i might not be baekhyun's biggest fan possible, but i'm probably like top100 simp at least. I'm +21 but don't ask for exact age or I'll get very sad @an-annyeoing-writer
“you think i’ll stop just because you’re trembling?” <- this one, ultimately, this one would be good (both for nsfw and for sadomasochism....... so perfect) like you said.
with anyone you want 😘😘😘
uwuwuwuwu I'mma indulge myself with this one
TW spanking, punishment, implied sub/dom dynamics
You earned it. You absolutely earned every second of it. By being too bold, maybe a bit rude, maybe inappropriate – you don’t even remember at this point. All that’s in your head is that you deserved the punishment.
Spread over Hongjoong’s lap, clutching onto the fabric of his pants for any support, because you felt as if you’re going to top over and fall off with how your entire body jolted with every hit.
After a particularly hard one, you let out a loud whimper, your breaths uneven, shaky. You crossed your ankles to relieve the tension. He didn’t want for you to recover before hitting again. The scream died in your throat and your legs curled – unwittingly covering your bottom with your feet. But Hongjoong’s grip was unyielding, the hand coming down to push your legs back down.
“You think I’ll stop just because you’re trembling?” His fingers grazed the bruises he’d left behind. Maybe it would be a little bit better if he wasn’t wearing his rings, splitting your skin open just a little each time they collided with it. “Think again.”
You’d lost track of how much time had passed, and your face was buried in the mattress, teeth clamping on the bedsheets whenever you felt like it’s becoming too much, like you’re a thread away from uttering the safeword.
But you didn’t, and eventually, you forgot you were considering it, your body relaxing and every next hit becoming duller, your mind finding primal comfort in the way your body accommodated you to the pain.
Only once you were unable to even tremble anymore, did he finally relax his hold a little, scooping up the bed and bringing you close, letting you rest in his arms. In your head, you were still taking hits, dazed from the hormones, incoherent, speechless.
“Good girl. Rest up. You need to get some strength back before the next round.”
pairing: special grade curse spirit!kim hongjoong x grade 1 sorcerer!reader
AU: jujitsu kaisen au
word count: 6.4k
warnings: blood, strong violence, strong language, sexual innuendos
synopsis: Kim Hongjoong is bored. So how better to occupy your time than by falling in love with a grade 1 sorceress with dead intent to kill you?
masterlist | ateez x jujitsu kaisen masterlist
chronology | part two — available for streaming
NAME: KIM ‘RED NAGA’ HONGJOONG
OCCUPATION: CURSE SPIRIT
GRADE: SPECIAL GRADE
“I’ve seen this file over a hundred times, Yaga. To the point I think I’ve managed to memorise each word on this page.” Her brow raises at her superior, who stares at her through his black tinted glasses. She’s never been able to exactly hold his unwavering stare, but his judgmental gaze is perceptible through the subtle clenching of his jaw and stiffness of his shoulders. “I’ll ask you, as I always have: what do you want me to do with this information?”
“There’s been a number of attacks spread from the South West, now plaguing Central. People are disappearing or falling into an unnatural coma-like state."
To begin with, there are malevolent entities born from negative human emotions; the more powerful the emotion, the stronger the curse becomes. Thus, they are categorised into Grades, with 4 being the 'weakest' and 'Special Grade' being the worst. Perhaps the worst of them was the formidable Kim Hongjoong. He may as well been called 'Death', himself, and to live in ignorance of his presence was considered a great blessing by jujitsu society. His potent ability revolves around sending others into a liminal space—an undefined, eerie realm that exists between reality and the afterlife. Kim was merciless, and only ensued chaos when he was bored, or going mad from lounging in his Eternal Realm.
“What about Gojo?” She ponders out loud, he’s always been the one to tackle the riskier missions. Mainly because he has no sense of rationality. (And she doesn't feel like dying today).
“Gojo is on a different mission.” She rolls her eyes, of course he is. “Besides, if you can tackle this one you may land yourself a promotion.” Is this Yaga’s form of negotiation? Absolutely. Is it working? Hell yes. There’s nothing like being on Gojo Satoru’s level that will stop him being a pretentious arsehole; though she can practically hear the douchebag saying, ‘We may be on the same rank, but I still have to look down at you.’
Six foot three bastard.
“When do I begin?”
LOCATION: MIYAMA
TIME: 08:06AM
A yawn escapes her lips as she rolls out of her bed, her limbs are wrought with heaviness as she trudges towards the restroom, pulling the light cord, a dim brightness empties into the small bathroom, her arms reaching for the toothbrush. Stringing a piece of red ribbon through her hair, Hanami's arms outstretched for the sword that rested neatly against the doorway, her eyes vaguely glancing into the mirror sat upon the drawer. She looks tired, of course one would be when the locals pound on her bedroom door at seven in the morning as a vicious flare of attacks begin just outside the town. The infamous 'Red Naga' may be an early bird, but she for one: is not. In a haste she swallows the steaming bowl of broth that her host has left for her, and dashes through the door all the way down to the fields. Narrow roads wind through sleepy villages where time seems to pause—the rooftops of wooden houses are tiled in weathered clay, embraced by steadfast memories of a time before.
The wind blows through the leaves, swaying with such gentleness like a mother's hum as a child erupts into a miserable cry. Tall grass brushes against her knees, boots squelch into the moist mud - the sunlight fades as she ventures into the forest towards the red torii gates, they stand tall and poised; their vermillion hue glowing boldly in the distance. It stands proudly, an entrance to the abandoned temple - it exudes an air of dominance and power and for some reason she can only think of the 'Red Naga'. Plus, it is on a hill and it seems very tactful to have higher ground; at least, it is what she would do. As she moves closer, the wood of torii is chipped, moss ensnaring around its pillars like ivy.
The air around her shifts, she can no longer hear the gentle teetering of insects and the whistling of the cicadas in the spring heat; the branches don't crunch under her feet. Instead the air feels hushed and reverent as if nature has become subject to some higher power. Hanami's sharp eyes scan her surroundings until a flicker of an enigmatic shadow blends into her line of sight. A breath hitches in her throat, the first thing her eyes latch onto: his smile.
Out of instinct her right leg swings back, sword unsheathed pointing directly at him. He snickers, standing on at least two steps above her - his malevolent grin unwavering. In all honesty, Hanami didn't know what to expect, whether it be a ten foot demon or one half the size of her. What she wasn't expecting was for him to look so abnormally human. His skin carried the pale, ghostly sheen of something ancient, his feline eyes were sharp, high cheekbones and jawline carved from obsidian stone. His hair was bleached blonde and slicked back with a few strands out of place, and he was dressed to the nines, layers of dark fabric shifting around him in irregular forms. There was so much to see about him, yet the only thing Hanami found herself focusing on was his smile; there was something hidden beneath that seemed beyond mortal comprehension. It was too soft to be devious but his presence alone was enough to send one running away from the battlefield. Regardless, Hanami wasn't one to run away even if it meant her life was on the line. Kim takes a calculated step down, then another before he stands in front. He's of average height but the air surrounding him makes him seem a lot taller than he actually is. His eyes are unreadable as he cocks his head to the side, deeming her fresh meat.
"I've never seen you before, what's your name?" His voice isn't deep, nor sharp but hauntingly merciful. As if they are to become friends and won't be rushing to kill each other in the next few moments. "I'm Hongjoong, by the way." Hanami's heart palpitates at his nonchalance, she quickly concludes that this must be a part of his witty game.
Her lips part, but her stance remains unwavering. "Hanami." His lips move to masticate her name on the tip of his tongue, his eyes flutter shut relishing it as if it tastes as succulent as honey.
“I usually don’t like jujitsu sorcerers, but…” He whistles lowly as the clutch on her sword tightens, heart viciously palpitating as his dark eyes roam over the surface of her body. Despite her clothing being loose, he sook the accentuation around her cleavage and waist, biting his lips in such a teasing manner that made him no better than no other male pupil at her academy. “You’re beautiful.”
Beautiful.
She flinches at the tenderness of it, granted his eyes had her subjected to thinking he was going to say something vulgar.
“Our kids would look great, but making them would be even better.” Her face scrunches up into a scowl, she’s not sure if the iron grip around her sword can be secured any tighter.
“Listen here, Kim.” Hanami hisses, with her sword threatening close to his neck.
“Listening. I love a dominant woman.” Rolling her eyes, she tilts his head with the edge of her sword. "Careful, swords are too dangerous to be playing around with."
"I'm going to kill you, Kim Hongjoong, or rather banish you back to your Eternal Realm." He nods, as if impressed and to mock her. "Does that sound like a plan?"
"Yes, Ma'am." He brings up his hand to salute, yet before he can blink Hanami pushes herself forward lodging the honed edge of her knife through his neck, the blade cutting through his arteries. Blood flows like scarlet rivers down his body, his slender fingers pull around the gash indented in his neck. Stumbling backwards, he slips on the stairs, his body falling back against the stone.
I’ve got five minutes.
“We know his weak point is somewhere around his neck, and once you’ve got through to him, you’ve got five minutes before he awakens and launches another attack.” Yaga warns.
Her boots slap across the cobbled path as she dashes up the staircase towards the monastery, her breaths quicken with purpose and anxiety; resisting the temptation to avert her gaze behind her shoulder she dashes straight into the monastery.
“It’s a shame, Hanami, I thought we were becoming good friends.” His voice echoes in the vast hallway, the darkness of the room obscuring his body. Pressing her lips tightly shut, the cursed energy flows from her blood, slipping down to the sword in hand; glowing a determined blue. She knows Hongjoong won’t be able to see her, yet the way his footsteps resound in the name makes her feel he’s so close to her.
The Red Naga shuts his eyes, as a current of energy flows through his veins. He feels the weight of matter within the room, each physical particle held within the palm of his hand. From all that which composes the bricked walls and golden columns to the tiled floors he stands upon. The existence of each molecule is laid bare before him and he finds himself organising the chaos of the room. Then there she is, hidden on the ledge above him feeling her cursed energy and the pulsation of his heart.
The room implodes on itself, the tiles shattering through the air. A shockwave rippled out from the centre of the temple, but instead of chaos, there was stillness. Wooden beams, ancient tiles, paper lanterns, even the golden statue of the Bodhisattva—each fragment remained suspended in the air as if time itself had ceased to live. The atmosphere resonated with cursed energy, thick and humming like a swarm of cicadas. At the heart of it stood the Red Naga; eyes glowing with cold amusement, reflecting each drifting shard with one hand raised as the particles danced, rearranging into grotesque constellations. The sorceress adjusts her position on the ledge, summoning her cursed energy, dripping ruthlessly onto the blade, before it glows a callous cerulean.
Leaping off the ledge, she launches towards the cursed spirit the blade above her head striking down at his head with absolute force, that the energy capering around her sabre dyes a sinister black. Sinking into his vulnerable flesh, she once again tears through his carotid arteries.
Black Flash. A distortion in space that occurs when cursed energy is applied within 0.000001 seconds of a physical hit, ultimately resulting in 2.5 times the destruction. Nanami Kento is the record holder of the most Black Flashes orchestrated in a single battle. Hanami has only ever done two, her second hit is yet to come as she lands on two feet, hastily stepping forward to launch another attack. Even so, something feels off. She hasn't felt a fraction of Hongjoong's enviable force in the minutes that she's been here. So she does what no man would ever dare to do in the face of Kim Hongjoong. She waits.
The molecules shift, rearranging into novel frames, the blood dripping down his skin sinks back into his wound, the gash sealing by a compelling force of nature. He resumes his original position, standing in the centre of the monastery, his eerie smile crawling back onto his defined features. "Domain Expansion: Serpent Void!” Her eyes widen in realisation, her arms covering her face as she braces for impact.
The spirit's hand pushes through the irregular alignment of molecules, tearing through the fabric of the room like wallpaper; uncovering a vast emptiness echoing a distorted collection of empty places. Hanami's body plunges into the cavity, her vision surrounded by space and its masses of galaxies and nebulas. An array of colours swarm her vision, the air filtering out of her lungs; her windpipe tightens - wheezes hollowed by the vacuum. The Serpent Void. Purgatory. A place between life and death, where sorcerer's go to live out the rest of eternity under Kim Hongjoong's jurisdiction. He stands at the pinnacle of the void, levitating in the air, watching as she struggles to breathe. Before she knows it, her body is sucked towards him circling through empty hotel lobbies, school hallways at night, endless parking garages, and decaying office corridors. The air is heavy with a stillness that defies logic, drenched in pale fluorescent light and in the smell of mildew and dust. His face is evocatively close to hers, a single finger cuts through her frontal bone, her eyes drooping to a stifling close.
The essence of time cannot be felt in the Serpent Void, but perpetual anguish can - it's an inexplicable feeling that cannot be described in medical textbooks yet very much exists. All Hanami can think about is three things. One, she should have fought back. Two, she needs to escape. Three, what on earth is she doing in a ballgown? Her figure remains soared in the air, limbs tight as she struggles for movement. There is no gravity in liminal space, but her body is stuck moving painfully slow towards nowhere. The atmosphere feels cool, it’s neither hot nor cold. Nor night and day. Both the sun and the moon exist in the sky above. After a single blink, the nebula fades into a room.
The castle looms like a forgotten nightmare, its once grand stone walls now crumbling under the weight of centuries. Ivy creeps over the broken battlements, twisting around the shattered windows, where jagged glass glints like sharp teeth. The walls remain as opulent as the time before, the noble chandeliers drape from the high ceilings illuminating the room that is now shrouded in incessant darkness. She finds their arms formed of the twisted bones of long-dead souls.
Her sense of dread grows stronger as she observes her surroundings, she’s hovering upon a four poster bed, strings of cobwebs loop around the frame. The room is littered with unsettling reminders: a chair upholstered in the tattered remnants of skin, a tapestry woven from the hair of the dead; reminiscing a story of death and suffering. All of a sudden, a volume of air enters her lungs, and her body goes plummeting into the plush sheets.
“Ah, you’re awake. I knew you wouldn’t give up that easily.” Hanami can practically hear his taunting smirk, her head snapping towards him as he leans against the doorway; arms folded across his chest like the cocky bastard he is. His eyes cast down her body, she can feel his lingering gaze on her cleavage.
"My eyes are up here." She snaps, her sharp eyes scan the room, searching for a moment of escape. He moves as fast as the speed of light, Hanami fails to notice his figure on the bed, slender fingers moving her chin to face him.
"And mine are here." Their faces are as dangerously close as when he had sent her to sleep, Hongjoong's hot breath fans over her lips. “Hungry?” Her stomach gurgles, cheeks heating up as Hanami’s eyes bore into anything but his. A wide grin pulls on his pink lips, a sound or two emits from his lips echoing the chorus of angels before he laughs. It itches a part of her brain, he laughs and her heart can feel its magnetising pull luring her to him.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Follow me.” They surpass through the grand halls of the castle, she feels the shimmer in the walls scouring her eyes for the heart of the domain that could feed her escape; the essence of Hongjoong's cursed energy is at its greatest here.
The cursed spirit stood in what once might have been a lofty kitchen. The old stone counters were cracked, the cabinets hanging crooked from their hinges, but the rusted pots and pans that adorned the walls were now freshly cleaned, gleaming under the flickering candles. Kim Hongjoong himself appeared almost out of place, his usual fierce and unyielding demeanour softened in the glow of the hearth. He moved with quiet precision, there was something oddly tender about the way he worked. He reached for a knife, slicing vegetables with practiced ease, the sharp steel gliding through them like butter. The sound of the blade against the cutting board was almost melodic, an unsettling contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of his domain. On the other side of the room stood Hanami, her body coiled with unease. “Wait, are you actually cooking?” she asked, her voice low, unsure of whether she was being mocked.
Hongjoong didn’t turn to face her. “I am,” he said softly, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. "It’s not often I have company in my domain. I thought it would be… polite."
Hanami raised an eyebrow in inquisition, choosing to stay rooted by the small dining table. “You’re seriously cooking? Do spirits even eat?” Hongjoong paused, turning to meet her gaze for the first time. His eyes, glowing faintly with cursed energy, were warm, almost inviting despite its hollow intensity. The smile that tugged at his lips was no longer the wicked grin or the suggestive smirk he'd often give her.
"You seem surprised," he remarked, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for a curse like him to be stirring a pot. "And yes, spirits do eat? In case you haven't noticed, I'm more human than creature anyway." His fingers curled around the ladle to stir the contents of the pot. “Are you going to stand there and gawk?” he asked, his voice a mix of mockery and something that might have been genuine amusement. There was something oddly comforting about the way he moved, as though cooking was second nature to him. The violence that usually radiated from him had dimmed, replaced by a peculiar serenity. He reached for the bowl on the shelf above his head, pouring the stew into the bowl with ease before placing it down on the table adjacent to her. Hanami stared at the plate for a long moment, the warmth of the stew tempting her. She hadn’t expected this at all—not in a million years. She had expected a battle, a fight for her life, but now? She was about to eat with the most dangerous cursed spirit of her time.
With a final glance at the cursed spirit, she reached out and took the spoon. “This doesn’t feel like a trap,” she muttered.
“Oh, it’s a trap,” Hongjoong said with a grin, “Just not the kind you’re used to.” With hesitation, she slipped into the seat, giving into the hunger gnawing at her stomach.
Hanami sucks at card games. Gojo has always been quick to remind her of that, provoking her every evening in the dorms as her losses pile up one after the other. But Hongjoong introduces her to the game of Snap, which ultimately peaks her adrenaline. The rules are easy enough to comprehend, when the card on top and the previous card match in number grab the pile as fast as you can. Oh! And you must shout ‘SNAP’ too. Against Gojo, or Shoko she reckons she would win this game with her eyes closed. But against Kim Hongjoong? He only reinforced how much she sucks. Leaning forward in her chair, she throws down 10 red hearts, onto the 10 black spades. “SNAP!” She shouts, as a loud bang resounds the air. After a quick moment of realisation, her hand is right on top of Hongjoong’s who sends a vicious smirk. Oh how she’d like to wipe that smirk off his face. Removing her hand, she slumps back in her chair like a grumpy toddler, Hongjoong shakes his head deeming he’ll find another game to play.
“You’re so hopeless, it’s the easiest card game there is as well. What are you good at?” He hums, questioningly, lifting his eyes to find her half toppled over the chair reaching for a card drifted on the floor. Her hair, long untied from the tight knot at the back of her head, falls like curtains over her face as she outstretches her hand for the card on the floor. Grunting, her bound hands finally grab onto the card; an annoyed huff escapes her lips throwing the red hearts onto the pile. "I'm absolutely tragic at cards." He snickers, getting out of the chair to reach for something on the shelf behind her. Hanami doesn't bother throwing her gaze behind her, until he's clutched the long strands of her hair between his fingers, folding her hair through a large hair pin.
“That is tragic, I suppose. Other than fighting, what are jujitsu sorcerers good at?” Other than fighting. That’s funny. If she was any good at her job then she wouldn’t be here, eating the Red Naga’s food and playing card games as if they were old friends. His intentions remained petrifying to her, why was he doing any of this? Better yet, why was she complying? “If you’re wondering if I do this to all of my captives, only the interesting ones. S-grade sorcerers can get lonely too.” He pronounces, playing with a few loose strands of her hair.
“Have they all been as compliant as me?” Hanami can’t bring herself to speak above a whisper as his fingers drape down the glen of her bare neck. Silk fabric bunches up in the palm of her hands; his touch is so tender Hanami wants to subjugate to his power. Perhaps this is why he's formidable. His charming smile and quiet grace is hard to miss. She wonders if his cursed technique is seduction rather than manipulating matter in space. Getting up from the chair in the corner of the study, she moves to the leather sofa sinking down with it, leaning her head against the headrest. Momentarily, her eyes fall to a close, trying her hardest to understand Hongjoong's game. It is difficult to understand what he is eager to achieve.
Hongjoong watches her from where he stood, crossing his arms over his chest. Whoever said women weren't complicated, was clearly lying. For a Grade 1 Sorcerer, she's a little dim. He thought he made it obvious that he had a crush on her by now. Or maybe she's not dim; she's just planning and plotting on leaving this place. The Red Naga knows that she will figure it out, how? He cannot answer this question himself. After all, he may be playing her game and not his own. When her eyes reopen, she ushers him over.
"What's your favourite colour?" She asks, he almost scoffs. Favourite colour?, "If I'm going to be here for a while, then we might as well get to know each other." But I already know so much about you, Hongjoong thinks to himself.
"Red. What's yours?" He inquires, he shifts his body slightly, leaning his head on his palm.
"Green, like forest green or sage green. Not neon green. What's your favourite season?" He stares out of the window, drifting his gaze over the distant nebula. He hasn't really thought about it much, the Eternal Realm lives through all four seasons at once; Hongjoong has never had the time to savour each one.
"Summer. The days are longer so you can catch the right moment to watch the sunset." Hanami hums at his crafted response.
"I like winter." He shakes his head at her response. They're polar opposites. Red and green. Winter and summer. The sun and the moon. Sorcerer and Spirit. Don't they say, opposites attract.
“Do you think in another life, if I weren’t a spirit you and I could have been one?” Hanami shares a look with Hongjoong before staring down at her hands, deep in contemplative thought. It’s clear the way that Hongjoong thinks about her, it has been from the start — never in her life would she ever have thought that she would have gained the attention of the most formidable cursed spirit.
“Yes. I believe we would have met in high school. You’re a quiet boy who sits in the corner of the classroom, near the front by the window. You arrive early, and leave later than everyone else.” A sincere smile falls on his pink lips, Hongjoong moves slightly closer to her; invested in her daydream. “I sit in the middle of the classroom, middle row, I get to see you without being caught. You’re pretty I think to myself, and so clever too. But you’re introverted, I don’t know how to get the will to speak to you.” He listens, quietly, absorbing each word to paint an image into his mind; as if it is a memory of his. A memory of a time where he was a schoolboy in love with the friendly girl who was well acquainted with everybody in school.
"And what would you have been, if not a sorcerer?" He questions, tempted to fill in the missing blanks.
"A doctor." Hongjoong's feline gaze snaps to her, that was an answer he was not expecting. "I was going to be one anyway, I had an offer from medical school lined up but then...something happened and I realised I had all this cursed energy..." Hanami trails off, unable to finish piecing bits of her past together, for the spirit; Hongjoong doesn't need to hear more anyway - it's all laid before him. Everything always is.
"I would have been a fashion designer." Hongjoong blurts, his sorceress snickers leaning back against the plush sofa. He can't help but admire the way the dress fits so perfectly on her. "I designed that dress you're wearing. I had no idea who I had in mind but now that you're wearing it, I'm sure it's you."
“You don’t know me, Hongjoong.”
“I do.” With a single blink, she rips her gaze away from him getting up from the sofa. She can’t do this, not anymore. She can no longer play the role of a compliant sorceress, the old friend and this diligent lover he has falsely illustrated. Her lover is far defined from the hands of Kim Hongjoong, she demands it. How ruthless of him to carnage her soul, when his is the one for the taking. When his is the one she must destroy. “Your face has been the one I have lived through in decades, your eyes have commanded the beating of my heart. I have searched for you in every crowd and have been the face of every man you have sought. You are mine, Hanami, and have always been the root of my desires. And I am the root of yours.” Tearing away her pin from the knot, she stalks towards him, her fear falling into a fit of rage.
“I am a sorceress, Kim. Not an object for you to toy with, to treat as if we are friends. You have trapped me within your domain, to become a loyal subject for yourself. I demand you to fight me. Let’s battle this out, and put an end to our miseries.”
“The only misery I have is you denying my love.”
“I do not deny you, I rebuke you!” Hanami shrieks. “I detest you and this stupid dress. I detest this void, I feel as empty as it looks. I demand you release me from this cage or you kill me. Either and I will be content.” His monotonous expression sends a cold shiver creeping down her spine. His gentleness is long gone, yet she had never asked for it in the entirety of her entrapment.
“Why do you think they sent you, darling? Because you’re the best or because you were their last option?” Hanami freezes in her wake, stunned by his rhetoric. “Do you think if they knew you were going to be able to leave they would have sent you?”
“Are you challenging me?”
“No, darling, you’re challenging me." Finally, he raises from his seat, drawing closer to her. His body is uncannily close to her own, as it always is when he requires her attention. "The King of All Domains." He mutters.
Her fingers reach for the hem of his jacket sleeve, dancing up his forearm. “You may regret this, Kim.” His slender fingers reach for her chin, lifting her gaze from the floor to his eyes.
“Then fight like you mean it. I will spare you no mercy.”
The ground beneath their feet was scorched and cracked, as if the domain had been warped by the magnitude of their power. Hongjoong’s violet eyes gleamed with malice. His cursed energy was dense and potent, swirling around him in dark, crackling tendrils. With a deep, guttural growl, he summoned his technique, the meteorites rising with his will. The Red Naga raised his hand, a surge of purple lightning crackling through his fingers. Without warning, he unleashed a torrent of energy, a lightning-infused wave aimed directly at Hanami. Thunder cracked through the air, her body hammered into the floating rock behind her, the stars burning against her supple flesh. Her fingers subtly curled as she prepared to tap into her technique.
Hanami stood her ground. As the subsequent attack neared, she focused her cursed energy inward, allowing the current of Hongjoong's assault to wash over her. Like before, she didn't move. The atmosphere seemed to slow as her cursed energy surged. Hanami didn't dodge as Hongjoong flew towards her, sending another wave of furious attacks, this time, a series of jagged tendrils of cursed energy, each one aimed at her from different angles. They moved with ferocious speed, the force of their strikes warping the space they passed through. Still, Hanami remained unwavering, refusing to fight back as if she had not begged him to fight her. The Red Naga abandoned his technique; grabbing her, violently, by her neck. His balled fist connected with her face, laced with the incense of his herculean power. Her mind rocked against his brutality, torrents of torture simmering under her blood. “Fight back! Why aren’t you doing anything?” He screams, a single tear slips down her cheek, as her body yearns for relief. His lips reach for hers, wildly pressing against her, the palm of his hand steadying her lower back as she pushes him. Her body overcomes with a fruitful desire, the pent up frustration of her being here topples over her, her hands reaching for his collar bringing her closer to him. When she gasps for air, he leans forward pressing his forehead against her own. "Stop making me hurt you."
Hanami’s eyes flared with the glow of the absorbed energy, her body humming with raw power. Slowly, she exhaled, her eyes gleaming with newfound strength. With a flick of her wrist, she raised her hand toward the sky. The energy she had absorbed detonated outward, sending a pulse that shattered the boundaries of the Serpent Void. The darkness disintegrated within a single beat, the space left open as Hongjoong moved away from her. Betrayed. Outraged. His eyes now flaring with disbelief and rage. Hanami stood at the epicentre of a growing storm of energy.
In a flash, she moved forward, her speed a blur. She reached out, and with a single, precise movement, releasing a concentrated burst of absorbed energy — a beam so powerful that it cut through the air like a blade. "Domain Expansion: Liminal Echo!" Her hand tears through the fabric of the space, warping its energy around them both as a dome filters the clouds into a hollow darkness.
Where the Serpent Void is a place that exists between two spaces, her Liminal Echo is somewhat harsh mockery of his own. There is no liminal space here, everything is clearly defined with a set purpose. The moon hangs above him casting a ruthless glow over the jagged cliff they stand upon; the wind blowing roughly into their faces. Her hair bends with the wind, her body following the movements of the shadows that follow her like magnets. "I wasn't expecting that from you." He confesses, cutting the tension between them. Her limbs are weary from his attacks, perhaps she should remain as dormant as he was when she was within his domain. "Then again, I always knew you would escape." Her head dips beneath her shoulders, Hongjoong always knows everything.
"I wonder how you know everything."
"You'd think if I could manipulate everything in space, I could tap into the fourth dimension too." Time? He can manipulate time too? He smirks, closing the gap between them, running his slender fingers around her waist. Her body is pulled flush against his own, but Hanami doesn't squirm; the heat from his body is something soothing and his cursed energy can rarely be felt here. "I know how this ends, my love. And I know what will happen after this. I won't try to fight fate." The long hairpin slips out from the hidden pocket in her dress. Carefully, her finger curls around the intricate handle.
The blade plunges into his chest, searing through the layers of skin, mercilessly cutting into the arteries of his heart. After all, he's part human too. Sinking to his knees, a pool of blood flows out from his mouth. Hanami falls with him, her hands firmly on the blade as if removing it, or hesitating as she has done several times in this battle, will result in an imminent loss for herself.
“Dying at the hands of my lover, how poetic.” His pale hands wrap around her own on the blade. Using little force, he thrusts the blade deeper into his own body being pushed up against her own. Blood sprays onto her dress, his slender finger curls around a lock of loose hair tucking it gently behind her own ear. He's a masochist, some divine creature bred from the roots of debauchery, drunk on the belief that true pain is at its most beautiful form when it's inflicted by the one you love. Yet, how can he say that he loves her? He barely knows her. How can he know what love is? He's borne from chaos, the world sinks to its knees before him. But Hongjoong sinks to his knees in front of her. She is his sorceress, his counterpart, him in its most ethereal, eternal form. He is subject to her. “To die in your arms is the most beautiful feeling. I want it to haunt my soul forever.”
After a single blink, the darkness of her realm fades, bleeding back into the forest she was once in. The deconstructed pillars of the monastery lay at her feet, as she slowly rises to find the ceiling of Liminal Echo has been replaced by the blue sky. The torii falls back into her sight, she must confess: to see the natural world again aches her heart. How long has she spent in spaces, closed off from the world? The sun is much higher in the sky than it was when she had first arrived, the breeze has slowed as beads of sweat form above her lip; the air is suffocating with its humidity — its thickness juxtaposes than that of what yearns from the void.
Her eyes search for him in the vast wilderness, disbelieving that the sky that sits above is a bright blue and not a shallow grey. Her hands reach out to feel for his body — whether it be that it is trembling within hers or carved from stone. Hanami's breath is lodged within her throat. What is this absurd feeling? This feeling of...remorse?
A glint forges from the tall trees, to settle upon another one, a human one at that. His mop of silver hair and thin-rimmed dark blue glasses taunt her as he ambles forward. His stupid hands are stuffed deep into his stupid pockets. “Hanamiiiii! How do you do?” Gritting her teeth, she stalks further down the cobbled steps towards Satoru. "Now, now Hanami. I have to say going to missions in a ballgown is new. Did I miss the memo?" His glasses slide down the bridge of his nose, he peers from above it finding her costume comical.
"Satoru, where have you been for the past 48 hours you dick?” Her snarl amuses him.
"Actually, it's only been three hours." Ah yes. Time works differently in liminal space. Something like every five minutes is 3.75 hours, not that she’s calculated it or anything. Brushing past Gojo she ventures back into woodlands, exhaustion tugging at her limbs every thought in her mind occupied by him. Every flicker, shadow, remnant is Kim Hongjoong. “Yaga told me to come see you in case anything went wrong.” ‘In case anything went wrong’, a euphemism for ‘in case she’s dead’. How delightful of Yaga to care for her wellbeing now.
“I never understood why he didn’t just call you out to deal with Kim.”
“Because I rejected the mission.” She stopped in her path, turning on her heel to face Gojo who stands in front. Her heart has skipped a beat.
‘Why do you think they sent you, darling? Because you’re the best or because you were their last option?’
It wasn’t about the fact that Yaga thought she was capable, that’s why he had sent Gojo anyway. He was testing her. Setting her up for a death trap, on purpose. Hanami’s blood fills with a sense of infuriation and betrayal, feeling like a rat in a maze being overlooked by a crazed scientist.
He didn’t think I was capable.
Turning away from Gojo, she conceals the look of dejection moving, fast, back towards the cabin.
The current of air in Miyama feels lighter than it had been when she first arrived. With the ‘banishing’ of the formidable spirit, the series of attacks had stopped but those who were placed in a coma could not be revived and had met their fateful end. Hanami has left the window open, even as the sun sets leaving a pinkish streaks across the sky; a cool breeze hits her face as she nurses a cup of tea in hand. Satoru sits in front of her, his long legs outstretched before him scarfing down a bowl of ramen, occasionally flickering his gaze to her. The fact that she’s alive and barely unharmed will come as a shock to Yaga, but soon they will have the same rank. Hanami will no longer be his inferior, not that Gojo has ever seen her as one. But banishing the Kim Hongjoong, that’s something the new generation of jujitsu sorcerers will have to live up to.
“Satoru.” He hums, looking up from his bowl. His eyes are so blue, like a strict ocean blue she could get lost in its depths. But they’re not brown like Hongjoong’s. Or warm, like his was. Gojo’s eyes are marked with his rebellious nature whereas Hongjoong’s was wrought with maturity and understanding. She’s drawn to the latter and it stirs a pit of fear within her. She contemplates asking him if Yaga had truly set her up. ‘Does it matter?’, Gojo would say. ‘You beat him’, but she does not feel victorious. Before her lips can open to form the words, a crack of thunder beats against the sky, the clouds dimming to a melancholic grey. Her eyes peer out of the window, as an undercurrent of chaos simmers in the atmosphere. The slap of rain against the glass window echoes, haunting the remnants of the ghost temple.
“He’s not gone, you know.” Satoru’s tone is less light hearted now, dropping an octave manifesting into something more serious.
‘I know what will happen after this.’
Her eyes flutter to a close as the sword falls to her side. A small breath escapes her lips, she doesn't really scold Gojo for his nonchalance. Primarily because she's exhausted now.
DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGIARISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE
A/N: first fic in the ateez x jjk series complete! I hadn’t planned for this fic to be too long in the first place but hopefully it isn’t fast paced either. hopefully i’ve lived up to everyone’s expectations 😭
let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!
tag list: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho @devilzliaison @asweetblueberry2 @arilevenatz @xdannix @yuyamihi
pairing: kim hongjoong x reader
AU: modern
word count: 3.7k
ATEEZ as angst tropes series:
Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho
masterlist
Trope: Friends to Lovers to Strangers
She watches as they walk out of their place with another woman slung around his arm. The woman he left for, she's so perfect she cannot help but agree with him when he declared he did not love her anymore. How could he? She was everything his first love was not- no more, no less. Yet, the place she once held in his heart? Gone, not even deserving of the title 'friend', displaced like the weakest metal in a chemical reaction.
She didn't mean to cross Hongjoong on the street anyway, on her way home from a taxing day at work her feet took her to the one place that brought her more comfort than home. Second to the bookshop, it was his arms. She was entitled to none of it now. Nights of endless scrolling over the internet for the next best cheapest place to buy novels but nothing came close to the bookshop she’d gone to in the duration of her childhood, the same bookshop that supported her through her academia.
The distant memory of them both scribbling away in books, endlessly typing on their computers for hours on end into the night gnawed at her. At times she felt like giving up, why, oh, why had she chosen such an academically challenging degree? For her parents’ validation of course, despite this Hongjoong supported her-pushed her to continue.
“I can’t be bothered anymore Joong.” She whined into her pillow, letting out a loud groan that made him scoff as he twirled the pencil between his fingers.
“Let’s make a deal, you get over 80 on that exam and I’ll buy you that plain vanilla ice cream you like.” Her eyes perked up at ‘vanilla ice cream’ she shook her head vigorously and then got to work sifting through pages of her notes and exam questions she had yet to do. Peering her eyes over the top of her screen, she gazed at her best friend hunched over in his seat punching numbers into a calculator, with furrowed brows, the concentrated look on his face making her heart melt. While they had been best friends for a long time, she had harboured feelings for the boy since college and even through their transgression into university, the feelings just never seemed to dissipate.
“Oh, and Hongjoong-nah? Vanilla ice cream is not plain.”
“Whatever you say, love.” The term of endearment making her heart flutter, she had yet to convince herself that he called everyone ‘love’, hence it was never really special when he said it to her. A week had passed and before she knew it, she sprinted down the university halls, clusters of students who were once engrossed in their own conversations turning to look at her. With a panting breath, she skidded at the end of the corridor shoving her sheet of paper in Hongjoong’s face, he himself was once invested in his conversation with Jongho.
“Look” she urged, and he took the paper from her hands his eyes scanning over it, fixating on the mark. 90.
“That’s amazing! Didn’t you say this was the hardest module too?” Shaking her head eagerly, she threw her head back in triumph. Hongjoong sought the way her hair fell down her shoulders, the sound of laughter like a melody he wanted to capture in a tune and play on repeat. “Well, I guess I owe you ice cream now.” Picking up his canvas bag from the floor, he bid Jongho goodbye and made his way to the exit.
“Do you want to come with us Jongho?” She offered, to which the younger boy declined sending Hongjoong a knowing smirk from across the corridor. Shaking his head, Hongjoong waited until she made her way to him then hand in hand, they ran to the ice cream parlour before it closed.
She didn’t like vanilla ice cream anymore. It wasn’t the plainness of it, like Hongjoong had always suggested. It was the memory of it, the association of it with him. Every book they read, song they listened to, food they ate, place they went to-she’d grown to have a distaste for. It seemed pathetic, and it was but every time their song played on the radio a pang settled into deepest pits of her heart.
Drunken men push past her on the same street, where now Hongjoong and her stand two metres apart. He senses familiarity in the air around him, head whipping around scouring his surroundings. He knows them. They shift around slowly, as if they are moving without conscience towards him. He wants to stumble to them, inebriated by their intimacy as he once was when he sauntered through his hallways, years ago heavily drunk from a work celebration party. Hongjoong's dragged away by his girlfriend, every nook and cranny of his heart filled with adoration for her yet long ago he was being dragged away by someone else.
With a heavy puff, she pushed Hongjoong onto his sofa a long groan released from his lips as he lazily outstretched his legs before him. So drawn by her beauty, he lifts his arm to caress her cheek. With a smile she gently brushes it away, moving his leg to sit on the remnants of the seat that is not covered by his body.
"The things I do for you." she muttered under his breath, he caught the whispers of it, a weary smile forms across his perfect features.
"And I love you for it. I love you more than sea loves the moon." A laugh escaped from her lips, could he get any more drunk?
"Just say thank you, Hongjoong. This isn't a poetry reading." Shaking her head, she pats his head before getting up. The words strike a nerve, he grabs at her wrist to steal her attention. Suddenly, he looks more attentive and alive as if he wasn't drinking to his hearts content to fill up the hole of solitude that swallowed him.
"I'm being serious." Resting her hand his chest to feel the racing of his heart, "This only beats for you. I feel so lonely without you, incomplete." he breathed out, latching onto her hand as if she would disappear if he let her go.
"Hongjoong, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying." A sharp prick of her throat throbbed, a tickle arising in her nose. Love was just a game to him, right?
"They say a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts."
"I wouldn't believe you, even if you were sober."
"Why not?" He inquired, he sat up this time not letting go of her hand her body gravitating towards him.
"Because- you know what, no you're too drunk for this conversation right now."
"No, I wanna know. Why don't you believe me?"
"Hongjoong, you've never wanted a relationship. You've never wanted to be someone else's. I always have, I want to belong to someone. I want to get married and have children, bicker with my husband, listen to my teenagers' tantrums. I want it all. You don't." She recounted from all the times he had dismissed notions of settling down and having a married life. He'd fraternised with many women, much to her dismay, but those relationships had held no true meaning. They were in his bed one hour and gone the next, replaced by another. Truthfully, Hongjoong never felt content with the 'relationships' he had but the slow, sinking feeling he felt when he was devoid of completeness ate at him. He wanted to feel whole and he felt whole with her.
"What if it's because I've never wanted it with anyone but you?" Silence rooted in the warm air; she'd open his window before she left. Nothing but staring into each other’s eyes for minutes on end. Hongjoong awaited her response, it was all the alcohol that had riled so much energy within to confess his feelings to her. Those which he had felt since they were children, teasing each other in the playground to adults fixated over creating contented lives for themselves.
"Then tell me when you wake up. Tell me how much you've wanted me. Once I'm yours, I'm yours forever."
It seemed like it would be forever. Nights spent under the cover of the twinkling stars: talking until they were too sleep deprived to go to work, running through the park tearing out handfuls of grass whilst chucking them at each other. Just all the things they did as friends, but the moments much more intimate when they'd fall on top of each other faces barely inches away feeling their heated breath tickling their noses.
“I hope our kids aren’t that naughty.” She almost spat out the drink in her mouth, craning to give Hongjoong a shocked look paired with a sort of shy smile forming on her lips. They sat on the vast lush green field, sun beaming down on their figures- his figure illuminated like it was it was carved out of the sun itself.
“Our kids?” Hongjoong tore his gaze away from the children shooting their parents with water guns to her, nodding ever so casually.
“Four kids-,”
“Four? Mr Kim, will you be giving birth to these children? Will you be waking up in the middle of the night to change their nappies?” She interrupted, holding back a laugh.
“Yes, I’ll change all of their nappies. I’ll wake up in the middle of the night to rock them back to sleep. Take them to school anymore, brush our daughters’ hair. Oh! We have to have matching family outfits…” And so Hongjoong often rambled about the perfect family life, his lover staring at him as if he was an angel descended from the highest heavens. If he was an angel, how did wound himself on earth no less how did he wound up as hers? To have that thought again, to stare into his eyes and get intoxicated by the profundity of his sweet soul. His love so addicting she woke up with cold sweats, hands outstretched as if he would come to her in the cold dead of the night, encircling her into his arms again as if he never left.
“What should we name our daughter?” Hongjoong piped up one day, out of sheer curiosity. His head stuck through the doorway of the living room, watching his lover sat in front of the television but her attention attached to the book in her hands.
“Hmm, Kim…” she trailed off, thinking of all the girl names her friends had already taken up. “Kim Dahye.” She settled on, he slumped onto the seat next to her resting his head on her shoulder. "Because she'll be the kindest soul to exist. And if we have a boy, we'll name him Kim Suho, our guardian angel."
"Sounds like a plan Mrs Kim." A blush crept on her cheeks, her cheek resting on his head hands entwined as the hum of the machine bled into the comfortable silence of the room.
She couldn’t remember how it had happened. What great sin had she committed that Hongjoong felt so repulsed by the sight of her? As if staying would have killed him. Despite the busy hours of both of their working days, the tiresome repetitive life of their schedules, for a while they found comfort in each other- they were each other’s escape from the dreaded conformity to society. How had it gone unnoticed the way he cancelled on her a number of times. Ignoring her calls, leaving her messages on read? The distance between them whenever they were together. Holding her hands but not looking at her. Looking at her as she spoke about her day but not listening to her. It was tolerance, really, she’d put up with all of his ignorance as long as she could say ‘he’s mine.’
“We need to talk.” His reticent voice drifting into her bedroom, she sat up from her slumped position. A soft smile painted on her lips, how long had it been since she had been the listener and he was the talker? He slumped down on the foot of her bed, gradually meeting her gaze. A breath hitched in his throat. He loved her once. He could not breathe without her. Got drunk on her presence. Then he had met her, the other woman. She was a drug so addicting. Suddenly, his childhood love was a weak narcotic incapable of exhilarating him as she once did. "I don't love you anymore." He went straight for the punchline.
"I-what happened? Why?" She questioned, there was so much more to ask but the words clogged up her throat as her brain scrambled for traction trying to process the sudden declaration. His eyes shut close for a few moments, plucking up the courage to tell her.
"I found someone else. I thought it unfair to keep you here, next to me while I'm hooked to someone else." Tears blurred her vision, limbs shivering. Pressing her back up against her headboard, she hugged her legs, face dug between her knees.
"What happened to feeling incomplete without me? What happened to wanting to be married? What happened to having children?" Fury overtook the despair that momentarily possessed her, was it all a fever dream? Was any part of their relationship sincere?
"Believe me when I say I wanted it all with you, but now I can't feel a thing between us. The bridge to you has collapsed-" He reached for hands to console her; she yanked them towards her gripping onto skin too reluctant to let go. Any moment now if she did let go, he would leave.
"So then find another way to me. Fight for us. Don't tell me this relationship was just a drunken mistake, or I was just used to fill that sorry hole in your heart."
Perhaps I really was lonely and you were there for me, mistaking my gratitude for love.
But Hongjoong was misinterpreting his emotions. It was love. He did love her. He had just been allured by someone else's physicality that he had forgotten that the one woman who loved him endlessly, flaws and all, was sat in front of him.
"Don't make this harder for me. You deserve someone else, someone who wants you as equally as you want them." Biting down on her lip, a tear slipped from her eyes snapping her head away from him as his hands left her weakened hold. Soundlessly, he left from the room. The soft shutting of the door had triggered her, she bawled as a part of her soul crippled away trailing after Hongjoong who ambled down the street to his next love.
Her body thudded against another on that busy street as the sun dipped beneath the sky, streetlights flickering every now and then. So lost in her yearning for the past, her spatial awareness had been decapitated.
"Oh God, I'm sorry." Her phone flung out of her grasp, clattering to the floor. Both figures reached down for the phone, fingers meeting as they did. Grabbing at her phone, she rose so did the other figure in sync. "I'm really sorry, I should have watched where I was going-" He called out her name, their eyes instantaneously meeting.
It was Wooyoung, a fellow classmate from her time at university. He did not look any different from the charismatic soul that had cheered her up after every difficult lecture that seemed incomprehensible. A dimpled smile manifested across his pink lips, the familiar excitement of seeing an old friend filling him.
"I haven't seen you in ages! How are you?" He began to bombard her with questions. Within seconds she was, too, dragged away by another in the opposite direction the strings between the old lovers, thinning as they transcended deeper into the own lives.
A high-pitched squeal infiltrated the park, a small body dashing through the familiar fields.
“I’m gonna get you.” She cooed, in an infantile like manner as the child attempted to sprint as fast as his little legs could carry him. At last, she swooped him up by the legs, twirling him around the cool wind assisting her. They shared a laugh before she attacked his face with kisses. His father approached behind, wide smile complacent slipping an arm around his son, cocooning him in his embrace. The boy squirmed in his father’s arms, begging to be let go. He let him go, the couple dawdling after his child as he ran to the slides accompanying the other children inhabiting it.
“The sentence, from Mrs Jung?” She contested. She recalled the horror in her friend’s voice on learning that both her husband and son were indulging in eating sweet delicacies every night before bed-not even bothering to brush their teeth at that.
“Death.” He joked back, they shared a comfortable laugh. “Joae’s coming back from Japan on Sunday. Thank you for helping take care of Gohyun.” She waved him off declaring it was the most she could do for a friend that was there when she needed someone the most.
At the other end of the park, two old friends walked down a cobbled path on their way to the play area where Hongjoong’s daughter persisted. Cups of warm coffee encased within their hands, conversations of the past enticing them. They both paused as they found his daughter, Kim Dayhe, playing with another boy around a similar age to her. The sight brought back a nostalgic memory of the girl he used to run around parks with as a child.
“Jung Gohyun!” A feminine voice called, a figure moved closer to the children, she sent a soft smile to the girl before kneeling down to tighten her loosening pigtails. Hongjoong moved forward, despite the woman’s pure intentions his protective instincts broke through—Jongho following hastily behind eyes widening as he recognised the woman.
“Thank you, Unnie-,”
“Dahye,” Her head snapped up from the children, the acquaintance of the voice tearing the boundaries she’d built between them for years on end. The memories flooding back to her, she almost stumbled back at the sight of him; she clutched onto her Gohyun’s shoulder for strength. Her lips formed his name, but no sound came out. Hongjoong’s own eyes widened.
His childhood love.
“I haven’t seen you in years! How are you?” He questioned, as if the last time he spoke to her wasn’t in her bedroom, telling her he didn’t love her anymore. That his heart was tied down to another woman, who he felt more complete with, than he had ever felt with her.
“I’m great! Is she your daughter?” Hongjoong nodded proudly.
“This is your son?” She froze, unable to speak. Eventually, she shook her head no.
“No, he's Wooyoung’s son actually. He’s here, somewhere...” Tearing her gaze away from Hongjoong, who was somewhat surprised at the revelation, she trailed off scanning the park for her companion, who was jogging over to the reunion-two tiny bodies respectively hiding behind their close adults.
“Long time no see.” Jongho quipped from behind Hongjoong. With a gasp, she rushed to Jongho embracing him into a warm hug whilst terrorising him with questions all the same- Hongjoong slightly gaping at them with, a brief unsettling feeling in his heart.
“Jung Wooyoung, you bastard! It’s been ages!" Her hands flung to her nephew's ears, as did Hongjoong’s, as the profanity shamelessly sprung out of Jongho’s mouth.
“I love you too!” The university friends reunited, Wooyoung encompassing both Hongjoong and Jongho. Sneakily, the children had taken the opportunity to crawl back to the slides. While Jongho and Wooyoung conversed with each other, Hongjoong sought his old childhood friend, looking down at her feet in contemplation.
"You named her Dahye." She exhaled; a whiff of distress reminiscent in her tone. He nodded, slowly.
"So, no children, no husband?" As always Hongjoong went straight for the punchline but there wasn't really any other way going about it. If Gohyun was not her child, nor Wooyoung her husband then who did she have waiting for her at home?
"No. We're not all entitled to that kind of life."
"But it's all you've ever wanted." He pondered, the words blurting from his mouth before he could stop them. He was met with a hard stare but she returned her gaze back to her feet. "I mean, no one at all?"
When the one I wanted left me, how could I seek another?
It wasn't that she had not tried at all, she'd been on many dates with many men. Lots of Wooyoung's friends, Johae's friends, some guys on dating apps she'd installed for the thrill of it but none had the compassion that she desired or none had wanted to date for marriage. She'd be lying if she said she didn't at least look for the smallest trace of Hongjoong in them all.
“Just Dahye or?”
“A three-month year-old boy, Kim Suho.” Perhaps that was enough to break all the progress she had made over the years, the bridge of her nose tingled but she refused to be vulnerable in front of him again. The tight threads that had lazily sewed her heart together ripping, the misery she had once been suffering from breaking through again. The universe really had no remorse left for her.
“I’m proud of you, Hongjoong. You finally settled down and I’m sure you’re a great father.” She retorted. What else could she say? As much as she wanted to, she could not scream or cry. Or shout and swear. Tell him how much he had broken her and when he left her home, mercilessly on that solemn evening many years ago she had not been the same. She could not tell him how cruel it was that he named his children the same names that she had planned. How much it hurt her that she wasn’t the mother of his children, like he used to claim he wanted her to be. Or rather that she wasn’t the mother of any child since no man could love her in the ways she wanted to be loved. She called for Gohyun, the little boy tottering over to her. Clutching his small hand within hers, she brushed past Hongjoong to bid Jongho goodbye. Finally, across the park, she arched her neck to take a last look at Hongjoong. They marvelled at each other, before the universe could separate them once and for all.
I knew you once. I loved you once, held you in my arms and you promised you wouldn’t let me go. The memory of me so faint like there wasn’t a day that went by when you promised me that you would make me yours.
DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGIARISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE
A/N: ahhh the second fic in the angst series! I’m a bit iffy on the ending but let me know what you guys think? good? bad? ugly? May edit later. thank you to my love @n0v4t33z for helping me decide regardless! The cold persists unfortunately, but so do I. I'll try to squeeze in another fic before I lock into exam mode but I think it's just best to let the ideas marinate at this point. Still gonna be active on tumblr so reach out to me!! Hope you enjoyed this fic!
let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!
no i'm not keeping you in a dog crate with a fucking blankie and squishmallows when i fucking kidnap you you're getting tied to a chair in various stress positions and neglected until i'm bored enough to beat you with something heavy. sorry.
Sequitur Ad Inferos - Latin for "Follow to Hell"
~Pairing: Demon!Mingi x novice!hunter Fem!Reader
~wc: 3.4k
~Au: Supernatural (the show and other), lovers to enemies to ???
~Genre: angst, smut
~summary: Learning about the supernatural by watching your long-term boyfriend end your mother started your life long goal of revenge. You were going to find him, get answers, even if you had to go all the well to hell to do so
~Warnings: 18+, minor character death, torture, demonic possession, blood, stabbing and burning, restraints, violence, grief. SMUT: oral- fem receiving, orgasm denial, rimming, anal fingering, bondage.
~AN: Another addition to the @lapydiaries event "Hot As Hell" and the second Mingi piece this month. Requested by @rems-writing ! Also, Happy birthday to THE Song Mingi himself <3 this was also going to be longer and more detailed but i started rewatching SPN to better get it down and id rather be watching that right now so here it is (i also liked this way better) Banner by @yourfatherlucifer
~Event Prompt: “I dreamed of going all the way to hell to deal with you”
Dividers made by me. Blank blogs will be blocked. No Beta
Sam and Dean Winchester were not what you were expecting. You had met their father a few times growing up, and they did help your mom with something a few years back; but now that you were travelling with them in the back of the Impala on a revenge quest…
Well they weren’t as badass as you thought.
Yes, they still managed to shock you with awe over how easily they beheaded a vampire or exorcized a demon, but the moments between? Sometimes you weren’t sure if they were brothers or enemies. There was a lot of tension at times. Secrets you never learned but knew were there. But they had their moments when you knew they loved each other.
And cared for you.
Not that you made it easy considering how adamant you were about not getting close to anyone again. It had just been you and your mother for so long. And then him- the man and demon responsible for taking your mom from you.
You had jumped around for years, thrown into the deep end of a world you hadn’t even known about until the death of your mother in front of you. Some hunters taught you some things, but more so Sam and Dean, agreeing to help you hunt down the demon you wanted in their free time. Not that they had much.
After a couple months, the lack of progress was beginning to frustrate you, and you had a sneaking suspicion the brothers weren’t actually helping you look any more. They might be teaching you, bringing you on small hunts, banning you from joining on the next when you get hurt. Like they were trying to dissuade you from going this route. Even if you’ve been in this life for years.
It became obvious that they were when you found a book on demons that had all the information you needed. Summoning and trapping one. Exorcising one. Torturing one.
So what did you do? You didn’t tell them.
They went off on a hunt, some lead they had about whatever big bad they were chasing. And you? You slipped into your car with the book and left once they were gone. Not without stealing the necessary ingredients they had laying around.
It took a few days but you had everything, making your way back to your hometown. The house may have been sold but there were other places you could privately summon a demon and torture him to your heart’s content.
Like the old motel outside of town you both would meet up at when you first started dating. Since you didn’t want to introduce him to your superstitious mom at first. And his college dorm wasn’t a place he wanted to bring you considering half the things you two did when alone.
Not that you had cared at the time, you were young and in love with a tall, deep voiced man that seemed to love you twice as much back. So the sketchy motel was perfect.
Now it seemed a fitting spot to summon him, more rundown than before but taking up the furthest room from the office to remain undisturbed just in case. A couple hours of set up, you started the ritual.
Candles lit, you cut into your hand to drop the blood into the bowl on top of the Sigil of Azazel, chanting the words “Attenrobendum eos, ad consiendrum, ad ligandum eos, pariter et solvendum, et ad congregantum eos coram me.”
Fire lit up in the bowl, the acacia and oil burning up.
And just like that, he appeared… right in the middle of the devil’s trap you had set up. “So it’s true… you’ve become a hunter?”
His deep voice had you bristling, brandishing the demon knife you had stolen from the Winchesters. “What did you expect after what you did?” You spat out, glaring at him with all the hatred you could muster. For years you had the image in your head of him holding your mother up by the throat, black eyes staring at you as his hand ripped through her chest.
Your mother’s last words rang in your head even now. “Run. Live.” You had then, but not now. Not when you had her killer trapped and at your mercy. Not when living met being afraid he would come- when it meant missing her every day and blaming yourself.
Mingi hadn’t aged a day. Still tall, dark and handsome. Voice deep, eyes rounded with emotion as if the very sight of you would bring him to tears.
Demons don’t feel. Not in the way Mingi had you believe he did.
So why did he look guilty? No black demonic eyes, just the dark brown you loved. The soft pout of his thick lips. The way he tried to appear small even though he was bigger than you in every way. The way your name fell from his lips like a plea of forgiveness.
“You should have just moved on-”
“Like HELL I could! You killed her Mingi! Looked right at me as you did!” You stabbed the table with the knife in anger, hands trembling with rage. “Two years. Two fucking years we were together. My mother loved you. We invited you into our home. We were going to celebrate your birthday. We- ha, why the fuck am I saying any of this.” You ran you hand down your face in frustration, pulling the knife out and walking around the table.
Mingi flinched back as you stepped close enough to swing at him with the blade. Not that he had anywhere to go in the devil’s trap. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Shut up! Shut up and sit!” You pointed to the chair, the restraints ready. “And stop looking like a fucked kicked puppy! You a fucking demon for fucks sake.” You snarled out, knife held out in front of you.
You expected more fight, but he did as you said. He didn’t move even as you secured the chains around him you had dipped in holy water. He hissed at the burn, his flesh and clothes sizzling under the chains.
Still, he didn’t fight it off.
Testing the restraints until you were pleased with yourself, you let out a sigh of relief. Getting him into the restraints had been a big concern for you now knowing just what demons were capable of.
All that was left was your rage.
Gripping his black hair at the back of his nape, you yanked his head back and pointed the blade just under his chin, drawing blood and earning a hiss from him. “I dreamed of going all the way to hell to deal with you.”
Your gaze flickered down his body heaving under the chains, wondering if Mingi was the person this body belonged to or the demon. A question you had asked yourself many times over the years.
The answers were at your fingertips.
“How long have you possessed this body?” You dragged the knife over his thigh, cutting the jeans slowly. He thrashed a bit, cursing as he hissed in pain.
“A while- agh.”
Your fist hurt from hitting his jaw, but you shook it off.. “Let me rephrase- When did you possess this body? Before I met you?”
Back in college? When you saw him with his friends on campus? Laughing and having fun, sometimes smoking or partying? Was that the demon or Mingi? Was Mingi the demon?
Was your whole relationship a fabrication or a lie to get to you? Or had Mingi really been in love with you?
Did the demon take him too?
Guilt rested on his features. If you didn’t think he was incapable of guilt, you might actually believe it.
It took several more wounds before he would answer, but after each cut and spray of holy water, he would cry in anguish and look at you as if pleading for forgiveness.
Not for his life. Not for it to stop. But as if he wanted you to forgive him.
A trick, you told yourself. He was just playing with your emotions. He knew you well, even if the demon had possessed Mingi the day he killed your mom, a demon could still access the thoughts and mind of the host.
Sam and Dean taught you that. But you didn’t have their backbone. Their resolve. Not when the man didn’t show his black eyes. When he whimpered in pain and pleaded your name like you could save him from eternal damnation.
“Answer me! Answer me or I swear to fucking God I will send you back to hell. O-or leave you in some tomb of a devil trap so you’ll be stuck in this body for the rest of your life underground!!” The knife was back against his throat, your body practically on top of his lap as you screamed at him.
Once beautiful face all bruised and bloody with burns on his cheek. His shirt was burned and torn up from the chains and slashes, his jeans darkened considerably from the blood that even covered the jagged cuts exposed.
And he still looked at you as if you were the one being tortured and that he felt sorry for it.
“Fine… I was in this body long before we started dating. Back with John Winchester helped your mother with a monster back in the day. Azazel had ordered several of us to watch anyone John Winchester had saved before that could get involved in anything that required Winchester's help. After that, I was ordered to stay close to you both since… well, since John was your father.”
Out of all the things to fall from his mouth, that was the most unexpected. You had a father, the same man that raised you until you were 8 and died in a freak accident. An accident you realized had been a monster once you met Sam and Dean. That had been one of the few times you had met John Winchester, not that you had been fond of the guy.
Your mom had though… if you thought about it.
“I can tell you believe me.”
In response you swung the knife, cutting along his jaw as you stumbled back. “Shut up. Are you telling me that you dated me- lied and manipulated me- just to keep John Fucking Winchester’s unknown child on a leash?”
You knew of Azazel, what he had done. The yellow-eyed demon that had been the arch-nemesis of the Winchesters for many reasons. How the blood of the Winchesters was needed for some grand plan of the apocalypse.
“You weren’t supposed to see that-” Mingi’s earlier words came flooding back to the forefront of your mind. They got rid of your mother to tighten your leash, since you had no one else but Mingi.
And you would have done anything for him. If you had come home to your mother dead and never thought Mingi was the one who killed her, you would have found comfort in him. Leaned on him. And done anything he said.
With a yell full of anguish and rage, you took out a different knife and began to cut and maim away at Mingi, tears falling down your cheeks in streams.
Blood splattered against your face as he took the brunt of your rage with each slice. Each stab. Each burn. Resorting to your fists eventually to release more of your rage.
Until you were so physically exhausted that you couldn’t anymore. Until you gripped his shoulders and leaned against him and sobbed.
You had grieved your mother. But you hadn’t grieved the man you loved.
No amount of revenge would be enough to heal the hole in your heart now.
You felt Mingi rest his cheek against the side of your head, letting out comforting sounds and once more treating you as if comforting you during your own torture.
It broke you further. “Was it all a lie? Were you using me?”
He could lie even now if he wanted to. It wouldn’t be hard to do and it would benefit him for you to believe, even for a second, that a demon could love.
“At first.” His voice rumbled by your ear, pressing a bloody kiss on the lobe. “But then Azazel was dealt with and I no longer had to follow the orders. So I stayed. I played human. I loved like one.”
How badly you wanted to believe him.
“And then… new orders. Kill your mother and then keep you on a leash. I didn’t want to. But if I didn’t, they’d send someone else.” Something about his tone reassured you that this wasn’t a lie. He was being honest. Was it the emotion you sensed there?
Lifting your head you sniffled, not caring you were half on his lap. “Why didn’t you chase me then?”
His jaw clenched, eyes darting away. “I am not entirely devoid of humanity. I’m not an old demon that cares only about destruction. I deserved my damnation, but I only wanted to be human again. Besides taking my time, by the time I did find you, the awaited apocalypse was over and Lucifer was no more. A new ruler. And one who did not care for those orders. Who didn’t care about a bastard child of John Winchester because you had no use. You weren’t the Winchester that was a problem. And… he’s more diplomatic than that.”
“So what, you made a deal for my freedom?” You scoffed as you climbed off his lap, ignoring the displeased whine that fell from his pouty lips.
“And if I did?”
It was laughable to think a demon made a deal with the newest King of Hell to keep you safe from him. “What was it?”
He shrugged as much as the chains would allow. “Pointless now. You got yourself into hunting. That breaks the deal.”
For a moment you stood there in silence, feeling the heavy weight of the day seep into your bones. You glanced around the motel room, thankful the floors were hardwood so the blood would be easy to clean… if you left here alive.
With a resigned sigh, you picked up the demon blade and held it in warning as you began to undo the chains. “This… is a lot. I’m going to shower.”
He looked shocked. “You’re…. Letting me go?”
Scoffing you took the chains and knife out of the trap. “No. You’re still trapped. I’m just, well, I just need a moment.”
You grabbed your bag and the demon blade before heading for the bathroom, wanting all this blood off you. Spending far too much time under the hot water, you couldn’t wrap your head around this.
What was real? What was true? You had no idea. A part of you wanted to call up Sam and Dean and ask. To fill in the blanks.
How would they feel about you being their half sister?
That was a whole other can of worms you didn’t want to open. Not yet. Maybe not ever. You heard what happened to their last half sibling. No thanks on that front.
You must have been more exhausted than you thought, falling asleep in the shower, just sitting under the unsteady stream of the hot- now lukewarm- water. Since waking up in the bed, restrained, was not how you remember closing your eyes.
“Don’t panic.” Well, the now clean demon sitting next to your naked body was plenty of reason to panic though.
“How-”
“I made a dent in the floor and broke it.” Mingi explained as his eyes roamed down your naked body. “I didn’t expect you to be asleep in the shower though.”
You scoffed, shying away from his gaze as best you could. “Did you touch-”
He shook his head, causing some droplets to fling around. He was still very much cut up and bruised but no longer bleeding. You could see the dozens of marks you left on his bare chest, his legs covered up with some random pair of pajamas from somewhere.
Before you could sigh with relief, he smirked. “I wanted you awake first.”
Realizing your legs were not bound you tried kicking at him and attempting to pull away. He pinned you down with ease however, stopping your protests before they could truly start. “Are you going to torture me?”
“Like you did with me?” He asked as he climbed onto the bed and knelt between your legs, reminding you of many times he had been in this very position.
You damned your body’s response; the heat rushing down to your core and up to your cheeks. You blamed it on your own conflicting emotions. On the fact he had still been the best lover you ever had and that your body would remember.
His small smirk widened until it took up his face. A familiar grin flashing familiar teeth and a familiar look of lust in familiar dark eyes. Minus the damage, he looked like the Mingi you had loved and that loved to ravage you. “No- no I don’t want to hurt you. Never did, baby.”
He leaned down, the first touch of his lips to the space between your breasts, chuckling as your breath hitched. “Now that the deal is broken, I don’t have to stay away from you. I don’t have to follow orders.” He kissed lower and lower, hands on your thighs keeping you from squirming. “Let me show you all I have ever wanted to do to you, baby? My heaven-”
“Mingi-” Your breath hitched at the feeling of his own fanning against your exposed sex, the growing wetness betraying you. “I’m going to kill you still-”
“That’s fine-” A kiss to your clit as he spread your legs further. “But I won’t kill you. Just…” He ran his tongue over your folds, groaning at the taste. “Just this.”
You had no time to protest –or beg– before he was working at your cunt with his lips and tongue. If you thought he could eat you out before, well now it was so much better. His tongue was longer, faster, and he had no need to breathe as he practically suffocated himself against your folds.
Soon enough you were writhing for a different reason than before. You bit back moans and tugged on the rope that had you tied to the motel bed. Until he sucked and nipped at your clit and pushed a finger into your tight rim.
“Mingi!” You threw your head back, ass lifting off the bed as your hips had a mind of their own now trying to get even closer to his mouth and the pleasure he was giving you.
For a moment you let yourself enjoy it. You didn’t hide the moans. You didn’t stop yourself from begging for more. You let yourself feel like you did when the Supernatural didn’t exist.
A small reprieve before you would come crashing back to your personal hell.
He worked you close just to deny you, moving his tongue to your rim instead and leaving your soaked pussy clenching in need. You whined, he chuckled. Lifting your head you met his eyes, still that of Mingi’s. Still easy to forget there was a demon riding that body.
Once your orgasm was denied, he did it again. He worked you up until he could tell your body was close and them went back to fucking your ass with his tongue, leaving you crying in desperation. The third time, you wanted nothing more than to reach down and hold him against your cunt as you came.
Since you couldn't, you begged. “Please please let me come, Mingi? Please? Feels so good I need it. Pleeease~!”
He hummed approval against your soaked folds, and this time he didn’t pull away. He kept at it even as your climax hit and you soaked his face. Even as white hot pleasure shot through your nervous system and had you crying out silently and forgetting everything for a split second.
And that split second was all it took for him to be gone. That moment your body felt like it was floating and your brain was filled with cotton.
A blanket covered you as you came down, the guilt hitting you the same time the door was opened and your two supposedly half-brothers were checking the room with their guns drawn.
Mingi was gone, again, and you were going to have to explain everything to the two cursing up a storm and rushing towards your side to undo the rope.
You were still determined to follow him, even if the reason to do so was no longer so certain.
You’ve escaped the toxicity of your past and greener pastures lie ahead… yet there’s a dark cloud brewing overhead, brimming with the promise of retribution. Sometimes it’s better to just give in and weather the storm.
Warnings;;
Dark fic!! Toxic!Seonghwa, abusive/loveless relationship, obsessive behaviour, reader is a sub, oral sex (m!receiving), degradation + use of ‘Daddy’, sadistic Seonghwa, threat of a belting, video filming w/ threat of blackmail, slight dacryphilia
Notes;;
Valentine’s Prompts : Cat and Mouse + Rose Petals
I’ve gotta post this so I can move on tbh
Second half went to shit because I was uncomfortable lmfao
My beta reader said, “Seonghwa is an asshole! He made me feel bad about myself!” so fair warning
Main Masterlist || ATEEZ Masterlist || Valentine’s Masterlist
You met a boy a few weeks ago and he’s everything. From his dazzling smile to his kind eyes and his warm personality, he’s what many would consider ‘perfect’. When he calls you late at night it’s to hear you talk, not to summon you to his side. His gifts are the type you can show your family rather than hiding them within your closet. He even compromises. For the first time in years you’ve been given a voice. And the best part of it all is that he wants to go steady with you.
As in your boyfriend.
You, with a real, proper boyfriend. If only your younger self could see you now, living the life of a romance protagonist – grand gestures and all. He’s on the flashy side but it’s in good faith. No harm, no foul, even if sometimes it’s embarrassing when done in front of your coworkers and friends. At least he’s open with his feelings unlike your last… fling. You can’t even call it a relationship; he’d never acknowledged you as anything other than his little mouse.
⚖️Warnings: mentions of throwing up, blood, sword fighting, death, battle, war
⚖️Summary: when you're cursed with the hanahaki curse, your only discourse is to search out King Jongho and to get a kiss from him to cure yourself. But when a certain master of spies sticks his nose in your business, life is suddenly a lot more harder
The fire cracked and you jumped as the not-so-dry wood caught fire in the wise woman’s hut. You had not declined her offer of blackberry and mint tea but you were beginning to regret it as your nerves got the best of you.
Only an hour ago you had hacked up flower petals and blood.
“Now, tell me about this problem you say you have,” the wise woman prompted you as she sat heavily on her rocking chair after placing down the prepared tea.
You reached into your breastplate and pulled a sealed envelope out. You pulled your knife from your boot and cut through the wax that you had applied yourself. You spilled the contents on the table between you and the wise woman.
“What does it mean when you throw up flower petals?” You offered.
The wise woman picked up one petal and popped it into her. “It tastes bitter.” She raised one to her nose and smelled it. “Primrose, I believe.” The wise woman looked at you with certainty. “You have the Hanahaki Curse.”
“...pardon me?”
The wise woman pushed your cup of tea further to your side, the clay scraping against the well-worn wood. She drank deeply of her own before answering. “You are dying. A kiss will break the curse. And only you know who will break it. I can’t tell you; it’s your heart that needs mending.”
You stand up, putting down the untouched tea. “Thank you.” You tossed the wise woman’s fee to the table. “I trust you’ll tell no one about this?”
The wise woman mimed locking her lips with a key and throwing it away. “Of course.”
You walked back to the castle that you were in charge of, wondering how the hell you got here.
You raised your hand in greeting to the guards at the castle’s gates and they let you in. You curt nods were all they needed in acknowledgement before they went back to their duties. It was not their place to ask the captain of the guard where they had gone.
Your head was in a daze as you walked through the castle listlessly. The only good thing about your King going to war was that there was no one to question your current state. Your king had taken practically every able-bodied soldier with him to invade the country that had taken a precious artifact that belonged to your kingdom and left behind the bare minimum.
You had been hurt and angry when Jongho had told you that he was leaving you behind. The shame ran through you like hot lava through your veins. You were the captain of the guard; it was your job to keep the King alive and safe. To leave you behind from his war was an insult that was beyond resolving.
Jongho’s face informed you that there was no arguing, even though he tried to insist that he could only trust you to keep his throne safe. All the while, Hongjoong was across the round council’s table, hiding his grin with a hand.
“But you’re taking him, aren’t you?” you accused.
Jongho ran a gauntlet through his hair in frustration. “Hongjoong will be travelling back and forth between you and I, to keep the information secure.”
Your hatred for Hongjoong went from a steady fire to a raging bonfire.
In your life, Hongjoong always won where you lost. As children, you followed the rules and somehow got scolded while Hongjoong created discord and was beloved. You couldn't even have your moment of triumph by being knighted as Jongho’s captain of the guard; Hongjoong had been given the role of master of spies at the same time. You were dedicated to Jongho, sword and heart, but the king had chosen Hongjoong to warm his bed and not you. Hongjoong was the bane of your existence.
“You’re not one to get your head in the clouds, what’s happened to you?”
You jump a foot in the air as you come back to reality. Your feet had taken you to your office and Hongjoong was sitting behind your desk, running one of his daggers underneath his finger nail.
“Get out of my chair,” You snarled immediately.
The last thing you needed was the man you despised to see you at your lowest moment.
Hongjoong gave you a long look. “Something bad by the sounds of it.”
You slapped his boots off your desk. “Your very presence puts me in a bad mood. Now get the fuck out of my chair or I’ll haul you out of it myself.”
Hongjoong fluidly rolled out of your chair and danced around your desk. Lithe, graceful fucking rogue. You hated him. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Captain.”
You rolled your head, cracking your neck menacingly. “Do you have anything to report to me or did you come back just to get under my skin?”
Hongjoong’s eyes are dark and inquisitive on you. “Do you have something to report back to me first?”
Your arm came down and you swiped the entire contents of your desk onto the floor in a rage. You roared so loud that your lieutenant came to check on you. Your shoulders were heaving with your heavy breathing.
“It’s nothing, lieutenant.” Hongjoong dismissed your underling and firmly closed the door on her very-confused face. “Captain, you can’t let anyone see you like this. You are their leader and the one in charge of the King’s throne and crown.”
You threw an accusing finger in Hongjong’s direction. “Get out of my office. You are the cause of all this.”
Hongjoong tilted his head curiously. “This must have to do with our fair King, methinks.”
You tiredly sit on your desk and bury your head in your hands. “Hongjoong, this is not up for discussion. I don’t care if you get off on it or not, I’m not in the mood tonight. I am not above personally escorting you out of here.”
“You’d have to catch me first.” You could hear the grin in his voice. You wanted to wring his neck. “I do love a good game of cat and mouse.”
You lowered your hands, if only to send a murderous glare at Hongjoong. “All is well with the castle. I’ve heard nothing of any rumblings about the nobles thinking they can do a better job than Jongho or I in governing the kingdom. They are eager to hear about the King’s progress, that is all.”
Hongjoong sat beside you on your desk. With his hands on either side of his hips, he tipped his head back to stare at the glass chandelier that Jongho had commissioned for your office when you had earned your position. “It is slow progress. The army is so big that travelling is taking us longer than originally anticipated. The King wondered if I couldn't snatch one of his favorite bottles of elderberry wine from the cellars.”
“Brilliant,” You replied tonelessly. “We’ve done our respective jobs. You can leave now. Enjoy wrapping your lips around Jongho’s--”
“What are those?” Hongjoong nudged a petal with his booted toe with a frown. “You despise flowers, they make you sneeze.”
Your eyes widen in alarm. “I’ve an admirer. Must be one of the noblemen. Goddess help me if it’s one of the guardswomen. That never ends well.”
Hongjoong shook his head. “Mmm, I think not. Your eyes tell it all, Captain. Nice lie though. Hoping that I would tell His Majesty and that he would do that cute pout he does when he needs to think things through?”
“I owe you nothing,” You insisted.
You put some space between yourself and Hongjoong. Hongjoong didn’t allow you that much consideration, however. He followed close on your heels as you moved to the armorstand. “You might as well tell me. I know you know I have the means to figure it out for myself. Nothing escapes my notice.”
You removed your gloves first, then moved to the buckles at your ribs. “Oh, but wouldn’t you have so much fun discovering my dirty little secret, Hongjoong?” You mocked him. “Why would I take that away from you?”
“What dire news has acted as a thorn in your side?” Hongjoong posed, thumb and forefinger framing his chin. “You are often easy to anger but surely this is the worst I’ve seen you. And I’ve seen you witness me sneaking out of Jongho’s rooms on more than one occasion. Once, you even barged in on us hav--”
You pulled the knife from your boot and threw it across the room. Hongjoong leaned backwards, evading your knife easily. “If you do not shut your mouth, I will do it for you.”
Hongjoong smirked, pulling up one half of his lips upward. “Oh, the images in my head.”
How you managed to wretch your breastplate off, was beyond you, but next was your sword belt, and finally your shin guards. “I am going to my room now. And you will most certainly not be following me there.”
“But Captain, we barely finished our foreplay!” Hongjoong called after you.
You opened the door to your bedroom connected to your office and slammed it behind you. You turned the lock with the key around your neck and sighed heavily. You needed to think in peace. You needed a strategy to break this curse.
The wise woman said you would know who you needed to kiss in order to break this curse. There was only one man who you wished to kiss and that was Jongho. But that would mean you would have to abandon your post. You had to break your oaths and go against your king’s direct orders. But which meant more, your word or your life?
You found the peaked window and saw that the Goddess was hidden behind some clouds on this night. You couldn't even pray to your sworn God to seek guidance. If you broke your oaths, all the sacred powers that were bestowed upon you by the Goddess of the Moon would be gone. You would still be a knight but if your oaths were forsworn to your king, where would that take you? You would be losing your life either way.
You bit down on your lip, hard, and resisted bellowing in frustration. Jongho would understand that your life was in danger. Your goddess would still want her most dedicated knight to live. You had no choice, you had to go hunt down Jongho and beg a kiss from him. Regardless of whether he returned your feelings or not, this was your life!
You began to undo your hair. You tugged the hairpins that held the braid from the crown of hair around your head. You would have to travel light if you were to travel as quickly as you could. You couldn't wear your armor or you’d be spotted immediately.
You moved to the chest by the foot of your bed. There was old leather armor you could don. It would simply appear as if you were a mercenary travelling and looking for work. Your sword, Mist, would have to stay too. You sighed. Your current sword and shield had also been commissioned by Jongho. It bore your coat of arms, a lioness rearing on her hind feet, claws ready to attack her opponent. Yet, it had to be done.
You picked up Silver Light from your chest. The rainbow opal shone in the hilt of the bastard sword that used to be your weapon of choice. It was the sword you had dedicated to the Moon Goddess, swearing to be one of her holy knights. It was the sword that had the power to slay with the gentle light of the moon. It would be nice to remember who you were, instead of who you had become.
A cloak of dappled grey sufficed for the remainder of your outfit. You grabbed a satchel to stow some bread, cheese and apples from the kitchens and then you were straight for the stables. Your trusty mare Siren neighed softly when you entered her stall.
“We go on a quest, my dear,” You murmured to her.
“Ah, a knight on a quest. What a picture perfect night to do so.”
You grabbed Siren’s reins before she reared. You smoothed a hand over her neck, whispering to calm her. You refused to acknowledge Hongjoong. You simply lifted the catch to the gate and swung up on Siren’s back.
Hongjoong leaned against the doorframe of the stables. He tossed the same knife he had been cleaning his fingernails with, repeatedly catching the hilt of it as it twirled in the air. “Where are you going at this time of night, Captain?”
You continued to ignore the master of spies as you walked Siren out of the stables. You did stop ignoring him, however, when Hongjoong silently launched himself over Siren’s flanks and onto her back behind you.
“Captain, I can no longer let this mystery slide. This is beyond out of character for you. I’m starting to think there’s no whispers about a coup from the nobles because you yourself are the culprit.”
You pulled Siren’s reins gently to halt her. She snorted, clearly unimpressed that she was being stopped so shortly after her freedom was delivered. “Are you seriously besmirching my name right now because I refuse to acknowledge your presence?”
“What else am I to suspect when you’re sneaking out of the castle just as I come for my report.” Hongjoong’s voice sounded as if he was amused but his words were sharp. “If only the truth would set you free.”
“I would rather not report to the king that his master of spies hasn’t broken his neck from falling off a horse, so get off of Siren,” You said through gritted teeth.
“The only thing that would make you abandon your post is Jongho. I know exactly where he is, Captain. If you simply tell me what is going on, I’ll take you on a direct course to him.” Hongjoong let his offer dangle between the two of you.
Fuck. Your life was hanging in the balance. You didn’t know how much time you had. Curse Hongjoong.
You breathed in and out deeply. All that could be heard was the soft clomped as Siren walked down a postern gate that wasn’t guarded. It was a secret escape for the king in case he was in grave danger. “I threw up blood and flower petals this eve. The wise woman says I'm dying. I think only a kiss from Jongho will break it.”
“Ah,” was all that Hongjoong said.
“You insufferable man,” You grumbled under your breath. “All that berating to get me to tell you what’s going on and all you have to say is ‘ah’?!”
Hongjoong chuckled behind you. “I apologize for that. I didn’t know it was truly so grave.”
You turned around to view Hongjoong. His gaze flitted around naturally, to keep an eye if anyone spotted the two of you. “Will you help me?”
“Of course I will.”
Your shoulders released tension there that you didn’t know you had been holding. “This will be a great source of entertainment for me. I want a front seat.”
You scoffed. Of course he was going back to jokes again. “I don’t care about your motives. This is my life on the line, Master Spy.”
“I know,” Hongjoong acknowledged that.
Travelling with your arch nemesis really wasn’t what you’d call an enjoyable time. Hongjoong constantly poked at you, prodded you, and laughed when you snapped at him. You made decent time, for two people on one horse. You, more than once, complained to Hongjoong about him not having his own horse but his reply was always “Why would I steal a horse when I get to be so close to you?” which was ludicrous but he stood by his statement.
It all came to a crescendo the first night you decided to pay for a room at an inn. Hongjoong had said you had done enough covert traveling, and that no one would spot the two of you for one night of comfort. More than happy to pay for a roof for Siren, you put up the few coins it would take and entered the inn with Hongjoong.
You paid for two separate rooms but dined together. Blessedly, Hongjoong was silent as he filled himself with roast chicken and fresh bread. You ate heartily as well, tired of road fare. Then you went your separate ways to your respective rooms and you expected to get a good night's sleep.
What you hadn't expected was to get such a swell of feelings for Jongho. You missed him. It had been weeks since he had left with the army. You missed how he was such an anchor in your life. Jongho was solid, and not going anywhere, or so you thought. You thought you had wound yourself so closely in his life that you could never be separated.
That’s when you felt the burning at the back of your throat and you rushed to the basin in your room that was supposed to be for your morning’s wash up. You threw up petals, your body convulsing to spew out your unrequited love incarnate. You coughed and shook, as your body rid itself of the flowers inside of you. By the time you were done, you felt weak.
“Captain.” Hongjoong’s voice was coated with sympathy. He slipped into your room through your open window.
You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “Go away,” You said hoarsely.
Hongjoong’s hands felt cool to your warm skin. He pulled your hair back and tied it up. “You could have called for me.”
“I was a little busy,” You said mirthlessly.
“Come on, let’s--” His eyes widened as you began to cough again.
You couldn't help it. Your mind sent images of happy Hongjoong with happy Jongho. Those two were always so easily together. How was it that Hongjoong got what you had worked so hard for?
You spewed more petals and flowers into your basin. Your throat now felt like razer’s were brushing your insides.
“Get…” You said hoarsely. “Don’t want you…” You coughed and grimaced, pulling a singular petal from your tongue. “...you shouldn’t see me like this.”
You felt weak, you felt powerless and even worse, you felt heartbroken. And part of the equation was sending you worried looks. “Just go.”
Hongjoong shook his head, a look of determination on his face. “I’m gonna help you back to bed, first of all.” Hongjoong ducked under your arm and raised you up with a hand around your waist.
“First?” You squawked.
“Mhmm,” Hongjoong hummed. “Then you’re going to let me call for some cool water and I’m going to put a washcloth on your head.”
Hongjoong got you to bed. He sat you down and then swung your legs up. You fell back onto your pillow with an oof and Hongjoong giggled. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they charge your room for the extra water.”
“Hong…” You coughed and the rogue froze at your door.
“I’ll be just a minute,” He said before slipping out your door.
You couldn't fathom why he was doing this. Perhaps he appreciated what you did for Jongho and the kingdom. It certainly wasn’t a job that Hongjoong could, or wanted to, do.
Hongjoong came back with a pitcher of cold water. He did exactly as he said, wetting the cloth and folding it carefully before placing it on your forehead. “There, was that so hard to accept?”
“Yes,” You barked.
“You know that all Jongho wishes is for us to be closer, to work seamlessly. Why are you so stubborn?” Hongjoong asked.
“Stubborn?” You struggled to sit up but it only took a firm hand on your shoulder from Hongjoong to keep you down. “You’re the one that pushes my buttons every chance you get.”
“If I didn’t provoke you, you’d literally pretend I wasn’t there,” Hongjoong insisted.
You scoffed at his remark. How could you ever forget that the love of your life’s love of his life was in the room? You felt queasy and winced.
“Alright, alright.” Hongjoong fussed, pulling a blanket over you. “Just sleep. I’ll stay here in case you have another episode.”
“You will not!” You insisted.
Hongjoong laughed. “Right? What a waste of good coin. You should have told me you were going to be sick. I could have stayed in the same room with you.”
“I’d never willingly share a room with you, Hongjoong,” You grumbled. But your weariness from the curse tugged you into its embrace.
Your eyes closed and you faded into the darkness of sleep. You didn’t even wake up, having a full night's sleep on a somewhat comfortable bed. The same couldn't have been said for Hongjoong when you woke up.
You were on your side when the morning sunshine woke you up. You opened your eyes and saw Hongjoong’s sleeping face. He had fallen asleep, arms propped up on your bed but his body on the floor. He was snoring softly, his lips parted, the tips continuously turned upwards. He almost looked… softer, like this. Is this what Jongho felt appealing when he slept with Hongjoong?
You coughed and Hongjoong shook awake immediately. “I cleaned the basin out, do you need me to fetch it?”
“No, I’m fine,” You replied briskly. You got off the bed and stretched a little. You sent a look over your shoulder to Hongjoong, who was still sitting on the floor. “Why the hell did you stay here, anyways? You should have slept in the bed you paid for.”
Hongjoong smiled and stretched his arms above his head. “Jongho would have my head if I let the captain of his guard die under my watch.”
You rolled your eyes and sighed heavily. “How chivalrous of you.”
“Besides, I said I’d help you,” Hongjoong added with a more solemn tone.
“I…” You took the bite out of your tone. “Thank you.”
It was back to the road, riding and sleeping in shifts. Siren had taken a shine to Hongjoong, of course. You muttered that she was a traitor while she eagerly ate the pieces of apple Hongjoong cut up for her with his knife. She lipped at his upturned palm and he giggled at the feeling. Jongho wasn’t enough, he had to have the sympathies of your horse as well???
You heard a rumble of hooves. Hongjoong’s eyes met your own immediately. “I thought you said we were still a few days away from the army?”
Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed. There wasn’t a cloud of dust, which explained that it was a much smaller party than the army. “We are. That’s not them.”
“I’ll scout. You stay here.” You couldn't argue with Hongjoong because with a susurration of the bushes, he was gone.
You paced at Siren’s side, who mimicked your mood, plodding at the ground with one hoof. You rubbed her soft nose. “It’ll be fine.” When Siren whinnied at you, you frowned at her. “He will be fine. What is with you?”
Hongjoong was back just as quickly as he left. “They have no official uniforms but I overheard them. They are from the kingdom our fair king is invading. We have to wipe them out.”
Your stomach dipped at the thought of delaying reuniting with Jongho. But your honor and vows to the Moon Goddess wouldn’t let you back down. Anything to ensure Jongho victory was in your best interest.
“I agree,” You said. You strapped your sword to your back and swung up on Siren’s back.
Hongjoong grabbed a hold of Siren’s reins as he approached. Your damn treacherous horse nudged his body with her head, as if she was checking his body for any harm. “I’m okay, girl,” he reassured her.
“How…” You purse your lips but continue your sentence. “How would you like to do this?”
Hongjoong’s eyebrows rose in surprise but rolled with your punches. “If you let me get in place, I could have an immense advantage with a sneak attack. Then when all hell lets loose, you can come charging in like the knight that you are.”
“I’ll wait for your chaotic signal then,” You reluctantly agreed.
Hongjoong flashed you a confident grin. “Try not to stare at my ass while you fight. It’s very distracting, I hear.”
You nudged Siren’s flanks with your feet, but it didn’t take much to encourage her to follow Hongjoong. He brought you as close as he dared and then signaled for you to halt. You couldn't get close with Siren otherwise that would give your position away. So you had to wait, without any visuals.
The seconds seemed to stretch into minutes as you waited for some kind of signal that you could push forward and fight. The silence was torturous, until you heard a call for arms and knew this was it.You charged through the brush, into the opening where the opposing army had settled. A quick scan of the battlefield showed that they were a guerilla group, small for secrecy and travel. Hongjoong had already taken down quite a few, you observed. There were many that laid with their throats slit. Hongjoong was ducking and dodging amongst the other warriors in the merry band.
With a wordless roar, you drew your sword and swiped at the men that you ran by. You took a few down before jumping off of Siren and started fighting sword to sword. You had an advantage on Siren but you would never risk her life.
Hongjoong flitted around you, nipping at the hoard that had surrounded you. Your broadsword did its work, as your body fell into the motions of the different moves you had learned. Metal against metal screamed, but still you took down each man or woman that dared approach you.
Hongjoong threw dirt, cackled when someone coughed when his hand to hand combat caught someone directly in the throat, and stomped on toes to throw off his foe. He was such a dirty fighter. The longer he danced around you, tightening the circle around you, and eliminating your foe, the more you grew angry. He was the epitome of what you despised.
But you were tiring and you needed your ‘oh fuck’ power. “Hongjoong!”
The rogue had two seconds to guess why you were raising your sword above you and not fighting anymore. He closed his eyes, speaking highly of the trust he laid in you and then you began your prayer.
“Holy Mother, Queen of the night, and ruler of the darkness. Bestow your power upon me!”
The pommel of your sword shone with the brightness of the moon and blinded the majority of the soldiers around you. Once your sword was imbued with the power of your goddess, it was over. Your eyes lit with the eerie blue of a cold moon. You cut down anyone in your path and you did it with fierce justice. How dare these men come from behind your beloved king?
“Justice will find you even in the night of a hidden moon.” Your mouth formed the words but your heart fluttered. The goddess was using you as a vessel!
When all there were left were corpses on the ground, you sheath your sword. The light faded from your eyes and from the opal on your pommel. Hongjoong’s mouth was on the floor and he had to snap it shut.
“I didn’t know you could do that!” He said, awe still shining from his eyes.
“You know I’m a sworn holy knight, Hongjoong,” You said with scorn.
“I know but it’s usually just a bunch of--” Hongjoong shook his head. “You’re a Moon Maiden.”
You scoffed at him. “A Moon Witch. Hongjoong. A maiden is one of our sisters who is still untried in battle.”
Hongjoong batted his eyelashes. “And in bed?”
“Virginity holds no importance in our order. Such a man thing to say.” You shook your head and whistled for Siren.
Your horse came galloping from the foliage and whinnied when she came to your side. Then she snorted on Hongjoong, causing his hair to get pushed back with the gust of air. It seemed not all your anger had been dispelled in the fight. You grabbed Siren’s reins rather harshly and tugged her to you before Hongjoong could pat her forelocks.
“Let's get going. If we can let Jongho know we stopped an attack from behind, that might give him an advantage,” You said gruffly.
“I…” Hongjoong let the hand he had raised to pet Siren fall lamely. “You’re right. That’s exactly what we should do.”
The last leg of your journey was strained with tension, to say the least. The closer you got to Jongho, the heavier your episodes became. You got extremely terse with Hongjoong, and eventually that mocking smile snapped as well. The gentle man from the inn was gone. You refused his help so many times that he no longer offered. It all came to a boil the night before you were set to arrive at Jongho’s encampment.
“I don’t understand why you’re so eager to receive a kiss from a man who doesn’t love you back,” Hongjoong grumbled under his breath as he tossed pieces of grass into your fire.
You breathed in and out heavily in a gusty sigh. “Oh, I don’t know, Hongjoong, perhaps because it’s going to save my life?”
“How do you know?!” Hongjoong demanded, suddenly standing up.
That caught you off guard. “The witch said I would know whose kiss would fix my curse. It’s obvious when my episodes occur when I’m thinking of Jongho. I have to receive a kiss from the man who I have unrequited love with.”
Hongjoong’s face twisted into judgemental disbelief.
“What?” You prompted, standing up as well.
“Even after the kiss, he’s still not going to love you! How is that going to break the curse?” Hongjoong challenged you.
“I--” Your heart began to palpitate and you felt sick to your stomach. You hadn't thought about that. You had a magical curse but would the kiss have a magical ending. You hadn't actually wished for Jongho to love you after the kiss but…
You swallowed down what surely felt like some petals rising for you to vomit. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
Hongjoong looked like you had just slapped him in the face. “Excuse me? Not any of my business?! I told you I would help you. I’ve been with you this entire journey, helped you when you were sick, taken care of your horse--”
“Yes, well done, Hongjoong. You’ve wheedled your way further into my life. How brilliant of you. Even my horse adores you. How excited you must be that everyone around me loves YOU more,” You said with rage filling your voice.
Hongjoong’s mouth opened and closed, clear shock written across his face. “That’s not what I--why must you hate me with every fiber of your being?! It’s been like that since we were children. I’ve never done anything to--”
“You merely existing is the cause for my anger. You never have any regard for anyone. You simply live life how you prefer, regardless of who it hurts. You are sneaky, and conniving. You fight without honor and you break hearts without consideration! I despise you, Kim Hongjoong, and that will never change!” Your shoulders heaved with how heavy you were breathing from your anger zipping through you like a spark.
Hongjoong threw his hood up and tipped his head so that his facial features were hidden. “Very well. I understand you explicitly. Once I’ve delivered you to Jongho, your life is your own. You won’t need my help any longer. I’ll take first watch. You sleep.”
The rogue slipped into the shadows surrounding your fire without a sound. Your chest felt hollow but you didn’t understand why. Shouldn’t you feel better after unloading like you just did? Hongjoong promised to leave you alone. You got what you wanted. You rubbed your chest. You decided to forget about it and go to sleep. So you rolled up in your cloak, and closed your eyes.
The next morning was a quiet one. Hongjoong didn’t say a word to you, even when he woke you up for your shift of keeping watch. He didn’t even sit on Siren with you, opting to take her reins and guide her to Jongho’s camp.
Hongjoong waved at the guards on the outskirts of the encampment but they simply waved back. Clearly they were used to seeing the master of spies travelling to and from their camp. He wound through several levels of security until finally Jongho’s grand tent came before you.
Your stomach twisted into anxiety. You weren’t even sure how you were going to explain to Jongho exactly what was going on. You knew that Jongho would never condemn you to die but he wasn’t big on physical affection. A kiss for the sake of a kiss wouldn’t appeal to him. Not to mention, you had to tell him the part about how you loved him.
But before you could get to Jongho’s tent, Hongjong suddenly changed direction and aimed Siren for another route.
You leaned over Siren’s neck and hissed, “Hongjoong, what are you doing?!”
“We’re going to my tent.”
Your face heated up at such a comment. “Why?!”
Hongjoong remained silent. You almost scrambled off Siren’s back as a form of rebellion but it took no time at all to get to the rogue’s tent. By then, Hongjoong had tied off Siren’s reins and then reached up to bring you down off her back. His hands on your waist burned through where they touched. And even once your feet hit the ground, the man didn’t let you go.
“Hongjoong, what is going on?”
“I have to do this before you kiss Jongho.” Hongjoong’s voice was husky and it made your stomach dip.
“Do what?”
Hongjoong’s lips twisted into a bittersweet smile. “Just don’t punch me too hard afterwards, okay? I have a delicate stomach.”
Before you could ask once again what the hell was going on, Hongjoong tilted your head towards him with his thumb under your jaw and his hand curling around your neck, and kissed you.
Your lips tingled and you felt tears form at the corner of your eyes. Why did this feel so right? You hated Hongjoong… right?
Hongjoong broke the kiss and then wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Don’t cry, love,” he said, even though tears were streaming down his face as well. “Well, it was worth a try--”
The both of you let out a strangled yell of surprise as a whirlwind of primroses and petals swirled around you. Hongjoong held you close to his body, arms wrapped around in a protective stance. You swallowed but your throat was tight with emotion and you were pretty sure it wasn’t rage. Before you could wonder what was going on, the whirlwind was gone and so were the petals.
Hongjoong suddenly grabbed your head between both his hands and demanded, “Quick, think about Jongho.”
You pursed your lips. “I don’t feel like throwing up, Hongjoong.”
Hongjoong let out a noise of exasperation. “Just do it!”
You sighed heavily and closed your eyes. You thought of the gummy smile your king always greeted you with when you entered the council room. You felt wistful and… you didn’t throw up. Your eyes widened in surprise.
Hongjoong let out a whoop of celebration. “We did it! We did it!!!”
You took off your gloves from one hand and brought your fingertips to your lip. It was Hongjoong’s kiss that you needed the entire time?
“How?” You said in disbelief.
“I love you,” Hongjoong admitted simply.
You shook your head in confusion. “What?”
Hongjoong avoided your gaze suddenly. “I’ve loved you since we were kids. But you always had eyes for Jongho. And despite what you believe, whatever I did, was to get your attention. Also, Jongho came to me first. I wasn’t against it but I thought it might prompt you to finally see that I was the one for you but instead it only made you resent me even more.”
You tried to back away, to put space between you and Hongjoong, in order to process what he was saying but the man was having none of that. “I was already at the castle before you saw the wise woman. I was on my way to your office when I saw you sneak out. I saw everything. But I came to a different conclusion. Kissing Jongho was never going to heal your curse from unrequited love. You needed someone to love you. It was true hate’s kiss, a kiss born from hatred turned to love. What better kind of kiss would break a curse like yours? I just didn’t think that you returned the feeling. Especially after last night.”
“I…I don’t--” Your throat closed in on itself. You couldn't say it. It would have been a lie and broken your honor.
Hongjoong had that stupid smile that you absolutely hated; the one that said he knew what you were thinking. “You don’t have to say it outloud. I already know it’s true or your curse would not have been broken.”
You allowed yourself a moment of relief. You weren’t going to die. You didn’t have to cause discomfort to your king… speaking of such… “Oh no,” You covered your mouth in horror. “I’ve come all this way, abandoned my post, and for what? Nothing!!”
Hongjoong swung an arm around your shoulder and guided you to the opening of his tent. “I know a thing or two about keeping others hidden. You’ll just stay in my tent until I can sneak out again.”
You frowned. “I’m not staying in your tent, waiting for you to come back, like a handmaiden’s tiny court dog.”
Hongjoong’s smile only grew wider. “Do you bark, little doggy? Sit pretty for me and I’ll give you a treat.”
“I’m still armed, Hongjoong,” You reminded him dryly.
Hongjoong hummed in acknowledgement. “Oh, we haven’t sparred in such a long time. Let me deliver this elderberry wine to our king and then we will enjoy some more foreplay after--oof” All the air left Hongjoong’s lungs as you punched him in the stomach.
“I suppose I was due that,” Hongjoong said in a pain-filled voice.
You gripped Hongjoong’s chin. “You better be telling Jongho you’re no longer available for his bed,” You said in a low, threatening tone.
Hongjoong’s smile through the pain was almost beautiful. “Anything for you, beloved.”
You grimaced at the pet name. It was going to take a while to get used to that. You had a feeling that Hongjoong would be forever wiggling under your skin, looking to get a reaction out of you. But you knew that you secretly enjoyed the back and forth, be it words or with weapons.
“Thank you,” You whispered suddenly.
Hongjoong’s eyes softened. “Anything for you, beloved,” he repeated, this time sounding more like he meant it.
Your heart skipped a beat and you abruptly let go of Hongjoong. You raised your still ungloved hand to your cheek. Was your skin hot? What was this feeling?
“Are you… blushing?” Hongjoong asked in astonishment.
“Shut up, Hongjoong,” You snapped, turning away.
“Or you’ll do it for me?” Hongjoong teased, eyes dancing merrily, recalling your threat from when he had found you in your office.
“You’d like that immensely, wouldn’t you,” You sighed.
“If it puts your lips against mine again, why not?”
You may love Hongjoong now, but you were pretty sure you still hated him.
Behold, all spooky creatures and enthusiasts thereof!
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🩸 pairing: vampire!gallerist/collector!seonghwa x art historian!gn!reader
🩸 genre: fluff, noir, soulmates, supernatural, strangers(?) to lovers, art nerding
🩸 summary: a post-graduate student specialising in impressionism, you were a regular visitor to the many art galleries in the city. who knew that among the paintings you would encounter your favourite, timeless work of art?
🩸 wordcount: 12.3k
🩸 warnings/tags: questionable editing, mention of blood, fangs, wounds, suggestive, many pet names (love, darling etc), art theory/history ponderings, time skips, mention of rituals, philosophy, hwa is centuries-old, yearning hwa
🩸 taglist: at the bottom of the fic
🩸 a/n: happy birthday to @starrysvn!! lheo, ilysm, and i hope you enjoy this little rambling <3 hugs to everyone, all reblogs, notes and comments appreciated!
🩸 playlist: nfwmb - hozier, who is she? - i monster, keep on loving you - cas, la vie en rose - edith piaf, a l'ombre de nous - pierre barouh, les feuilles mortes / sous le ciel de paris - yves montand, moon over bourbon street / until - sting
‘Love and Pain’ - an enigmatic masterpiece that was painted by Edvard Munch, the famous Norwegian artist, in 1895. In vibrant oil paints a dramatic scene interpreted by millions as something more sensual, darker, revealing was immortalised. Perhaps quite literally. You leaned back on one hand, feeling the coolness of the bench located in the middle of the gallery hall, careful to not let the notebook in your hands slip from your lap. ‘Vampire’ - first, it was a label for the woman with the alluring, long red locks that was leaning over her supposed lover, then it turned into a second name for the work. It was comical how Munch himself had initially stated the piece depicted nothing more than a woman kissing the neck of a man, and yet, the tale had told itself. What followed were six versions of this same subject, with a woodcut titled “Vampyr II”, followed by paintings titled ‘Vampire’ and ‘Vampire in the Forest’, and then through common acceptance that this indeed was the ‘submission of a man to the bite of a vampire’, if you were to paraphrase a critic who had been in an astoundingly similar position as you, except without the decades upon decades of other material to refer to. They had been the firstcomers, the initial perceivers to set the tone for society’s consumption of the artwork, the louder of the many voices in the artwork who often had the final say. In some senses, they were your long lost colleagues - they were there to create history, and you were there to study it.
While it was not exactly a part of the movement you had decided to specialise in, you nonetheless would never reject the opportunity to learn more about the stunning world of visual arts, trying to guess how the artist had felt in the moment, what did they see beyond what they presented to the world, how did they translate the heart into brushstrokes. You were taken by all forms of art since you were little - having grown up surrounded by items that were far removed from what you called your air, you were intrigued by anything that was external to your version of ordinary. In your case, it just so happened to be the little private gallery that you had spent almost all of your monthly allowance to visit when you were a school kid - you had been so dedicated, in fact, that the elderly guard who had often also acted as a guide to the visitors had become your first friend in the art world, something of a grandparent figure, and on multiple occasions - when the lack of eyes would allow, simply let you through with a grin and glance out of the entrance doors.
And so here you were, many years later, many hard decisions and conversations behind you, regarding artworks with an unprecedented soulful closeness that you had initially thought was unattainable. Had you believed all those who remained outside of the walls of your personal paradise, you would have been immersed in the same cycle that had been drilled into the majority of your family members, except maybe a handful who you had never met for the exact reason that they had chosen something for themselves. But you regarded your dream as the thorned path - undoubtedly more challenging, not immediately fruitful, but in the long run leading to the heaven of your design. What more could you ask for?
It was enjoyable to be alone with the paintings surrounding you, portals to new realms that any visitor could have the pleasure of exploring. And what was even more inspiring, was that in the eye of every beholder was a different universe, and no matter who one would speak to, their version of the painting would be different, even if just slightly. You huffed, amused. When was the last time you had visited a gallery with anyone else? You could not quite recall - it was likely that you had never seeked company from another because you were more than satisfied with the company of the legendary works that were regarding you from the many walls. It was possible to compose oneself, spend limitless time on every piece, study the details, and drift into one’s own musings when there was no one to ground them. This was when you dared to say you got your best work done. Even though you, of course, conducted research within university and ventured out to galleries, museums, collectors or auctions only within professional bounds, the bulk of the thinking process was carried out in times such as this. When it was just you, your notebook and pen, and a new point of focus. However, this time, you could not say you were fully attentive to the painting that you had decided to focus on, as a certain someone was appearing to share your level of interest in ‘Love and Pain’ too.
A gentleman who could not be much older or younger than you, at most a couple of years, stood off to the right of the bench, unmoving, gaze fixated on the painting. Dressed in a pinstripe navy suit, light blue dress shirt, lacquered dress shoes and a matching navy tie, he was nothing short of being a moving work of art. Hints of a glimmer from his thin framed, elegant silver spectacles gave the man a scholarly aura, while the slicked back dark hair - evidently a lot longer than the styling would suggest, added notes of business, entrepreneurship, perhaps leadership. Nothing was out of place, not a crease, not an exposed thread in sight. Needless to say, your curiosity had been sparked.
Much like you found joy in exploring creations in the realm of the visual arts, you were fond of crafting stories about the people who were strangers in passing. You could not help it; perhaps this affinity for creative internal ramblings had come as a package with studying the degree you had selected, or perhaps this was a naturally occurring guilty pleasure that you simply had not had the chance to entertain before you cut yourself off from expectations and predetermined patterns of thought. But now, you had the full pleasure of wondering, letting your mind travel to lands far away as you took the real life masterpiece in, and pondered why the man could be here, what he could be thinking as he studied Munch’s work, and what resonated with him, and only him.
There was a melancholia with the weight of centuries resting upon his shoulders, that much you could decipher in the stranger’s stance. Even then, there was a gentle burning flame within his heart judging by just how dedicated he was to inspecting the artwork. Like he was seeing an old friend for the first time in years, and was attempting to memorise them anew and recognise each change, bit by bit. You suppressed a chuckle, entertaining the possibility of this man finding a kinship with the painting, but chose to set the idea aside for the time being, instead focusing on sketching his emotional landscape. Was the stranger remorseful? Lonely? Perplexed? You could not quite pinpoint the answer, at least not before you noticed the man’s head starting to turn, and soon enough, his eyes were peering into your own.
They were two pools of deep chocolate, an all-consuming shade that, due to the ever so slightly dimmer lights than in the general halls of the gallery, appeared to be approaching a captivating onyx. The gaze that originated from behind the glasses, and glided across the room that was suddenly too small for two struck you, and you could feel heat starting to rise on your face, blush threatening to reveal the effect of the man’s spontaneous act of confidence. Lowering your head, you gave the stranger a sheepish grin, and pretended to make a random note, pen erratically scribbling over a filled page. He continued to regard you with that same unwavering expression, and only when you looked up again did he seem to catch himself and give you a closed-mouth smile, equally as bashful as yours, and crossed his arms. One step, another, and he was right by the painting, though careful to not obstruct your view - instead, he took his time to read the brief paragraph on the information plaque that had been stuck to the wall off to the side of ‘Love and Pain’. With the same familiarity that is common among those grieving, or in a state of existential sorrow. A bittersweetness prevailed in his aura, one that reminded you of autumn - the falling leaves in red and gold, twirling to join a magnificent carpet, but nonetheless, making a departure, albeit a nearly unnoticeable one. Had he seen many fallen leaves? Was he himself approaching the season? You gasped, but even though the sound was barely audible, you caught the stranger making a minuscule turn in response.
His footsteps were louder than your thoughts, his departure an irrevocably impactful act that left you breathless. You did not know him, and yet you felt as though you had gotten a glimpse at multiple lifetimes, and were part of a moment that was greater than yourself. In the wordless exchange, question after question had found its root, and something told you that you should not dare attempt to craft him a backstory, and choosing to believe in anything but what would be declared by him would be a gross misinterpretation, much like one that was carried out by those who did not wish to reflect on art and look beyond a first impression. For the first time since you had made your initial discovery of the arts, you felt like you were not alone in the gallery, the other visitor’s presence remained so intense that he could be sat right next to you, scrutinising the same painting, entertaining the same thought. Was the woman with the bright tresses indeed what she had been declared to be over the many years she had been introduced to many venues, many variations of public, and finally finding a home on this wall? Did she settle with her lover, or perhaps a carefully selected victim? Would the man have an answer?
______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
⋆ .
It was unlike you to retrace your steps a mere few days after a visit and return to the same gallery, amble down the same halls, and seek for a new source of investigative inspiration among the same selection. This obviously did not mean that you would never return, definitely not, that would be almost criminal of you to possess such intentions, but you tended to try to cleanse your palate with alternative movements, contemporary takes and avant garde interpretations between searches which were more directly related to your studies. And yet, for the first time in a while, nothing was stopping you from your return. It felt only natural, and so right. Moreover, you felt no unease when you headed straight towards the section that housed the impressionists. An individual with an unspoken, mysterious mission, you were on the hunt for the creative streak, something that would help you ponder the next section of your hefty dissertation, and you could sense that it had to be somewhere here. And, like always, you were right.
‘Bazille’s Studio’, one of the most famous works painted by the so-called ‘tragic artist’ of the impressionists, Frédéric Bazille in 1870. In fact, it had been a collaboration between him and Édouard Manet, another gifted artist, though more renowned as a figure leading modernism, and depicted a scene of discussion and creative collaboration in the studio that Bazille had shared for a certain period of time with other spectacular figures of the visual arts, Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, who could also be found in this painting. On the walls were works rejected by the Salon, which at the time had been the one of the most influential, famous art exhibitions in the Western World, administered by the Académie des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Interestingly, above the piano on the right hung a painting which Bazille had purchased from Monet, potentially hinting at the material ties between them, and the importance the young artist had because of his familial wealth. In a sense, Bazille expressed his support, as well as showed an intimate, platonic scene of the art world where there was a moment of calm, of mutual appreciation, despite the financial troubles and tensions due to character that had been experienced in those walls.
You stepped closer to the painting, trying to detect the transition from Bazille’s to Manet’s hand, the latter of whom painted in the former to take ‘centre stage’, palette in hand. Truly seamless work, though what else could it be? This painting had been a new addition to the permanent collection, and after strenuous, detailed restoration work to give the oil paints their original vibrancy and for impeccable strokes to forget the burden of time, you had the pleasure of seeing it in person. You were an arm’s length away from yet another work essential to history, culture and the arts as a societal colossus.
While it was easy enough to appreciate the technical detail, you found yourself halting to remember the names of all those depicted in the painting, failing to finalise the list in your head. Starting from Bazille, you had determined for yourself the presence of Monet and Manet in his vicinity quickly enough, however where Renoir was, or what were the names of the two other gentlemen in the scene, slipped your mind. You rocked to the side to lean closer to the plaque that was meant to provide you with the information, however you only found the name of the painting, the artist and the medium, much to your misfortune. Clicking your tongue, you returned to studying the faces of each individual, and furrowed your brows in agitated concentration. It was simple to take out your phone and search for the answer, though you knew that just as neutral that action would be, so would be your reaction unless you were to remember, or somebody were to-
A presence to your side caught you off-guard, and you felt a shiver run up your spine. One glance was enough to determine that it was the same man from yesterday, only the outfit revealing a change. Other than that, he had the same impeccable posture and stance, as well as a thoughtful look towards the painting in front of you both. His arms were crossed, though not in a defensive manner; instead they offered an interpretation of philosophy, as though this man was carrying centuries of wisdom with him, history having pummelled down on him and yet needing to support it like Atlas; the titan carrying the world.
Today, he was dressed in a mahogany coloured suit, with a white top underneath and some black boots with thick white rubber soles - quite the transition from last time, when he had been a manifestation of a sleek and pristine office gentleman. Hair, now let down and wavy, neatly framed his face, accentuating the regalness of his features. It was astounding how you were still sure that it would be more likely to find a man of this fashion in a painting, rather than standing beside you. You kept quiet, not wanting to interfere with his musings. Perhaps it was just a silly coincidence that the two of you were at the same place and at the same time again - how else? You did not know him, and you hoped that he did not know you. Though, you truly did not mind his company, and maybe it could serve as your motivation to figure out the rest of the characters in the painting. Once again, your attention returned to the task at hand, but before you could even begin to list off prominent figures of the art world during the era of Impressionism, a deep, honey-like whisper halted you and made you hold your breath.
“Auguste Renoir is the one seated, Emile Zola, the writer, is on the stairs, Monet, Manet and Bazille are, as you likely know in the centre, and that,” he paused to raise his hand, gesturing in the general direction of the far right of the piece, “is Edmond Maitre. Pianist, art collector, and Bazille’s closest friend.”
“I- uh- thank you. How did you know I was trying to recall? Pardon me, I must look so clueless-” you trailed off, eyes finding the floor, an action which seemed to be your automatic response to being under inspection of the man, though this time, he captured your gaze quickly by stepping closer towards you. Looking up, you found concern and apology in his eyes.
“No! Not at all, I… sorry if I misunderstood and I am sorry for forcing you into such erroneous conclusions,” he gave you an ever so slightly crooked smile, charming, very disarming and so suiting this beautiful stranger, that you were instantly prompted by your instincts to return it, dismissing doubt.
“You saved me,” you joked, though the phrase contained within itself an unlikely compassion. Two people, alone in the same gallery, sharing a precious dialogue was something to cherish, and with all your might you wanted to make it last.
“Just as you made me regard the painting in a new light, for which I thank you, greatly,” he bowed his head, the smile not leaving his face for a moment. There was a recognition in his gaze, as well as an inexplicable admiration. What did he discover?
“I guess it might be true that no matter how many times you see a painting, every viewing brings something new,”
“Well said. Are you an artist? A critic, perhaps?” He inquired, moving closer to stand level with you, head turned slightly in your direction to spare the occasional glance. You shook your head slowly, wondering if in a retelling of your destiny you could have pursued either of the careers he had mentioned.
“I am in the arts, though rather than looking at the present I remain in the past. Art historian, well, a postgraduate. Nothing too fancy.”
“Oh? But that is marvellous, and what are you focusing on?”
“I like to call it the painting in plenair during the turn of the century. I focus mainly on impressionism, though do sometimes stray into its interplay with post-impressionism, modernism and expressionism.”
“Ah, no wonder I have been seeing you here often. Enjoying the new collection?” he asked, eager to hear your opinion. There was excitement in his voice as though you were a renowned expert and were about to bestow upon him a priceless evaluation. And this was without considering the technicality of you having only half-met. Just crossing paths twice in one week.
"Yes, of course… The collection is unlike any other I have seen. I keep wanting to return and stay here for ages." You explained, glancing at the stranger while he nodded along.
"Incredibly happy to hear it. I swear I have seen you around quite often during the past month that the exhibition has been open? Am I correct?" evidently, your rapid blinking was interpreted rather quickly as perplexion, for the man gasped ever so lightly, as if to catch his own speeding thoughts.
“I- how do you know? I do believe this is our… second time meeting?” you uttered, one eyebrow raised in suspicion, which, to your disbelief, revealed something akin to fear in the beautiful stranger’s features. Nervously, he adjusted a strand of hair that was threatening to cover his right eye.
“Not quite… you were present at the opening event, right?” he quizzed.
“Indeed, my depar- wait. But how? Respectfully, I am starting to think you know me.” you enunciated with newfound caution, while the man pursed his lips. One second, another passed in near total silence, until a chuckle escaped him and he shook his head. It appeared as though he was mentally scolding himself - his eyes held no malice, instead glinting with hope, that melancholic wisdom, and something unidentifiable, ethereal, supernatural.
“I think it is high time I introduce myself before this gets out of hand. See, in some sense I work here, and most of my days are spent in the gallery or labouring for it-”
“Ah, I see-”
“Park Seonghwa, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” with one arm folded behind his back and the other on his chest, he bowed to you like how you imagined princes in the numerous portraits you had studied would bow. And the most enthralling part was how the gesture flowed, and was so befitting. Quickly, you bowed in return, but while raising your head, you froze. It hit you why he would know. And know a lot. And would remember you, and likely anyone and everyone who visited. In a low whisper, you asked:
“Am I… correct in assuming that you are ‘the’ Park Seonghwa?” quickly enough, you realised that it was a mistake to find his eyes again - clearly, you were not ready for the intensity, nor for the intrigue that was contained within them, nor for the fact that he moved another step closer to you, the rubber of his boots dampening any sound produced.
“I never knew that there was a ‘the’ attached to my name. I simply love art.”
“Well that love translated into the creation of what is possibly the greatest gallery in the nation, if not worldwide,”
“Oh you flatter me too much, ah, your name-”
“L/N Y/N, and I, too, love art.”
“Elated to hear it,” he gleamed, and you swore the room exploded with the illumination of a thousand stars.
Stunning, awe-inspiring, ever so elegant. He was a walking dream. In that smile was concealed a certain something that had been taboo, a well-kept secret until a couple of decades ago, when those like Seonghwa had started to be fully integrated into society, and no longer had to hide, changing identity from one century to another. With that came Seonghwa’s success - you had read in an article that advertised the permanent exhibition a short blurb of his story, and how for many turbulent decades, the man single-handedly collected masterpieces, crafted a meticulous network and introduced genius artists to the world, and the world to the artists. The gallery was a magnum opus for Seonghwa - a presentation of what he had achieved as a collector, as a patron of the arts, and a celebration of his personal culture.
You could not help but hone in on the fangs, and recall the original reason why it was even possible for Seonghwa to obtain such legendary works and have as much influence as he presently did. It was not spontaneous; submerged in turmoil, he had personally approached artists who, previously abandoned by critics and other prospective buyers, had never considered a future beyond a mysterious tomorrow. Hiding his own true nature, he crafted the tale of a ‘Park’ dynasty, and rose again and again to continue his work. Perhaps, now, some might argue that once he had revealed himself as a vampire the velocity of Seonghwa’s developments had fallen, but you would passionately argue the opposite. It was challenging to believe that any move by this stunning artistic mastermind was not strategic - the announcement had given the gallery more partnerships, more donations, and in turn, an even greater prominence in the community both among professionals and enjoyers.
“Thank you,” the phrase spilled from your lips inadvertently. It seemed to be the only thing that was reasonable to say in that given moment. You pondered the pains that must have been suffered to make the world that you were consumed by come together, and the painting in front of you, aside from what was contained within the frame,now shined in a new light externally too, possessing its own story, resembling a search for a kindred spirit, a true home.
Seonghwa remained quiet, the words of gratitude echoing in his heart. It was endearing, encouraging to hear such warmth from you. So, you did know him, at least the parts he had shown to the public - as was expected from someone so deeply ingrained in visual arts and history, but he could not help but identify it as something much greater than mere awareness. The openness with which you had welcomed conversation with him, the kind charm that radiated from you as you engaged in the careful verbal waltz reminded the vampire of times long, long ago when all that existed for him was drive, enamourment and art. Oh, how your eyes glimmered. His heart clenched into near unbearable agony as he read your expressions, and wondered how much you have seen, what have you yet to see, who you were in this temporary life. If only he could ask fate to tell him how much you remembered of who you had been before.
“No, thank you, for giving this,” he gestured to the gallery around him, graceful hand unfurling as though revealing a delicate flower, “meaning, and reason to exist.”
“I highly doubt I am of much significance, Mister Park,” you responded, a soft smile on your face.
“Would anything hold the same meaning if there was no one to behold it?” he responded. You chose not to answer, catching onto the rhetoricism, “and please, call me Seonghwa. I’d like to say we are to be good friends.”
______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
⋆ .
Sitting across from Seonghwa in the cafe that was located on the top floor, above the main halls of the gallery made you feel strangely serene. Today he had foregone the straighter hair styles that you had begun to get used to, surprising you with a head of tousled, almost curled locks that embodied the world’s softness, though remained to be quite the contrast to the more formal and highly fashionable attire that adorned his stature. A suit, tastefully oversized with a buttoned double breasted jacket that was simultaneously serving as a shirt, the plunging v-shaped neckline revealing perfectly smooth skin, and what you noted to be a solitary freckle right in the centre of his collarbone. The trousers, at least from the glimpse that you had allowed yourself when you had met at the entrance to the cafe were of a loose fit, defining his waist at the top and falling to form an almost skirt-like silhouette should he stand how he usually stood: the echoes of what would be called the ‘third position’ in ballet, more relaxed, but still retaining an elegance that only he could carry. The biggest shock to you, however, was Seonghwa’s choice of shoes - a refreshing point to the visual, he had selected to contrast the formalwear with a pair of limited edition, geometrically intriguing Converses. You could catch a glimpse of one of them from over the edge of the table whenever his slightly shaking leg, positioned over the other, would rock forwards just that tiny bit stronger.
While the setting was meant to be casual, the circumstances in which you found yourself were nothing short of miraculous. Never in a million years would you have imagined for it to be possible to be sat across the table from, quite possibly, one of the most legendary contributors to art restoration, collection and exhibition. On top of that, Seonghwa was a figure who actively bridged the gap between disparate communities, finding a common language, and using the arts as a salvation. You were in awe, and could not hold back on regarding the handsome vampire as he quietly reported your and his orders to the waiter who had floated to your table.
“Are you sure you do not want anything else?”
“Yes, I am sure. I do not wish to exploit your kindness-”
“-Not at all. I hope you do not mind that I… must make a rather unconventional order,” he smiled sheepishly, clearing his throat so as to attempt to hide his doubts, though you were uncertain as to how much of such emotions could possibly be left after what had to have been centuries.
“An unconventional order is pouring a sugary energy drink into a triple shot espresso and calling it dinner,” you answered, eyes travelling from Seonghwa’s face to the mural on the wall a few tables away that wrapped behind him and to your left, disrupted only by the occasional floor length window that provided city vistas - rather gloomy, compared to the optimistic illumination of the restaurant. Perhaps out of pity, or out of genuine entertainment, Seonghwa chuckled.
“That does sound like an acquired taste, indeed. Thank you,”
“No need. Thank you for inviting me,” you turned back, nodding a polite bow as he softly waved your gesture off.
A silence settled across the table as you waited for your respective drinks. Your hand, had you not consciously restrained yourself, would have probably reached for the phone that you stored in your purse, but now was fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, finding the buttons to stress test the threads that had them sewn tight to the fabric. You were not bored, in fact, far from it. You needed a barrier. The grandeur of this man’s presence was almost overwhelming. He was not a mere individual in a room, he consumed it. Had you just walked in, you were certain that your gaze would still settle on his form. Just like the concrete outside was grey, and the pause retained a divine ambiguity, Seonghwa was unforgettable. In an attempt to calm your clouded thoughts, you studied the mural once more.
“May I inquire into your thoughts on the decor?”
“The choice of ‘A Sunday on La Grande Jatte’ is wise. I am guessing you were the one to make the decision?” you heard an exhale, and once more your attention was captured.
“Alas, I cannot take full accolades for this. This stemmed from a discussion that a good friend of mine and I had one late night. Seurat just so happened to make an appearance amidst the chatter, and so… this was born,” he gestured at the surroundings. Clearly, the interior was picked carefully to fit the theme of the legendary painting.
From the colours to the textures and the greenery that had been intricately set up across the restaurant, every detail had a meaning and a place, and did not take away from the spaciousness of the hall. It was breathable, while still giving the illusion that you were stepping into a whimsical impressionist paradise. Perhaps that was another reason why you could not quite contain your disbelief firstly in your encounter, secondly in its progression, and thirdly in your interlocutor’s warmth.
“Spectacular, truly. I have heard you have an eye for detail, however this surpasses all expectations.”
“Oh? There is more you have heard?” he interjected, leaning closer to you and placing an elbow on the table, simply to rest his head on his hand. While this could potentially be seen as slightly unceremonious, it hinted at well-kept confidence, ownership, control. A healthy undercurrent of motivation that came with indirect praise.
“I-oh y-yeah of course,” you did not mean to stutter, but some part of you was grateful you did, for the smirk that had threatened to burst on Seonghwa’s lips was enough for you to feel ignited to elaborate, “if my memory is not failing me, you were the one to distinguish a reproduction of a piece some time ago, no?”
“Ah- yes. That was a Degas reproduction. I must say, the attempt was sincere, however when I saw the-, hm, you will not be startled, will you?”
“Please,” you urged him to continue, intrigued by the story.
“When I saw the original, as it was being made and when it had been finalised, it would be shameful of me to not spot a fake,” he fell back into his chair, just in time for the drinks to be served.
A coffee for you, and a non-descript beverage concealed by a semi-opaque, tall glass for him. Though, you did not need to be a detective to guess what it was that Seonghwa was bringing to his lips, and what he took a tentative sip of. The only mystery that was remaining for you was what ‘type’ he had picked - was it O+? B-? Whatever else? You joined him in the tasting, lifting the mug and indulging in the wonderful aroma of your americano. It did not strike you as necessary to opt for something fancier and lie to yourself - so you settled for your regular order, much to your joy. Familiar taste and the reliability of the caffeine hitting your system painted the scene in more comforting colours, and gradually, you found yourself easing into the dialogue more and more, until life stories, musings and a surprisingly large common ground came pouring.
You discovered that Seonghwa possessed a unique sensitivity and attunement to those around him. Focused on the emotional experiences, he felt through time and could recount emotions like the memory was from a mere few days, rather than decades ago. He was well-spoken, eloquent, intelligent, polite in every right as he navigated through the linguistic landscape and guided you like a partner in a dance. You were spiralling oh so quickly, intrigue catching up to you and prompting you to sacrifice all of your senses to the man and the pleasantly intoxicating atmosphere he captured you in. He was enchanting, and it was far too easy to give in.
“May I reveal something?” in a hushed tone, he inquired, a finger absent-mindedly tracing the rim of his glass.
“Oh, a little secret?” you raised your eyebrows in jest, lightening the initial seriousness with which Seonghwa uttered the question.
“Perhaps, perhaps not. Depends on how you take it. A confession might be more accurate,” he waited for you to take the final sip of your coffee before continuing, unphased by your unwavering focus, “if I were to be honest, I have been meaning to approach you.”
“Pardon?”
“As you know we have a… common awareness of each other thanks to what is housed under this roof, but ever since we first unknowingly crossed paths… I wanted to speak to you.”
Confused, you did not speak, though the words contained an unparalleled affection within them. What could he possibly mean? You chose to refrain from commenting, your hesitation prompting the vampire to continue.
“Do you remember the most recent opening night? Of the exhibition? I believe you were with someone…” he trailed off, hoping you would continue for him.
“Ah, yes, a friend of mine from university. So?”
“This might sound strange but, I distinctly remember you mentioning a name. An artist from the same era, dubbed as L/N Y/N?”
“Goodness, you overheard that? I am so sorry, it is just that said artist has intrigued me for some time, and I was half-hoping to encounter their work. Maybe it is because our names are the same but still….”
“Elusive, aren’t they?”
“To put it softly, yes. I only vaguely recall seeing… maybe one piece in my lifetime, when I was little, and then… nothing. And there is barely any information on the artist online, let alone libraries and archives.”
“Hm, indeed. I guess that makes two of us…”
“Two of us who are searching?”
“That’s right. It brought me happiness to know that I am not alone in this endeavour.”
“Then we can keep searching together.”
While you were positive that you could not conceal your interest, Seonghwa’s did not go unnoticed either. It was of course possible that he was simply well-versed in political correctness, but the burning depth of his pupils told you otherwise. Enthrallment, the discovery of a kindred spirit, recognition, the rekindling of a bond that had existed at some point long ago - all fantasies that played out in your mind as you returned that look with subtle fervour. You wondered how many people he graced with those charms. How many had succumbed to his influence, becoming a marker on his infinite life path, a fleeting second? How many had his lips known, how many had turned into a decadent treat for a genius man with natural peculiarities? While the researcher part of you was perplexed and aching for answers, the you that was caught in the moment simply let it go on, and the feeling of Seonghwa’s leg brushing against yours, and the pride blooming in your chest as he praised the few articles and papers you had published upon having claimed that he ‘knew some things about you too’ preoccupied you in the most magnificent way.
Naturally, you agreed to meet Seonghwa again. On your journey home, in the privacy of the anonymous metro, immersed in the cacophony of deafening rails and the millions travelling to anywhere, you pressed your phone to your racing heart as the vampire, the man, the beguiling Park Seonghwa sent you a message confirming so. Who knew a simple selection of words could be so captivating?
______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
⋆ .
Under the comforting thrum of raindrops on the large umbrella, you walked down the streets of the grey-coloured city, your hand lightly holding onto Seonghwa’s arm while he ensured that both of you were protected from the elements. Despite the dull light and bitterness of the cooling season, Seonghwa appeared radiant, truly timeless with every gesture and stride. The elegant angles of his face that you could tirelessly study stood out against the monotone buildings and overcast skies. His voice drowned out the sound of droplets racing one another to the ground. A miraculous gentleman who appeared in your life much like a portrait, or a landscape - a masterpiece you wanted to explore in every spare moment, and better yet, this masterpiece was equally as open to you as you were to him.
“...essentially, yes. It is like another nationality. A marker of species isn’t too far isn’t it? Just another line on a stack of documents. Nothing more,” Seonghwa concluded his explanation, pursing his lips for a moment before letting an exhale turned dragon’s breath escape into the afternoon.
“Makes sense. So would that mean there are separate medical papers and treatment too?”
“Well… when regeneration fails us or when a given case is severe enough… yes. Though it is handled by private clinics run by other vampires.”
“There are private clinics?”
“Of course. Often they are connected to donation points too, and that is how we remain on the right side of the law and stay alive,” he nodded to himself, giving you a bittersweet smile when he noticed confusion overtake your gaze. “Blood,” he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, “I mean blood.”
In a nervous stupor, you cleared your throat and focused on a droplet that was hanging onto the edge of the umbrella, right in front of you, all the way until the gentle motion of Seonghwa’s amble provoked its abrupt descent onto the stone under your feet.
“Ah, yes, I see-”
“If you find this disturbing, we can forget the conversation ever-”
“-I want to know you better, Seonghwa, truly-”
“Careful-”
“Sorry wha-”
With an extraordinary swiftness, you were tugged abruptly by the arm. Not registering your surroundings, you merely went with the inertia, caught off-guard by the proximity of your face to the vampire’s as he held you against him with the arm that you had previously been resting your own on. A hand that you raised on instinct went limp and landed on Seonghwa’s chest, feeling the thick felted wool of his coat. The ringing of a bell, going farther away from you by the second, incessant but at least waking you up from the blur, was enough for you to put two and two together - a cyclist who thought they owned every part of the street, like always. You sighed.
“Reckless… my apologies I did not mean to-” Seonghwa tried to detangle himself, refusing to remain in your personal space for longer than necessary no matter how much he did want to, but his efforts were reduced to nothing when your hand moved to a hold on his upper arm - reassuring, comfortable, accepting.
“Thank you,” you interrupted, “that bike would have definitely run into me…”
“It’s nothing,” a low chuckle echoed in your ears as Seonghwa peered into your pupils, confidence that had previously wavered out of habitual caution now restored, growing into a pride as you continued to hold onto him, “the man was slow enough for there to be no risk of harm. I hope you are not too startled though.”
“Oh? You have super powers too? Do elaborate,” you jested, resuming your walk.
“I would call it more like… being a finely tuned machine. Can’t say I have bad reaction speed. Though I must say, it was a little challenging pulling you out of the way,” there was an evident intent behind the words. However, you were too curious to pay it any mind, instead preferring to find out their meaning live.
“How so?”
“I think this,” dropping his arm, Seonghwa’s hand reached for yours, and without a moment of hesitation, his fingers were intertwining with yours, his palm pressed against yours, “would be better. You know, for safety.” As if you could ever reject him. This was a fact you had established for yourself with an unprecedented certainty. His gallant disposition, attentiveness all confirmed a care for you that was impossible to ignore.
There was something picturesque about the present after meeting this wonderful, infinite pool of art and humanity. You found yourself leafing through articles, art books and biographies with a more wistful and sentimental perspective, imagining what it would be like if it were you who was immortalised in the thousands of brushstrokes, or if you were on the other side of the canvas, how would you go about depicting the scenes unfolding before your very eyes. Timelessness - a quality shared between the art you so adored, and the man you had encountered and over the weeks, let your intrigue be transformed into a shy flame of infatuation. Perhaps it was the underlying reason why you did not reject his advances, nor cower in fear of his true nature with which he was upfront. The other, of course, was the search for the mysterious artist, an adventure that fuelled many of your dialogues, and prompted you to spend more time in the library and the archives of your university than you had ever done before - to the point where Seonghwa himself had encouraged you to take a break from your intellectual expeditions and step into the world as a casual observer. So, you let yourself drift; it finally hit you, what scenes your once again tranquil stroll reminded you of, and you smiled to yourself as you recalled the intricacies of the not quite commonly discussed representation of the Impressionist movement.
‘Rue de Paris, temps de pluie’, painted by Gustave Caillebotte; his most famous work. Not quite as widely discussed, despite still technically being created in the Impressionist era, perhaps due to the meandering through form, realism and reliance on stronger lines rather than broad brushstrokes and the study of light. You did find it fascinating how Caillebotte’s passion for photography had seeped into this piece, however. Much like how, in recent days, you could easily find a way to mention Seonghwa in conversation, be it related to the arts or not. From the subjects in the foreground being slightly out of focus while the middle ground was crystal clear, to how the shapes of some passersby were cropped were all characteristic of photos, rather than paintings, making this particular work all the more dear to you. It was a reflection of life, of behaviour and of what had been daily back in the late nineteenth century.
Was it any different from now, aside from those grand, global topics that historians dedicated their lives to studying? If one were to whittle down to the intricacies, the miniatures that ornamented the span of a human existence, was it so terribly far away from what you were born into, and Seonghwa saw develop and had adopted? How people shielded themselves from the rain with umbrellas, and then used them as a tool to isolate themselves from other urbanites who were in a rush to take a day-long route out of their homes… and back again. The latest silhouettes of dress and accessory; the same rush to be with the times as now.
You felt your companion’s arm move, prompting you to let go and leave your hand hovering as though you were awaiting some kind of change. You bit back an unprecedented sliver of disappointment, only to be caught by surprise once again as you felt the hand settle on the small of your back. Cautious, like you were going to melt from any more pressure than the brush of a feather. A quick glance was enough to determine that you were being studied intently for any sign of discomfort - Seonghwa was ready to pull away at any moment, any sigh, and most definitely at any word. A meek smile settled on your lips, and you shyly used an oncoming stranger as an opportunity to affirm the gesture, stepping towards the vampire, and sensing the confidence of his protective measure be solidified. With glee he followed your every tilt and turn, angling away from the passing form that neither of you could focus on. The touch was electric, somehow monumental despite being so common and barely present. Your mind was on fire, pondering what it would be like to put your head on the elegant man’s shoulder, and let yourself be carried away into a terrific fairy tale.
“This really is a rainy day,”
“Seems quite sunny to me,” you respond with sarcasm, realising only after the fact that your phrase still did retain an element of truth within it.
Sunshine did not have to be literal. It was easy to see, you just needed to return Seonghwa’s gaze, and watch as another spring flower blossomed in the soul of one you had initially assumed to be so cold, so distant. In the darkest winter was a safe haven that you could not help but lean into, and regardless of what you had initially thought, with him, you felt more human, more safe and alive than ever. He listened without fail to your ramblings, and could easily pick up the ball and balance it with his own musings that you could listen to for many lifetimes.
Lifetimes; immortality, the one concept you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. Well, the latter was technically not true, as Seonghwa had elaborated some few days ago: vampires did age, albeit at such a slow pace that to the run of the mill human being, it was impossible to notice, and if they did, it would be someone very close, and only over a matter of decades. Maybe it was this exact inability that made you want to stay and learn all there could be about the gallerist - you thought that would make you feel like you have been living forever. His wisdom was beautiful. The kindness with which he treated you, akin to that of how a spouse treats their long-time sweetheart with a mellow and comfortable affection, was not something you asked for nor expected, but something which he introduced himself with through every action, progressively more amiable when you allowed him to advance.
“Mm, no wonder I can’t quite look at you,” he mused out loud, dramatically looking off into the distance. You raised an eyebrow, curious about what was going to come after his theatrical pause, “your brightness is unparalleled,” Seonghwa chuckled, satisfied with your sigh and the way in which you pretended to be annoyed, only to dissolve in a mute giggle. “So, I do suggest we get out of the rain for a moment and stop by that book shop over there, shall we?”
Following his hand, you spotted an antique bookshop a few doors down, marked by an iron sign and ornate shop window decorations that glistened with each hit of the dancing droplets. A warm golden light emanated from the inside, the hue comparable to a summer’s day. An odd feeling of deja vu washed over you, as though you had been in this store before, even though this was quite the distance away from your home, not on any of your usual commutes and in a part of town you barely visited aside from the occasional brisk walk. It had been established over a century ago, sporting a historical plaque and detailing original to the era the date on the sign suggested. Suppressing your internal monologue, you simply nodded, fond of Seonghwa’s excitement as he pushed lightly against your back and walked on ahead. If you were any more of a romantic, you would have assumed that the shop was a representation of his heart, but you couldn’t allow yourself to think that way, at least not when you felt heat rise to your cheeks as he whispered your name, openly planning what you could look for amidst the rare editions together. You and him turned into a ‘we’ so naturally, you barely had time to blink. A new brushstroke on a canvas, brave, bold and bright. Impressionist.
______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
⋆ .
The hypnotising improvisation on a semi-acoustic guitar, followed by a launch back into the theme of a well-known jazz song had you tapping on the counter, unknowingly following every drum beat. The bar turned cosy music venue that Seonghwa had invited you out to was proving to be every bit a wonder of the world, and paradise inside of the otherwise gloomy city which had been plagued with miserable weather and lack of daylight for atrociously long. The classy establishment was a well known favourite among the vampires residing in the city, especially those aligned with a more bohemian and art-focused lifestyle. Critics, painters, collectors, musicians, poets alike all gathered to share ideas and energy, and reminisce days long gone, while the band - one that had not changed since the bar’s establishment, revived legendary pieces one after another.
With ease, Seonghwa had ordered your favourite drink, having memorised it after your many outings that had smoothly transitioned into dates and shared nights. He remembered every detail about you, holding each one tenderness. Your lover gazed at you as he ended a conversation with a fellow collector who had recently come to town for a few days, stretching out his hand until it just touched yours, guiding it to lie flat on the counter. Seonghwa’s palm, still retaining a pleasant coolness despite him having had a couple of drinks of his own, was another reassurance that in the buzz of the venue, you still had your person by your side. Feeling his digits tap and then proceed to brush the back of your hand, you hummed in contentment, and let your eyes travel over the beautiful vampire, who leaned back, tempting you just for fun, knowing full well that you were wholly his, and even when you turned to look elsewhere, it was his face you saw in the crowd, it was his voice that rang in your ears, it was his touch that ghosted over your skin.
The bustier from Alexander McQueen, the gorgeous flowy shirt with ruffles and cuts so tastefully sewn and executed, the statement necklace that was worthy of being displayed at a gallery and must be the envy of many, the high heeled boots that were concealed by elegant trousers - Seonghwa was your favourite work of art, and you could never deny it. Each one of his gestures was worthy of marvel, and the care with which he approached everything - even the tending to the items which he painstakingly selected and matched for tonight made your heart skip a beat. It was boggling how each garment and accessory was either an original, or a one of a kind piece. But at the same time, you did not expect anything less of Seonghwa.
He must be impossible to depict in paintings, you concluded, shamelessly staring at your lover’s face, from the shape of his nose, to the plushness of his lips, to the waviness of his night-like inky locks. You bet many had tried, but judging by the lacking evidence in the art world, they must have failed, miserably, to create something more immortal and invincible than the model and muse. You understood them, and Seonghwa gave no signs of being perturbed.
“So, was that the intent behind our spontaneous trip to this bar tonight?” you gestured at your surroundings, taking another sip from your ornate glass. A sharp exhale accompanied a contrasting soft answer:
“Not at all,I had the business sorted a couple of days ago, and tonight was a lucky crossing of paths to secure the deal,” cryptic as ever, Seonghwa only alluded to the matter at hand.
The matter, or how he had referred to it as ‘business’ was a particular artwork that he had been hunting, by the elusive artist you had been investigating, first in your lonesome, and then joining forces with Seonghwa. Apparently, one of the pieces, by some stroke of unimaginable luck, had been kept safe in the private collection of a ‘Mister Kim’, at least that was how he had been initially introduced to you. Until you put two and two together, and when the very well dressed and styled character had entered the bar and made a beeline towards your partner in artistic musings and romance, recognised the man as a world-famous designer and fashion icon, Kim Hongjoong. And of course, another vampire and kind soul in one.
Their conversation had happened outside of your earshot; whether it was on purpose or just so happened to unfold that way was for your ruminations to determine, but you did overhear enough to figure out that this was a portrait, a never seen work, and was completed by the artist who as it had turned out had been closer with Seonghwa than you had initially thought.
“Seems to be very important, and not just in a ‘collector’ sense…” you trailed off, watching as the ice in your drink cracked, “is this why you were interested, you know, back then?”
“If I were to be honest, darling, I was, and still am, a lot more interested in you. The artist was something of an excuse to get a conversation going. And I do hope,” Seonghwa turned and sauntered towards you, “this conversation does not end.”
Even though you were sitting on one of the bar stools, the heels and stance still left him some room to look downwards, and his sultry expression, orbs glinting at you through dark lashes left you transfixed. In moments such as this, you hated to be mortal. There were so many things that you could not possibly know, and no matter how hard you would try to comprehend the vastness of the angelic man’s mind, you would always remain theoretical, and accept the grand majority of intricacies as axiom.
“I hope so too,” your voice barely rose above a whisper as his gloved hand landed on your neck, gliding upwards to caress your jawline.
“I’m so glad I found you,” his thoughts were elsewhere, you were sure of it, and yet, his gaze remained unwavering, “my eternal love”. Lips stained with bittersweet worship, the words stumbled from them to strike you repeatedly in the heart, forcing it to lose its rhythm. He was regarding you like he had stumbled upon a priceless treasure, a divinity, a paradise. Something far from you and from this planet, but by Seonghwa’s careful selection, etched in your features.
Were you the embodiment of something greater for him? You would not consider yourself to be a model example of a human being, neither were you a pretty statue to display in an exhibition. You were you, but Seonghwa kept on convincing you that it was exactly this that had captivated him and showed him a new beginning. Did you wish to believe that? Of course. But a vampire who was hundreds of years old could keep a grand variety of secrets beyond your understanding, even if he were to exclaim them right in front of you and sketch them out. His eternal love - your version of eternity, or his? A life the duration of a butterfly’s abstract dance to the heavens.
“Love?” he called out to you, eyebrows knitted in concern due to your prolonged silence. You had set your drink down, and were staring at the shine of the glossy chrome silver and pearl on Seonghwa’s necklace. “Talk to me, say anything.”
“I- hm. I think I am just tired. Yeah, that must be it. Tired so I am overthinking, no worries. I’ll just be right here and-”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” you tilted your head, noting how Seonghwa immediately straightened out, and instead of attempting to tower over you stepped over to the side to set a protective hand over yours.
“This is a majority vampire bar, full of unfamiliar individuals, this whole deal with the artwork is up in the air and-”
“First of all, I don’t care. Second, you are here with me. And third, I want to trust in the fact that you would not do anything foolish nor harmful. Am I right in my evaluation?” you uttered, still not quite able to look into Seonghwa’s infinite pools of brilliant sienna and dark brown.
“I- I am honoured, but that still does not detract from the fact that we can go get some air and come back. Shall we?”
“You don’t have to-”
“I want to. Hell, need to. Let us have a quick wander?”
“...I’d like that.”
In no time, the winter air hit your cheeks and you were wrapping yourself as tightly as you could in your oversized coat. In your ears the pleasant sound of the vampire’s heels rang out, echoed by the stunning road onto which you were spat out by the heavy black front door of the bar. Warm-toned streetlights liberally decorated the sidewalks and painted the night in honey, gold and copper accents. Reflections of an artificial summer in the puddles and winter chill. Downright magical. Seonghwa seeked out your hand, holding it tight and guiding it into the pocket of his own coat, smirking when you raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Nothing at all.”
You were certain that you were walking through a landscape painting, every element captured by your vision falling into its rightful place, harmonising with the rest. The mumbling and music was long gone, only to be replaced by conversation of other late city explorers and the occasional rumbling of a car lazily rolling past.
“Pissarro.”
“Hm?” Seonghwa kept looking ahead, but squeezed your hand to ask for you to continue.
“Boulevard Montmartre at Night. Painted in 1897, no?” you pointed at the surroundings with a tilt of the chin.
“Ah, indeed! Your perceptiveness never ceases to amaze me.”
“Well, thanks to you I got to see the original, so how could I not make the visual analogy?” you nudged his shoulder, earning a chuckle.
The painting was the only example of a landscape at night from the artist Camille Pissarro, making it all the more special despite it being part of a series of 14 views of the same location. Snow, rain, fog, morning, varying seasons, but only one glimmering night. It was one of the works that Seonghwa had managed to provide for your studies, resulting in a more than impressive academic outcome. Like Pissarro kept on painting the vista, your lover kept on giving, never asking for anything more than for you to share your hours with him, something you did not need to be prompted to do anyways.
“...I’m sorry I cannot reveal more than I do, at least not just yet,” he apologised, as though what he was committing was the greatest crime known to humanity and the supernatural.
As you looked up at the starry night sky, you swore you had heard these words before, uttered by the same voice, the same fingers interlocked with yours. A stabbing sensation in your cranium made you gasp, but you regained your composure quickly enough to not make it a priority for either of you. At the same time, Seonghwa’s expression altered to a semblance of… hope? Longing? You could not pinpoint it, but one of the many glowing dots above you clearly landed in his shining orbs, and he eagerly waited.
Waited for longer than you could realise in your present state.
On their own accord, your lips moved, forcing out a subconscious acknowledgement, previously suppressed. You swore the phrase belonged to another being, but it was as refreshing as the breeze tousling Seonghwa’s locks.
“I know. I can wait too.”
“Soon, my love.”
“I-I know.”
“I miss you.”
“I-” vision growing hazy, you reached to the vampire for support, which he readily provided, “I- too.”
One blink - oil paints decorated your hands, and those alluring eyes were staring back at you from a canvas. Another blink - Seonghwa was repeating your name, pressing his cheek against yours as he shielded you from falling into darkness with his strong arms.
______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
⋆ .
Your office was inviting and offered a secure haven: a collection of neutral and wooden tones, with dashes of greenery to relax the eyes. From a potted ivy plant settled on the top of a large wall-length shelving unit to an indoor palm tree enjoying the rays in its designated corner, the room was a miniature paradise. You ran your hands over the thick birch desk, cautiously avoiding the stack of documents you had arranged for yourself to go through this day. Artwork restoration reports, contracts, exhibition plans for years to come… everything you thought you would never see, and yet it was right here in your palms.
Time moved slower, or at least that was how you began to perceive it now that it was in abundance. A fountain that did not cease to bestow gifts upon you - again, something you would have never imagined prior to the curious series of events that were your previous life unfolding the way they did. One fateful meeting, and you were a changed person, staring into the horizon and labelling it as a continuation rather than as a termination of all you could achieve. The world was your oyster, and loving dedication was the price. But when the price was so sweet, and so easy, who were you to say no? If you had to pick a concern, it would be the bandages and binding on your right arm; friction from the sleeve of the turtleneck and blazer you had worn today applying uncomfortable pressure to the delicate wound concealed within.
You stood up from the leatherbound office chair, adjusting your clothes and stepping to the window behind you to look out at the garden belonging to the gallery - a recent expansion. Grand, regal, and as the papers had emphasised, now returned to its rightful owner. You wondered just how much of the city had belonged to vampires at least for a portion of time, and you had no doubt that you would be making more discoveries soon, but for the time being, you were happy with the re-acquisition, or as Seonghwa had called it: your ‘turning’ gift. A particularly strong shift of the arm made you wince, and your other hand shot to nurse your sore arm.
“I’m so sorry darling, does it still hurt?” Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had slipped into the office, and immediately rushed towards you, concern painting his beautiful face through furrowed brows and a tiny scowl.
“N-no, barely. The sweater is silly-”
“Let’s not disregard ailments, shall we?” your partner gingerly lifted your arm, and after gaining permission through a few lethargic nods, pushed the sleeve upwards to reveal the bandages, “I- really, we need to apply the ointment again, that must be it-”
“Seonghwa-”
“Work can wait, I just need to-”
“My love-” Seonghwa paused his ramblings to stare back at you, puzzled, “it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Literally just a bite, isn’t it?” you smiled, the action instantly being mirrored, albeit with a tinge of remaining worry.
“Mm, perhaps I am overreacting, I can’t help it,” your thoughts were numbed by the silken touch of his lips on the back of your hand, wool against cotton as he pulled you into an embrace, “it should heal well once you get used to your new form, I am sure of it,” his tresses tickled your nose, but you ignored it, instead letting your head fall against him.
You stood almost completely still aside from the rocking side to side that was habitual for you both. A lulling motion, one that either of you revealed only to each other. A secret reserved for intimate, loving moments such as this. You shook your head in amusement and buried your nose in Seonghwa’s sweater, inhaling the aroma of his sweet perfume, recalling ‘Love and Pain’ - the painting that had marked the tightening of the invisible string tying you together. Or was it? Coincidentally, on the wall behind your lover was the real inception of your union, one that you had forgotten from one lifetime to the next. A portrait. The one that Seonghwa had been chasing, and what had been his decades-long mission came to an end.
Signed with your own hand, were initials of your name and the year of completion of the painting. None other than the beloved collector and muse, Park Seonghwa, who had posed for you, or rather a version of you, and ever since then, you were the only one on his mind. You had been the master both of the arts and of his fate.
“Please, I am embarrassed…” your partner mumbled, settling for futile attempts to position you in such a way that you would be looking out at the garden, but to no avail. Poking him playfully at the side, you induce a halt, and question him:
“What is there to be embarrassed about? That’s you. Painted by me.”
“Exactly. And you have it in your office, of all places.”
“Well I can’t exactly have you, in the flesh, on display all the time and I would like a work of art around here-”
“Shh-”
“Don’t shush me, Park. Be grateful I don’t keep the sketches out too.”
In all honesty, He would not mind if you did. You could do anything, and the vampire would adore and honour it. Whether it was in your blood or in his nature, he had never regretted almost losing himself in your favour. In your last life, he had gone against all rules set up by vampires, playing against what he swore was the devil in order to have the sliver of a chance to start again and, this time not lose you. Had his plan not succeeded, it was highly probable that he would have been erased from this planet too. But he would rather call himself a masochist than be law-abiding when it came to you.
“Next, you’ll be threatening me with a showcase of just my face-”
“What if I do?” you quipped, pulling back to boop his nose with yours, “I think it would look very pretty. Besides, now that I remember my apparent mastery of the visual arts, can’t I be a tiny bit proud, hm?”
“I would be terribly disappointed if you weren’t. Now, may I put that ointment on you?”
As if you could refuse those sparkling eyes. Promptly following him to the loveseat, which unfortunately for Seonghwa was situated right under the portrait, you sat down and waited. Your partner rushed to the medical cupboard - another new addition installed exclusively to support you as you were getting used to the vampiric nuances in your day to day. With well-practised motions, the required kit was in his hands, and in a blink, set down on the plush cushioning of the miniature sofa. You held back a chuckle as you saw the pout you so loved appear as he focused on unwinding the bandage with utmost care. Before you could feel any hurt, Seonghwa would already let go, or alter the angle at which he was tugging on the material. As soon as the plaster was peeled, you were met with the reason for your eternity and reawakening.
Two deep punctures, still a little irritated, not quite healed, but nevertheless a marking of your future and something you regarded with fondness. Wounds did not hurt when they were merely physical, especially not when you had someone who had bound their immortality to yours to tend to them. Seonghwa bit his lower lip, discontented with the ache as though he could feel it too, and took numerous pauses while cleaning up the wound to glance at you.
“I’ll be applying the ointment now, tell me if it stings, okay?”
“Okay,” you knew it wouldn’t. You had never heard a man be so adamant on checking ingredients at an apothecary before following Seonghwa after your first appointment as a vampire. But just to appease him, you followed this small spoken routine.
“You know… I was scared,” his voice was barely audible, and he could not look at you.
“What were you scared of?”
“Losing you again.”
“Well, I am here, aren’t I?”
Even before you were aware of Seonghwa, let alone the truth behind the portrait, all the roads still led to the same resolution. The arts, art history. Virtually synonymous, for without creation, there would not be the past, and without the study of the past, there would not be the celebration and respect of creation. Finally, you understood the beauty of evolution that Seonghwa had undergone all while remaining the same vulnerable yet legendary figure, dedicated to his vision of the arts, having recollected your own.
“So many things could have gone wrong,” Seonghwa’s mind was reeling from the sheer terror of possibility. He had taken advantage of his high social standing as an aristocrat and pulled rank to avoid waiting for any ritual guides to step in - it was not the first time, but still only the second. And both cases were related to you.
The first time might have been a foolish decision in retrospect, but considering the dire circumstances the extreme solution was the only one. With one foot crossing to the afterlife he was combatting the reapers, and was not going to let go of you even if it meant being pulled in. This time, when you had approached him a number of nights ago with your final agreement to his tentative proposal and kissed his ruminations away, he was ready. Years of study were not going to waste, after all. And yet when he studied the same irises as those from a time long gone, when he held the same hands, his blood ran even colder. What a gambling man he had been back then. The procedure to regift life to you had been risky, and Seonghwa, having never practised those elements of the dark arts bestowed upon his kind, had been taking shot after shot in the dark. How dare he play with your being like that? How dare he hold your existence on a sinful scale?
“But they didn’t.”
No they did not. Your confidence in him had aided considerably, he had to admit. The positioning of his fangs was perfect, and he had memorised all incantations down to the inflections. Second time a charm, but much more anxiety-inducing. Turning was not the same as revival, either. He could not stop himself from imagining the many scenarios of where he would have gone wrong, and cemented your identity only as a name on manuscripts, dissertation, paintings and reports.
“Even the ritual, what if you did not remember-”
“I would love you just the same. Whether I had all my memories or not. That much I can assure you of. That is why I trusted you in the first place, Seonghwa.”
You did not need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. All you could do was suggest a brighter palette, and be by his side no matter what colour scheme he were to decide on. It was an artist’s duty to know when to set the tools aside and consider a painting finished. The luxury of a collector was to live through many paintings, unify the souls contained in each and sustain a chronology of expression. The keepers, the scholars, made to observe change rather than induce it directly. This was why you were all the more grateful for Seonghwa daring to change your mortal fate not once but twice, risking himself and his image in your favour.
When your partner was satisfied with his medical care, he hummed to notify you and began to clear up, at least until you placed a weak hand on his leather-clad thigh to gain his full attention. He searched for a hint in your features, eyes darting across your face at lightning speed. Relief came when you grinned brightly, whispering sincere gratitude.
Impressionism - the movement and path made by legends. A rejection of traditional practice, a new vision and interpretation of the outside world in the hues of the soul. Light, reality, immediate action. A breath that reset the arts, magnificent and radical for the time, and now, much adored. From its conception to its establishment, you were there to witness and fall in love, and now could look back at the beauty that had bloomed. His irises, your favourite colour. The speckles of various shades, your favourite details. You stared into Seonghwa’s eyes and did not dare blink. Your favourite impression.
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I See Red - Yandere!Vampire!Mafia!Seonghwa X Tall!Chubby!Reader
Yandere AU, Vampire AU, Mafia AU - Heavily inspired by Ateez's Last Supper performance
Genre: Mature, Smut, Fluff, Slight Angst
Pairing: Seonghwa X Tall!Chubby!Reader
Rating: 18+ MDNI
Words: 12,044
Summary: When will people learn? You should never touch what's his.
General Warnings: Violence and Murder, Blood (lots of it), Mentions of torture (brief), Fat shaming (not done by hwa), Derogatory comments towards the reader, Kidnapping, Guns, Possessiveness. Hwa calls someone a hag once. (not the reader). Seonghwa is very much the epitome of the simpy 'that's my wife' trope. Reader's just as crazy as him. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.
Smut Warnings: Pet names (King/Queen, My Love, My Star, Beloved, Darling, Pretty Girl), Shower sex, Wall sex, Strength kink (he's a vampire, don't @ me), Oral (fem. rec), Light fingering (fem. rec), Desperate and possessive sex, Consensual and mutual possession kink (don't take this lightly), Biting/Marking, Slight Breeding Kink (if you squint), Blood, Multiple Orgasms, Body Worship, Praise, Squirting, Overstimulation. I think that's everything!
A/n: I am so, so, so, so, so, happy with how this turned out! Hwa in the Last Supper performance has me in a chokehold and I'm okay with it. Big bad vampire mafia boss who only has a soft spot for you? Sign me tf up! Huge shout out to @pars-ley for the incredible gif that is accompanying this fic! Thank you so much again for the amazing banner! Also, shout out to @kwanisms for helping me decide on the title hehehe. Also, spot the Silent Hill reference 👀 As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! I hope you enjoy!
Park Seonghwa.
A name hot on the lips of everyone in the underground. Notorious kingpin and ruthless negotiator of his own crime syndicate, Wonderland. His name holds more power, and elicits more reactions than a nuclear bomb. It is not a name you want to hear is chasing after you.
There is nothing he wouldn’t do to get what he wants. If anyone dares to stand in his way, their existence is wiped completely off of the map. Empires have risen and fallen in mere days thanks to his handy work, that staying on good terms with him often depends on his mood.
Cold. Emotionless. Calculating. Brutal in the most volatile of ways. Park Seonghwa is not a man to be reckoned with, nor is he to be taken lightly.
A man with many quirks, who has but one fatal flaw.
You.
Being the wife of such a notorious crime boss is not easy. The constant threat of being targeted by hunters, assassins, kidnappers, or even rival syndicates in attempts to gain an upper edge over your husband gets quite tiring. Not many have ever succeeded in hurting you, let alone killing you. No one ever will.
Not unless they wish to live another day.
Seonghwa has spared no expense in regards to your protection, selecting only the best of the best of his most trusted men to protect you. However, there is the issue in and of itself. They’re men. Humans. They can only offer you so much. He used to have an elite team of vampires guarding you, but they were bought over by a rival gang.
Shame. They were his second strongest team.
Humans, fickle as they are, can be compelled. Once a human is compelled, no other vampire can break that compulsion. Your guards are instructed to offer their lives before accepting a rival syndicates’ offer.
Each man was hand picked by Seonghwa himself, training them with his own personal guard to defend against any other supernatural being that they might come into contact with. Guns are loaded with indestructible bullets, inscribed with his family’s signature crest. Bullets which can penetrate any raw material, and kill whatever creature they come into contact with.
Every now and then, Seonghwa will add one of his own personal guard to yours. A precaution to make sure the compelled men are doing their job, and that the compulsion hasn’t worn off. Those who cannot abide by the rules are dealt with. Should anyone so much as lay a finger on you, the kingpin himself has no issue chopping off each extremity one knuckle at a time.
Going after you is a fool’s errand. Only the bravest - or rather, stupidest - have ever tried. If even so much as a whisper of an attempt on your life, or your relationship with him, reaches his ears, he is quick to stop it dead in its tracks. Literally.
No one comes in between the two of you. Absolutely no one.
You are the apple of his eye. The only one he can truly be vulnerable with, and let his guard down. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you. Anything you could ever want or desire, he will provide, no questions asked. Seonghwa worships the very ground you walk on. He worships you.
You are his, and he is yours. Nothing will ever change that fact.
Over the course of many years, the two of you have had many ups and downs. Learning about his true nature had been a bit of a rough patch, especially once you discovered what he is. However, one thing that has always remained strong is your trust in one another. Seonghwa would never hurt you. He would rather carve out his own heart than do anything that would warrant you being afraid of him. A fact which you knew was unquestionably true, especially once you saw just how much of a monster he could be.
A monster whom you love with all your heart, and who has entrusted you with his own.
Perhaps that’s why his organization has lasted so long. Instead of excluding you from his affairs, he revels in the fact that you are always more than ready and willing to help. Your ideas have saved him and his men more times than anyone outside of the organization will ever know. Because of this, you’ve butted heads with his inner circle more times than he can count, but it’s always with good reason.
Nothing makes him prouder than watching you put someone in their place, even if he’s one of those people sometimes.
Your importance spans far more than a simple marriage bond. Since you are one of the only known consistent women in his life, that’s all outsiders seem to focus on. Every nasty name, every type of derogatory comment, has been thrown your way by estranged men and women. Most attempt to push the two of you apart, hoping to drive a wedge between the two of you so they can topple his empire. They seem to mock you for being the ‘outsider’ in the group, not fitting in to the typical ‘escort’ ideal.
What they all seem to get wrong is that you are not a typical ‘escort’. You’re no ‘mistress’, either.
Well… other than the times you’ve brought Seonghwa to his knees, of course.
The other women you’ve occasionally bonded with inside of his syndicate either work undercover to gather intel for his men, or are one of their respective significant others. None of them dare to cross you, all of them treating you with the highest of respect. They all know what would happen should one decide to step out of line. The last, and only women to try was a fine example.
Unlike most of the shallow men that appear in this line of work, Seonghwa is very fond of your curves, and your height. In his eyes, you are the most beautiful, precious, perfect being to have ever walked the earth. Always, he is more than happy to remind you of that fact.
Most of the time, Seonghwa can barely keep his hands to himself. Whenever you’re around, he’s always got a hand placed so delicately against your lower back, or an arm around your waist or shoulders. If he’s feeling particularly frisky, he may pull you into his lap while discussing business plans, or casually cup your ass by sliding his hand into the back pocket of your jeans. That, or he’s making a point that you’re with him.
Seonghwa is a possessive man, and he wants the whole world to know that you’re his. Similarly, there is no being more prideful than him over the fact that he is yours. You belong to each other, and nothing will change that. Everyone should weep in envy at the fact that only he gets to touch you, and only you get to touch him.
The man can’t help it. Showing you off is one of his favourite pastimes. The whole world needs to know what they can never have. It’s become so prominent, you’ve had to start imposing a rule during the extremely important meetings to keep the touching to a minimum.
Of course, he usually toes the line between accidental caresses and handsy, but it’s not like you really mind. Despite his ruthless demeanour, Seonghwa would never truly force you into anything you didn’t want. Your comfort and safety is his top priority, and he would much rather you feel safe in his arms, than believe he could ever do anything to hurt you.
Everyone else, on the other hand…
Park Seonghwa is a man of few faces, but only you get the honour of knowing what he looks like when he’s in love.
“Where is she?” A sigh is breathed out through his nose as he sits at the grand dining table. You were supposed to join him fifteen minutes ago, but you’ve yet to arrive home. “It’s not like her to be late.”
Seonghwa begins to tap the tips of his fingers against the top of the grand mahogany table. The food is going to get colder with every minute you delay your arrival, and he never wants to serve you mediocre food. Besides, he’s supposed to be having a guest for dinner.
Dark eyes flit around the room, noting the silent guards stationed at the side of the room. Their faces are stoic, giving nothing away that would suggest they’re keeping things from him.
Not that they could hide anything, even if they tried.
Seonghwa would have gotten his own personal guards to attend this meal, but the guest’s conditions upon meeting wouldn’t allow such a thing. Still, the man sitting behind the table is smart. Despite his reputation, many still underestimate how far he will go to maintain the upper hand. No one knows this house like him and his inner circle. Besides you, of course.
Stationed in strategic parts surrounding the dining room, his personal guards wait. Some are on patrol, but the ones that never miss are on immediate standby.
Letting out a sigh, Seonghwa thinks back on the last time he saw you. It had been this morning, he recalls, your conversation echoing through his head. The vampire had been admiring you openly from the comfort of your shared bed, nothing but silk sheets draped over his hips. His head rested against his open palm, elbow supporting himself as he fought off the desire pooling throughout his entire body.
You were positively glowing beneath the light of the rising sun, his marks practically shining upon your skin. Even after an intense night of lovemaking, Seonghwa was still insatiable. How could he not be? You are everything he’s ever wanted in life; one look and he’s ready to fall apart. It didn’t help that the image of you from last night, fucked out and desperate, with tears of overstimulation in your eyes, kept flitting through his mind.
He nearly missed the fact that you told him all about your plans for today.
You were going to visit a friend for lunch.
It’s been hours since then, and he hasn’t heard from you once.
“Sir,” A voice from off to his right draws his attention, and the subordinate recoils in fear at the sharp look sent his way. “The guests have arrived.”
Letting out an irritated sigh through his nose, Seonghwa leans back in his seat. A quick glance is spare to the empty high backed chair beside him which matches his own in every way. Two thrones. One for the King, and one for his Queen. Neither are supposed to be empty while the other sits in theirs.
He’s not used to this. He’s not used to not having you beside him.
Seonghwa purses his lips, giving the servant a curt nod in response. Looks like he’ll have to start without you.
The large double doors to the dining room are pushed open, a lone figure walking inside. Short, dark blond hair is slicked back, grease practically dripping off of the strands. An air of arrogance surrounds the tall man, every step echoing off of the marble walls. His head is held high, an expression of the utmost confidence painted across his features as his green eyes dance in amusement.
“Seonghwa! My man!” Arms are spread wide in greeting as the man comes to stand directly before the large dining table. His eyes scan the empty seat beside the kingpin, the corner of his lips twitching upwards. “I didn’t think you were one to dine alone.”
The doors fall shut with a definitive slam, the room suddenly appearing much darker beneath the dim lights.
“James.” Seonghwa blinks, a look of disinterest on his features. Reaching out, he takes his wine glass into his hand, swirling the contents lightly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Did you forget about out meeting?” The man quirks a brow. “It seems your wife has.”
The wine glass stills in Seonghwa’s hand. The sharpest of glares that would make anyone crumble beneath its gaze is sent James’ way, a few of the guards stationed at the sides of the room straightening from the intensity.
“Watch your mouth.” A warning that is not to be taken lightly. “Unlike you, I don’t need to control every aspect of a woman’s life.”
Seonghwa schools his features back into a look of disinterest, sipping back the rest of his wine. He rests his now empty glass near the edge of the table, fingers delicately holding onto the stem. Two taps, and the server begins to move to refill his master’s glass.
“Such brave words coming from a man who should really be keeping tabs on that which he supposedly cares for most.”
A scowl paints itself onto Seonghwa’s features, grip tightening over his wine glass. The server sure seems to be taking his sweet ass time, and the man at the table is beginning to get impatient.
“Tell me, Park,” James hums, clasping his hands behind his back with an air of relaxed ease. “Do you know where your wife is tonight?”
Seonghwa’s lips purse into a thin line, a vein in his temple throbbing as he clenches his jaw.
“Wherever my wife may or may not be is none of your concern, James.”
The server finally steps up beside Seonghwa with a fresh bottle at the ready. Wordlessly, the kingpin raises his glass into the air, fingers delicately holding onto the base of the bowl. Wine immediately begins filling the crystal, turning what once was pure into a dark red.
“No, perhaps it’s not.” James simpers. The man begins to pace lightly in front of the notorious mobster, his nose lifted pointedly in the air. “But perhaps, it should be yours.”
The doors to the dining room begin to open, a scuffle apparent in the hallway beyond. A few shouts can be heard, loud curses followed by the prominent clicking of heels.
Unrivalled fury paints itself across Seonghwa’s features as he watches your figure, beaten and bloody, being shoved into the room at gunpoint. Your clothes are torn and dirty, clear lines cutting through the smeared blood on your face to make way for your tears.
The glass in his hand shatters into pieces.
Rivulets of red trickle down his skin, his chest rising and falling dramatically. There’s a sudden chill that fills the room, and James’ own wife who is pointing the gun at your head visibly shivers.
Maria may be a powerful witch, but even she knows not to provoke monsters.
“Some security detail you had.” James guffaws, shoulders shaking in laughter. “Military men? Humans at that? You were practically begging for someone to take out the trash.”
Slowly, James begins stalking towards you.
Maria takes a cautious step back as he approaches, uncertainty in her eyes. The gun in her hand feels heavy, and she has to bring the other up to help support it in order to stop herself from shaking.
“You know… I never understood what you saw in her.” He continues, tracing his hand over your shoulders as he circles around your back. “Weak. Pathetic. Ugly.”
James pauses right beside you, grabbing you harshly by the back of the neck. The way his nails dig unforgivingly into you causes a fresh trail of blood to begin dripping down your skin.
Wood begins splintering beneath Seonghwa’s grip as he digs his hands into the arms of his chair. Lips are curled over sharp fangs, but still, the kingpin does not move.
Not yet.
The timing isn’t quite right.
“You and I both know ‘wife’ is just a codename for ‘living blood bag.’” Stepping in behind you, James purposely rests his chin on your shoulder. He forces your head to the side as he inhales your neck, making you shudder in disgust. “I don’t blame you for harvesting one so plump. Fat makes for good insulation. They don’t break as easily, and their blood is still pretty decent if you leave them to marinate for a few days. Besides, a couple days without food could do this one some good.”
The way such a vile creature has the audacity to reach up at pat your plush cheek makes Seonghwa snap. Though, at this point, he is passed the point of dramatic, extreme violence. Right now, he is so furious, a searing sense of calm begins flooding his entire body.
A list is already being compiled within his mind of all the ways Seonghwa is going to torture this vampire for even daring to look at you. Items, even more deadly than the last, are added with each offence such filth bestows upon you. Right now, that list is up to twenty-four. And counting.
“About that territory I wanted… I figured we could celebrate a done deal by draining the fat bitch dry.” James drags a single finger along a fresh trail of blood that drips over your skin.
Your eyes squeeze shut, body trembling in disgust. The feeling of this wretched man’s hands on you makes your skin crawl. All you want is to rip his dick off and shove it so far up his ass his witch of a wife can taste it when she kisses him. Only, the gun pointed firmly at your head by said woman, along with the dangerous vampire quite literally at your throat prevents you from doing just that.
James’ each movement is slow. Precise. He makes sure to drag out this moment, bringing his finger up to his mouth to suck your blood from his skin. His eyes flash with glee as he meets the furious gaze of the kingpin before him, the corner of his lips quirking upwards.
“Mmmh… Not bad…” A smug expression rests over James’ face, seemingly humming to himself. Focussing on the male before him once more, he smirks. “So, what do you say, Park? Do we have a deal?”
Seonghwa takes a deep breath in through his nose, the sharp exhale being heard all the way across the room. A sound which causes each and every one of his subordinates to freeze. A white cloth quickly gets handed to him by the server, the younger man trembling in fear. No one wants to become unfortunate collateral simply by being present during one of the King’s fits of unbridled rage.
In one fluid movement, Seonghwa shakes out the cloth, beginning to dab at the dark red staining his white sleeve. Though he’s managed to control his expression, a hard look settles onto his features. There is no denying the pure, white hot fury blazing within his dark eyes.
“You come into our home,” Seonghwa’s voice is low, dangerous and steady. Slowly, he wipes off the splatter of red that covers the shoulder of his black waist coat. “Disrespect me. Disrespect, insult, and brutalize my wife. Repeatedly mock the way we conduct proper business, and then have the audacity to insist on using underhand methods to get what you want? From me? Me?”
Seonghwa clicks his tongue, halting all movement of his hand. Fingers dig unforgivingly into the cloth as he slowly begins shaking in rage, throwing the now stained fabric harshly on top of the table. The high backed chair he had been sitting in scrapes loudly against the marble as he suddenly stands to his feet.
For the first time in his life, Seonghwa allows his throne to fall to the floor.
“It doesn’t work like that, James.” Seonghwa sneers, his eyes flashings violently as black veins begin to trickle out over the skin of his cheeks. Cracks appear throughout the wood as he leans forward to slam his hands on the top of the table, every soul present jumping at the loud bangthat echoes throughout the room. “You have three seconds to rectify this misdeed before I make minced meat out of both you and that hag who has the unfortunate displeasure of calling you her mate.”
James’ wife glances at him out of the corner of her eyes. Fear is clear on her features, her hand holding the gun to your head faltering as she begins to shake.
Not even Maria’s magic can help them now.
“One.”
“James…” Uncertainty lingers in her tone, eyes darting between the two vampires in the room.
“Don’t listen to him, Doll,” James throws her a brief look before turning to sneer at the man bracing himself against the top of the table. “He’s bluffing.”
“I can assure you that those who thought the very same are more than six feet under by now.” Seonghwa rebuttals. “Two.”
“Maybe we should rethink-“
“Too late.” A malicious grin pulls at Seonghwa’s lips, his eyes crazed. “Three.”
A bullet whizzes through the room, striking James’ wife right between the eyes.
“Maria!” James can only watch in despair as her lifeless body falls to the floor with a loud thud. He rounds on the kingpin whom looks exceptionally pleased with himself, a large smile full of nothing but pure insanity stretched across his cursed lips. “You bastard! You’ll pay for this!”
James manages to pull out his own gun. The barrel barely touches your head before it’s shot right out of his hand. You manage to jump away, another bullet sinking into the man’s upper thigh and pushing him further from your form. The man immediately recoils in pain, grabbing his bleeding hand as his legs shake, barely able to support himself on his own two feet for much longer.
Slowly, Seonghwa walks out from behind the table. Each step is meticulous, echoing off of the cold marble as another bullet sinks into James’ left knee. The pathetic excuse of a vampire immediately goes tumbling to the ground, crying out in agony as his body contorts in response to his new wounds.
Blood spills over the once clean floor as James looks up at the man he attempted to blackmail.
“Oh, James… James, James, James.” Seonghwa tuts, shaking his head in disappointment as he crouches beside the male withering in agony. A harsh grip in his hair forces James to meet the mobsters unforgiving glare. “You should have known better than to try and pull something on me.”
Seonghwa throws James unceremoniously onto the floor before standing back to his full height. Nothing but the utmost disgust rests on his features, glaring down at the trembling vampire in pure malice. Fangs are bared in a silent, mocking snarling, Seonghwa using the tip of his loafer against James’ forehead to harshly push him backwards.
Wiping his hands on his front, the Wonderland leader is quick to straighten out his waistcoat.
“I’m going to enjoy destroying you.” Seonghwa’s voice is nothing but a calm timbre as he looks down upon his prey. That familiar malicious grin tugs at Seonghwa’s features, and James finally understands what it means to make a deal with the devil. “Count yourself lucky that I have much more important matters to attend to right now.”
Without sparing another glance at the vampire slowly bleeding out in his dining room, Seonghwa turns his back towards the dying man. The click of his shoes echo throughout the dining room, each step seeming to mock his enemy.
Both Yunho and Jongho have appeared by now, each male standing on either side of you. Their eyes are hard, glaring at the man on the floor for even daring to touch Seonghwa’s Queen.
James can only watch on as Seonghwa wraps his arm securely around your waist, leading you through a separate set of doors. Yunho and Jongho, the most notorious for their brutal interrogation and torture tactics, begin stalking towards their newest prey.
The last thing you see of the vampire that kidnapped you is a look of terrified realization painting his features as the two others close in on him.
Once the door to the hallway you now find yourself in is shut, you let out a small breath of relief. Seonghwa’s touch is nothing short of comforting as he keeps his hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you gently towards your private quarters. You can feel the way his fingers tremble against your skin; the only indication of his true emotions throughout this entire situation.
“A bath has already been drawn. Towels, as well as the proper medical supplies have been laid out for you both.” One of the head servants quickly falls into step just behind the two of you. “Mingi and Yeosang have been stationed at the first check point. Wooyoung and Hongjoong have taken the liberty to stand post outside your bed chambers. One in the hall, the other on the balcony. San will remain on watch with both Chris and Minho on the roof.”
A gruff nod is all Seonghwa gives in response, not allowing for even a hint of emotion except for displeased anger to appear on his features.
“I want to know who let that bastard so much as even look at my wife. Get the names of everyone who allowed this to happen immediately. Gouge their eyes out. Cut off their tongues. Then, feed them their severed fingers one by one.” There is no room for argument in Seonghwa’s tone, his gaze fixated on the hallway in front of you. “Do not stop until they are found, and properly disposed of. You all know the consequences. It’s time to deliver them.”
“Yes, sir.” The servant nods once firmly in understanding, swiftly turning on their heel to relay the message to the Hounds.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Seonghwa pauses just before the door to your shared quarters, turning to glance back at the servant from over his shoulder. “Tell San: ‘nice shots.’”
Another verbal confirmation is given before the servant is running off, leaving the two of you alone for the time being. Not even a moment later, Seonghwa is quick to shove through the door of your bedroom. He guides you gently inside before making extra sure all of the locks are all sliding into place. All of the curtains are drawn, the soft glow of the lamps soon flickering to life.
A breath of relief escapes you as you walk a bit further into your private quarters. Finally, you allow yourself to relax, knowing you’re now completely safe. One hand comes up to rub your shoulder, rolling it lightly beneath your touch as a dull ache begins to throb just beneath your skin.
“Well, today has been a day,” You huff, exhaling a low sigh through your nose. “I-“
Turning back to face Seonghwa, the rest of your words catch in your throat.
Never before have you seen your husband like this. Never, in all of the years that you’ve been together, have you seen him look this vulnerable. This scared.
Tears stream silently down his face, his lips parted slightly. He stands frozen to his spot like a statue, none of that familiar warmth he usually holds for you in his dark eyes. Instead, a complete look of devastation pulls at his every feature, his breathing shallow, and broken.
In a few steps, he closes the short distance between your two bodies. Trembling hands come up to cradle your face, fingers pressing lightly into the skin of your cheeks. His gaze flits everywhere over your beaten and bloody features, tracing over the largest cut he can see resting just above your eyebrow.
“I thought I was going to lose you.” Another tear slides down his cheek, his throat working as a plethora of emotions flash across his features. “Darling, I’m so-“
“Don’t do that to yourself, Hwa.” Your hands come up to gently rest on top of his own. “I wasn’t worried. I knew My Star would save me.”
Slowly, thanks to the comfort of your touch, his hands stop trembling.
“How can you be so calm right now?” His gaze searches your face, holding onto you a little tighter. “You could have died! I could have-”
His throat works, the mere idea too unbearable to even conceive.
He didn’t lose you. He can never lose you.
“Because I trust you, My Love.” You offer him a soft smile. “I have faith in my husband, even when he doesn’t have faith in himself. I know he’ll always protect me. A few scrapes and bruises here and there are nothing compared to the scars that line his body just so that he can keep me safe.”
“I will gladly bleed for you if it meant you never getting into harm’s way. Ever.” Tilting his head forward, he rests his forehead against your own.
“I know, Hwa,” A loving smile tugs onto your features. “A mosquito can’t bite me without incurring your wrath.”
“Because nothing deserves to touch you except me.” He lowers his voice, taking on a slight gravelly edge as he stares deeply into your eyes. One hand comes down to slip around your waist, pulling you closer as his touch settles against your lower back. After a moment, he adds a bit more lightheartedly, “And those you approve of. Clothes are walking a thin line, though.” At your quirked brow, he’s quick to remind you, “Don’t worry, My Love. I haven’t forgotten your lecture about respecting your mind and body, along with your autonomy. I will always respect you.”
“There he is.” A giggle escapes you, your eyes crinkling in joy. “There’s the man I always fall deeper in love with. Every. Single. Day.”
Seonghwa leans forward, nudging his nose so tenderly against your own. “I strive to always be the only love in your life, just as you are mine.”
“You are, My Love,” A soft hum escapes you, tilting your head slightly to peck his lips. “You’re my one and only.”
You barely have time to blink before Seonghwa is pressing his lips against yours. Both of his hands slide around your back, digging his fingers into your skin and pulling you flush against himself. His tongue traces your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You eagerly grant it to him, hearing a content hum escape him as you tangle your fingers in his hair.
“My Glorious Queen,” He growls against your lips. “Always, you will be mine.”
“Yours, My King,” A pleased sigh is breathed against him.
“Come,” Seonghwa pulls away from you, guiding you towards the ensuite with an arm wrapped securely around your waist. “Let me wash that vile creature from your skin.”
“Please.”
Eagerly, you both enter the bathroom to see the large tub steaming with fresh water. Bubbles lightly float against the opaque surface, a pink hue to the contents as the scent of cherry blossoms float through the air. Perched on a small podium resides a med-kit. Two large, fluffy towels rest off to the side. One with his personal crest embroidered into the fabric, the other with yours.
Grabbing a small hand towel from the vanity, Seonghwa is quick to wet the material. Turning back to face you, he begins gently washing the dried blood and dirt from your face. It only takes him a few minutes to do so, discarding of the towel and turning you both towards the tub.
A large sigh is breathed through your nose, shoulders drooping ever so slightly.
“Is something wrong, My Love?” Seonghwa steps in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Soft kisses are placed along the skin of your neck, nuzzling his face into you gently.
“No.” Lightly, you shake your head. “I’d just prefer to shower than to sit in the tub, is all. I feel bad for letting such a luxury go to waste.”
“Nothing is too much for you, Darling,” A tender kiss is placed above your pulse before the sound of the water draining from the tub greets your ears.
You barely even felt him move.
“You spoil me.” An affectionate gleam shines within your eyes, the corners of your lips quirking upwards slightly.
“As I should.” Another gentle nuzzle is given into the side of your neck, Seonghwa gently turning you both to face the mirror. “You deserve nothing but the best. If I can’t spoil you, then what kind of husband am I?”
“Mine.” Your hand comes up to settle gently against his arms still wrapped around your waist.
A pleasant hum sounds from behind you.
“I can accept that.” Seonghwa tightens his grip around you. “What I can’t accept is you smelling like another man, especially while hurt. Here I am, promising to always take care of you, and I haven’t even healed any of your injuries yet.”
“They’re not that bad-“
“Bullshit.” The way his lips curl over his fangs can be seen in the reflection of the mirror before you. “Anything that dares to mar your beautiful skin, other than my own claims, will not live to survive another day.”
His one arm holds you firmly in place as he brings his opposite wrist up to his mouth. With one sharp bite, blood begins to drip from his skin, bringing the fresh wound to your lips.
“Drink.”
Immediately, you do as told.
The smooth liquid slides over your tongue and down your throat, a sweet taste flooding your mouth with every gulp. You’ve drank from him quite a few times before, but that still never prepares you for the sensation of his blood overtaking your every sense. Your vision sharpens, scents and sounds becoming that much clearer the more you drink. It’s addicting, and no one knows this fact more than him.
Seonghwa’s eyes flutter shut. The feeling of you suckling at his wrist causes a thrill of pleasure to surge through his entire being. Every time he feels your lips on his skin, his soul comes alive. The intimacy alone of sharing such an important life source with each other has always meant more to him than he could ever describe. Though, he wishes the circumstances were a bit more pleasant.
Blood is addictive. He should know. Yours is the most fulfilling, deliciously divine taste he’s ever had the pleasure to sample. Other than the nectar that flows from between your legs, of course.
Seonghwa can never get enough of you, not that he’d ever want to. The only thing more satisfying to him than calling you his is the fact that only he gets to touch you. Only he gets to experience every glorious instance with you. Others may look, but they can never have you.
The mere image of that thing having touched you… having hurt you, makes his blood boil. The fact that someone actually got close enough to do so has him already formulating a new plan for your protection.
You are now hardly ever to leave his side, two or more of his own personal guard with you at all times. No exceptions. Seonghwa can never let something like this happen again.
Time for him to restate his claim.
Slowly, Seonghwa begins stripping you of your clothing. The more he removes, the more eager he becomes, nearly tearing the fabric at the seams to expose more of your naked body to him. The small cuts that litter your skin begin to close, and he watches in smug satisfaction as his blood heals you in real time. His fingers trace over every inch of your bare skin that he can reach, admiring how your scents begin to intermingle the more you drink.
As it should be. He should always be covered in you, and you should always be covered in him.
Finally, you part from him with a gasp, some of his blood clinging to the corners of your lips. Eagerly, your tongue darts out to catch those lingering drops, humming contently at the taste. The way he watches your eyes hood over in the mirror as you stand naked in front of him has another pleased rumble shaking his chest.
“Allow me to replace such abhorrent marks with beautiful ones of my own.”
“I look forward to it, My King.” You coo, tilting your head slightly to nuzzle against his own.
Another pleased hum fills the air, a playful nip being given over your jawline.
Slowly, reluctantly, Seonghwa lets you slip out of his arms. Dark eyes flash, a low growl echoing throughout the room as he watches your naked form slip into the shower. Most, if not all of your previous injuries have already healed, pride swirling within his chest at how well he can care for you.
The sound of running water soon fills his ears, steam beginning to fill the bathroom as he strips himself of his ruined clothes. Your eyes follow his every movement through the glass, drinking in the way his skin slowly reveals itself to you. He knows you’re watching him. You can tell from the way he faces towards you, each movement purposeful as he slides off his waistcoat, loosening his tie in the next second. Once he’s slide the thin material from around his neck, he tosses it to the floor in one fluid movement.
Slowly, Seonghwa begins unbuttoning his white shirt, red splatters staining the material.
Water flows over your skin, the heat helping to wash away the dried blood and dirt clinging to your body. It helps to relax your tight muscles, letting out a soft sigh in content. Your tongue comes out to wet your lips, watching as your husband pops the button of his slacks, kicking off his shoes and making short work of the rest of his clothing. He takes his time to run his fingers through his long, bleached hair, the strands having come loose from his sleek, slicked back appearance due to your previous ministrations.
A smug look pulls at his features, lips tugging upwards in the corner as he begins stalking towards you. Each movement is slow, stepping inside the large shower and closing the glass door behind him purposefully. Those dark eyes of his drink in every inch of your naked body, shamelessly trailing over every dip and curve that he can see.
The tattoo he can see resting proudly over the side of your ribcage has that familiar sense of pride swirling within his chest. A tattoo which matches his own.
Seonghwa licks his lips.
“Allow me to cleanse you, My Queen,” Lowly, his voice rumbles out, closing the distance between the both of you in a few steps.
Your hands settle onto his shoulders as he slips his one arm around your waist. A soft inhale escapes you as he pulls you flush against his chest, never once breaking eye contact. Gently, he brings the fingers of his free hand up to cradle your chin, leaning in to press his lips against your own.
The kiss is nothing more than a brief, loving display of affection, Seonghwa parting from you after a moment. Only, he doesn’t step away. Instead, he tilts his forehead to rest against your own, his touch disappearing from beneath your chin.
Without so much as turning his gaze away, he reaches for the fresh washcloth that always hangs just off to the side.
The arm he has wrapped around your waist begins to slide downwards as he wets the cloth, a firm squeeze being given to your ass. The small peep of surprise you let out makes him smirk, beginning to massage your flesh so tenderly in his hand. A pleased growl escapes him as your body jerks forward, pressing yourself even firmer against his own.
Seonghwa is meticulous as he lathers the cloth with his own body wash, soon beginning to drag the material over your skin. Slowly.
Your eyes flutter as nothing but both his scent, and his touch, surrounds you. You’ve always loved his soap, the deep musk making your head spin.
A fact of which he knows, for he only started wearing it for you.
Anything and everything to make you fall for him. To make you his. Once Park Seonghwa sets his sights on something, he will not stop until he gets exactly what he wants. Seonghwa wanted you, - he needed you - and you are exactly what he got.
Each touch is soft, starting at your shoulders and making his way down your body. Not once does he break eye contact with you, having spent countless of hours mapping out every beautiful dip and curve beneath his fingertips.
Seonghwa knows your body like the back of his hand. He knows exactly where to touch to elicit certain reactions, and he takes full advantage of such knowledge now.
The cloth is dragged so lovingly over your back, his opposite hand giving your ass another appreciative squeeze before sliding up your spine.
The way you shiver beneath his touch makes him smirk.
Slowly, Seonghwa brings the cloth back upwards, teasing over your shoulders before lifting your one hand with his own. Wordlessly, he intertwines your fingers together, dragging the cloth over your arm. Switching hands, he’s quick to repeat the same actions on the opposite side, letting you feel his love for you, his desire, in every touch.
Still, he does not dare to tear his gaze from yours.
Your breathing deepens, heart fluttering inside of your chest. From the way his eyes shine, you can tell that he can hear every reaction his ministrations cause your body to make. The way your nails dig slightly into the skin of his shoulders once you place your hands back onto him says it all.
Tracing the cloth back up your arm, Seonghwa swipes it gently over your upper chest. His own breathing deepens as he slides his touch down to cup your breast, his free hand coming up to cup the other. A firm, appreciative squeeze is given to both, a low moan falling from his parted lips.
For a brief moment, his gaze flicks downwards. Using his thumb and forefinger on his one hand, he gently tweaks at your nipple. The other brushes over your opposite breast, lathering the soap over your skin while his thumb teases over your opposite nipple through the cloth.
A soft, pleased hum escapes you, lashes fluttering as you revel in his touch. You cannot help but arch into him, his hands burning paths of pleasure across your skin.
Water continues to softly cascade down your body, washing the soap away shortly after coming into contact with your flesh. No part of you goes untouched, Seonghwa making sure he cleanses your body thoroughly. He doesn’t want there to be any reminders left from what happened earlier in the day. Right now, all that should cover you is him.
Slowly, Seonghwa sinks to his knees.
A halo of kisses are placed over your stomach, soft moans breathed against your skin. Those dark eyes of his glance up at you periodically, lashes fluttering after each press of his lips against you.
Your husband can never get enough of you. Right now, he wants even more.
“I can never get over how euphoric touching you is, My Love,” Another wet, open mouthed kiss is pressed against your stomach. “Fuck- I love your body… So perfect… So soft…” A blissful sigh is breathed over your skin. “Love making you shake in ecstasy, claiming you for the whole world to see…”
Your breath hitches softly as both of his hands come around to cup your ass, squeezing your flesh so delicately.
A pleased hum rumbles from deep within his chest, devolving into a low chuckle.
“See?” Fangs nip lovingly at your skin, Seonghwa dragging the cloth over the curve your ass. Occasionally, he’ll give you another appreciative squeeze, nuzzling almost possessively into your stomach. “How could I ever want to stop touching you? Your body knows who it belongs to… Who you belong to… Isn’t that right, My Love?”
Seonghwa peeks up at you from on his knees. His eyes are dark and dangerous, a predatory look swirling deep within his gaze. There’s no room for argument in his tone, the cloth getting tossed to the side as his touch returns to your skin, gripping at your thighs tightly.
A thrill rushes through your body, clenching lightly around nothing as he stares up at you. You know that look all too well, your hands automatically reaching out to begin combing your fingers through his damp hair.
Only, it seems as if Seonghwa doesn’t appreciate your prolonged silence.
“I asked you a question, My Love,” A low, warning growl builds in his throat.
Suddenly, you find that he’s turned you so that your back is pressed against the cool tiles of the shower wall. His fingers sink almost unforgivingly into your plush flush, dragging the nails of his one hand down your skin and hoisting your thigh over his shoulder.
“Tell me who you belong to.” Lips curl over fangs, black veins crackling over the skin of his cheeks. “Come on, Pretty Girl. I need to hear you say it.”
The sight alone causes your heart to flutter, breath hitching slightly as you stare down at him.
“I’m yours, My Star,” You coo, continuing to thread your fingers through his hair. “I belong to you. Everything I am, everything I was or am sure to be, is yours.”
The feral snarl that reverberates against the tiles of the shower sends pleasure flooding through your veins. Dark, ravenous eyes stare up at you, irises bleeding red as white sclera shift into the deepest of voids. Seonghwa’s lips curl upwards, pulling back to expose his fangs as he slides his hands over your sides.
“Good Girl.” A sharp nip is given to your inner thigh, a small trail of blood beginning to drip down your skin. One which he is more than eager to trace with his tongue.
A thrill rushes through you, loving the deep growl that lines his voice. A tone you know all too well, affection lingering beneath every syllable.
Your fingers tighten in his hair, pausing all movements as you yank his head back so he’s forced to look up at you. The same dark look that he wears is reflected on your own features, grinning as you hear a guttural groan part his plush lips.
“And who is it that worships the very ground I walk on? Who belongs to me? Who is it that will only ever belong to me?”
The intensity in your eyes makes him shiver, his cock twitching against his thigh. Already, precome leaks from the tip, his heart beating alongside your own. He holds onto you tighter, digging his fingers into your soft thighs as a desperate moan escapes him.
“I will only ever belong to you, My Love.” Seonghwa rasps, beginning to trail wet, open mouthed kisses up the skin of your inner thigh. “I’m yours. I always have been, and I always will be.”
“That’s right, My King,” You hum, a sultry grin tugging at your lips. “You’re mine.”
“Forevermore, My Queen,” His eyes flash, nosing closer towards the apex of your thighs. “Fuck- you smell incredible… Need to make sure you always smell like me, so everyone knows who you belong to. No one- No-fucking-one is ever going to take you away from me again.”
With those words, Seonghwa slips his hands back around to your ass, burying his face into your cunt.
A pleased growl escapes him as his nose slips between your folds, fingers sinking unforgivingly into the plump flesh of your ass. He pulls you even closer, nuzzling against you before teasingly swirling his tongue around your entrance. The tip of his nose bumps against your clit, his lips laving over your cunt before suckling harshly at your folds.
You toss your head back against the wall, fingers immediately tangling in his hair. The way you pull him in closer to you makes him moan against your core, his hot breath making your head spin as he traces his tongue over your slit. Soft pants fall from your lips as he places sloppy, wet kisses all over your cunt, making sure no part of you goes untouched.
Slowly, he dips his tongue between your folds, holding your gaze as he licks a firm strip up from your entrance to your clit. The tip of his tongue immediately begins flicking rapidly over that pert little bud before his lips are wrapping around it, suckling eagerly at that sensitive little bundle of nerves.
The way you keen against him makes him smirk, a pleased hum rumbling from within his chest.
Each movement is messy. For the moment, Seonghwa is more focussed on covering his face in the wetness that drips from your cunt. He wants to smell like you, to bathe himself in your scent as he covers you in his. He needs it. Especially after seeing such a vile creature dare to lay their filthy hands on you.
Another firm squeeze is given to your ass, Seonghwa pulling you even closer against his lips. Those dark, ravenous eyes of his drink in each and every expression you offer him, desperate for more. Eagerly, he traces his tongue over every inch of your pussy, beginning to thrust it as deep as he can within you.
Soft pants and stuttering moans escape your parted lips. Nothing but absolute pleasure floods your veins, skin tingling everywhere he touches. The fingers you have tangled in his hair pull him in even closer, beginning to grind lightly against his lips as he desperately thrusts his tongue into your weeping entrance.
“Oh, fuck- just like that, Hwa- Oh!” Your lashes flutter, beginning to feel that familiar pressure building within your lower abdomen. “Don’t fucking stop!”
A snarl of agreement reverberates against your cunt, Seonghwa pressing himself even firmer into you. The tip of his nose bumps continuously over your clit, jolts of pleasure sending shockwaves throughout your entire body as your moans begin to rise in pitch.
“Fuck- make me come, My Star,” You pant out, staring down at him through hooded eyes. “Make me drip all over your pretty face.”
“With pleasure…”
The words are growled against your core, Seonghwa immediately shaking his head back and forth. His fingers dig unforgivingly into the skin of your ass, swirling his tongue inside of you as his nose presses firmly against your clit. The tip of his tongue soon focusses on tracing along the top of your inner walls, thrusting desperately as he moans into you.
With one final nudge over your clit, your eyes are fluttering shut. Your orgasm washes over you like a wave upon the shore, body thrumming in ecstasy as you arch from the wall. Lightly, your thighs shake, Seonghwa not relenting for even one second as he prolongs your pleasure for as long as he possibly can.
Though, you know that this is far from over. After all, he’s only just begun.
Just as with every other time when he’s eaten you out, Seonghwa does not stop here. In fact, he only redoubles his efforts over you. Black veins pulse over his cheeks as he laves his tongue over the entirety of your cunt, making sure no drop goes to waste.
He needs all of you. He craves it, like the very air you need to breathe.
Lips wrap around your sensitive clit, suckling eagerly at that pert bud as he balances you against the wall. One hand slides down from your ass, two fingers spreading you open to give him unrestricted access to your weeping cunt. Not even a moment later, he flattens his tongue, rubbing it in firm circles over your clit.
“Oh- Fuck!” Your eyes roll, heavy pants escaping you as you’ve barely had time to recover from your previous orgasm. Pleasure pools in your core, clenching hard around nothing as Seonghwa focusses all of his attention on your clit. “Hah- Hah- My Love- Oh!”
“More.” The firm command is growled against your throbbing clit. “Give me more.”
The lewd, wet sounds that fill the air make your head spin, Seonghwa shameless as he traces his tongue over every inch of your cunt. Pleased hum and deep moans escape him, bringing the tip back up to circle so tenderly over your clit before suckling that pert bud between his lips.
“Seonghwa…” His name is but a pleasant sigh from your lips, eyes hooding over as you stare down at your husband feasting on your cunt so ravenously. “My Love…”
“Come for me,” Those sharp eyes of his glance up at you, sucking your clit firmly between his lips. “Soak my face, Beloved. Bathe me in your sweet nectar and claim what rightfully belongs to you.”
His words have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, body shaking as with one final flick over your clit, your orgasm crashes into you. Loud moans and high pitched whines escape you, head spinning as he supports you against the wall. Nothing but pure euphoria floods your veins, chest rising and falling dramatically as heavy pants fall from your lips with every breath.
“Mmmh, that’s it, My Queen,” Seonghwa hums, chuckling lowly. Tender kisses are placed over your swollen clit, smirking against your core with every twitch he feels against his lips. “So fucking beautiful…”
This time, he slows his pace.
Soft, wet kisses are trailed over the skin of your inner thigh, his fangs nibbling at your flesh. Occasionally, he grazes you enough to cause blood to swell on the surface, his tongue quick to lap up each drop. The fingers he had been using to keep you spread open trace over the edges of your cunt, dipping down to tease lightly at your entrance.
A soft moan tumbles from your lips as you feel him push the tips of his fingers inside of you, only to remove them in the next second.
“Seonghwa-“
The desperate whine of his name gets caught in your throat, which is simply music to his ears.
“What’s that?” He hums, continuing to tease at your entrance by dipping his fingers into you gently. Only, he never pushes them more than a knuckle deep, pulling them out to trace the tips so lovingly over your folds. “Does My Pretty Girl want to come again?”
Lightly, you squirm in his hold, whimpering as you stare down at him.
“Needy girl,” Seonghwa chuckles, slowly kissing his way back up your thigh.
The one leg you still have supporting yourself on the ground begins to shake.
“Please-“ Your voice catches, hips jerking forwards in an attempt to push his fingers deeper inside of you.
“Does My Love want me to devour her pretty pussy?” A tender nuzzle is given against the skin of your inner thigh. “Will she not be satiated unless I make her squirt all over my face? Will she not be satisfied until I make her mine?”
“Fuck- Seonghwa-“ Your fingers tighten in his hair, forcing his gaze to yours as you tilt his head upwards. Something within your eyes flash, clenching hard enough around nothing to cause yourself to begin leaking prominently over your thighs. “Make me yours. Right. Fucking. Now. I need you…“
In the blink of an eye, Seonghwa has stood back to his feet. Both of your legs are wrapped around his waist as he pins you against the wall, fingers digging harshly into the skin of your thighs. Not even a moment later, he slides his touch upwards, grabbing handfuls of your ass and squeezing at your flesh.
There is nowhere for you to go. Nowhere to run or hide, for you will forever be trapped in his embrace. Seonghwa has made damn sure of that.
Not that you’d ever want to leave him…
The tip of his hard cock nudges at your dripping entrance, slipping between your folds as he pushes as close to you as possible. Each breath is but a low snarl upon his lips, black veins crackling over his cheeks. The look in his eyes is downright predatory, fangs on full display as he stares you down.
“You’re mine.”
With those words, Seonghwa buries himself deep inside of you. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust, creating a brutal pace as he snaps his hips against your own.
A choked moan parts your lips, eyes rolling slightly as you cling to him. Your nails scratch down his back, each growl he breathes out going straight to your core as you clench tightly around his cock. The familiar stretch of him sinking into your core makes your head spin, pulling him in even closer.
“Fuckin’ perfect, Darling,” Seonghwa breathes, his forehead pressed against your own. Those dark eyes of his stare intensely into yours, fingers digging into your ass as he snaps his hips into you. “Your pretty pussy always sucks me in so well. My Pretty Girl is always ready to bounce on my cock, isn’t she? So wet… So tight.”
“It’s because I was made for you, My Star,” You exhale shakily, lashes fluttering as your tongue darts out over your lips. “You always fill me so well, My Love. Feels incredible having you buried inside of me. I can’t help but feel empty without you.”
“It’s because I was made for you, Darling,” The words are a mere rasp on his lips, slowing his movements only briefly in order to circle his hips so lovingly against your own. The way you keen against him makes him smirk, a pleased rumble shaking his chest. “Feel that? Feel how perfectly your pussy moulds around my cock? I never wish to part from you, My Love. You own my heart, and I never want it back.”
“Seonghwa-“ A soft whine escapes you as a sharp thrust is given into you. The wet squelch you can hear each time he buries himself deep inside of you makes you clench, pleasure thrumming throughout your veins.
The tip of his cock presses so tenderly against that special spot inside of you, Seonghwa having mapped out every inch of your body multiple times. His only desire right now is to please you. As is his every desire. Your pleasure is his pleasure, and feeling you drip all over his cock while screaming his name is ecstasy of the highest order.
“You can never escape me, Beloved,” A sharp nip is given to your ear as he leans into you, his voice but a low rumble on his lips. “The moment you let me slip that ring on your finger, you became mine. If you ever even attempt to leave me, if anyone so much as dares to take you away again, I will chase you to the very ends of the earth. You’re mine.” Another sharp thrust is given into you, emphasizing his every word. “You belong to me, just as I belong to you. There is no one else. There will never be anyone else. I’m yours, and you’re mine. Until the very end.”
“All yours, Seonghwa,” You sigh, purposely squeezing around his cock. The way he grinds himself so lovingly into you makes you hum. “Always, I am yours, just as you will forever be mine.”
“That’s right, Pretty Girl,” A pleased chuckle rumbles from deep within his chest. “We belong to each other. Forevermore.”
Shifting your hand upwards, your fingers tangle in his hair. In one quick move, you guide his lips to yours, kissing him desperately as he begins rolling his hips so sensually into your own. Each thrust fills your cunt with every inch of his cock, his tongue eagerly exploring your mouth as you part for him.
The change in pace makes your head spin, pleasure pooling within your core as you drip all over his cock.
Soft whines and gentle moans are breathed into each other’s mouths, hands desperately gripping at each other’s bodies. You hook your ankles behind his back, thighs tensing as you pull him in closer.
The way your body presses flush against his own, every glorious curve of yours being felt against his skin, makes him moan. To him, there’s no other feeling quite like it. Your body sets his own on fire, soul coming alight with every touch.
“I fucking love you, My Queen,” Seonghwa mumbles against your lips, nipping lightly at your skin.
A soft moan tumbles from you lips, clenching hard around him as he thrusts sharply into you.
“As I love you, My One and Only King.”
Pleased rumbles fill the air, a deep moan of your name being breathed out by the vampire before you. He holds onto you so tightly, as if you may disappear at any moment. Desperate, deprived, and possessive. Only you can make him this way.
Though his pace has slowed, each tender thrust into you is firm. Seonghwa makes sure to fill you with every inch of his cock, loving how your warmth flutters around him each time. The way you drip over his balls and onto his thighs makes his head spin, swallowing all of your melodic whimpers and whines as he kisses you deeply.
“Seonghwa-“ You gasp into his mouth at one particularly hard thrust. When he immediately grinds his hips into you, the tip of his cock pressing so delicately against that special spot, your eyes roll slightly. “Right fucking there, My King- Oh!“
A pleased hum echoes around you, another sharp thrust given into you. His cock is angled perfectly to hit that spot, pride rumbling within his chest as he listens to the way your breath catches in your throat..
“Oh-“ Your walls clench tightly around him, digging your nails harshly into the skin of his back. “Claim me, My Love. Fucking mark your territory so no one dares to take me away from you again.”
The deepest of snarls you’ve ever heard him emit fills your ears, echoing around the tiles of the bathroom.
In the blink of an eye, you find yourself pinned beneath him on your bed. Water drips from both of your bodies into the sheets, wet strands of his silver blond hair clinging to his skin. Each strand accents his features, serving as nothing more than a bright halo beautifully framing his face.
“With the utmost of pleasure, My Queen.”
The deep snarl that lines his every word is the most feral you’ve ever heard him get. It goes straight to your core, clenching hard around him as he begins that brutal pace once more. Tingles erupt over your skin, surrendering yourself completely to the pleasure he provides.
“Not gonna fucking stop until you’ve creamed all over this cock, Beloved. Gonna fill you so fuckin’ full of my seed, I’m gonna be dripping out of your precious cunt for weeks.” His hands grip your wrists tightly, pinning your arms above your head as he thrusts relentlessly into you. The way your body shakes, tits bouncing with every snap of his hips into your own makes nothing but love, lust, and pride swell within his chest. “Gonna let the whole world know who you belong to, and who belongs to you. There won’t be a living soul in this universe that will ever touch you again, besides me. They won’t dare. You’re mine. Do you hear me? Mine!”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Tears of pleasure begin flooding your vision as that familiar pressure builds rapidly within you. You can barely keep your eyes open to stare into his captivating gaze, harsh pants and high pitched whines escaping your lips with every desperate thrust he gives into you. “I’m yours, Seonghwa! All yours! Always and forever, My Star! Make me yours so I can make you mine!”
Another feral snarl greets your ears, his lips immediately finding your own. His kiss is nothing but desperate, tongue slipping into your mouth as he moans into the kiss.
In one swift movement, Seonghwa shifts to hold both of your wrists above you with his one hand. The other drags lovingly over your body, tracing over every curve delicately. His fingertips tease at your skin, continuing to slide his touch everywhere over your body. A tender caress is given over your stomach, the soft touch contrasting the animalistic way he fucks into you.
With one final squeeze to your stomach, he drags his hand further downwards, thumb finding your clit and beginning to rub in small circles.
“Oh!” Your back arches from the bed, eyes fluttering closed as your whole body begins to shake. Your thighs tremble around his waist, squeezing so tightly around his cock as that pressure within you gets close to snapping. You do your best to hold back your impending orgasm for as long as you can, needing to feel him filling you full of his come before you can even think of letting yourself go. “Seonghwa- My King! Please-“
“Come for me, Darling.” There is no room for argument, his words but a command on his lips. Wet, sloppy kisses are placed against the skin of your pulse as he buries his face into the side of your neck. “Fucking flood my cock with your love. I want to hear you scream.”
With one final flick over your clit, your body obeys his every command. What serves to make the feeling all the more intense is when you feel him bite into the side of your neck, his fangs sinking into your soft flesh and drinking his fill of your blood.
A scream of his name tears from your throat, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your squirt all over his cock. You keen from the bed, whole body trembling violently as you feel him pin your hips to the mattress with his own. Spurt after spurt of come escapes him as he fills you to the brim, your walls fluttering around his cock as your combined releases begin to leak out of your core.
Heavy pants escape you, nothing but whines falling from your lips. The intensity of your orgasm washes over you, suspended in a pool of bliss as you feel Seonghwa press himself completely against you. Not an inch of your body goes untouched by him, releasing his hold over your wrists in order to gently begin tracing his hands over your sides.
Soft kisses are trailed over your neck, his tongue coming out to lave over the fresh bite mark that rests proudly against your skin. The pleased hum that rumbles from deep within his chest makes you smile, staring up at him through hooded eyes as he pulls away to admire you beneath him.
Before he even gets a chance to say anything, you beat him to it.
“Turn me.”
To say your words catch him off guard would be an understatement.
This time, it’s Seonghwa’s turn for his breath to hitch. The vampire lord stills above you, staring down at you with wide eyes as he sees the sincerity reflected on your features.
“My Love?” His words are but a breathless whisper as he brings a hand up to cradle the side of your face.
“I want you to turn me.” Slowly, carefully, you bring your own hand up to cup his cheek. Your thumb traces over his skin, admiring the man above you. A soft, tender smile pulls at your lips, eyes flicking between his own. “I know we’ve talked about it before, but it was simply never the right time. I’m ready now. I love you, Park Seonghwa. You are my forever. I’m ready to become yours.”
Tears begin building within his eyes, blinking rapidly as the first drops begin to fall gently against your skin. His throat works, hands fumbling over your body as he presses impossibly closer to you. Tenderly, he cups your face, lips finding yours in a searing kiss. A kiss which he hopes will convey everything he wishes to say to you.
The moment you smile against his lips, he knows that it does.
“I love you.” A choked confession parts his lips, placing intermittent kisses against your own before trailing even more along your cheek and over your pulse. Arms slide around you, hugging you close as he buries his face within the crook of your neck. A lingering kiss is pressed against the fresh bite mark adorning your skin. “I love you so fucking much.”
Without hesitating, you wrap your own back around him, holding him close. The fingers of your one hand come back up to thread through his wet hair softly. You cradle him to your chest, refusing to let him go anytime soon as your heart beats steadily for the man held within your loving arms.
Kisses are soon trailed from your neck and down over your chest, Seonghwa nuzzling affectionately over your heart. He buries his face against you, soon turning to rest his ear directly above that muscle pumping rhythmically beneath your skin.
A tender glance upwards is sent your way.
“Are you sure?”
You expression softens, lips tugging upwards lovingly as your whole body relaxes beneath his touch.
“More than anything, My Love,” The hand you have threading through his hair comes around to cradle the side of his face. “I never want another incident like today to occur. I despise seeing you cry, especially when I’m the cause of it.”
Seonghwa looks about ready to protest, but your finger settling gently over his lips quiets him for the time being.
“You are the love of my life, Seonghwa. I promised you forever, just as you did for me.” Gently, you trace your touch over his cheek, caressing your fingertips along his skin. Openly, you admire the beautiful man before you. “I’ve wanted this for a while now, and today only served to solidify my choice. I want to be able to claim you in the same ways that you claim me. I want to be yours. Now, and until forever.”
Pushing himself upwards with his arms, Seonghwa hovers over you. Nothing but tender love and affection can be seen within his gaze, staring down at you so fondly as he admires every inch of your skin. He takes his time trailing his eyes over your body, finally pulling out of you and sliding his palms up your sides.
He licks his lips, some remnants of your blood still clinging to his skin.
“Nothing would make me happier than spending eternity with you, My Queen.” Dark eyes shine so lovingly down at you, pressing another tender kiss to your lips. The way you smile against his skin makes his heart flutter, warmth surging throughout his entire body.
Long since has Seonghwa dreamt of this day. Countless hours have been spent fantasizing about this very moment, bonding you to him in such an intimate way. Sure, you’ve shared each other’s blood enough times before, but this is different. Now, you will become like him.
After this, there is truly no turning back.
Soon, you’ll be able to share in even more pleasures this world has to offer, and he’ll be right by your side through it all. He’ll get to guide you through each new experience, showing you things he’s only ever dreamed about. You’ll be able to share meals with him in more intimate and fulfilling ways, teaching you the ways of his kind and revelling in each and every new discovery you make. Together.
You’ve always been quite efficient at biting and feeding from him, that he cannot wait to watch you make your first kill.
Excitement pours through him, indescribable unconditional love flooding his veins.
Seonghwa knows exactly who that first kill should be.
A loving smile stretches onto his features, staring down at you so fondly. He can smell the way his blood courses through your veins, mixing seamlessly with your own. Softly, his hands caress over the sides of your face, searching your eyes one final time for any uncertainty or hesitance.
He finds none.
Silently, your husband vows to be the last thing you ever see in this life, and the very first thing you see in your next.
With a subtle nod of your head, another soft kiss is being placed upon your lips.
Warnings: adult dialogue, unprotected sex (don’t try at home kids), use of pet names (pet, pretty, dove), blood and blood drinking, cock warming, double penetration (f receiving), sprinkle of mxm, they’re vampires so multiple creampies, praise, aftercare
Their perfect little pet. That’s what she was for them and she couldn’t be happier. They treated her like a queen and all she had to give them was all of her love and a little bit of her blood. An easy price to pay for the undead loves of her life.
~~~
Seonghwa looked out the window of Hongjoong’s study, the rain pattering across the glass in a way that seemed to only irritate him further. Everything seemed to be rubbing him the wrong way today, and he’d already snapped at his and Hongjoong’s assistants and the butler. His skin prickled under his suit and his jaw ached.
Lost in his suffering, he didn’t notice Hongjoong enter the study and approach him quietly until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to meet Hongjoong’s steady gaze, worry laced in his expression.
Shaking his head, Seonghwa answered, “I don’t know Joong, I just feel…off.” He turned his eyes back to stare out the window, not even Hongjoong’s presence easing his mind like usual.
Hongjoong leaned towards Seonghwa and took in his scent. His eyebrow raised and he asked Seonghwa,
“When was the last time you fed?”
Seonghwa felt sheepish as Hongjoong’s question made all his symptoms suddenly make sense. It had been so long since he’d not fed to the point he grew this hungry that he forgot what it was like.
“Ah. That makes sense.” Seonghwa took his hand off his shoulder, intertwining their fingers. “Our princess was ill during my last time to feed. Now I’m suffering the consequences of skipping meals it seems.”
Hongjoong nodded with an understanding smile. Seonghwa would never feed from her unless she was feeling her best, always looking out for her health ever since she became the main source they both fed from.
“Well I just personally put her to bed after she ate a large dinner with the boys, so…”, he kissed the back of Seonghwa’s hand, “go and visit her, Hwa. She’s missed you while you’ve been busy with the other clans and you know she never turns us down.”
Seonghwa nodded, pulling his hand from Hongjoong and leaning forward to give him a gentle kiss, beginning to leave to find their beautiful pet.
“Will you join us?” He asked Hongjoong softly, turning as he pulled open the heavy wood door.
“Not to feed and I have a few things to finish before I sleep for the day, so I may join you closer to sunrise.”
He rubbed his temple at his own words, Seonghwa giving a small smile of understanding before he nodded,
“Don’t work yourself too hard, Joong. We’ll be waiting for you.”
With a nod from Hongjoong, Seonghwa stepped into the hall and quickly found his way to her room. He could hear her breathing peacefully on the other side of the door, her heartbeat practically calling for him.
He slipped through the door quietly, not wanting her to wake yet. Approaching her bed, Seonghwa felt the ache in his jaw grow more prominent. Her scent swirled around him, captivating him while he imagined waking her with the feeling of his fangs on her skin.
His guilt still held him back, however, every time he fed from her. He was so used to having to trick humans or hunt them in order to feed, so having one so willing to feed them herself made him feel as though he was taking advantage of her trust. She and Hongjoong had only tried to reassure him a hundred times that this was what she wanted, but even now he found himself hesitating.
His hesitation seemed to make his presence more looming and she fluttered her eyes open at the feeling of being watched. She knew it had to be one of her two lovers, but Hongjoong would have been in the bed with her by now, so she rolled towards her other lover with a sigh of his name.
“Seonghwa~”, her sleepy voice reached his ears as she turned on her back to see him. “Why are you watching me sleep, my love?”
He gazed at her for a moment before a soft smile graced his lips.
“I was merely captivated by your beauty, pet. I feel it would be a terrible sin to disturb a sleeping angel.”
She smiled at him warmly,
“Perhaps to those who do not hold the angel’s heart. For you, there is no sin.”
His eyes held such soft love for her, but still he stood at the side of the bed. She could see one of his hands fisted tightly, her eyes focusing more to see his own eyes glimmering a deep red, his lips parted slightly to reveal his fangs were longer.
‘Oh he’s hungry? Well of course he is, I was sick that last time he asked to feed’, she thought. Realizing then that he wasn’t going to ask her, but could no longer fight his urges, she slowly sat up to face him.
Seonghwa sensed the shift in her eyes as she realized why he was there. As she sat up, he couldn’t help but admire the way her hair fell softly around her, the silk shirt of his she wore held by only a few buttons and falling off one of her shoulders. Nothing else covered her and his eyes watched her soft thighs hungrily as she crawled to sit on her knees at the edge of the bed. She smirked, knowing the inside of her thighs was one of his favorite places to bite her, trying to entice him to step closer to the bed.
Reaching her hand towards him, she called like a siren,
“Hwa? It’s not a sin to ask for help either.”
Her eyes showed nothing but trust and love, Seonghwa took a dramatic and unnecessary breath and huffed a laugh at himself before taking her hand, letting her pull him to the edge of the bed in front of her. He reached up to brush her hair from her face and cup her cheek, the fingers of her hand not holding his coming up to slowly undo the buttons of his jacket.
“I’m sorry, pretty. I can’t seem to break old habits, no matter how many times you and Hongjoong lecture me.”
She shook her head softly, leaning up on her knees to push his jacket off his shoulders.
“No apologies either, love, I’ve missed you.”
He cupped her cheeks with both hands at that, leaning down to capture her lips in a soft kiss. She responded eagerly with a happy hum, undoing the few buttons on his shirt before her hands danced across his bare skin. He tilted her head to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth as he slid his other arm around her waist to hold her against him.
Seonghwa felt his hunger sear through him again suddenly, her tongue sliding along the end of one of his fangs, the slightest tang of blood filling his senses. He tried to pull away from her but she kept her arms around him securely, still looking at him softly.
“It’s okay, Hwa. Can I feel all of you while you feed?”
He felt the final barrier to his hesitation finally crumble at her gentle request, one hand holding the back of her head, the other wrapped around her waist as he laid her back on the bed and held himself over her.
“Of course you can, princess.”
Though he was hungry, he could still feel his cock filling out in his slacks, the scent of her arousal mixing with the scent of her blood. He leaned back on his knees to remove his shirt the rest of the way, captivated by the sight of her laid out beneath him with her hair pooling around her head and her lower half exposed, wet for him already.
He reached a hand forward to slip his fingers through her folds, the slide easy as he pushed two fingers gently into her while unbuttoning his pants with the other. She gasped at the intrusion, her hands fisted the silk sheets beneath her as her legs fell open wider for him. She met his hooded gaze, his eyes brimming with hunger, lust, and love all at once, her core clenching around his fingers at the sight.
“Want me to make you cum on my fingers first, pet?” He emphasized his question with a crook of his fingers, hitting the soft spot in her that had her seeing stars already.
“No, Hwa!”, she gasped her back arching slightly.
“No?”
She shook her head, looking at him, “No, please Hwa! I want to cum on your cock while you feed.”
He couldn’t help his eyes rolling back slightly with a growl at her words. He gently pulled his fingers from her, leaning down to kiss her deeply as he pulled off the rest of his clothes. She bit his lip softly before he began to kiss down her jaw and neck, undoing more of the buttons on the shirt she wore as it fell open to expose her collarbones and breasts to his passionate kisses.
Her fingers tangled in his hair as she hooked her legs around his hips, pulling his body flush against her so his cock slid against her cunt.
Seonghwa chuckled lowly at her eagerness, lifting his head to look at her softly while contradicting himself by grinding against her harder.
“Just want to be filled, don’t you, pretty pet?”
She nodded at him, rubbing the back of his neck as she arched her hips against him again.
“Please, Hwa, just want to take care of you too.”
He paused to gaze at her for a moment with pure love in his dark eyes, remembering every moment she had offered herself to feed them so they could live normal lives, knowing now he was a fool to be hesitant with feeding from her. Because that’s what feeding them was to her, she was taking care of them.
He rubbed his nose against hers gently as he lined himself up with her entrance, his tip catching before he slowly pushed his cock into her. She gasped lightly against his lips, her back arching to press her front fully against him as he bottomed out. He groaned deeply as he slotted his hips perfectly against hers, his head falling to her shoulder as he slid his hands down her body to adjust her hips comfortably under him.
She whimpered breathily as he tilted her hips and pushed himself in deeper as he rested his full weight onto her. Her arms held him securely and she’d never been so comfortable in her entire life.
His head came up at her whimper, slight concern in his eyes.
“Are you alright, princess?” Even as he asked the question, he could guess her answer with the blissed out look on her face, and the fact he could practically see hearts in her eyes.
“Perfect, Hwa~,” she whispered, kissing him gently. “Feel so full, so comfy.”
He smiled warmly at her as he kissed her back a little deeper. He didn’t move his hips much, but he and Hongjoong knew her body like no other, so softly rutting himself deeper into her and his pelvis rubbing her clit had her clenching around him deliciously and soon she was panting lightly against his lips.
“Feels good, pet? You gonna cum for me when I bite you?”
She nodded dazedly, whining as he slipped a hand between them to rub her clit harder, rocketing her towards the edge. She loved the slow, deep, full body orgasms Seonghwa could draw from her. It always made her melt in his arms, nothing in her head except for how much she loved him.
“Feels so goood Seonghwa,” she breathed, “Promise I’ll cum for you, please bite me!”
Her cunt tightening around him was a dead giveaway to how close she was, his other hand sliding into her hair to tilt her head to the side as her whines grew in volume.
“Ohhh fuck! Seonghwa!”
Her eyes shut tightly as her orgasm hit her, her back arching as she cried out for him. He growled deeply as his hand left her clit, snaking around her waist and holding her securely against him as he bared his fangs and slid them through the delicate skin below her jaw. She hardly felt it, her mind still floating in the clouds as she descended from the heaven he just sent her to.
Blood flowed into his mouth and he drank greedily with a satisfied groan, his senses heightening tenfold, and he held her tighter. A few more gentle ruts with his lips latched to her throat had his own orgasm crashing into him suddenly. She clenched around him at the feeling, a happy sigh leaving her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he fed.
He was so lost in the taste of her, his post orgasm bliss, and the warmth of her body that he didn’t register her pulling on his hair at first.
“Seonghwa?” She said lightly, pulling harder to try and detach his soft lips before he drained her.
His eyes snapped open and he immediately pulled back, licking over the wound to stop her from bleeding. She was panting slightly, but she seemed alright. He’d only ever gone too far once and it was a mistake he swore he would never make again. He gently kissed over the bite mark left on her neck, moving his head up to look at her.
“I’m sorry, princess, did I take too much?”
He stroked her hair out of her face as she turned to smile at him, a shake of her head reassuring him.
“No, I’m okay, do you feel better, my love?”
Seonghwa looked at her fondly as he nodded, “Much better, pretty, thank you.”
He kissed the tip of her nose, each of her cheeks, and finally her lips softly as he moved to pull his cock out of her. She could taste her blood on his lips and she whined against him, her legs tightening around his hips in an attempt to stop him from moving. He pulled back from her lips to look at her, his eyebrow raised in question.
“Can we stay like this? Or do you have to leave?” She asked him gently as she brushed her fingers through his hair.
He felt his dead heart would burst because of this beautiful little human. He shook his head fondly before he secured his arm around her to hold her to his chest. In one move, he flipped them so she was resting on top of him, sitting pretty in his lap.
“For you, princess, I will never leave.”
She kissed him deeply at his words, the both of them lying back as they kissed, Seonghwa pulling the silk sheet over them. She rested her head on his chest below his chin, his arms holding her to him securely, his cock still buried deeply in her.
“I love you Seonghwa,” she whispered as he stroked her hair. He kissed her forehead as he replied.
“I love you too, princess, get some rest before Hongjoong comes to bed. He may need a taste of you as well before the sun rises.”
~~~
Hongjoong didn’t know how he’d gotten this lucky. No matter how stressful being a clan leader was, no matter how annoying the other clan leaders could be, no matter how much his own clan tired him out, everything was worth it if he got to return to this sight in his bed every day.
The two loves of his life were lying in each other’s arms, Seonghwa’s cheeks and nose rosy from her blood, her soft body pliant on top of him as her face rested against his neck.
He’d loved Seonghwa for many decades, the two of them facing the tides of time together. They’d never felt incomplete, but the day she’d saved Hongjoong had made them both complete, turning their whole world around.
Hongjoong leaned heavily against the wall of the alley, trying to hide his face from the street lamp as he panted. The wound across his chest was deep and bleeding a lot, if he didn’t find a source of blood soon he would pass out, and then the hunters chasing him would get their prize.
The door to the bar he was behind suddenly opened, a beautiful woman stepping out to throw a bag into the bin behind him.
“Oh!” She jumped seeing him leaning against the wall, her eyes widening in worry as she saw he was covered in blood, reaching out to help him before she could stop herself.
“Are you alright?”
Hongjoong snatched her wrist as her hand neared him, the strength of his grip betraying his lack of humanity. She gasped slightly at his firm grip, her eyes coming up to meet his and realizing that they were white. He wasn’t blind, but his eyes shone a brilliant white like his hair, and he no longer had the strength to hide his fangs from her.
‘A vampire. I knew they were real.’ Her thoughts were surprisingly calm as she realized what he was, the pieces of the scenario beginning to fit together. She could hear men shouting down the streets and he kept looking around nervously despite his weakened state. He was injured and they were hunting him.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she stepped toward Hongjoong again, his grip still tight on her wrist. He looked at her cautiously, but it morphed into surprise as she drew him in front of her, pressing her back against the alley wall and allowing him to lean over her. This hid them mostly in shadow, and he locked eyes with her in question, trying to figure out what she was planning.
She lifted the wrist he still held towards his face in encouragement, and shocked him to his core by saying,
“You only need a little blood to heal so you can escape, right, vampire?”
He couldn’t keep the baffled look off his face, which caused her to giggle quietly.
“Why would you do that?” Hongjoong looked at her intensely as he leaned closer, caging her against the wall.
“Not all humans are selfish, perhaps I just want to help you.” She gazed at him honestly, noting that even though he was bloody and disheveled he was beautiful.
He studied her for a moment, wondering if there was a catch, but he couldn’t see any reason to turn down a human that was willingly offering to give him her blood.
“Promise you won’t scream and get me caught?”
She nodded and said quietly, “Promise.”
He leaned closer to her then, practically pinning her against the alley wall. He’d never felt this drawn to or comfortable with a human before. He eased his grip on her wrist and drew it so her arm was around his shoulders. He held her jaw gently, stroking the skin with his thumb before saying,
“Turn your head to the street, beautiful, hide me with your pretty face.”
She did as he asked, her eyes fluttering shut with a soft gasp as she felt him slide his fingers through her hair to keep her head tilted, his lips brushing against her neck almost tenderly.
Her arms wrapped around his head in earnest, holding onto him as his fangs sliced into her skin. Her blood was intoxicating and it hit Hongjoong like a rock, his grip tightening on her as she gasped, his only thought being,
‘There’s no way I can leave her now, I think I’m addicted.’
“Joong?”
Seonghwa’s quiet voice brought Hongjoong back to the present. He was sat in the chair by the window, reminiscing as he watched the two of them sleep. He lifted his head and blinked a few times, his eyes locking with a soft looking Seonghwa, who had lifted his head to see him.
“What are you doing over there?”
Seonghwa’s voice was still quiet, attempting not to wake the sleeping woman on his chest.
Hongjoong stood from the chair and came to sit next to them on the edge of the bed. He reached out and interlaced his fingers with Seonghwa’s, the latter squeezing his hand softly and rubbing his thumb over the back of Hongjoong’s hand.
“I couldn’t help getting lost down memory lane when I saw how peaceful the two of you were lying there.” Hongjoog spoke just as softly, his other hand gently brushing her hair out of her face as she snoozed peacefully on top of Seonghwa.
“Thinking about the random chance it was to meet her, and now look at us. We feel completed because of her, we’re more successful in the clans than we’ve ever been, I can’t imagine our lives without her anymore, Hwa.”
Seonghwa beamed fondly at Hongjoong as he spoke, his own hand also coming up to stroke through her hair.
“I know, Joong. To think I still hesitate when it comes to her, but I realized why she’s perfectly ours. We’ve only ever had and taken care of each other to this extent, yes we have the boys but that’s different. She’s the first to take care of us with the entirety of her being and ask for nothing in return, like how we care for each other.”
Hongjoong nodded in agreement, leaning over Seonghwa to kiss him gently. Their kiss was interrupted by the sound of her sniffling, both of them looking at her quickly so see her wiping tears from her eyes.
Seonghwa cupped her face and lifted so she would look at them.
“What’s wrong, princess?” The two looked at her with concern. “Why are you crying?”
She looked at them with watery eyes and said lovingly,
“I just love you both so much, and I woke up comfortable, and I heard you saying such lovely things that I couldn’t stop from tearing up.”
They both relaxed at her adorable words, loving smiles gracing their faces as well, Hongjoong leaning down to kiss her teary cheek as Seonghwa kissed the other.
“We mean every word, love.” Hongjoong kissed her cheek again and wiped away the remaining tears.
Seonghwa slid his hands to her waist, gently lifting her back as he sat up next to Hongjoong. She perched on his lap, a small moan escaping her as she remembered her cunt was full of Seonghwa.
He groaned as well, feeling her clench around him at the change in angle that pushed his cock deeper in her.
Hongjoong raised his eyebrows in mock disgust, saying,
“We were having such a beautiful moment, and you degenerates were fucking this whole time?”
She giggled at him, reaching over to thread her fingers in his hair and rub his neck. Seonghwa started to unbutton Hongjoong’s jacket as she pulled him forward to seal their lips together. Hongjoong kissed her back passionately, his one hand cupping her jaw to open her mouth for him, the other reaching over to cup Seonghwa’s face and stroke his thumb across his cheek.
The kiss broke as she helped Seonghwa strip Hongjoong of his jacket, the latter turning to the other man and pulling him into a fiery kiss. She worked on removing Hongjoong’s shirt as she watched them kiss, the sight making her clench around Seonghwa. He gasped at the feeling and Hongjoong took the chance to slide his tongue in his mouth, Seonghwa’s hands unable to push Hongjoong away as he had reached down to stop her from grinding on his cock.
She whined at the restriction in her movement, and when the two vampires dazedly broke apart to look at her, she begged,
“Can I have you too Joong? I’m already nice and stretched out for Seonghwa, can we please feel you too?”
Her pouty lips enticed Hongjoong and Seonghwa playfully rolled his eyes, knowing Hongjoong would give her whatever she wanted when she begged him like that. Not that he was much better.
Hongjoong gazed at her for a moment before making eye contact with Seonghwa, silent communication passing between them.
Seonghwa gripped her hips again, this time with the purpose of moving her on his cock. She gasped as he moved her, her hands flying to grip his wrists in support, her eyes rolling back. Hongjoong slid behind her on his knees, putting his hands on her hips over Seonghwa’s, interlacing their fingers as they began to move her over Seonghwa’s cock together.
“Fuuuck,” she breathed, “feels so good.”
“You like that, pet?” Hongjoong kissed up her shoulder and neck, his fangs scraping against her ear lightly as he whispered.
“You’re so warm, pretty girl, so good for us.” Seonghwa murmured in her other ear.
She nodded at both of them with a soft moan, one of her hands going to tangle in each of their hairs, feeling herself becoming delirious with pleasure already.
They continued to move her on Seonghwa’s cock, one of Hongjoong’s hands moving to take off his slacks. Once free, he pushed himself fully against her back, pressing her between him and Seonghwa. His cock slotted against her ass, the soft pressure already enough to get him excited for what was to come.
Seonghwa’s moans had turned whiny and she was crying out a small, ah, ah, ah, every time her hips met his as he thrust up into her. Hongjoong slid one hand up to her throat, the other sliding around to grip Seonghwa’s. Both of them moaned loudly as he tightening his hands slightly, Seonghwa’s thrusts beginning to falter.
“Are my loves going to cum?”
His quiet voice sent shivers down their spines, Seonghwa nodding as she moaned breathily at the feeling of Hongjoong’s fangs against the skin of her shoulder.
“Cum for us, princess, take everything our man has so you’re ready for us both.”
His hand slid down from her throat to brush over her clit just enough to send her over the edge, her back arching as she cried out both of their names. He gripped her neck again mid-orgasm, turning her head and biting into her shoulder gently, elongating her high and sending Seonghwa into his. He shuddered as Hongjoong gripped his throat, spilling into her with a choked moan. He held her down on his cock as they both came down from their highs, Hongjoong licking the wound on her shoulder closed while gently rubbing the side of Seonghwa’s neck.
“So good for us, pet, you did so well.” Hongjoong rubbed her hips gently as he praised her. She hummed in response before pushing herself back to rub against his cock.
“Thank you, Joongie, we still need you, though.”
Seonghwa huffed in amusement as he laid back down with her still on his cock. He reached around to grip her ass, holding her open for Hongjoong to see the mess they’d made, knowing it would be the push he needed.
Hearing a growl from him, Seonghwa knew he had him. He kissed her gently as she gasped at the feeling of Hongjoong pressing the head of his cock against her entrance. She was caught by Seonghwa’s tongue in her mouth and both of them rubbing their hands all over her body to distract her, and for their own pleasure.
“Deep breath, pet, relax for me.”
Hongjoong held her hips gently as he began to push his cock into her along side Seonghwa’s, aided by both of their release. She gasped, her eyebrows drawn together in slight discomfort, but she relaxed slowly as Hongjoong ran his hands soothingly up and down her spine while Seonghwa latched his lips to the sensitive marks on her neck.
She breathed deeply and all three of them moaned together as Hongjoong bottomed out. She was trembling slightly and the two vampires waited for her to give them the sign that they could move again. She relaxed fully, moving her hips back and forth slightly, earning an approving groan from Seonghwa and a gentle smack on the ass from Hongjoong.
They began moving in and out of her, both having a different pace so they were continuously filling her to the brim and rubbing against each other. They all always quickly fell apart when together like this, feeling so connected with each other. Tears spilled over her cheeks at the overwhelming pleasure they were giving her, as well as, the thought that she was held so passionately between her two undead lovers. Her hands tangled in their hair again to ground herself as their thrusts faltered, her own mind losing all thoughts as her moans and cries reached a fever pitch.
Seonghwa and Hongjoong were losing their composure. Beneath her, Seonghwa had stopped thrusting and was simply holding her as Hongjoong sent all three of them closer to their orgasms. His eyes were glazed over as he neared his third orgasm of the night, he kissed her deeply, before sliding both of his hands to hold her waist.
Hongjoong was nearing his end, the sight of the two of them so ruined had him close before he’d even put his cock in her, and now the pleasure was searing down his spine.
“Make her cum for us again, Hwa, want us all to finish together.”
Seonghwa nodded dazedly, his fingers sliding between them to press against her clit. Her reaction was instant, her back arching into Hongjoong with a gasp as she gripped Seonghwa’s shoulder.
“Hwa! Joong! I’m-ahhh!”
Her cry of their names was cut off as she was thrown off the cliff of her orgasm. Holding onto them for her life, she trembled between them as her cunt squeezed them both like a vice.
“Ah, fuck!”
“Shit, such a goood girl.”
They both followed her into their pleasure as they moaned, Hongjoong pressing himself as deep as possible, trapping her between them in ecstasy. All three of them panted for a moment, her head slumped forward into Seonghwa’s neck, Hongjoong’s head resting between her shoulder blades.
Seonghwa reached up around her and stroked Hongjoong’s hair from his face, his other arm still holding her around her waist. Hongjoong kissed his palm, smiling at him softly before he sat up on his knees again to pull out of her. She whined softly, but they could tell she was still catching her breath, so Seonghwa pulled out of her gently as well while Hongjoong went to get a towel and a glass of water.
Seonghwa was rubbing her back softly and combing his fingers through her hair when Hongjoong returned. They cleaned her, and each other, gently as she slowly blinked up at Seonghwa before a smile spread across her face.
“There she is, our beautiful pet.” Seonghwa kissed her forehead softly as Hongjoong slid into the bed next to him.
“Love you.” She looked at them so happily, all their years without her melting into the past.
“We love you too, princess.”
They made her drink the water before bundling her between them, the three of them falling into a content sleep as the suns first rays danced across the sky.
pairing: vampire lord! seonghwa x human! reader (fem) feat. a two second cameo from vampire! san
genre: abo, kinda historical (think guilded era vibe but vampires and humans coexisting kinda), smut
summary: you decide to play with your master’s feelings during the annual masquerade ball held between vampires and occasionally their human counterparts.
w.c: 2.5k
warnings: alcohol usage, mentions of blood, general vampirism/hierarchies, dom! seonghwa, bratty! reader fucks around and finds out, dirty talk, ownership kink, exhibitionism/voyeurism, praise/degradation, possessiveness, pet names/name calling, manhandling, blood drinking, groping, rough blowjob, spit mentions, fingering, orgasm denial, facial, cum eating, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, l bombs
a/n: im obsessed with the idea of criminally insane cunty vampires so i sat hunched over like a damn shrimp and typed up a storm tyvm. also !!! this fic is dedicated to my dear friend orion @pluvialorion ilysmmmm ughh i hope you enjoy >< <33
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“Those two are always up to something, I swear. It’s so troublesome,” one old age vampire muttered, complaining about you and your vampire Master to the person standing besides her outside of the ballroom circle. She adjusted her masquerade mask, put off by the sight of you downing a glass full of expensive wine. “Why the council ever decided to allow humans to attend our annual blood balls is beyond me.”
“They always cause a scene,” the other old age vampire agreed, turning his head to watch as you whimsically made your way across the dance floor in your heavy laced dress, taking the hand of any vampire that wanted to dance with you, while your Master watched from the side with growing annoyance. “It’s unsightly.”
“Yes, it’s completely inappropriate, the way they act like they’re the main characters inside some overdone fictional novel,” she scoffed, the vampiress getting herself worked up over nothing, her fingers clenching around her own wine glass filled with a blood blend.
“You hit the nail on the head, or should I say the stake,” the undead gentleman chuckled, one hand on his hip, the other tilting his wine glass back to drink down its bloody contents, watching you trade one dance partner for another, surprised that you were letting a new age vampire get so handsy with you. “Oh, here we go.”
Seonghwa reached up to brush at his flowy raven hair in a frustrated manner, his furrowed brows and scrunched-up face not doing much to dispel your current goal in pissing off your Master in hopes that he would chase you across the castle grounds and fuck you into oblivion. “You’re asking for it, little lamb…” he mumbled to himself, the bright red hue in his eyes growing brighter by the second.
“I didn’t realize you were interested in me, Miss Y/N. Care to forget about your sour, old age counterpart over there and spend the night with me?” the charming, feline-like vampire you were using whispered into your ear, holding your body impossibly close to his as you both slowly rotated together in timed circles according to the flow of the orchestra music that was playing throughout the large ballroom.
“Oh, Mr. Choi, try not to puff out your chest just yet,” you murmured back with faux pity, clasping your fingers around his cheeks, feeling his fingers inch closer and closer to your ass, able to feel the fiery gaze of your lover from afar. “You’re simply a puppet for my amusement.”
The vampire scoffed, still finding it inside himself to twirl you around and bring you back into his arms, his fingers clasping around your waist a little tighter than before, clearly irritated. “That’s quite rude of you, human. You could’ve lied.”
“Does it matter? I’m not trying to impress you,” you huffed, eyeing Seonghwa out of the corner of your vision, noticing the way he clutched the edge of the aged mahogany table being used to showcase various blood-filled desserts. Just as the vampire was about to speak up, you shook your head, silencing him. “Just hurry up and grab my ass, will you? And grab it hard. I want Seonghwa to–Oh!”
The peeved vampire did indeed get a handful, his fingers sinking deep into your squishy flesh through your dress, leaning over your shoulder to make eye contact with Seonghwa, who was fuming, still having the gall to stick his tongue out at him.
An intoxicating mix of anger and arousal coursed through Seonghwa to the point that it all spilled out of him at once, resulting in a short, aggressive shout, the other patrons looking over their own shoulders to see what was going on. Sadly, they weren’t very surprised to watch him lift up the side of the heavy dessert table and toss it across the room with a frightening amount of ease, narrowly missing the heads of the orchestra members.
You let go of San who quickly scampered away, not wanting to feel the vampire lord’s intense wrath. You, however, took pride in seeing the way your lover was seething, how he pierced you with his dark crimson eyes and delightfully suffocating pheromones alone, his white, elongated fangs already on display for you, knowing he wished he could just sink them directly into the most delicate parts of your body.
“Why are you so angry, my love?” you called out to him with faux naivety, giving him a pout, motioning to the mess that had spilled onto the sheer marble floor. “You ruined all those lovely desserts.”
“And almost took the head off of a violin player, but I digress,” the older vampire from before murmured to her friend, the both of them chortling softly to themselves.
“Oh, you know what you’ve done, darling,” Seonghwa tsked from across the room, taking slow, deliberate steps in your direction, his high-heeled shoes clacking lightly against the pristine floor, most of the other patrons stepping out of his way. “I have a question for you. Do you know what happens to pretty things that disobey their Masters?”
You brought your hand up to lift off your masquerade mask just in time for Seonghwa to stand directly in front of you, his lean, elegant frame towering over yours. “I’m unaware of the answer, dearest. Do pray tell.” Your face twisted into something that could only be described as smug. Seonghwa wanted to wipe that expression off your face and turn it into something more worthwhile — flushed, contorted with a lovely mix of pain and pleasure, and painted in his cum.
“They get punished, my sweet. So, I suggest you hike up that lovely dress I bought you and get to running.”
࿏࿏࿏
There was something so exhilarating about having the love of your life chase after you, knocking over furniture and pushing other vampires out of the way just to get his hands on you. You would look back occasionally, catching glimpses of the hazy blood-lust in Seonghwa’s eyes, resulting in a fresh wave of slick between your thighs.
Somewhere along the line, you had ended up in the castle garden, your bare feet hitting the soft grass, having lost your heels during your chaotic trek there. Panting softly, your breath hitting the cold night air, you realized you were surrounded by chipping marble statues of vampires of the past, a maze of blood-red roses covered in thorns surrounding a sleek stone gazebo, and thousands of constellations sitting in the dark sky above you.
“Caught you, little lamb…” you heard in a deep, gravelly voice, shivers making their way up your spine. Seonghwa took slow steps near you, finding it amusing how you trapped yourself in a corner, his entire being pulsing with sexually-charged aggression. “But you wanted this, didn’t you? You want me to have my way with you, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Rather than replying verbally, you simply held up the front of your dress, showing off your plump, slicked-up cunt for his viewing pleasure, your lips twisted up into a perverted smile, lust practically emanating from your form. “What do you think, my love? Does my wet cunt give you any hints?”
Before you knew it, Seonghwa had you pinned to the side of the gazebo, one hand on your shoulder to keep you still with his immense strength and the other underneath your hiked-up skirt, fucking you deep with two agile fingers, not concerned with the occasional passerby, some of them slowing down to witness the titillating sight of a vampire lord punishing his human counterpart.
“I can feel you squeezing around my fingers, sweet. Is my poor little lamb already falling apart for me?” he asked with faux pity against your neck, sucking your soft flesh into his mouth to leave a mark, piercing them lightly with his fangs. “Is it because anyone can come by and see the way I have my hand up your skirt and hear the pretty little moans that you’re making for your darling?”
“N-ooo, it’s because it’s you, Seonghwa,” you sighed out softly, a familiar heaviness filling your core until your legs went wobbly, moaning from the feeling of Seonghwa gulping down just enough of your life source to make you pleasantly dizzy, his fingers still slipping in and out of your leaking cunt.
“Mm, it’s a pity though. I wish Mr. Choi knew just how quick I can make your pretty cunt leak all these juices onto me,” he purred against your soft skin, slurping your arousal from his fingers before cupping his palm onto your hot cunt, lightly moving it over your clit, knowing he was pleasuring you just enough to make you squirm, but aware that your much-needed orgasm had faded away due to his control.
He brought his still dripping fingers up to your mouth, pleased that you obediently sucked your own slick off of them, his gaze flitting between your lips and love-struck eyes. “He’ll never see you like this. See the way you need me in every possible way I can have you…”
“It’s only for you to see, my love,” you replied lovingly, pressing your lips onto his, drawing Seonghwa into you like a moth to a blazing flame.
You shared a series of frenzied, heated kisses that consisted too much of tongue, teeth, and fangs, your hand slipping into Seonghwa’s loosened satin trousers to swiftly jerk him off, his abundant pre-cum squishing in between your closed fingers, your quick, unrelenting grip causing him to wobble a bit, the thick edges of his heeled shoes sinking further into the grass below. “Feels so good, doesn’t it, Hwa? You’re so hard for me, throbbing, leaking so much…”
“Fuck–I need you, darling, need you bare for me, need your pretty mouth around my cock,”Seonghwa groaned out onto your lips, nipping at it enough to get a small taste of iron on his own crimson stained ones. Without a word, he tore your dress from your body, pearls falling from your broken necklace and landing around your feet. You gasped. He clasped his hands around your corseted waist, bringing his face near your neck, his lips just barely touching your skin. “On your knees, my love.”
You melted to the floor, reaching up to hold onto his hips, watching his cock spring out once his pants lowered past his v-line, eventually holding it in front of your drooling mouth. You studied him, your eyes traveling up his shiny, curved length to his pronounced pink head, sticking your tongue out to catch a drop of his pre-cum on your tongue. “It’s so pretty, Hwa…”
“I know it is, sweetheart. Now, open up,” he exhaled softly, slipping his slender fingers into your soft hair to clutch the sides of your head, plugging your mouth up with his thick cock.
Seonghwa fucked your face so quickly, so sloppily, so desperately, he reached his end in a matter of minutes, bringing you down onto his cock until your nose pressed into his pelvis, feeling your throat contracting around him. “Fuck, you drive me mad, darling…I’m already about to cum….”
It was when he was able to smell the endless slick that dripped out of your needy cunt, that Seonghwa pulled out, rubbing his cockhead across your lips and smearing his pre-cum across your face, ruining the perfect state of your makeup. “You look so pretty, my love, but I know how to make you look even more divine for me…”
“Enlighten me, my dear,” you sighed lovingly, licking the warm saltiness from your lips.
“Watch closely. This is all for you, darling…” Seonghwa gazed down at you with his crimson, hooded eyes, his chest rising and lowering with shallow breaths, using his closed hand to milk his flushed cock, seemingly endless splashes of cum landing onto your face. “Mm, what do you think Mr. Choi would think of you now, little lamb? Think of your lovely face painted with my cum?”
“He’d think I was a mess,” you mused, licking the bitter milkiness from your swollen lips, opening your mouth to take one last spurt of cum onto your tongue when Seonghwa moaned wantonly, his fingers squeezing near the pinkish tip. “He’d know I’m yours.”
“My mess, my beautiful darling. Of course he’d know you’re mine. All mine,” Seonghwa sighed dreamily, lowering himself to his knees to pull you in for a deep kiss, your tongues and lips meeting with fervent need.
“You think he’d enjoy watching you fuck me into ecstasy?” you asked in between heavy breaths and kisses, hooking your thighs around his bare waist, slipping your hands onto the bare skin of his chest past his loose blouse, your fingers grazing his nipples.
“I’d take off his head, before I’d let him watch the way your cunt stretches open for me,” Seonghwa groaned, groping down your body, rubbing two fingers against your slippery folds, his fangs returning to your neck, this time indulging his instincts and slipping inside you, resulting in soft throes of pleasure from the both of you. “Speaking of, your little cunt needs my cock, doesn’t it? Is that why you’re so wet?”
“Yes, please, I can’t stand being empty any longer, my love,” you whined to him, your squelching cunt already beginning to clench around his thrusting fingers, wishing his cock was filling you up instead.
“You won’t be able to cum with just my fingers, will you, darling? Because your lovely body is only accustomed to my cock, isn’t it? Made for it, hm?” Seonghwa continued to tease you with his words, curling his digits inside you, resulting in increasingly heavy moans from his one and only, encouraging him to fuck you faster with them. “Fuck, you’re clenching so hard around me, darling. You’re so good for me…”
“Oh–my god, so close…”
“Yeah? You want to spill your cum all over me, Y/N? Make a mess of me?” Seonghwa encouraged breathily, his forehead pressed to yours, pressing his lips against yours in between moans.
“Y–esss…”
Just as you were about to cum, you were suddenly filled with a devastatingly empty feeling, realizing he had pulled his fingers out and brought them to his mouth, sucking your vast amounts of slick off of them. “N-no, please, Seonghwa, I want to cum…!”
“You’ll have to cum on my cock, sweetheart. Now, be good and take it,” he replied softly, his voice devoid of pity, the ridged edge of his cock hooking onto your clit and making you jolt, before he slipped inside you inch by inch, sending you back into a pleasurable fog. “I’ll breed you until you’re full for me.”
“So full, I’m so full, darling.” You hooked your arms around his neck, holding him impossibly close, his lips already attached to your neck again, shuddering against him as he drank down your life-source, his cock offering your cunt a delicious stretch each time he pounded into you. “So good, Hwa, it feels so good…”
“Because we were made for each other, my love, our souls always intertwined, forever, you’ll always be mine,” Seonghwa reminded you in between pants and soft moans, his raven hair already plastered to his forehead with sweat, love and admiration seeping its way through his lust-struck gaze, kneading his hands into your thighs, your warm, sopping-wet cunt enveloping his cock so tightly, he couldn’t keep himself from unloading wave after wave of his hot cum inside you, so deeply it reached your womb. “Fuck, you’re milking my cock, darling, just take it all, take it all for me…”
You couldn’t say anything, only letting out a near soundless whine, clutching the back of Seonghwa’s head, never breaking eye contact as you experienced what could only be described as pure bliss, your bodies and hearts melting together. “I love you, Seonghwa, so much,” you finally got out, your voice barely above a whisper.
“I love you too, Y/N, more than you’ll ever know,” he replied just as softly, carefully cupping your heated face with his cold hands, like he was afraid you would shatter into a thousand pieces and fall away from his grasp. Seonghwa was completely flushed, his long raven hair now a mess, sticking to his sweaty face, his plush lips a deep red. “Now do you see what you do to me, darling?”
You nuzzled into him, your heart beating against his quiet one, the cool night breeze gracing your warm, joined skin, knowing you wouldn’t have it any other way. “I think I have an idea.”
