful pet. He runs frigid fingers over Seonghwa’s flushed, heaving chest, grinning down on him.

“So tell me, Park Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says, his face split apart by a wide, dangerous grin, a wild glint in his dark eyes, “do you wish to renew our contract?”

The question always feels like an insult, even if Seonghwa knows it is necessary. But Hongjoong’s grin proves he also knows how rhetorical his query is, and that soothes the sting to Seonghwa’s pride in his loyalty. Of course he will.

Seonghwa had been dying and desperate the first time he committed to this agreement, left little choice unless he could make peace with his life’s end. Now he is neither desperate nor dying — yet he still has only one path forward. He doesn’t know what Hongjoong will do if he declines; he never asked. It does not matter. There is no choice; there is only Hongjoong. Seonghwa knows his place; at his master’s feet.

He wipes his ruddy cheeks, blinks the lingering tears from his eyes. “I renew our contract,” he says, steadily meeting Hongjoong’s sharp gaze as he extends his hand.

Hongjoong shakes it, his icy hand sending a shiver down Seonghwa’s spine. There is a strange sharpness to his cold touch, like tiny icicles piercing Seonghwa’s palm. Seonghwa swears he can feel blood being drawn, but his skin comes away unmarred.

And just like that, it is done. The verbal contract has been signed.

The first time, Seonghwa had waited for something grand to happen; for Hongjoong’s dark magic to coil around them in swirling black fog, swallowing them both up and spit them back out as a bound entity. It is nothing like that; no impressive displays of power, only a brief whiff of an acrid smell in the air that leaves Seonghwa dizzy and nauseous until it fades, making way for an odd, fuzzy euphoria.

Hongjoong stands up and picks up his fur cloak, putting it back on with a dramatic flourish. He always did enjoy a touch of theatrical flair. “Come, my faithful guard dog, we have much else to do,” he commands, and his voice cuts through Seonghwa’s disorientation like a siren song.

Seonghwa’s head clears and crawls back onto his feet, gathering the pieces of his black armour that are intact enough to wear. His soul brims with renewed purpose, knowing his place in life — and death. He could have said no to the contract. Hongjoong is many things, not all pleasant, but ‘true to his word’ is one of them. He would have released Seonghwa. Perhaps he would even let him live out this final life in peace as repayment for his service.

But what kind of life would that be?

Hongjoong does not need Seonghwa. For him, a thousand others. But out of all those thousands, Hongjoong still chose him. That means something. It has to.

[celaenaeiln]

On note of the Blockbuster thing and Dick’s over working himself, I can recall a time when after the first time Blockbuster got taken out, Dick was so lost emotionally and mentally, he went for months on end getting the absolute hardest cases and capers imaginable, getting more illnesses and injuries so much and frequently. It got so bad Bruce and Alfred had to drag him to the Batcave and Bruce had to get some tough love across.

He let Dick know that he was upset at him for failing to take care of himself and self forgive for what happened to Blockbuster. He forgives Dick for the latter case but will not tolerate Dick losing the value of his own life in self pity and guilt

Thoughts on this?

YES!!!

Dick overworks himself so hard that he kinda passes out and dreams so vivid that they're almost hallucinogenic but when he wakes up-

Nightwing (2016) Issue #117

Bruce is PISSED. Ofcourse it's gotta be because Dick let Blockbuster die right? He just stepped aside and let Catalina take the shot despite the no kill. He broke the OATH the two of them had forged. That's why Bruce is mad right?!

Nightwing (2016) Issue #117

WRONG WRONG WRONG!!

Nightwing (2016) Issue #117

"You have no right to expect me to excuse you - for losing sight of the value of yours."

CMON BRUCE!!

He basically said "I don't care if you killed someone. If you want me to forgive you fine. But don't you dare fucking think for one second that I'll forgive you for almost dying."

Bruce is crazy about Dick. I've already talked before how he has control issues regarding Dick life but I want to reiterate that Bruce wants control of Dick's everything. His life, his relationships, his death.

You can see the visible rage in Bruce's body. You can see how hard he grips Dick's chin. He's furious that Dick would put his life below anyone's.

This isn't the only time Bruce gets furious at Dick almost dying either. Remember Forever Evil?

Nightwing (2011) Issue #30

His sole reason for beating Dick is LITERALLY beat his frustrations and fear that Dick almost died!! He's the one that died Bruce!! Why are YOU mad?!

The thing about Dick and Bruce's relationship or rather Bruce's relationship with Dick is that Dick could literally be standing in a room of blood and corpses and the first thing Bruce would do is rush over to him and check if he's okay. And then scold him because "what if they're blood accidentally got into you, Dick? Haven't I told you the dangers of bloodborne pathogens and other transmittable viruses? How dare you let them hurt you!"

Bruce has a no kill rule but sometimes when Dick's life is in danger he definitely looks the other way. No punishment if Dick does something to someone else but he travels at the speed of light when Dick lets something bad happen to him.

Not only that, he doesn't mind other people dying if it means saving Dick's life. Between the world surviving and Dick, he will always choose Dick. And how do I know that? Because he's done it before.

Forever Evil Issue #5

"No, this is a search and rescue mission first--"

"Richard Grayson?"

"Yes, Luthor. Once Nightwing's safe, we can take down the syndicate."

The world is in SHAMBLES.

Central City

Forever Evil Issue #3

Metropolis

Forever Evil Issue #3

The justice league is gone.

The villains who actually wanted the end of the world are so shocked by the state it's in now that they've decided to become heroes. But none of that matters. It doesn't matter to Bruce that half the population is gone, people are killing, stealing, and dying. As long as Dick is alive - it's okay.

In fact an entire world could be corrupted beyond saying but as long as Dick isn't then it's a world worth saving.

Forever Evil Issue #3

Do you realize what this means? It means that Bruce's scale of measurement for evaluating the quality of a whole fucking planet IS Dick Grayson.

Even an hyper-intelligent construction questions what happens if his favorite, Dick, dies.

Infinite Crisis Issue #3

What happened after Blockbuster, where Bruce completely ignored the death of him. Ah-I said ignored but the reality is created an excuse for - is completely in line with his relationship with Dick and more importantly highlights two things.

Breaking the no-kill rule is acceptable if it's Dick Grayson or relates to Dick Grayson.

Bruce is crazy about Dick and he will go crazy for him.

[bluessmutifyplaylist]

(Horny Round 2!!!)

Reader is a burlesque dancer, cuz they got mouths to feed, and Old Man Lilia gives them a proposition: put on a show for him and his boys so they can learn how to best please their future lovers. Voyeurism, corruption kink, Daddy Lilia~

Characters are aged up!! I based it off of this YouTube video as well as a few pole-dancing videos.

Warnings: Reader is not Yuu, AFAB but with GN pronouns, corruption kink, voyeurism, pole dancing, strip teasing, lap dance, dry humping, foursome, penetrative (p in v) sex, corruption of the future king and his knights, jerking Sebek and Silver off, overstimulation, creampie(s), blowjob(s)

Diasomnia

There was a dancing troupe coming to the Briar Valley, and they came around annually in the summer because it gave the citizens something to look forward to. Well, it wasn’t just the dancing troupe. It was an entire fair, but the dancing was the main show. During the day, the dances were all child-friendly, and the children were even allowed to hop up on the stage sometimes to join the dancers.

However, after the clock struck 8:30 PM, the doors were closed for children, and the dancers went into their dressing rooms and brought out the more… provocative… outfits. This was a time for an adult audience, and maybe a few teenagers in the older margin who managed to sneak in somehow.

You were with your girls in the back, making sure that your red lipstick was applied pristinely. You had large feathered fans, and a rather revealing outfit that was covered up a bit with a tutu. Your fellow dancers were all hyping each other up, and you saw one of them slap another on the ass as she went on stage, saying go get ‘em, tiger! It made you laugh… until the matron of the troupe called your name.

Getting up from your seat, you walked over, fans in hand, nervous that you were going to get fired. This entire fair was your livelihood. If you were to be let go, not only would you suffer, but so would the family members you’ve been sending money to. Your heart was racing as you walked up to the matron, heels clacking against the floor.

“Y/N, someone has requested our best dancer for a large sum of money. I know the financial situation you are in and you are the first that came to mind. Plus, you are one of our finest dancers, so I am giving you the option, should you accept, to give our esteemed guests a private show.”

“Madame, I don’t mean to sound selfish or money-obsessed, but how-”

“They are offering 1 million thaumarks, and I have the check in this envelope right here,” She held up an envelope, emphasizing that this was real and not a joke. Then, she brought her arm back down, and extended it to you. “You don’t need to have sex with them, but the… leader?... of the group wanted for them to have an experience with something so informal as the fair.”

“Umm…” This was probably the biggest decision of your life. 1 million thaumarks?! There was no way that you were going to pass that up. So, you nodded your head, “Yes, I will do it.”

“Good! This is yours, then! They will be in Room 1 in about 45 minutes. Your routine should be fine, as the man said he wanted it to be ‘culturally enlightening’.” She then walked off, and you were left staring at the envelope now in your hands.

“Holy fu-”

~~~~~~~~

In the aforementioned room, 4 men were sitting, discussing the plan for the evening. Three of them had no idea what was going to happen, while the ‘leader’ was explaining everything.

“Alright, boys. As you know, this is not a children’s show. However, I wanted you to learn something about the art of burlesque dancing. It’s quite sensual, but it gives power to the performer because they have the audience in their hands just with the way they move.”

“LILIA-SAMA, I AM GRATEFUL THAT YOU HAVE GIVEN US THIS EDUCATIONAL OPPORTUNITY, BUT I FAIL TO SEE WHY THIS WOULD BE IMPORTANT!” Sebek was immediately shushed, being told that he needed to keep the volume of his voice down.

“Well, it will teach-” Lilia was cut off by the room going dark. The thing about these rooms was that they were really smaller-scale tents behind the large one. In addition to that, the small tents had platforms in the middle of them for the dancer, along with a pole.

Spotlights came on, highlighting you and your large fans. You were wearing a bustier, corset, panties, and a tutu, and you were wearing bright red lipstick as well as elbow-length gloves. Your heels sparkled in the light. You bent down, one leg in front of the other, using one fan to cover your rear end and the other to point at your outstanding foot.

“Hello, boys~” Your voice said. Then, the music started up, and you started to dance. Sharply moving your hips up and down, making sure that your toes were always pointed so that your legs looked longer. You could feel their hungry gazes on you, and you smiled as you reached your hands behind you, going to untie the tutu.

Shimmying it down your waist, you could tell who the leader was. You know he had been at previous adult shows, as his pink hair was hard to miss. However, based on the reactions of the one with light green hair and the one with silver hair, you guessed that this was the first adult show they had been to. You were happy to be their first. As for the one with the horns, you could see that he was genuinely interested in the art as well as you.

Once it was off, you threw it like a frisbee to the man with green hair. You smiled and winked at him as his face was glowing an even brighter red. Truly, his face would put your red lipstick to shame.

You then turned to the silver-haired one and ushered him over to the stage. You turned around, making sure to bend over as much as you could, and then you asked if he could untie your corset. He nodded his head and went to untie it, struggling a little because his hands were shaking. You heard the ‘leader’ shout something.

“Let him take it off of you!”

Smiling, you looked at the man and he was also frozen in place. Did you really have that effect on men?

Whispering, you asked, “Would you like to help me take it off?” You giggled as he nodded, pulling at the strings pair by pair, and you worked on unclasping the front of it. Once it was off, you threw it to the horned man while placing a rather passionate kiss on the silver-haired man’s lips. Breaking apart, you saw that you left red lipstick on his lips, but you gently pushed him back in his seat.

Standing back up, you headed to the pole. You weren’t as advanced in pole dancing as some of your fellow dancers, but you did know how to do the basics. You grabbed the pole, pulling your body to it, slowly sliding down, placing your fans down on the ground. Once you were squatting down, you started grinding against the pole. You stood back up slowly, locking eyes with the leader, and then you sauntered over to him after picking up one of your fans.

Straddling him, you threw your arms around his neck and he placed his hands upon your hips gently, making sure you aren’t feeling pressured to do anything you don’t want to. You placed a kiss on his lips this time, making sure to rub your clothed regions against his growing boner. For him being a rather small man, you could tell that he definitely had a disproportionate size, but it just further served to arouse you.

This small group of men was different from others you have danced for. They appreciated your art, and they weren’t groping you in a way that made you uncomfortable. They allowed you to go to them first, and you loved it. You stood up, repositioning yourself in a reverse cowgirl position, and leaned back into him. He placed kisses upon the crook of your neck, and you used your fan to cover up the way you were grinding back down on him.

You can’t remember a time where you felt genuine pleasure from one of these dances, but you felt yourself growing wet as you continued your actions. You felt one of his hands slowly reach up to cup your bra-clad breast and one reach down to your panties, giving you a chance to stop him, but you didn’t. You instead tossed away your fan so that the other guys could see what was going on.

“Call me ‘Lilia’, love~” He whispered into your ear before using his fangs to bite into your neck. There was a bit of pain, but pleasure soon followed, and it wasn’t enough to draw blood anyway. Otherwise, you might have guessed he was a vampire.

“Call me ‘Y/N’,” You whispered back, letting out a gasp when he started rubbing your clit. His other hand went under your bra and he started fondling your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. You looked back at the other men and you were surprised to see them drawing closer.

“Alright, Y/N. I wanted you here because I want to teach these boys how to pleasure somebody. However, I need verbal consent,” He said louder, stopping what he was doing so that you could answer.

“You have my consent, Lilia,” Upon saying that, he immediately shoved a finger into your awaiting pussy, making you moan at the sudden intrusion. You could feel his finger curling and moving inside of you, and you simply wanted more. 

As your hips rolled to try and get more friction, you ended up rubbing more and more against his erection, making him groan. 

“So wet for me~” He snickered, looking at your little audience, “Boys, you never want to just go right ahead and stick your dick inside someone without a little bit of preparation and foreplay. After all, you want them to be aroused and participating.

That’s another thing: basic consent and participation. Depending on what you are into, all parties involved must be participating and making sure it is a pleasurable experience for those involved.

Please stand up, love.” 

You followed his orders, saddened that he took his hands out of your bra and panties. Then, you heard his belt unbuckle and his pants slide down, and you felt your underwear slide down your legs. The cold air hits your exposed regions like a block of ice, making you shudder. It didn’t go unnoticed by anybody in the tent.

“Now you may sit back down,” Lining up your entrance with the tip of his cock, he put his hands on your hips to guide you. Feeling him fill you up finally could have made you cum alone, but his size made your eyes roll back in pleasure. You tried covering your mouth to block any moans from coming out, but his hand blocked yours. “Let those pretty noises out, dearie. These boys need to learn what pleasure sounds like.”

Nodding, you put your hand back down as he started to guide you up and down on his cock. 

Oh, oh, ohhh’s enunciated each drop down, with an occasional fuckkkk. You didn’t even notice the silver and green-haired knights get close and right next to you, unbuckling their pants as well. 

“Y/N, you wouldn’t mind giving these guys a bit of the pleasure you’re feeling, would you?” You looked to see them with their dicks out, and you quickly reached out your arms and hands to start jerking them off. The horned man continued watching you all, a smirk on his face.

Up, down, up, down, up, down. Your hips went up and down on Lilia’s member, your hands went up and down on the knights’ cocks, the horned man’s eyes went up and down following you. Every single time Lilia hit that special spot inside of you, you squeezed on the dicks in your hands, making the two men groan.

The man with bright green hair had already came, and now he was just a tad sensitive. You guessed he was at least part fae based on his fangs, so his durability had to be amazing. If you were being honest, you were not far behind, and you found your climax washing over you as you slumped, but your eyes snapped open when Lilia kept thrusting up into you.

“You didn’t think I was done… did you? Neither are any of these fine gentlemen. Tell me, Y/N, where do you want me to cum?” 

“I-Inside… Please, please, please inside!” You cried, and you had felt another orgasm wash over you as he came inside of you. You were panting, feeling the warmth of his cum painting your walls white.

“I would be willing to have a turn with them, Lilia,” The horned man said, and his height intimidated you. The dick imprint that you could see against his pants intimidated you as well. However, you found yourself somehow getting aroused again, and, stumbling, you walked over to him.

With a snap of his fingers, you saw that his pants were off and folded neatly on the side. His size was unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. To be fair, it’s not like you slept around, but you have had a few flings here and there in the different places you performed. No beastmen could come close to comparing.

“I’m aware I’m… better endowed than most. If you wish, I could prepare you more-”

“That isn’t going to be necessary, sir. I think I’m ready.” You really need to think about what you say before you say it, but you just couldn’t wait to have that absolute monster inside of you. You decided that you would straddle him, cowgirl-style, so that you could work at your own pace.

However, he had other plans.

Placing his hands on your hips, he shoved you all the way down, and tears leaked from your eyes. You groaned in both pain and pleasure, burying your head in his shoulder, adjusting to his size.

“Tell me when you want to start moving.” It took a few moments, but you eventually nodded and he began moving you up and down again. Luckily, he had strength to do it for you entirely, as your legs gave up.

“Do you think you could bend backwards enough to suck this young man off?” Lilia asked. Being a dancer granted you a level of flexibility that actually allowed you to do this. You leaned back as far as you could, just to be met with the silver-haired man’s cock. 

Oh, yeah… he hasn’t cum yet, you realized. Opening your mouth, he slid the tip in. It was quite unusual to be giving a blowjob in this position, but you were always down to be a bit more adventurous in such activities. His size was the smallest in this group of men, but it still wasn’t anything to laugh at.

“Oh, fuck…” The man muttered under his breath. What you couldn’t see was that as he was thrusting into your throat slowly, there was a bit of a bulge. Your mouth was so warm. You moaned around his dick, adding even more stimulation. On your left, Lilia and the green-haired man were each stroking themselves, watching you get absolutely railed by these two men.

Earlier that day, your matron said you didn’t have to have sex with them. Lilia even told you that you could tell them to stop. However, they were both wrong. You did have to have sex with them, and you couldn’t tell them to stop. If you turned this down, you might have to have yourself committed to a mental asylum because no one in their right mind would turn down an opportunity like this.

[topguncortez]

Older, Wiser, More Experienced

Spring Break Kickback | Masterlist

synopsis: Bradley knew you were innocent, but he wasn't just sure how innocent you were.

prompt: “There is no way anyone is that innocent.”

word count: 3.1k

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, Bradley is 35), oral sex (f receiving), mentions of phone sex, blink and you miss it corruption kink, a dash of daddy kink.

Bradley wasn’t quite sure what he was getting himself into when he first walked up and asked for your number. The aura you gave off was a sophisticated one. You handled yourself with such poise and control that he surely thought you were near the same age as him. But then he watched as the bartender asked for your ID, and got a glimpse of the last digits of your birth year and nearly had a heart attack. You asked him if the twelve year age gap was an issue for him, and he just shook his head and smiled. 

You were twenty-three, but very mature for your age. You graduated college two years prior, and landed a good job with a well known law firm in LA, handling some high profile clients. You told Bradley that you had to grow up quick, your childhood anything but glamorous. You spent your high school and college years with your nose in your textbooks, determined to get into your dream school and become a lawyer. He admired your charisma and spunk that you had. He liked girls who had goals and followed through with them. 

However, those years of spending time alone in your dorm and apartment set you vastly against the rest of your peers. You didn’t know how to tell him, slightly frightened of how he would take it. You had only had one “boyfriend” if you’d even call it that, and he dumped you the second you said you were a virgin. But Bradley was different from college frat boys, but alas he was still a man. And you. . . well you hardly knew the first thing about sex. So, just like how you did in college, you began researching. And man, were you both terrified and intrigued. 

Bradley never pressured you with the sex stuff. He was a proper gentleman, and decided to take your cues on everything, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable. Hell for the first six weeks of being together, he didn’t do more than hold your hand. It was a constant battle to not just lean in and kiss your plump lips, but he knew that his mother would smack him if he did without your permission. But then one day you turned to him during the middle of the Lion King and asked him to kiss you. 

He had been caught off guard, and it took him a second for his mind to catch up, but he obliged by your request and kissed you. And since that night, nearly two weeks ago, it was like a beast had been unleashed and was clawing its way out of you. You didn’t know that even the simplest kiss could send that shiver down your spine and in between your legs like those smut novels you read could. For the past couple weeks, that’s all the two of you have done, shared quick kisses here and there. But now you laid your head on his chest, you wanted more. His brown eyes were trained on the TV screen in front of him, and you looked over his features.

“Just take a picture, sweetheart,” Bradley looked down at you and you quickly looked away, a blush on your face. You were silent for a moment, before looking back up at him and he looked back at you, “What’s up, darlin?” 

You opened your mouth to say something, but suddenly words failed you. The only thing that came to mind was to kiss him and that’s what you did. Bradley reacted within a split second and kissed you back, but as he went to pull away, you put your hand on the back of his neck and deepened the kiss. He was surprised, but didn’t show it. His hand went and rested on the thigh of the leg you had draped over his. His rough palm sends shivers up your body as he moves his hand up and down your skin. You pulled away breathlessly, but pulled his head down to place kisses on your neck.

“More,” You pleaded and Bradley nodded, the hairs of his mustache tickling your skin as he kissed your neck. You closed your eyes tightly as you felt that familiar pulsing in between your legs. That oh so delightful feeling that you had never indulged in, but loved so much. Bradley had been the only real guy to bring out that feeling, and you wanted more of it. As if he could read your mind, he pulled away from your neck and kissed your lips again, shifting your body so he could set you on his lap, straddling him. His hands ghosted down the sides of your body before resting on your hips, pulling you down even more. You gasped as you felt something hard against your thigh, and you pulled back from him. 

“What? Too much? I’m sor-” Bradley began to speak but you shook your head, “Talk to me, sweetheart, please.” He gently cupped your cheek and ran his thumb over the supple part of it. You loved when he did that, and nuzzled into the warmth of his hand. 

“Bradley, I. . . I’ve never done. . . You’re the first guy I’ve ever kissed,” You admitted and Bradley slowly looked up at you. 

“What?” 

You wanted to hide, but you knew it was now or never. That if Bradley wasn’t the man you thought he was, it would be better to get the heartbreak over and done with now, than let this go on any longer. You were trying to conjure up in your head what you were going to say next on how you would explain your lack of experience without sounding totally pathetic. That’s how guys your age saw you. Pathetic. What twenty some year old had never had her first kiss? But something deep down, told you that Bradley was different. 

“There is no way anyone is that innocent,” Bradley said.

Well, not anymore. 

You snapped your head up at him, tears welling in your eyes and he quickly regretted every word that just came out of his mouth. He didn’t mean for it to sound bad. It was that he was utterly shocked. He knew that you wanted to take things slow, and so did he. He was in no rush to just get down and dirty. He genuinely cared about you, and wanted this to be more than a friends with benefits thing. But he didn’t know that your apprehensiveness was due to inexperience. Which now the way you looked at him, made him feel like the biggest asshole on the planet. 

“No, baby, it’s not like that,” Bradley said and rested both of his hands on your back. 

“Then what is it like, Bradley?” You spat. 

“I mean it as. . . You’re a virgin.” 

You nodded and crossed your arms over your chest, “I am. But I’m not some bible prude.” You turned your nose up and Bradley couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, “I just haven’t found anyone that makes me. . . get. . . mushy?” 

“Mushy?” 

“That’s how they describe it in the books.” 

“Books?” 

“Yeah you know like. . . spicy books,” You mumbled. You knew that if you held a tomato up to you right now, you would not be able to spot a difference. 

You watched as that boyish grin spread across his face, “You read porn?” 

“It’s not porn!” You slap his chest and Bradley chuckles. He wraps his arms around you and brings you in close, so your head is resting on his chest. You suddenly realize that you really like this position and you think that Bradley can tell too. 

“I’m following your lead here sweetheart. You tell me what you want to do. I’ll do whatever you are comfortable with,” Bradley said, running his hands up and down your back. You nodded and placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. You gently moved so you were laying on the side of him, your head still on his chest and his arms around. He hummed in satisfaction and squeezed you a bit tighter. 

— — — 

True to Bradley’s word, he had followed your lead completely when it came to sexual things. You hadn’t done anything more than just some making out and on top of the clothes touching, but you knew he was dying to do more. And he knew you were too. It almost caused you pain to push him away, put you were scared of that feeling in your body as you’d grind against Bradley’s lap. Bradley was doing what he could to help you, letting you know that the “mushy” feeling you were feeling was normal and encouraging you to touch yourself when you were alone. 

You didn’t know the first thing about masturbating, but luckily Bradley knew a thing or two about female pleasure. He had called you one night, and walked you through the steps. On what to rub, what to touch, how it should feel. You were almost one hundred percent sure that you stopped before you could actually orgasm. The shaking of your legs and that tight feeling in your stomach was too much. Bradley promised that once you actually did it, it would be the most euphoric feeling you ever felt. 

“Bradley,” You whined out as his hands skimmed up under the sweatshirt you were wearing. The two of you were having yet another movie night at his place. You were slowly making your way through the Harry Potter series, the fifth installment acting more as background noise than entertainment. Your wear leaning against the arm of the couch, with Bradley nearly on top of you, both of your legs crossed over his lap as you two made out. 

“That’s my name, honey,” He said against your skin. He pulled away from you, so you could see his face, his hand grabbing yours and intertwining your fingers with his, “How can I be of service?” 

You had been practicing how you were going to say this all week. It wasn’t something that he had even brought up yet, but during one of your research dives you had come across a rather interesting video. And of course that video led you on a deep dive into other videos, but they were all the same, with all the same outcome. 

“Do you. . . do you like, uh, oral sex?” You asked him. 

It was silent for a moment as Bradley had to restart the computer that was his brain. He wasn’t sure how such a simple, innocent question, turned him on so much. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah. Yes, I do like oral sex,” Bradley said. All guys liked a good blowjob every once in a while. Bradley would be lying if he said he hadn’t dreamed of the day you’d get on your knees and put his mouth on him. 

“Do you like. . . giving it?” 

No one had ever asked Bradley that question before and it had taken him aback. But he nodded and said, “Yeah. I do like giving oral sex. Why do you ask, sweetheart?” 

He watched as you fiddled with your intertwined fingers, and as the blush creeped up your neck. You smiled softly as you looked up at him, eyes blown wide with lust and wonder. 

“Could you. . . Could you give it to me? Oral sex, I mean.” 

Bradley could not think of a single sensible word in his head, so all he did was lean forward and kiss you until his mind could catch up. No girl had ever asked him to give them head, and not that he expected them to. He’d always ask the girl if she was okay with it before he settled between their legs, but he had never flat out been asked like this. And it made him want you all that much more. Bradley pulled back from the kiss and nodded, pecking your forehead. 

“Yes. Yes, I can give you that,” Bradley said and you nodded like an eager child on Christmas, “Get comfy, baby. Do you want to stay here or go to my room?” 

“Here, please,” You answered quickly. You hadn’t ever seen Bradley’s room before and for some reason, going to his room felt too. . . intimate. You weren’t ready for that step yet, so you let Bradley help you sit up so your back was resting against the back of the couch, and he could kneel in between your legs on the floor. 

Bradley kissed you passionately, one of his hands tangling in your hair, while the other rested on your hip. You placed your hands on his shoulders and pulled him as close as he could get with the couch in the way. His hand on your hip slowly crept its way towards the front of your yoga pants. You knew that he could probably feel how wet you were through the thin material, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You needed him. You needed him in a way you never needed a man before. 

“You can stop me at any time,” Bradley murmured against your skin, as he pressed hot kisses to your neck, “Just pull my head back and I’ll stop.” 

“What if I don’t want you to?” You asked and Bradley smirked. 

“Then pull me in closer,” He whispered against your lips. A shiver ran down your spine as Bradley sat back on his heels, his fingers hooked into the top of your pants and pulled them down your legs. You knew that green was his favorite color, and you went out to buy a dark green pair of lace panties for the occasion, “Too good for me,” Bradley’s voice had an extra rasp to it, as his finger traced over the lace pattern covering your cunt, “All so cute and untouched. . . just for me.” 

“Just for you. . .” He smirked as he could hear in your voice that you were holding back one small little word, but he’d let it go for now. You’d say it when you were comfortable enough to. And Bradley was dead set on getting you to say it. 

Bradley leaned forward, so his head was resting between your parted thighs and placed a kiss on the wet spot on your panties. Having him so close to where you had dreamt about him being was like a headrush, and your hand went to his hair for support. Bradley chuckled as he placed another feather light kiss in the same spot, and nuzzled his nose against your cloth covered clit. 

“Haven’t even gotten to the good part and you’re already gripping on for dear life,” He said and you felt your ears turn red, “It’s okay, sweet girl. I got you. I’m gonna take these off now, okay?” 

“Okay, Bradley,” The sound of your voice was so innocent, and trusting. It filled Bradley with a sense of pride that you trusted him so much to be your first. He sore that it made him fall in love with you even more. 

Ever so carefully he pulled the panties from your body, setting them gently next to your pants. He grabbed one of your ankles, placing a kiss on it before putting it over his shoulder. He leaned in closer to you again, grabbing your other leg and putting it on his shoulder. You looked up at the ceiling and gulped, then you felt his tongue on you. Your jaw dropped, a silent gasp leaving your mouth as your eyes fluttered shut, your hands in his hair. He licked a stripe from your opening to your clit, getting the taste of you on his tongue. He swirled his tongue around your opening several times, before finding your clit. 

“Oh!” You moaned, as he sucked your clit into his mouth and then swirled his tongue around it. This felt better than you could’ve ever imagined it. 

“Can I touch you?” Bradley asked, and you had to open your eyes and look down at him to focus on what he was talking about. Then you felt it, his finger gently rubbing against your folds, “It’s up to you. I can just use my-” 

“Yes. . . Touch me,” You answered and Bradley nodded. 

He briefly pulled his hands away from his core to stick his middle and ring fingers in his mouth to wet them, before he was placing his middle finger back on you. 

“This might hurt, tell me if it’s too much,” You grabbed Bradley’s free hand and squeezed it, letting him know you understood. 

His mouth was back on you, his tongue lapping at your clit, and you felt the feeling of his finger sliding into you. His finger was much larger than yours, and you felt a slight stretch but then it went away and pleasure filled your body. Now you were moaning, not trying to hide the sounds you were making as Bradley ate you out. Between the movement in and out of your core to the way his tongue sucked and swirled around your clit, you were in total bliss. Bradley was right, this was the most euphoric feeling ever. 

“Christ! Bradley, I. . . Oh my god!” Your back arched as you felt that familiar feeling in your belly. The one that would always make you stop immediately and lay panting on your bed. Your legs began to shake as your stomach contracted, “Bradley, I-” 

“It’s okay,” Bradley said, and kissed your thigh, “Feels good, doesn’t it?” You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes from the beautiful feeling, “Then let it happen. Just let me make you feel good. Just close your eyes and let it happen.” 

You nodded and your eyes fluttered shut as he put his tongue back on you. You screwed your eyes shut tightly, and Bradley grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers. He looked up at you right as the dam broke; your back arched off the couch, your mouth wide open in a silent moan, your legs shaking, nipples hard. It was an absolutely beautiful sight. He believed that you were painted by angels. He kept fingering you and lapping at your cunt as you rode out your high, hearing as the breath entered your lungs again. You very weakly pushed his head away, and Bradley sat back on his heels, his mouth glistening with your cum. 

“I. . . I never let that happen,” You were still seeing spots in your vision, but it slowly started to feel like you were coming back down to the planet earth, “I always stop when I start to feel that. . . uh-” 

“Orgasm?” Bradley asked, his hand was rubbing your bare thigh and you nodded, “Poor girl, you’ve been edging yourself for weeks. No wonder you came so hard.” 

“Edging?” 

Bradley chuckled and shook his head. He leaned up and placed a kiss on your lips, “My sweet girl. . . I have so much to teach you.”

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