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ppoppokari · 5 months

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the fae of the oktober woods

pairing~ park seonghwa x oc! reader (this is for my bff katt ya'll)

genre~ (au) (h) (lowkey fluff)

ghostwritten for~ @horanghaejamjam (as a part of the atiny halloween project)

synopsis~ when katt had moved to quiet do-gooder neighbourhood they find that they got more than they bargained for. behind each preppy student and righteous priest was a fascination with the occult. what katt really wanted was to find love, but there was no way that they would find love in a town that felt like hell on earth... right? maybe just maybe they would have to look darkness in the eyes to find a love that would last for an eternity or more.

… or the one where curiosity finally got the better of katt.

wordcount~ 6.5k

featuring~ mentions of christianity, talk of ghost sex but no ghost sex actually occurs, an amateur summoning ritual (mentioned but no graphic summoning happens ), a haunted house, course language, a predator/prey dynamic, alcohol and drug consumption (every one is legal in this fic so don't worry and it's mentioned for a brief second, only seeing it if you squint), strange dreams, hints of smut at the end but no actual smut, i don't want to spoil it but seonghwa isn't who he seems to be- but spoiler he isn’t a faerie

playlist~ 🍄

a/n~ hi! it me~ i may have gotten way too carried away in this one, i was a horror writer for ten years of my life. so this really makes me feel nostalgic. and surprise katt!! i nearly spilt the beans so many times while writing this.

i love you so much buddy 🥹

also a huge thank you to @atinyhalloweenproject for giving me the opportunity to participate and for being so kind and patience, i truly truly appreciate it.

this is kind of creepy, like duh it's horror but this is the uneasy type of horror but it's still kind of sexy?

“Tonights terrifying tale takes us to an everyday neighbourhood, the houses are perfect, the American apple pie life we all want and to make it better the people are just as perfect. But this isn’t about them, it’s a tale of lust, deep desire, and a dance with the devil.

In this episode we will peel back the streets of suburbia and you will find something dark and twisted… if you dare to look.

I’m your host Barry Collins and this is…”

There was no bad blood between you or the ancient, living skeleton of a host but with a swift movement you reached for the remote. Upon doing so you were immediately relieved of the grating static of the old re-run of some ancient black and white Halloween special that had been on loop since you moved in.

Bringing your hands up you lightly pressed your fingers into your temple, an attempt to soothe the persistent migraine that had been lingering since the early hours of this morning.

To say your dreams were getting out of control was a huge understatement, but how could you put it into words. How could you approach your parents and say that you woke up feeling as if an invisible weight was pushing down on your chest paired with sharp ringing in your ears, oh, and don't forget the immediate urge to throw your blankets to the ground and remove your pyjamas that clung to you.

Technically you could, but that wouldn't even touch the surface of everything that had been going on.

One thing was apparent as you looked ahead and saw a human-shaped blur sitting next to you through reflection on the blank screen...The only thing you had control over was the tv.

With a sigh you stood, feigning ignorance as you often did. Three months in this house and such things were a common occurrence, whether it be out of pure exhaustion or extreme confidence you let everything remain as it was. There was no need to search for all your missing items if they didn't want to be found.

Passing by a generous handful of misplaced shadows you made your way to the kitchen, stopping to pet Prince and Gizmo who trailed close to your feet. "You want a treat? You both deserve a treat for guarding my room last night." Crouching low you kept them occupied with a scratch behind their ears before tearing the scrap of bacon that remained on your plate in half. Wiping the grease on the hem of your t-shirt you all but threw your dishes into the sink as you brought your hands up once again.

"Shh stop it, no more headaches, just calm down Katt, it's okay." Your self-soothing was starting to work until a cold hand gripped your shoulder.

A sharp exhale knocked the little air you had as you spun around on high alert. Your sporadic movement startled both you and your mom, you honestly didn't know you had it in you.

"Katt! My god, what's gotten into you?" "Mom, you scared me!" Your shaky voice was a dead giveaway that something was eating away at you, call it luck or mother's intuition but she could sense your invisible thoughts, words that never formed.

"You're so skittish today, is there something I should know?" "I'm not skittish! You literally came out of nowhere, and who grabs shoulders like that. You're like every horror movie mom ever." You were the only one amused by your comeback, which was apparent by your giggle and the fact she just stood their analysing you. So, you decided to break the uncomfortable silence "Don't worry I'm just a little tired."

"If you're too tired you might have to miss the church service tonight, I know they're expecting you to be there but you're honestly not going to miss out on much."

"What?! No! I mean I'm well enough, I'm so energetic right now don't sweat it."

You weren’t looking forward to the bi-monthly sermons that most of the town attended. There were only two things you wanted most in this world, 1. A boyfriend and 2. To spend as much time as possible away from your potentially haunted house. And church could probably give you two of those things but at what cost?

Luckily for you, you really didn't have to submit yourself to an extended church service, opting instead to abandon the sermon and have a bonfire with your friends.

At this point in time, you were being quite generous with the whole ‘friend’ title in a frantic attempt to distract yourself from how shit this town actually was. Normally you would have refrained yourself from being half as critical but honestly Birch Lake was unnerving and the people even more so. Your friends were as preppy as they could get, yet they had their generous dose of duality with their obsession with the colourful history of ghosts and the occult. In any other circumstance you would casually avoid them, but right now you had to make the best of what you had.

"If you need to rest you can stay home, the last thing I want to do is force you to go."

In a motherly fashion she brushed your bangs to the side, resting the back of her hand on your heated forehead.

"It's your call, do what feels best."

Your sleep deprived mind was playing havoc with the words you spoke, resulting in the most gracious word vomit.

"I don't know, I want… I want to, I need..."

"You need to get laid."

“What?”

Phoebe didn't even attempt to hide her eyes rolling to the back of her head “Katt I’m not repeating myself twenty fucking times because you have insomnia or some shit.” Even with all the attitude her eyes met your and she smiled. “I was just saying, you’ve been here for like what? Five months?”

You nodded your head, trying to play it cool as the rest of the group eyed you, it was hard to tell whether the heat came from the bonfire or from their collective gaze burning holes into you. If it wasn’t for the shitty craft beer flowing through your body, you probably would have had the energy required to give a decent response, but you stayed silent drinking in the flames.

Having realised that you weren’t going to bite the bait Phoebe readied another comment before she was abruptly cut off by Tao “It feels like you’re overcompensating for something Phoebe, the lord asks us to look within, and from where I’m sitting, looking through you I see that you’re the one who needs to get laid.”

Amongst your group of friends who you truly would have avoided under any other circumstances, Tao was the most harmless. Regardless, he was still the leader of your group. He didn’t seem like much, but he had wit and charm, he was the shepherd who led your group away from the bible school hall, past the theatre and into the forest to get to a small clearing. Tao was the son of the head pastor meaning he knew how to skip sermons without anyone noticing. He was also the only person who had your back…when he felt like it…which made him a D+ at best but he was still appreciated.

Each person broke into a mocking chorus of laughter, which Phoebe joined in on “Haha ha ha hahahaha fuck all of you, I hope you all die in a ditch in your next lives.”

Taking her comment with a pinch of salt you all resumed back to what you were doing before, listening to Jeremy as he mentioned some old lost media legend. “That reminds me, Jeremy you’re into lost media and stuff, have you seen this black and white tv show it’s kind of like the Twilight Zone but it’s just supernatural horror?” Jeremy looked over the rim of his tortoise-shell glasses, squinting at you, his attention was peaked. “What’s it called?” “I don’t know the name of it, I always miss the opening credits or switch the channel.” “So, it’s one you’ve seen?” “Yeah, it’s hosted by this old guy Barry Collins that’s all I know.” Jeremy raised a brow contemplating what you had just told him “I don’t think I’ve heard of it.” “That’s strange it’s on probably eight times a day and it’s the same episode on loop, or at least I assume it is.” You may have been far too optimistic assuming he would solve this mystery in a mere couple of minutes “Well, sounds like a good show, maybe I can come over sometime and see it”.

As the minutes passed a layer of fog seemed to cover everyone’s eyes, a result of the weed and alcohol stash everyone contributed to. You initially wanted to dull down your senses, hoping the one can you had would serve as mental cough syrup, even though it wasn’t strong enough you refused to have any more. So, you sat, keeping yourself entertained by picking at your black and orange pumpkin nails.

It was when you looked up once more when you noticed something flicker at the corner of your eyes and your throat tightened, if it wasn’t for the size of the bonfire, you wouldn’t have noticed it. But the silver switchblade was shimmering as bright as the stars above. So, you could confirm that you weren’t jumping the gun or losing your mind you did a double take, what you didn’t know was that this would result in the worst mistake you had ever made.

Phoebe noticed the nervous flicker in your eyes as you looked towards her drawstring backpack that was slouched at the edge of the log she sat on. In an instant you had sprung to your feet, though you wanted to run your body was stuck in invisible quicksand, fear ceasing your muscles. There was a delayed reaction of a couple of long seconds before anyone noticed you jumping up in fear.

“Damn Katt you need to chill; you scared me half to death.”

“No! I’m not going to chill! You can’t tell me she isn’t going to hurt me! She has a knife!”

If this were any other circumstance, you would have taken a chill pill and even laughed about it, but this was a sick kind of déjà vu. It was hard to determine when the dream had occurred, each night blurred into one, but one image you would never get out of your head was the one where the infamous Phoebe stood, knife in hand, a piercing look in her eyes as a foggy darkness outlined her petite frame.

“You’re totally taking this out of context, this knife isn’t for you. I had other plans tonight.”

“But…” “No Katt, you spoilt the surprise, I thought you could all do a favour for me. I wasn’t going to mention it yet, but I did some soul searching and realised people suck, and there is no way I’m dating Justin again, but I totally need some dick so the next best option. Obviously summon a ghost to sleep with and call it a night.”

The saddest thing about that was the fact that you couldn’t tell whether she was that drunk or whether she had always been this insane.

“I can sense the judgement don’t act all high and mighty you would do the same thing.” “As far as I can tell I definitely wouldn’t do the same thing!” “Well, the knife isn’t for you, no blood sacrifice, it’s to cut hair, string and other some other stuff. I did the other part of the ritual earlier, but I needed an open fire, so I thought I’d get some help.”

You took a step back, grabbing your bag, you didn’t have to be superstitious to know that this was something you didn’t want to be involved in.

“You’re seriously overreacting Katt, hey, if you help me with the ritual maybe we could have a threesome with the ghost.” A thin layer of bile formed in your throat at the idea. But what truly made your stomach churn was the fact that no one was batting an eye, they had made it clear that they wanted to be in on this either for the thrill of it or they were all equally as insane as each other.

Having stood your ground as best as you could for the whole entire night, you allowed yourself to turn in the other direction and run as soon as the candles were lit, and the sigils were roughly etched into the dank soil next to the fire.

Feeling permanently stuck in flight mode you found it impossible to catch your breath, though you were in motion already the swamp green forestry started to spin. In that moment you were waiting to fall face first into the mud and be taken out of this sweet misery but instead you kept moving, losing balance you hopped a few steps forward and into something, or more appropriately someone judging by the sharp sound of them being winded.

You had already made it up in your mind that if it were Tao or literally any one of those phonies you would shove them away and continue running. So, you readied yourself by pulling your arms back, but like an unstable slingshot your arms snapped down to your sides as you looked up to see the kindest doe eyes that were slightly covered by his loose black hair. Considering how you literally winded him, he still held a gentle gaze as he looked down at you, though nothing was said your heartbeat fell into a soft rhythm. For someone who looked as magical as the forest around him it was almost impossible to imagine what his voice would have sounded like. It was up to the stranger to break the silence and he did oh so gracefully, with a comforting smile he spoke his voice just above a hushed whisper.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, deep breathes. If you’re in danger just squeeze my hand.” It wasn’t like you to trust someone so quickly, but this felt different. “I’m fine, they probably weren’t going to hurt me, I just wanted to go home but I don’t know how to get out of here.” He opened his mouth to respond but paused as he heard the ominous snap of branches. Without hesitation he wrapped his arm around you “I can help you get out of here you just need to stick close and tell me everything. His grip was firm, but not vicious as he led you back to where you came from, you hesitated, your pace slowing down.

As if he could read your mind, he went on to soothe you with his words once again. “We need to cut through here, there’s no way I’m letting you go back there. But now you’ve calmed down I need to know what you were running from.” “I don’t think you’re going to believe me.” You pause awaiting his name. “Seonghwa.” “Seonghwa.” The way his name felt falling from your lips was addictive, “Well.” He paused too “Katt.” “Katt, I doubt you’d be this shaken up for no reason, plus I definitely heard some shouting.”

“I just escaped one potential murderer, so I hope you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing out here so late?” Without missing a beat, he answered. “I was picking mushrooms.” Man, he was really out here being the most ethereal forest being in the universe. Noticing your bewilderment, he continued “My grandma used to forage as a child, and she asked me to go get some mushrooms.” Despite his simple explanation many of your questions remained unanswered, yet your curiosity pushed forward. “So, you’re a fan of ghost mushrooms then, interesting.” Seonghwa grinned at your dry retort “I’m more of an oyster mushroom guy, I imagine the poison would be too bitter for me.”

Scoffing at his response you were captivated by the instant shimmer of light that cast itself onto his cheek, as if he was warmed by the rays he hummed in delight, even though it was a mere streetlamp.

“There you go, I should be getting home.”

Your mind had already weaved a beautiful narrative of discovering “the one” hiding out beneath the shady leaves, so you held onto his arm for a few seconds too long. Seonghwa noticed, tilting his head like a curious rabbit before realisation set in. His soft gaze flickered with a sense of confidence, “Unless you’d prefer that I walk you home.” “I would like that but please don’t keep your grandma waiting.” “I don’t think she’ll mind; evening walks are kind of a norm for me.” “Thank you so much, I owe you one.” Seonghwa looked off into the distance shielding you from his suave grin, part of him hoping that you would give him something sensual in return. Despite his sinful temptation he looked back at you his sharp eyes softening as he feigned innocence. “Katt” He savoured each syllable, “You don’t owe me anything, unless…” He dropped the sentence hoping you’d bite back enough for him to charm you. “Whatever it is, yes.” “I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, friend.”

For the first time that night you genuinely laughed.

“It’s your lucky day, I’m definitely looking for new friends.” The transition between extreme fear and instantaneous lovesickness left you in a daze, so much so that you didn’t realise that either A. Seonghwa knew where you lived or B. That you subconsciously knew where your house was, nor had you realised that you had released his arm from your tight, timid grasp. The swinging of your arms brought forward the autumn winds which then brought forward the faint smell of dirt and mushrooms. The conversation itself was way more colourful than the streetlights that made his eyes twinkle.

The house called your name, but you refused to listen, hesitant to leave Seonghwa’s side. It’s not like you fully believed that it was haunted or evil it just wasn’t it. If he noticed your hesitance, he didn’t acknowledge it. There was something he wanted to say, but instead he glared at the house as if he had a vendetta against it.

“Thanks for walking me home, I really appreciate it.” “Of course, anything to see you safe from the Oktober ghouls and witches.” He said that part with a smooth chuckle, swiping his lower lip with his tongue.

“I hope to see you sometime soon Katt. You made my night even though you practically winded me.” “Hey! I said I was sorry, I think, look I was scared.” “Well, how about you make it up to me with a hug next time? Good night Katt.” One sheepish smile and a polite wave later and Seonghwa was up the road, looking back at you as you entered your house. What he didn’t see or hear was the delighted squeal you let out as you clutched your heart, excited butterflies warmed your heart as you closed your eyes, his face, no his smile, no… his everything was a good enough reason to keep your eyes clenched shut as you walked to your room, again it felt like you already knew this place like the back of your hand. Once you had made it to your room you fell back on your bed, too dazed, and your heart feeling too light to notice the misplaced shadows or the murmuring that surrounded you.

You had fallen asleep, something you found hard to believe, but what was more of a shock was the fact that you also left the door unlocked. Your parents were prepared to enter a house devoid of all your belongings. Luckily nothing had been stolen and even better, after losing sight of you at church, they returned home to find you asleep with a peaceful smile on your face. Even so, they wasted no time questioning your whereabouts as soon as you made your way downstairs for breakfast. You had a keen sense of self-awareness in the way that you knew that your lie was utter bullshit, yet you decided to commit to the bit and claim that you were there for most of the bible study session until you got a stomach-ache and that the church knew about the entire situation and that Tao had walked you home.

“You know you can be honest Katt.” “I’m telling the truth! I haven’t been well lately; it might be a summer cold or like an autumn cold? All I know is it sucks, and I still don’t feel good.” Your dad was certainly more amused by your flailing arms as opposed to your mom who shovelled more syrup-drenched pancakes onto your plate, hoping you would calm down and eat. You didn’t show any sign of stopping, so your mom took any type of silence to interject “Don’t let your pancakes go cold.” Hoping that you had convinced your parents enough you ate, savouring the syrup. You were in no rush to finish them trying to delay the ordeal of doing the dishes today, yet it was that day that your saviour arrived at the door.

As soon as the knock resounded throughout the entire house you jumped up, speed walking away from your parents prying gaze. At this stage you would have been relieved to see the damn mailman, However, you were greeted with something way better. His hair gently fell across his forehead, even though it was a wavy mess it seemed calculated, and he wore a plain white shirt. Only one thought crossed your mind, ‘Were his lips always so rosy?’ Being so captivated by his morning beauty, you overlooked the basket in his hands. “Good morning Katt, I hope I didn’t wake you, but I’m just dropping by to give this to you, see it as a housewarming gift from both of us.” “I, that’s so sweet! You didn’t have to do that, really.” You hadn’t been able to put your finger on it last night but there was something about his eyes, whenever you looked into them you felt even more determined to keep him a secret, he was your own personal fairy, he was magical in every way, a midsummer’s night dream.

As soon as you heard your parents approaching you leaned in close to him, your breath catching the corner of his ear “I’m inviting you inside act like you don’t know me, I haven’t told my parents about you yet.” Seonghwa nodded “Why don’t you come inside?” Seonghwa was about to step inside, but he hesitated, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched. Cursing on the inside he stepped inside, lured in by the way you looked over your shoulder, beckoning him to follow you.

Seonghwa had always been perceptive, he could sense when he wasn’t wanted and even though he knew you were ecstatic to see him the constant chattering of disembodied voices was headache inducing. Still Seonghwa smiled appearing as charming as ever when he introduced himself to your parents “I can’t stay for long, I just wanted to drop this off.” You couldn’t tell if his ethereal nature was lost on them or whether they were in awe of him like you were. They seemed almost robotic in their response; it was rare for them to be this polite to anybody especially a guy that you liked. He must have had that effect on people.

“Park Seonghwa, I just got back a couple of days ago, out of town for my grandmother’s knee operation, we made this together to welcome you. It’s sort of a tradition of ours.” Your mom stood, impressed by his reserved nature. She reached for the basket noticing that it was predominantly food combined with a few small ornaments. “It’s all homemade.” He had a habit of smiling whenever he mentioned his grandma and it made you wonder if she was just as kind as Seonghwa.

Your mom was somewhat shocked at the revelation she gestured to the wooden ornaments “These too?” “Yeah, we carved them out of oak.” You knew her silence meant that she was impressed, marvelling at the fine lines etched into the wood but Seonghwa couldn’t read her. “It’s not a good luck charm or anything it’s just something good to look at.” “I think it’ll look perfect right here.” Pushing it into the centre of the dining room table your mom scooped the basket into her arms. “Wait, is that strawberry jam? Pass it here.” Passing you the old hand-painted jar she walked into your kitchen, you assumed they were probably going to wear his name out behind his back, it was apparent by the fact that your dad trailed after her instead of Gizmo or Prince.

“You’re so magical I was literally craving strawberry jam.” Since they had walked away Seonghwa had relaxed, a flirty smile overtaking him as he noticed you struggling with the jar. The brush of his hand sent a jolt of flaming electricity down your spine, but it had yet to disappear as his cool hands lingered on top of yours. “I’ll get that.” Upon passing the jar to him it was open in one swift motion of his wrist, as a force of habit you reached for the jar “Oh my, I told you I got it.” Placing the jar on the table he dipped the discarded butter knife into it collecting the jam. He did the following with such ease, tearing off the edge of an untainted pancake and smearing it with red.

It was naïve of you to think that Seonghwa was an innocent man, devoid of any form of lust, in the short time you had known him he was constantly dancing on the fine line of being an innocent boy and a man fully aware of everything around him. In short, he knew what he was doing when he brought the pancake up to your mouth. His fingers were skilfully positioned to ensure that once you took a bite the jam would dirty them, in any other situation he would avoid anything sticky or that wasn’t mud. Unlike those moments he knew that someone, you, would clean them for him. Instead of removing his fingers he let them linger until you licked the jam from his fingers.

“That’s it.”

Seonghwa’s words meant nothing at the time, but that was then after spending each day together that’s the reality you now had. You went from taking comfort into Tao’s kindness to chasing after Seonghwa, or at least you would be the one chasing after him if he didn’t show up at your house or approach you while you were out and lure you away. Following the situation with the strawberry jam Seonghwa was subtle. He would edge you by showing the side of him that was willing to kiss you silly, but for some reason he never did kiss you. He wanted to but not yet. So here you were in a section of the woods that you most likely ran past in a panic on that one night that you never wanted to relive. For once your life seemed like one every suburban teen lived even if you were a little too old to be considered one. You sat on the ratty tartan picnic blanket drowning in happiness.

Seonghwa made a habit of occasionally looking up at you from his section of the clearing, his hands littered with dirt as he ran his hands across the clumped dirt while he hummed along to the radio. “I swear I’m not holding it against you, but you did promise to help me.” “And I will I’m just thinking.” “About?” “Things… but more importantly why don’t you ever wear gloves when you do that?” “It depends on the answer that you want. I can give you sane or insane, take your pick.” “I’ll take the Seonghwa answer.” “Maybe it’s not the weirdest thing ever but I like the feeling of the dirt on my fingers so damp and cool, plus who needs cologne when the dirt makes you smell so fresh.” “Seonghwa, you know that half of the time I can’t tell whether you’re telling the truth or not.” “Yes, and I thought that’s what made you like me. I’m pretty sure you said you liked my Hozier charm, even though he probably copied my likeness.” Seonghwa prodded at the dirt again.

It was the second time you broke your promise to Seonghwa, you did say you would help him collect, mushrooms, acorns, and butterfly wings amongst other things. It sounded like a fun Saturday afternoon but as the time came you just wanted to admire how beautiful he was, a hobby that you discovered days after meeting him. The leaves blocked out the afternoon sun, providing you with the privacy you needed to make the next move.

Seonghwa looked straight ahead, despite being away from you he could hear the thudding in your chest, he sensed fear. But it didn’t make sense he hadn’t done it yet, immediate dread filled him. It seemed you had finally caught on to his lies. Instead of showing his exasperation he kept looking ahead at him, ignoring the centipede that crawled over him he pressed his palms into the wet dirt trying to calm himself. He didn’t feel fear, don’t get it twisted his dread came from the fact that the game of cat and mouse had been cut incredibly short.

“Seonghwa, I have something to tell you.” That’s not what he expected, he sighed in relief he had never been the best at reading human emotions. Bracing himself to be ever the gentleman you knew him to be Seonghwa rose from the ground, patting his on his upper thigh. Approaching you he kneeled peering into the deepest part of your eyes “What is it?” Honestly you were prepared to shout it out to him but having him this knocked all the air out of your body.

‘Get it together Katt’ you thought when he brought his hand up to your shoulder. His gaze was hooded waiting for permission, he was monstrous on the inside, but he wasn’t devoid of sympathy even if it was false in nature.

“I didn’t keep my promise.” “You silly thing, you can always start by searching over there.” “Not that promise… You told me the night we met that you wanted a friend, I owed it to you, and I can’t do it.” He thought he knew how this was going to end, yet you had him stumped. “None of this makes any sense Katt.”

“I don’t know how else to say this Seonghwa, I love you and that’s it.”

If Seonghwa knew how to feel guilt he would have but that wasn’t the way of the incubus, then again, he didn’t know whether he ever acted like his kind. As far as he knew he was the only one who played with his victims before devouring their lustful souls. It was the thrill of the chase he wanted more than anything. After your confession you had looked away from him, your nerves had gotten the best of you. But by the time you looked back up at him your heart that you had so lovingly given to him got caught in your throat. Your first reaction was to scream so you did, but over the loud radio and his hand pressed against your throat there was no way that scream would grace his presence.

Looking ahead all, you could do was shudder at the man in front of you, though he no longer looked like a living man. His skin was light pewter, coated in thick crackling mud that hardened across his arms, except for the mud on his finger which smeared against your skin. And his eyes? Oh, his eyes were something, even in your terrified state you wanted to swim in his too cold to be orange and the too hot to be blue eyes.

“Sshh little one, if you listen to me I… Well, I doubt you’ll be getting out of here anytime soon. But don’t fret.” The creature between you clicked his tongue against his partially sharpened teeth, but he faltered as you gurgled out a panicked gasp. “Katt, Katt, Katt what am I ever going to do with you. You betrayed my trust; you said you would promise to be my friend yet you’re looking at me like I’m a monster. Seonghwa leaned in his cool breath tickling the edge of your ear. “I couldn’t sense lust like I did when I first met Pheobe, she was lying there inside of the string circle oh so desperate. But let me tell you this. I didn’t want her. I wanted you.” Seonghwa released you and to his surprise you didn’t run, and it warmed him. After all, Seonghwa truly felt like he wasn’t like any other incubus, he didn’t know love, he thrived on fear, but you had captivated him. So, he intended to use the time he had with you to present you with the offer of a lifetime.

“Seonghwa, please I don’t want to die like this.” Seonghwa brought both of his hands up again but this time he cupped your face “Don’t be sorry sweetheart, you have no reason to fear me. You’re lucky she was so far north, if she was in any other part of the forest she could have easily summoned San, Mingi or Hongjoong and trust me they wouldn’t have let you leave. It’s still me.” It was frankly insane, this had to be one of your elaborate nightmares. “Katt, I was willing to kill you, but not now, I have other plans. I just want you to hear me out but first I would like you to enlighten me. Tell me… why were you so keen to want me?”

The urge to run was still present but looking at him you still managed to see the man you fell in love with, it was odd to still love something like him but his voice, this everything was enough to have you chasing after him. “I thought I finally found the person who truly understands me, I thought you would fool me into liking this stupid town but turns out I was the stupid one.”

“If you’re a fool then I am as equally so for I have a proposal.” His eyes were flickering like two sleepy flames ready to die out, you would have run but one thing was keeping you where you were, the growing warmth in his touch.

“I recall each word you uttered to me, you want the nightmares to stop, you want the voices to stop. What if I said I could help you?” Your throat was ashen dry, so you gave up on answering him, but your eyes said it all. “Instead of making a deal with the devil I would like you to consider making a deal with an incubus. Even if you failed to keep your promises, I know you will be able to keep this one.” At first you had assumed that your compliance was a way of survival but as strange, sick, and twisted as it sounded your heart already found a way to love him. “Tell me about this deal.”

Today was a day of firsts and Seonghwa finally had the pleasure of saying that he had experienced resting his head against that of someone he would have loved if he were human. “If you agree to do this, let me bed you out here let me give you a part of myself I can guarantee that no one in this town, human, demon, or ghost will harm you. I will protect you Katt, I will take away all the noise and all your nightmares if you let me.” “Please do it.”

He crashed his lips onto yours, you savoured the taste. It was rough but knowing Seonghwa or whoever this creature was it was safety. Bringing your arms up you clasped them around him encouraging him to dip his body down. “I’m trying hard Katt, but I want to taste you.” “I didn’t think incubuses cared about their victims.” “You’re mistaken you’re definitely mine but a victim? Of course not.” Seonghwa’s touch seemed to transition from stone cold to warm and comforting with each lingering kiss. After dragging them across each inch of your body he unbuttoned your black and orange cardigan. One, two or three kisses and you were addicted, it was hard to tell as each kiss bled into the other. Instead of letting the cardigan fall off your shoulder Seonghwa hooked the edge of it with his finger, dragging it down. Expecting more gentle touches you were startled by the sensation of his teeth nipping at your bare skin, ever the mystic forest fairy he seemed to be he made roses bloom in his wake.

You had snuck through the back door this time, another faint smile gracing your lips, another difference was the fact that your parents were home this time. They remained optimistic, you were bright and talkative over the past few weeks, but this time you walked straight past them. Taking a seat on the couch you stared at the black screen ahead of you, you looked a mess, but you loved it. Your eyes were too cold to be orange and too hot to be blue, the mud was beginning to crack on your skin but probably the thing you were the most grateful for was the fact that Seonghwa kept his promises, the voices in your head ceased to exist and for a split second you could see Seonghwa sitting next to you.

“Whatever I feel for you Katt know it’s the most powerful thing in this waking world.” His words melted away along with his smoky figure. Staring ahead of the screen you couldn’t help but sigh as you rubbed your head before laughing, that was a habit you could stop now. The pain and the voices ceased thanks to him. As you closed your eyes, reliving the sensation of Seonghwa’s body on yours, his tongue wrapped around your most sensitive areas and his hands scratching down your back you closed your eyes. All that was heard was the tv turning on as the same ancient host was brought back to life.

“I will let you in on a little secret, listen closely. Sometimes love and terror can prove to be as beautiful as one another, we chase love because we fear that we will be alone but some of us look fear incarnate in the eyes and we fall in love. Next door to that everyday neighbourhood, that American apple pie life, is a forest. And some of us let curiosity get the better of us, but it’s certainly not all bad for we find new life by running away from the old. The piercing yowling of the ghosts cease to exist, because Katt looked evil in the eye and hidden underneath his heaving breath Katt heard a faint thud of a heartbeat."

#atinyhalloweenproject #park seonghwa #ateez x reader #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x oc #ateez seonghwa #kpop x reader #ateez #au #demon au #demon seonghwa #ateez demon au #ateez x oc #incubus seonghwa

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ohmyamor · 1 year

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he’s kinda hot | K.HJ

Pairing: Demon!Hongjoong x reader

Summary: After a decent run with your boyfriend, you finally decide to end it when his paranoia becomes too much. Except, maybe he wasn’t crazy. And now you have a demon who refuses to leave you alone.

w.c. 4.6k

Warnings: fluff, slight angst if you squint, minor character death he’s a dick don’t worry, mentions of blood and icky sounds but nothing is seen directly, suggestive content, cursing, desire hongjoong lives in my mind rent free

There’s something wrong with your boyfriend.

You first began to notice his odd behavior a little over a month ago, but for the past week, it’s gotten progressively worse.

What started off as slight jumpiness and anxiety has now turned into full fledged paranoia, to the point where he refuses to ever leave the house, having breakdowns over this ‘person’ who’s after him.

“What do mean you can’t go with me?” You sighed exasperatedly, crossing your arms and staring at the sad excuse of a man standing in front of you.

A few months ago, you might’ve cared about how tired and worn-down he looked, but now? At this point in your relationship?

You really couldn’t care less.

“Are you crazy?” Your boyfriend all but shouts at you.

You feel your jaw clench at his tone.

“Do you know what’ll happen if I go out there?” he continues shouting like a madman. “He’s going to get me! They’re all going to get me! It’s not safe for me out there!”

There’s a crazed look in his eyes and you feel a slight chill run up your spine.

You don’t think you want to stick around any longer to find out what his tipping point is going to be.

“Okay, then stay,” you spit, marching over to the couch to grab your wallet and keys. “Stay here and rot for all I care because you have been nothing but a paranoid piece of shit lately and you refuse to get help.”

“I’m not going to sit around and wait for this episode or whatever you want to call it,” you wave your hands around, “to end, because I have a life and I am not going to sit around waiting for you to get it together.”

“So this relationship ends here,” you glare at him.

“Good luck getting by without anybody who cares about you,” you let the words hang in the air as you walk to the front door and exit the apartment, slamming the door shut behind you.

Huffing, you shove your wallet and keys into your pocket and begin the trek to the grocery store.

After spending a few hours running errands and killing time, you’ve calmed down significantly.

You had called your close friend Seonghwa on the way to the market, telling him what had happened between you and your now ex-boyfriend.

“He sounds crazy,” Seonghwa had said over the phone.

“I know Hwa, which is why I decided to end it because I refuse to stay in another relationship where the other person expects me to solve all of their problems,” you groaned.

He hummed over the line.

“Plus,” you continue. “There was this look, in his eyes and on his face, like he genuinely believed there was something out to get him.”

Seonghwa is quiet.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It just gave me a really bad feeling and you know how I feel about gut instincts. I’d rather trust myself and be safe than sorry.”

“Yeah of course. Honestly honey, I think you did the right thing. I never liked him from the beginning, but you were happy and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, but I agree, if you have a bad feeling about something, you should always trust your intuition,” Seonghwa reassures you.

You let out a small laugh.

“And don’t worry,” he continues, “You’re an amazing person and a great catch, so it’ll be no time before you have someone else falling at your feet.”

You roll your eyes.

Even if he can’t see you, Seonghwa’s known you for long enough to anticipate your habits.

“Thank you Hwa,” you smile into the phone.

“Anytime.”

The two of you chatted on for a little bit more after that, with Seonghwa letting you know he always had an extra room in case you needed to crash at his place for a while.

You thanked him once again but refused his offer. After all, the lease on the apartment was under your name, and you paid most of the bills, so if anyone was going to be leaving, it’s going to be your ex.

The conversation was definitely much-needed, and after the reassurance that you weren’t crazy for ending your relationship, you felt much more confident to head back to your apartment and kick out the man living there.

Once you finally made it back to your building, you exited the elevator and walked down the corridor to your apartment door. Taking deep breaths, you began to steel your nerves in order to prepare for whatever breakdown the male might have.

As you approached your door, you noticed that it looked slightly open.

You pause in your footsteps, narrowing your eyes to see if the door was truly open or if it’s just a trick of your eyes.

Dread begins to build in your stomach when you realize that your door is, in fact, open.

It’s fine, you attempt to reassure yourself in your mind. Maybe he finally got the hint and left.

Cautiously, you approach the door and push it open with your foot.

Stepping inside, you notice how eerily quiet it is.

Normally when you come back from work or running errands, your boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, you remind yourself, is doing something to keep himself busy in his self-appointed quarantine. Whether it’s playing a video game or watching T.V., there’s always some kind of noise echoing throughout your small apartment.

But now, there’s nothing.

It’s also incredibly dark.

Dropping the grocery bags onto the floor softly, you reach into your pocket to pull out your keys. You move to the turn on the light switch that’s on the wall, but freeze when you hear whimpering coming from somewhere in the room.

You opt to not turn on the light, unsure of where the noise is coming from and also slightly terrified of what’s going on.

You keep one hand on your phone, ready in case you need to call the police.

Quietly and ever so slowly, you make your way to the bedroom where the whimpering noise is coming from.

The door to your room is slightly ajar, allowing a few rays of light to peek through. On the carpet in the hallway is a dark trail of something.

You swallow thickly, hoping it’s not what you think it is.

You stop in front of the bedroom door and strain your ears to listen to the noises coming from the room. With your heart pounding loudly in your chest, you come to the realization that the whimpers are coming from your ex-boyfriend.

“Now, now, now,” a voice that is certainly not your boyfriend’s rings out.

“Crying isn’t going to get you anything,” the voice chuckles. “You knew what the price of the deal was, and yet, you still tried to double-cross me.”

There’s more muffled crying.

“Silly human,” the voice says sinisterly.

“Didn’t anybody ever warn you to not make deals with the devil?”

The sound of flesh being torn reaches your ears along with pained crying, and you feel sick to your stomach when a metallic smell reaches your nose.

You bring your hands up to cover your mouth to prevent yourself from gagging. You have no clue what you should even do at this point. Whatever’s in there with your ex is either an incredibly deranged human being, or something not even human.

You don’t want to find out which one it is.

After what feels like forever, the muffled crying stops, and your stomach sinks when you come to realization that your ex might now be dead.

The person inside the room sighs.

“Open the door sweetheart.”

Your blood runs cold.

Raising a trembling hand, you move to push the door open, bracing yourself for whatever gruesome sight awaits you and whatever monster you’ll see standing in your room.

Except, you see neither.

There is no body in your room, nor is there any blood or gruesome mess.

There’s also certainly no monster.

Instead, a man sits on a single chair in the middle of the room.

He has bright red hair and a slightly pointed nose. Jewelry adorns his ears and hands, and he wears a pair of dark dress pants with a white shirt that’s tucked in. His sleeves are rolled up on his arms.

If it weren’t for the small splatters of a red substance on his otherwise pristine shirt, you might’ve thought that what you heard before never happened.

Your eyes drag over his figure before coming to rest on his face. The two of you make eye contact and a shiver runs down your spine at the wicked smile he sends you.

“Did you enjoy our little show?”

You say nothing.

The man sighs and places his hands on his thighs, pushing himself up off the chair. He takes a few steps forward until he stands less than a foot away from you.

I’m going to die, you think.

I’m going to die a horrible and gruesome death and no one will ever know and i’ll never see my friends again and i’ll never say goodbye to my parents and-

The man chuckles.

“You’re not going to die.”

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the man reaches his hand out to gently grab yours. He bows slightly, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on the back of your hand while maintaining eye contact.

“My name is Hongjoong and I’m the demon who just took care of your pesky little boyfriend problem.”

Was laughing out loud to the man’s, demon’s?, introduction the best choice?

Probably not.

But you cannot be blamed for your habit of laughing in awkward situations.

After all, here is this man, who just admitted to killing your ex-boyfriend, introducing himself to you as a demon and also kissing the back of your hand like the two of you were in the 1700′s.

What sane person would have a normal reaction to that?

As soon as the sound made its way out of your body, your free hand immediately slapped itself over your mouth and your eyes widened in horror.

If the demon didn’t have any plans on killing you at first, he’s definitely going to now.

The man doesn’t say anything, simply raising a brow as a small smile takes over his face.

“I’m glad you found my introduction so amusing sweetheart, but I can assure you, this is certainly real.”

As he said that, you watched in slight horror as his eyes faded from a soft brown color to dark pools of black. Swallowing, you attempt to tug your hand out of the demon’s grasp to try and back away, but his grip only tightens.

He clicks his tongue and within a fraction of a second, his eyes have returned to brown.

“Why are you here?” You finally muster up the courage to speak. Despite your attempts to sound even the slightest bit brave, the waver to your voice was obvious.

Hongjoong sighs, annoyed.

“That sorry excuse of a man you called your boyfriend was in my debt. I made it clear to him when he made a deal with me what the price would be, and he still attempted to evade me.” He rolled his eyes and for a split second, the demon reminded you of a parent whose child wouldn’t listen.

“What deal did he make?” You question, your curiosity getting the better of you.

The demon looks back at you.

“Nothing that concerns your pretty little self,” he winks.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at his actions.

“Considering you just killed him, I think it’s safe to assume it was a pretty important deal,” you challenge.

A grin creeps onto Hongjoong’s face.

“So you have the looks and the brains to accompany it,” his smile widens.

You try to fight back the heat that was rising to your cheeks.

Yeah, maybe he’s a demon who killed your ex-boyfriend, but he’s also an incredibly attractive demon who just called you smart and beautiful. Who are you to deny his compliments?

“But,” Hongjoong continues. “If you must know, he wanted to become wealthy and successful.” He takes a glance at your reaction. “And he wanted lots of women.”

You can’t hide the disgusted look that makes its way onto your face.

“That piece of shit,” you mutter under your breath.

After everything you did for him, he still had the audacity to go behind your back, make a deal with a demon, and wish for wealth and women?

I really know how to pick ‘em, you think bitterly.

Hongjoong continues, noticing the look on your face.

“But no need to worry, sweetheart. I’ve taken care of your little problem, and I do think you come out of this fiasco the winner.”

Your eyebrows furrow and you stare at him in confusion.

Hongjoong leans in close, close enough where you can feel his breath on your face and his lips are mere inches from yours. His eyes have slowly begun to bleed black and another wicked smile makes its way onto his face.

“Now, you have me.”

It seems as though demons share the unfortunate similarity to human males where they seem to be extra sensitive in between their legs.

Unfortunately for Hongjoong, you had taken advantage of his proximity to knee him where the sun doesn’t shine. While he doubled over in pain, you take the opportunity to run out of your bedroom and head straight for the front door.

I just need to get out, I need to call someone, I need to call Seonghwa-

Right as your fingers brush against the door handle, a hand grabbed at your wrist and yanked you back.

Grunting, you land harshly on the floor, the breath being knocked out of you. A weight over your body makes you wince. Opening your eyes, you watch as Hongjoong straddles your waist, his hands coming down to rest near your head.

He clicked his tongue.

“Nice try cutie, but you can’t get away from me that easily.”

Struggling, you attempt to shove him off of you, but despite his slightly smaller stature, the stupid demon won’t budge.

“I didn’t make a deal with you!” You cry out, punching his chest. “You got what you wanted, so leave me alone!”

Hongjoong lets out a chuckle.

“I don’t think you get it sweetheart. I want you.”

“Why?” You pant, your adrenaline slowly fading and confusion taking over.

Hongjoong shrugs.

“You intrigue me.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes.

“How romantic,” you say sarcastically.

“See, this is what I mean,” he gestures down at your body that is still laying on the floor. “When I was dealing with your boyfriend, you heard what was going on and instead of leaving, you stayed behind the door.”

He knew I was there the entire time?

“When I introduced myself, you laughed, and even after our entire conversation, you still had the gall to hurt me to try and run away.” He stares into your eyes so deeply that you can’t help but squirm slightly.

“It’s called a fight or flight response.”

Hongjoong giggles, and if it weren’t for the fact that you are currently pinned down beneath the demon, you honestly might find it kind of cute.

Sighing, you let your hands fall to the floor next to you. Hongjoong looks at you slightly amused.

“So what, you’re gonna stick around and when you eventually get bored, you’re gonna kill me and take me soul?”

He tilts his head to the side.

“I can if you want me to.”

With wide eyes, you shake your head no.

“That’s what I figured,” Hongjoong chuckles. “No, you haven’t made a deal with me, so I won’t take your soul. You’re just stuck with me now.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“Great,” you sigh.

In Hongjoong’s defense, having him around isn’t that bad.

For the most part, he sticks to himself, observing you as you go about your day.

“That’s really creepy,” you mentioned offhandedly one day.

“What is?” Hongjoong questioned.

“This whole, standing and staring thing you have going on,” you waved your hand around.

“Would you prefer me to be up close and personal with you?” In the blink of an eye, Hongjoong is standing directly against you.

Taking a step back, you raise your hands in front of you.

“No, I’m fine, you can continue with your staring.”

On occasion, he can be pretty helpful, too.

You slam the door to your apartment open, stomping inside and throwing your bag on the floor. You throw yourself face-first onto the couch and let out a muffled scream.

From where he sits at the dining table watching Netflix on your computer, Hongjoong stares at you, amused.

“Is everything okay sweetheart?”

“No,” comes your muffled reply.

If Hongjoong didn’t have incredibly sharp hearing, he would have a hard time understanding you.

“Stupid Eric from work thinks he can just treat all the women like pieces of meat and get away with it because he’s the boss’s son,” you spit.

You miss the way Hongjoong’s face darkens.

“Did he do something to you?” He questions.

You’re silent for a moment, debating if you want to say it out loud.

“It’s just,” you trail off, unsure how to say it.

Hongjoong hums, letting you know that he’s listening.

“He’s always made comments to all the women in my department, and those are easy to ignore, but today he got really close to me when we were in the break room.”

You can feel your body tense up as you relive the moment.

“Honestly, I thought he was going to try and do something, but luckily, one of our coworkers walked in before he could do anything,” you admit.

It’s silent for a few seconds.

“I’ll be back,” are the only words that come out of Hongjoong’s mouth.

You sit up abruptly from the couch.

“Huh?”

Before you can even finish speaking, Hongjoong is gone.

“So much for moral support,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back against the couch.

It’s not until late that the demon returns.

You’re sitting on your bed with a face mask on, scrolling through work emails when Hongjoong appears suddenly at the foot of your bed.

You jump slightly, only calming down when you realize who it is.

“Fuck dude, you can’t keep doing that,” you chastise him, trying to calm your racing heart.

Hongjoong says nothing, staring at you.

It’s only then you notice the way his eyes are completely black and he’s breathing abnormally hard.

A shiver crawls up your spine.

“Are you okay?” You ask hesitantly.

Still, Hongjoong remains quiet for a moment before rolling his shoulders back, a deep exhale escaping him.

“You don’t need to worry about that Eric anymore,” is all he says before walking out of your room.

Although you’re slightly horrified at the implications of his words, you also can’t deny the fuzzy feeling in your chest over his actions.

The most annoying part about having him around, though, is the teasing.

Hongjoong seems to have made it his mission to fluster you.

Constantly.

You had just stepping out of the bath, a satisfied sigh escaping you as you wrapped a fuzzy towel around your body.

After a long week, the long, warm bath was incredibly needed.

Softly combing through your hair, you hum slightly as you go through your nighttime skincare routine, being extra thorough and gentle.

Once you finish, you open the door to your bathroom and step out into your room, only to gasp when you see Hongjoong laying on your bed.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You exclaim as one of your hands reaches up to tightly grab the towel that’s wrapped around your body.

Hongjoong glances over at you, drinking in the sight of your damp body.

“Enjoying the view,” he winks.

You roll your eyes, walking over to the bedroom door and opening it.

“Get out.”

The demon pouts as he sits up on your bed.

“C’mon, don’t you think I’ve been good lately?” He stands up slowly and begins making his way over to you.

Hongjoong gets closer, a small smirk making its way onto his face.

“Don’t you think I deserve a reward?”

You stand completely still against the wall, gulping harshly. There’s a heat that builds in your lower stomach as you stare into his hooded eyes.

One of Hongjoong’s hands creeps up to gently toy with the edge of the towel that lays against your chest.

“If you ever feel so kind,” Hongjoong leans in to whisper against your ear. “You know where to find me.”

He leans away from you, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Wordlessly, he walks out of your bedroom and shuts the door.

You quickly place the lock on it before sitting down on your bed. Placing a hand over your chest, you feel it beat harshly against your chest.

What the fuck was that?

Today is a particularly bad day.

From running late in the morning, missing your normal bus to work, and being reprimanded for a mistake you didn’t even do, you think your last straw is when it starts pouring on your way home.

Of course, the weatherman certainly did not predict this today, so you were left umbrella-less and with only a thin blazer to shield yourself from the elements.

And, with your incredible luck, a call from your mother nagging about why you haven’t visited in a few months and how you need to start thinking about a more serious career really seemed to tip you over the edge.

You don’t even make it all the way home, instead opting to go to the nearby park to sit and be alone for a little while.

The rain hasn’t stopped, but it no longer bothers you. In fact, you welcome the harsh sting of water against your skin. It’s the only feeling you seem to be able to comprehend at this moment.

You sit on the swing and stare numbly at your feet. There are tears making their way down your cheeks, but you cannot distinguish them from the rain.

You’re not sure how long you sit there alone.

Only the sudden lack of water pelting down on you causes you to look up.

Standing next to you in casual clothes is Hongjoong. He holds an umbrella over you, the rain beginning to soak his left side.

You hadn’t even notice him approach.

“You know, if you wanted to get killed or die from a hypothermia, this is a for sure way to do it,” he jokes.

You don’t respond.

Hongjoong notices your lack of response and furrows his eyebrows.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?”

His tone is gentle, probably the softest you’ve ever heard him speak.

You can’t stop the sobs that leave your mouth at his words.

Without hesitation, Hongjoong drops the umbrella and falls to his knees in front of you. He brings his arms up as you fall into the chest, your face burrowing itself into his neck.

He says nothing as you cry, rubbing his hands softly against your back and stroking your hair.

It takes a few minutes for your sobs to die down and when you do, Hongjoong gently pulls your body away from his to look at you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He questions, eyes searching your own.

The look of despair on your face breaks Hongjoong’s heart. His chest physically hurts at the way you seem to be in so much pain, and him, unable to do anything about it.

He can’t remember the last time he felt so distraught over a human.

“I’m so tired,” you breathe out, closing your eyes.

A few stray tears make their way down your cheeks and Hongjoong cups your face with his hands, gently brushing them away.

“Then use me,” He says.

“Rest on me, take your anger out on me, hurt me, laugh at me, I don’t care.”

The raw honesty in his voice causes you to open your eyes and stare at him.

“It hurts me to see you in pain,” he frowns.

You let out a weak chuckle.

“I didn’t know demons could feel pain,” you attempt to joke.

Hongjoong doesn’t reply, only continuing to stare at you as if he’s trying to commit every inch of your face to memory.

“I feel so strongly for you it hurts,” he whispers.

Your eyes widen and you stare into his, trying to search for any inkling of deceit that will let you know he’s lying.

You can’t find any.

Your mouth parts, but no words come out. Hongjoong runs one of his fingers over your bottom lip.

“If you let me,” he glances from your lips up to your eyes. “I want to be your everything, the same way you are mine.”

The only thing that leaves your lips is a breathy sigh of his name. He leans in closer.

“May I?” He asks lowly.

You barely have a chance to nod before Hongjoong is crashing his lips onto yours.

The kiss is passionate, slightly desperate in the way he clutches onto your face and pulls you closer, as if you’ll disappear from his hands if he leaves even an inch of space between your bodies.

Hongjoong lightly nibbles on your lower lip and you let out a soft sigh. One of his hands has moved to your hip, where it rubs soft circles.

Eventually pulling away from each other, you lean your forehead against his.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone,” Hongjoong admits to you.

You let out a small laugh and shake your head.

“You’re like a million years old, I find that slightly hard to believe.”

He shakes his head no, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to rest against his chest where his heart is. Underneath your palm, you feel the way his heart pounds.

“This is all for you,” Hongjoong smiles.

“Only for you.”

bonus!

You and Hongjoong were enjoying a night in, laying down on your bed as a movie played on the T.V. Hongjoong had draped himself over your lap, resting his head on your stomach as you gently combed your hands through his hair.

“You know, for a demon, I thought you would have horns or something,” you mumble, eyes focused on the screen. Hongjoong’s body shakes with slight laughter.

“Just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean I have horns. That’s kind of stereotypical of you to assume,” he teases.

You roll your eyes, lightly smacking him on the back of his head.

“I do have fangs though,” he mentions after a couple of seconds.

Your eyes widen.

“Really?”

Hongjoong hums, leaning up slightly to face you. He opens his mouth and you watch as his teeth slowly become pointed. Gaping, you bring your hand up to softly run your fingers over the sharp edges. Your breath hitches slightly when you press the pad of your finger on the point of his tooth and it leaves a small wound.

Grinning, Hongjoong crawls on top of you.

“Do you like them?” he asks.

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s leaning down and leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses on your neck. You let out a breathy sigh, moving your head to side to give him more access. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes when he drags the tips of his sharpened teeth against your skin.

Pulling back to look at your flushed face, Hongjoong smirks, black seeping into his eyes.

“Oh sweetheart,” he purrs. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#hongjoong x reader #hongjoong imagines #kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong imagine #hongjoong au #demon!hongjoong #ateez x reader #ateez imagine #ateez au #demon au

1K notes · View notes

mint-yooxgi · 7 months

Text

{15} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humour, Smut

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on Hongjoong)

Words: 23,108

Warnings: OC get her makeup done (I based it on my own routine, please don't @ me). Smut: Biting, Marking, Blood and semi-bloodletting, Knife Kink, Oral (m. and f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), slight orgasm control (if you squint), minor dom/sub dynamics and switch tendencies, one mention of Mistress, Begging (m. and f.), Overstimulation, Desperation, Squirting, Multiple Orgasms, Cockwarming (at the end), intense emotional intimacy. I think that's everything. 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.

A/n: Finally! The moment you've all been waiting for! I really hope it lives up to everyone's expectations. This smut has been months in the making honestly, and he even surprised ME at times. I'm really happy with how it turned out, so I hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen

A soft tune drifts through the silence of your room curtesy of you. Lowly, you hum to yourself, eyes focussing in on the task at hand. Meticulously, you turn the small products over on the table, making sure that everything is in its place, perfectly set up and ready to be used. All that’s left, is to begin.

Smiling down at your handy work, you give one final glance over the various brushes, containers, and bottles of various sizes and shapes. There is not a product you’ve missed laying out, save for one. However, if all goes according to plan, you’re saving that one for the very end.

Letting out a content sigh, you straighten back to your full height. The small table you’ve set up for this occasion rests before you. The black fold out chair, reminiscent of a director’s seat, stands proudly beside it.

Without wasting another moment, you sit down.

Joongie, The call of his name is nothing short of sweet as you drop your void for the moment, but only for him.

His red string hums with movement. Yes, My Love?

Are you busy? You make sure to keep your voice even, not letting on even the slightest bit as to what you have in mind.

Never too busy for you. Comes his earnest reply, and you can hear the pleasant hum in his tone as he says this.

You cannot help the way your lips pull upwards tenderly.

Well, when you’re free, come and see me. You say, making yourself more comfortable in your chair. I have a-

In the blink of an eye, he’s appeared in front of you. Lightly, he wipes his hands on his jeans, as if they’re still wet after having just washed them.

You chuckle lowly, finishing your thought out loud, “…Surprise for you.”

The first thing he notes as soon as he appears in your room is you sitting in that chair. Your one leg is crossed over the other as you lean back comfortably in your seat. That small table rests beside you, and he cannot help the small quirk of his brow as he takes note of the various makeup products placed meticulously on top of it.

The door to your room seems closed to give the both of you some privacy. One of the doors to the balcony rests open, letting in a gentle breeze as the curtains sway. Sunlight streams in, casting a warm glow on the surrounding area, and bathing you in golden hues as you smile at him.

There you sit, in a plain shirt and loose pants, looking as beautiful as ever.

“A surprise?” He grins, stepping in closer.

“A while back, Seonghwa told me that you’re a very skilled makeup artist.” You begin, meeting his gaze. “I was hoping to spend some time with you today.”

His heart warms, and he steps in closer. Gently, he places his hands onto the arms of the chair, leaning into you slightly. Not enough to crowd you. No, never. Yet, enough so that he can stare deeply into your eyes with a loving look of his own.

“Would you like for me to do your makeup, My Love?” There’s a slight teasing quirk to the corner of his lips, but you can hear how tender his inquiry actually is.

Gently, you bring your hands up to cup his face. “I would love nothing more.”

Leaning forward, you place a brief, loving kiss to his lips.

The smile that tugs at his features as he pulls away to look at you is nothing short of radiant. Almost immediately, he turns to the table, observing the products placed out before him carefully. Meticulously, he begins to roll up the sleeves of his button up shirt to his elbows, noting how your eyes briefly trail over his now exposed forearms. A subtle smirk tugs at his lips, and after nodding to himself, he grabs your moisturizer off of the top of the table. Opening the lid, he turns to face you once more.

“Is it okay if I touch-“

“Please.” You cut him off with a kind smile, sitting a little straighter in your chair.

Hongjoong cannot prevent the way his heart skips a beat, nothing but love swelling in his chest as he looks down at you. Carefully, he steps in closer, gathering a bit of the product on the tips of his fingers before he’s applying it smoothly to your skin.

“You don’t wear makeup often, My Love,” he hums, the caress of his touch nothing short of gentle. “What’s the occasion?”

You quirk a brow at him, your lips tugging upwards lovingly. “Can I not wish to spend time with a man I love?”

The way his touch physically trembles against you for a moment as his expression softens has your heart warming inside of your chest.

“You can spend as much, or as little, time with me as you desire, whenever you wish, My Love.” He meets your gaze, briefly shifting his hand to cup the side of your face. Softly, his thumb traces over your cheekbone. “As long as I get to call you mine.”

Turning your head, you place a tender kiss onto the palm of his hand. Your gaze is nothing but adoring as you glance at him through your lashes.

“Always, My Love.” Your reply is low, so as not to disturb the moment between the both of you. “Just as you will forever be mine.”

A content rumble escapes his chest then and there as he reluctantly pulls his hand away from you. Though, despite his best efforts, he cannot hide the way his fingers still tremble, even the slightest bit. Sharing this moment with you is like a dream come true, and the fact that you trust him enough to indulge in such an intimacy like this with him warms his heart more than you’ll ever know.

His soul has come alight, and it’s all because of you.

Capping the moisturizer, Hongjoong turns his attention back to the table of products beside you. His eyes scan over the contents carefully, eyebrows twitching slightly in recognition once he finds what he’s looking for. The liquid foundation is then plucked from the table top, and it takes no time at all for him to start applying it to your skin.

“There was also another reason I wished for you to do my makeup today,” your eyes glance to his own, noting how he seems quite focussed on the current task at hand.

He hums in response, wordlessly asking for you to continue.

“Seonghwa told me about the coronation we’ll eventually have for me when the time is right,” you admit. “I would love for you to do my makeup for when the celebration takes place.”

The slight hitch in his breath is audible as he pauses his movements for the time being. His eyes dart to your own before flitting all over your face, as if he’s memorizing every feature and committing this moment to memory for years to come. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes begin to shine with that all to familiar adoration and awe you’re so used to from him.

“You do?”

You smile gently, bringing your own hand up to cup the side of his face. “Of course, My Love. I wasn’t lying to you when I said I was ready to become Your Queen.”

Leaning forward, he nearly presses his forehead to yours before stopping himself. Instead, he opts to take your hand in his, bringing the back up to his lips to place a loving kiss onto your skin.

“My Queen,” he breathes, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “When the time comes, I would be honoured.”

The smile that stretches across your features is nothing short of brilliant, and Hongjoong swears the room gets even brighter in the light of the afternoon sun. His whole being floods with nothing but love for you, awe and wonder clear in his gaze as he returns to making sure to apply the foundation evenly over your skin.

The giggle that you let out is music to his ears.

“I know I’ve said it before,” You begin as he turns back to the table beside you in order to grab your stick of toner, “but I truly am lucky to have you, Hongjoong.”

The popping of the seal on your toner is synonymous with the way his breath catches in his throat.

“My Love, it is I who is lucky to have you.” He replies earnestly, managing to pull himself back to reality and lightly begin applying the toner to certain areas over your face.

You reach up to grasp his hand, causing him to pause in his movements for the moment. Your gaze is unfaltering as you meet his own, making sure he knows how serious the next words that fall from your lips are.

“You are the greatest blessing I have ever received in my entire life, Hongjoong.” You breathe. “I hope you never forget that.”

His expression softens, and you can see the beginnings of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “My Queen.”

“We’ve already been through so much together, Hongjoong,” you squeeze his hand held in yours. “Things weren’t easy at the start, but looking back on it now…” This time, it’s your turn to swallow lightly, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

His lips part in a silent gasp, and he swears that you can hear his heart beating within the stillness of your room.

“You have taught me what true happiness feels like.” You cup his hand in both of your own now, holding onto him tenderly as you continue staring deeply into his eyes. “I know what it’s like to be loved, and what it feels like to be in love. Hongjoong, you have saved me in more ways than I can count, and I can never thank you enough for that.”

He blinks back his tears, feeling his heart thundering away inside of his chest as he looks at you. Nothing could take this moment away from him right now. Absolutely nothing.

“You don’t have to thank me, My Love.” His voice is a little rough; strained from the sudden onslaught of emotions you’ve just given him.

“I know that’s what you think.” The soft upturn of your lips has his eyes instantly tracking the movement. “I just thought you should know what you mean to me.” You squeeze his hand once more. “What you’ve done for me.”

“Anything.” He breathes. “I would do anything for you.”

Your heart swells inside of your chest at his response.

“I know, Joongie.” Slowly, you drop your hands back to rest in your lap. “And I will always do the same for you.”

There is no hesitance in your tone, nor falter in your voice as you speak these words. A fact of which that has his head spinning. Truly, this moment, and your admission, means the world to him, and he wouldn’t trade this feeling inside of his soul for anything.

Silence, brief and tender, surrounds the both of you as you stare deeply into each other’s eyes. That is, until Hongjoong is finally clearing his throat, seemingly snapping back to the task at hand. Not before sparing a glance at your lips first, of course.

“Is there a specific style of makeup you’d like to have for your coronation?” His voice nearly catches as he says those words, the full weight of what they imply settling over his entire being.

You said yes. You really are ready and willing to become their Queen. It’s no longer simply just a fantasy of theirs, but will soon become a reality. A reality they have all been longing for since the decision was made to crown you alongside them all those long months ago. Back before you had even truly known of their existence.

You tilt your head slightly, humming lightly, “Nothing too overtly dramatic.”

He huffs out a laugh at this, finishing off with your toner only to grab a blending sponge and start lightly dabbing at your face. His touch is nothing short of gentle as he ensures the toner is blended into your skin evenly before moving on from one area to the next.

“Are you sure, My Love?” His gaze flicks to your own, a teasing quirk to the corner of his lips. “Why not simply decimate everyone who attends with your ethereal beauty?”

This time, it’s your turn to huff out a laugh.

“As tempting as that sounds, I think a softer look might be more fitting for the outfit I have in mind.” Your eyes flutter shut as you say this, simply revelling in his touch as he finishes blending your toner into your skin.

“Outfit?” The quirk of his brow goes unnoticed by you momentarily as he reaches for a new brush and your container of blush.

Blinking your eyes open, you nod, a knowing gleam to your gaze that screams nothing but devious intent.

“It’s a surprise.” You wink, grin tugging onto your lips as you finally see that look of inquiry pulling at his features.

“Then, I look forward to whatever you have in mind.” He sighs, almost wistfully as he begins to apply the lightest dusting of blush to your cheeks.

“Well, I suppose I can give you a little hint,” You hum, noticing how he attempts to not look too eager. “Light tones would work best. Specifically, a blend of white and gold.”

His brow quirks, “White and gold?”

“Let’s just say I have something else in mind that even Seonghwa doesn’t know about yet.” You grin. “Well, if everything works out how I hope it will.”

“You are always full of pleasant surprises, My Love.” Hongjoong hums, closing the container of blush and swapping it for your mineralizer in the next second.

“I’ve got to keep you all on your toes somehow,” you giggle, wiggling your brows playfully at him. “You guys can’t always be the ones surprising me, you know.”

“Try as we might, I suppose you’re right.” He chuckles along with you. “That won’t stop us from trying, though.”

You smile, allowing your eyes to flutter shut once more as he begins to apply the product to your face. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

What you fail to see, though, is the fond look that settles onto Hongjoong’s features in that moment. However, you do feel the way his hand trembles once more against your cheek, the brush tickling over your skin as he finishes off with your mineralizer.

Feeling him pull away from you, you blink your eyes back open.

“I’ve been doing a little research myself these past few days,” You admit lowly, suddenly avoiding his gaze as a light heat rises to your cheeks.

“Oh?” His inquiry is soft, his full attention on you for the moment.

Neither him, nor his brothers, knew you had been looking into anything. It’s not unusual for you to spend your time in the library, browsing their own collections. The fact that Jongho didn’t mention anything means he either had no idea himself, or you swore him to secrecy.

Hongjoong meets your gaze, and he notices how your own eyes flash.

“Soul merging.”

The hitch in his breath is audible, synonymous with the way his whole body stiffens lightly.

“Have you-“ he swallows thickly.

“I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, lately.” You begin, thumbs suddenly brushing over one another nervously as you hold your hands in your lap. “I remembered what you all told me about it that one day and I got curious.” A moment’s pause where you swallow the building dryness in your throat. “I wanted to learn more.”

“My Love-“

“I know I could have just asked you all about it, but I didn’t want anyone to think I was broaching the subject with them to imply I was going to merge with them over another first.” You explain. “I also don’t want any of us to feel pressured into a decision like this. I understand you’ve all talked about such a…” you search for the right word, “delicacy before with one another, but I wanted to come to a better understanding about the subject myself.”

Hongjoong hums, “We do have a tendency to take certain liberties regarding certain excitements when it comes to you.”

You share a small chuckle with him. “You could say that again.”

“May I assume you were looking into it as more than just a meek curiosity, My Love?” His voice is soft; tender, as he gently grabs your hands into his own.

“Perhaps.” The slight upturn of your lips is nothing short of sweet. “Of all the accounts I found, none were of concern to me. I had to be sure there weren’t any negative side effects, or risks for me involved in such a process. I know none of you would ever lie to me about such a thing, but I wanted to come to this specific conclusion by myself. It’s a-“ your voice catches, and you know he can feel the way your hands are currently trembling within his own grasp right now, “It’s a big decision for me, not to mention a big change.” You blink, finally lifting your gaze to his own. “For me to become like you. I want to make sure you’re all ready, as well.”

“Whatever you decide, know that we will support you.” Nothing but sincerity shines behind Hongjoong’s eyes as he says this. Gently, he squeezes your hands. “Of course, we all have our own hopes and desires, but we would never force such a decision on you. It’s like we’ve always said,” he smiles softly, “we want you to want us in the same ways we want you. This sentiment has always, and will always, apply to every aspect of our lives together.”

You squeeze his hands back. “I will let you know when I’m ready to take that step with you. With all of you.”

“Oh?” There’s a light teasing quirk to his brow as he smiles. “So, the orgy isn’t off the table.”

A snort of laughter escapes you, and you extend your leg out to tap his shin with the tip of your slipper, as if you’re pretending to kick him. “Keep dreaming, Joong Bug.”

“Hey,” he shrugs, pulling away from you slightly as the tips of his ears begin to turn red, “Never say never. Look how much fun we all had together that day in the cinema room.”

Now, it’s your turn to splutter as he winks at you. A teasing grin pulls at his lips, and you’re glad he’s diverted his attention back to the table beside you for the moment. You don’t think you’d be able to sit still if he brought that up again. Especially not today, not with what you still have planned.

Shifting slightly, you notice him looking over all of your products with a slight frown on his face. Every which way, his eyes dart, seemingly scanning over the table in search of something.

“What’s wrong?” You tilt your head in inquiry, glad for the momentary distraction.

“You didn’t put any lip products out.” He observes. “I normally do lips next.”

“Ah, I only have the one colour.” You’re quick to explain, and from the way his whole body stiffens, you can tell he’s thinking back to that first dinner all those months ago.

Looks like you’re not the only one consumed by memories right now.

“Oh,” he swallows, somewhat thickly. “Should we plan a trip to get you more, then?”

Briefly, his gaze flicks over to your face, his hands hovering over the table as he begins to pull an eyeshadow palette off of the surface, along with another brush. Not even a moment later, he flicks the palette open, scanning over the various shades found within.

“No, that’s quite alright.” You smile, though with the way his attention is off of you for the moment, he fails to see the flash of excitement that lights up your eyes. “I figured it would be better to leave it out for now. I typically only wear red for two reasons, anyways.”

He turns back to you, gathering some eyeshadow onto the tip of the brush, “Oh?”

“One, and probably the most common,” you begin, eyelids fluttering closed as he steps into you once more, “I want to feel beautiful.”

It’s almost frightening how you can feel his hand pause right before your face, that brush mere millimetres from your eyelid.

“You are beautiful, My Love.” There is no room for argument in his tone, voice firm, and always, always so sincere.

A bashful smile pulls onto your features as a slight heat rises to your cheeks, “Thank you, Joongie.”

Gently, he continues. The soft press of the brush against your eyelid is almost synonymous with the light exhale you breathe out.

Hongjoong clears his throat, retracting that brush to gather more product onto it so he can dress your opposite eye. “And the other?”

“Oh, the second reason?” Your brow quirks, despite your eyes remaining closed.

“Yes.” He repeats the process, touch just as careful as the first time.

Only, you wait to respond. You can just tell that Hongjoong is holding his breath in anticipation. Except, it isn’t until he pulls away that you finally speak.

A sultry smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, your eyes flashing open and seemingly holding him captivated, “I want to seduce someone.”

The way his breath hitches is quite prominent, and you notice his hands begin to shake lightly once more. Then, a moment later, he seemingly composes himself, swallowing thickly as his gaze darts to your lips, “I see.”

All Hongjoong’s mind can supply him with now is that dinner all those months ago. He knows he shouldn’t, but he cannot help but to hold onto a hope that maybe, just maybe, you had worn that shade of lipstick that night for the second reason you have just divulged with him here.

It’s a long shot, but that will never stop him from dreaming. Besides, you’ve both come such a long way since then, so he’s holding on to an even bigger hope that the next time you do wear red, it will be for him.

“This applies to any time I wear something red, not just lipstick, by the way.” You mention casually.

Hongjoong nearly loses his balance, tripping over thin air as he steadies himself using the one arm of the chair you’re in.

“Joongie?” Your voice, amused and playful, reaches his ears. “You okay?”

Blinking, he refocusses his gaze on you, noticing how you’re leaning slightly forward in that chair to get a better look at his face.

Your lips rest mere millimetres from his own. He clears his throat.

“Yeah.” Shaking his head, he focusses back in on the task at hand. “I’m good.”

You giggle, and he swears you’re doing this on purpose, just to torture him. “You sure about that?”

The way your brow quirks, somewhat deviously, has him chuckling lowly.

“It’s like I always say, My Love,” he rights himself, moving back in to start blending another shade of eyeshadow in with the first. “You hold more power over me than you’ll ever know.”

Despite your eyelids being closed, you still manage a small, knowing smile. “I think I’m beginning to have some idea.”

Gently, you feel Hongjoong cup your chin, lightly tilting your head from side to side to see if the eyeshadow he’s applied is even.

“Should I be worried?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, and you can practically hear the smile he wears clear in his tone.

“Depends.” You hum. “I think you may just like what I have to offer you.”

“And just what is it that you’re offering me, My Love?” He leans in, noticing how your eyes blink open to stare deeply into his own.

“You’ll see, Joongie.” You grin softly. “Like I said, I want it to be a surprise.”

A hum is all you receive in response as Hongjoong releases the gentle hold he has on your chin. Carefully, he blends one final light colour in with the other two on your eyes, allowing the silence as he works to settle over the both of you. It’s comfortable, and warm, both of you basking in the other’s presence for the time being. The calmness of the moment does not go unnoticed by either of you, and neither of you would want it any other way.

“So, multiple sources I was reading up on depicted the recipient, or recipients, receiving some traits from the other when their souls had finally merged.” You comment, and you blink your eyes open just in time to watch Hongjoong fumble that eyeshadow brush in his one hand. Luckily, it seems he catches it before it can hit the ground. “Do you think this means I’ll receive a sort of portion of your powers, or that I’ll just be able to use the same powers as you?”

The way you’re looking up at him, with wide eyes full of curiosity, sets his heart racing inside of his chest.

“I’m honestly not entirely sure how it works, My Love, but I think it’s correct to assume both.” He breathes out, tucking the palette away, along with the brush. “It’s also entirely plausible that you may gain powers entirely different than ours. When the time comes, of course.”

“Yes, yes,” you nod along with his words, almost absentmindedly. “When the time comes.”

“Given that our blood seems to have such a profound effect on you, I’m honestly very curious what the merger of our souls will do.” He adds, plucking your liquid liner from the table. “I do know that the more souls you merge with, the more powerful you will become.”

“That makes sense.” You agree with a hum. “I’m assuming there’s different levels to the types of entities you all are. I’m aware you all have different forms you can take on. Jongho explained them to me, briefly.”

It’s slight, but you do not fail to miss the way he stiffens before you.

“He did, did he?”

Again, you hum. That same spark of curiosity shines brightly within your gaze as you meet his own, “When you were born, were you as you are now, or in your true form?”

Hongjoong pauses briefly once more before noticing your eyes flutter shut. Luckily, you miss the way he swallows thickly, blinking a few times before beginning to work on your eyeliner.

“When we are born, we appear as human infants do. As we grow, our true forms emerge, our more demonic appendages and appearances making themselves known.” He explains, his voice low and a bit strained. “Each… clan has specific markers they tend to pass on to their young. The more,” he pauses, as if searching for the correct term, “extremities that appear, the more powerful the entity. Or so it is said.”

The gentle brush of the liner over your one lid lifts, signalling his completion for the moment. Yet, before he can move on to the next, you blink your eyes open.

“Do you believe that?”

You can tell he’s a little stunned by your question, for he freezes before you. Your liquid liner rests in his hands, one holding the cap while the other holds the bottle, both held in the air.

“I believe there’s a certain truth to it.” He replies, seeming to choose his words carefully. “The more physical features one’s true form has: horns, antlers, tails, wings, scales, spikes, you name it, the more magic the entity seems to have in reserve.”

Your gaze narrows slightly, mind reeling at this information. “You all seem pretty powerful to me.”

“Some demons are born with a natural reserve of magic, others have to meticulously train themselves to store such an abundance of power if they want to make a statement.” The words almost sound bitter as they fall from his lips.

Carefully, you sit forward and on the edge of your seat. Your hands reach out to grasp his own, lowering them so you can have a better view of his face.

“My Joongie,” your voice is soft as you call his name, “You don’t need to prove yourself to me. It’s clear how hard you’ve worked to get here, and there is nothing you can do or say to chase me away at this stage. I don’t care about your lineage, or about who has the most power out of all of you. That’s never mattered to me before, and it sure as hell isn’t going to start mattering to me now. All I care about, is you.”

Tenderly, you squeeze his hands in your own.

“I love you. I am only asking to get to know more about one of the men I plan to spend the rest of my life with.” Your voice is firm, not wavering in the slightest. “I don’t know the personal struggles you’ve been through to get this far, but if it means anything in this moment, know that I am so proud of you. I am happy you chose me, of all people, to share this life with you, and I promise to stay by your side through it all. No matter what happens, you will always be My King, My Love,” you swallow lightly, a smile tugging at your lips, “My Joong Bug.”

The way his breath hitches, tears threatening to escape the corners of his eyes once more this afternoon, does not go unnoticed by you.

Your smile widens. You’re starting to understand yet another reason as to why Miyeon’s whole plight affected him so much. Seeing you hurt like that must have reminded him of his blood status, and how he had been supposedly ‘born weak’. A fact which is completely and utterly false, especially to you, and you make sure to tell him as much.

“You have come so far. We have come so far.” You say, settling back into your seat properly. “And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

A single tear escapes his one eye, the traitorous drop spilling onto his cheek as he stares down at you with nothing but tender love and affection in his gaze. You can feel a deeper understanding of each other settle over you, too, and it warms you right to your very core.

“My Queen,” he stutters out a breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows his emotions. “How you always know what to say to make me feel better sets my very soul alight.”

The words you had spoken to him that one day in the garden all those months ago come back to you now, and a loving smile pulls at your lips.

“I have come to realize that we’re all more alike that we realize, Hongjoong.” You voice gently. “I’m happy to know we all have each other.”

He mirrors your expression, smiling lightly as he wipes at his lingering tears with the back of his hand.

“You say how lucky you are to have me, but it is truly I who is lucky to have found you.” He says, barely above a whisper. “You mean everything to me, My Love. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Please, I know I always say it, but never forget that.”

“I believe you, Joongie.” The sincerity alone in your gaze says it all. Only, in the next moment, you begin shifting slightly in your seat. “Now, as much as I’m enjoying this lovely moment, may we quickly finish my eyes. I have to pee.”

“I can wait, My Love,” he chuckles, wiping his final tears away as he goes to take a step back.

“No!” A pout tugs at your lips as you whine. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise before you’ve completed your masterpiece.”

“My Love, you’ve always been a masterpiece, even without my influence.” He grins, shaking his head lovingly at you as you bounce slightly in your seat. “But alas, whatever My Queen desires, she shall have.”

You giggle, smiling wide as you look up at him. “Love you, Joongie.”

“And I love you, My Queen.” Comes his immediate reply.

Stepping back into you, Hongjoong is quick to finish lining the opposite eye. He takes a moment to observe his work again, making sure the product is applied evenly over your lids before switching your liquid liner out for your mascara. Softly, he instructs you to either look up or down as he applies the product to your upper and lower lashes. Not even two minutes later, and after inspecting your entire look once more, he smiles to himself, motioning to indicate that he’s finally finished doing your makeup.

“Yay!” You hop up from your seat, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, My Love!”

Hongjoong chuckles at your enthusiasm. “I simply hope you like it.”

“I know I’ll love it.” You smile, eyes crinkling slightly as you scurry passed him and to your bathroom. “Don’t go anywhere. I want to praise you when I get back.”

The playfully stern look you send him before you enter the bathroom has him grinning to himself. Lightly, he shakes his head, turning back around to at least attempt to start cleaning up that little table of products before you get back. It’s the least he can do, and besides, he should probably clean the brushes anyways. Clean tools are always preferable when starting fresh the next time they’re used.

Hongjoong pays no mind to the slight shuffling he can hear coming from behind him as he wipes off his hands. He knows that it’s just you in the bathroom, moving around. Your little gasp of awe he can hear only causes his grin to widen, knowing you must have finally taken a look at your reflection in the mirror. He just can’t wait to hear what you think.

Holding that eyeshadow brush in his one hand once more, Hongjoong hears the bathroom door finally swing open behind him.

A moment of silence.

“Oh, Captain,” your voice, sultry and sweet, drawls out from the open doorway.

The sight that greets Hongjoong as soon as he turns to face you sends him tumbling to his knees. He cannot contain the darkness that swirls deep within his eyes as that brush clatters to the floor, his heart skipping a pleasant beat inside of his chest.

There you stand, leaning against the edge of the doorframe, looking like his own personal divine sin. Your opposite arm rests lazily against your side, and Hongjoong finally notes your nails, which have been painted a bright red to match the outfit you currently wear.

A short, red silk robe hangs over your figure, barely covering your mid-thighs. The string is tied loosely around your waist, the fabric artfully caressing your form. White peonies are littered across the fabric, hues of blue and yellow dotting the petals in what appear to be smaller floral designs. Your left shoulder is exposed, red lace peeking out from beneath the silk. It’s as if the material is meticulously draped over your skin to provide but a taste of the delicacy you seem to be hiding for him beneath such a thin piece of fabric. Though, that’s not what draws in Hongjoong’s attention the most.

On your lips, the most sinful shade of red is painted over the most seductive of smiles the male has ever seen in his entire life.

There you stand, sin incarnate, and all for him.

“My Love…” He breathes out, voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes never leave your figure as you slowly begin stalking towards him. The look in your eyes is dark enough to mirror his own, and he cannot help the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he continues to stare up at you.

“I told you I had a surprise for you,” you chuckle, leaning slightly forward as you come to rest before him. Gently, you bring a finger beneath his chin, tilting his head up to meet your seductive gaze. “Do you like what you see, Captain?”

Hongjoong’s chest heaves, and he can barely suppress the growl that rumbles out from deep within. “My Love, you are the most captivating beauty that I have ever had the pleasure to behold.”

The upturn of your lips shifts from sinful to soft, your eyes shining with nothing but love as you continue to stare down at him.

“I am yours, Hongjoong,” You say, cupping his face gently in the palms of your hands. “There’s a reason I planned so meticulously for this moment with you, and you alone.”

“There is no honour greater to me than spending time with you, My Queen.” He exhales, eyes flitting around every inch of your face and committing this all to memory for years to come. “No feeling greater than your love for me.”

“Truly, the honour is all mine.” Your thumbs trace tenderly over his cheeks. “I am prepared to offer myself to you in every way this evening, My King.”

His breath hitches, and his lips part. His hands, which he has been resting on his knees this whole time, continue to tremble desperately as he attempts to ground himself. This is everything he’s ever wanted, and so much more. Finally, he is going to get the chance to show you what you mean to him. What you have always and truly meant to him.

“However,” this catches his attention, and he waits patiently for you to continue, “there is one thing I want to request of you first.”

“Anything,” he breathes, searching your gaze for any hint of what it is you could want from him.

Always, he is ready and willing to provide at a moment’s notice.

You inhale deeply, as if to steady your own racing heart as you stare deeply into his eyes.

“I want to see you. All of you.” Gently, you kneel before him, lowering yourself to his level. “Please, Hongjoong,” you swallow softly, “I wish to see your true form.”

You physically feel him freeze beneath your touch, but your stare is unwavering.

Within your eyes, Hongjoong cannot see even a hint of hesitation, or fear. There is no uncertainty he can decipher, or regret you seem to hold from those words. Simply, there is that same spark of curiosity, and now, love. An undeniable fact that only serves to solidify his decision.

Your painted lips can only part in awe as you see Hongjoong slowly begin to shift before your very eyes. His ears sharpen into fine points, eyes hallowing and swirling with that all too familiar black hue you’ve become so use to from him. Thick, canine-like fangs protrude from his mouth, lips stretching wide over the sharp points almost naturally as his skin grows taunt and pale. Claws extend from the tips of his fingers, and you notice how he seems to be digging them harshly into his knees, the faintest bit of blood seeping into the material of his jeans. Even his limbs appear slightly elongated as he sits there before you, averting his gaze to the side.

Softly, you guide his head back upwards, eyes searching his own.

Hongjoong holds his breath.

“You are so unbelievably beautiful, Hongjoong.” You lean forward, resting your forehead on his own. “Thank you, for sharing this part of yourself with me.”

Slowly, he begins to shift back into his human form, his lips parting slightly as he attempts to control himself for the moment. Of course, Hongjoong did not fail to miss the sudden spike of arousal that permeated your scent just now as he revealed his true form to you. Really, it is you who makes all of his dreams come true.

“I love you, Hongjoong,” your voice manages to pull him back to the beautiful reality before him. “I’m ready now.”

He blinks, a little caught off guard by your words. Though, as his eyes trail over your form once more, watching as you shift to loosen that tie holding such a flimsy material together, he cannot help the way his brow quirks.

A low groan escapes him as the intricate lace ensemble you wear is now fully revealed to him. It wraps delicately around your figure, showcasing every dip and curve he admires so much. In his favourite colour, too.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you, My King?” Your voice is soft as you kneel before him, your one hand coming to rest on the side of your own thigh.

Hongjoong’s eyes nearly bulge right out of his head as he sees you pull out that jewelled dagger from beneath the red laced garter around your upper thigh. The blade had been artfully hidden beneath the robe, but now that you’ve fully opened the silk, he can see that it’s been held there carefully this whole time.

“Not only do I fully offer myself to you in every way tonight,” you begin, meeting his gaze once more as your one hand still gingerly cups the side of his face, “but I have every intention for us to become whole.”

His lips part, and a soft gasp escapes him, “you mean…?”

“Yes, My Love,” you smile. “Tonight, I wish for our souls to finally merge as one.”

The hitch in his breath is audible, and you cannot help but fixate on the way his one hand trembles as he brings it up to cover your own. Nothing but the deepest, most sincere form of love you have ever experienced in your life can be seen in his gaze, and you swear that you can feel his heartbeat pounding right alongside your own.

“Are you-“ he swallows thickly. “Are you sure?”

“More sure of anything I’ve ever been in my entire life.” You tell him earnestly. “I want it to be you, Hongjoong. I need it to be you.”

In the blink of an eye, he has you laying on your bed. Carefully, he hovers above you, his chest still heaving with every breath he takes as he stares deeply into your eyes.

“My Queen,” his voice is full of emotion, threatening to choke him out at any second as he leans into you. Gently, he kisses you, pouring every single emotion he’s currently feeling into the movement of his lips on your own. Pulling away, he rests his forehead tenderly against your own. “I would be honoured.”

The smile that stretches onto your features is nothing short of brilliant, and you can feel him shiver beneath your touch as you trail your one hand up the back of his shirt. Softly, teasingly, you allow your nails to trace over his spine, pulling him in closer.

“Everything I have to offer is yours tonight, Hongjoong.” You say, shifting slightly so you can nuzzle his nose with your own affectionately. “My blood, my body, my mind, my soul.” You meet his gaze. “I want you to have it all.”

Leaning in, Hongjoong wastes no time in kissing you passionately, successfully stealing your breath away as he presses closer into you. A pleasant hum escapes him as he feels you pull him in closer, the hand you have resting beneath his shirt digging into his back desperately.

“You have all of me, My Love.” He whispers against your lips. “You always have, and you always will.”

Gently, you nip at his bottom lip, eliciting a low growl from deep within his throat.

You smirk.

“Now, do you want to cut me out of this,” you lift that dagger held in your one hand, holding it with the pommel towards him in offering, “or shall I?”

The way his eyes flash black, an animalistic snarl tearing from his throat, has you clenching pleasantly around nothing. Your whole body thrums with excitement as he takes that dagger from your hand, gaze trailing shamelessly over every inch of you that he can see.

“A shame to remove such delicate lace from such a perfect body,” he hums, twirling that blade in his one hand as he sits back onto his knees. His eyes are dark as he stares down at you beneath him, a smirk pulling at his features. “I have half the mind to make you ruin these panties of yours before I tear them off of you.”

Once more, you clench pleasantly around nothing. “Why don’t you?”

“Believe me, My Love, I plan on taking my time with you tonight.” That familiar darkness swirls within his gaze as he takes in your figure beneath him on the bed. “Let me admire you just a bit longer like this. Then, I swear to you I will fulfill every promise I’ve ever made of ravishing you until the sun comes up the next day.”

This time, it’s your turn for your breath to hitch. Not even a moment later, and without giving it much though, your hands reach up to fist his shirt, pulling him back down into you for another kiss.

The movement of your lips on his is desperate, fingers fumbling over the buttons on his shirt as you shift your hips up against him. The way he groans into your mouth has you smiling into the kiss, and before you know it, he’s slipped that dagger back into your one hand.

Without wasting anymore time, you tear through the rest of his buttons using that blade. Once the last one has been cut from the material, he pulls away to tear the remaining fabric off of his torso, tossing it somewhere in your room.

Shamelessly, your eyes rake over his body, licking your lips as you do so. There is nothing but pure love and lust in your gaze as your free hand comes up to trace over his chest, eyes catching on two very specific details.

Your expression softens, “You’re still wearing it.”

Briefly, his own gaze darts downwards, as if to glance the golden ring hanging from a thick, silver chain around his neck. He smiles, eyes flitting back to meet your own, a tender look swimming within.

“I haven’t taken it off.” He admits lowly, his one hand coming up to clutch the One Ring lovingly. “It’s… precious to me.”

Your eyebrow quirks, amusement tugging at your features.

“My Love gave it to me.” He says, matter of factly, a knowing twitch of his lips upwards.

Lifting you free hand, you cup his cheek tenderly once more.

Almost instantly, Hongjoong brings a hand up to rest over your own, turning his face to place a gentle kiss onto your open palm. He purposefully allows his lips to linger, revelling in the feeling of your skin beneath his own. For too long has he dreamt about this moment, and now that it is here - you laying beneath him and pressing against him in every way he’s only ever wished for - he finds that words escape him. One thing he does know, is that he will savour this moment here with you for all eternity.

Again, your gaze darts to his chest, but instead of catching on the ring gleaming from his neck, you focus in on another monumental detail.

There, a thin, white line sits a few inches below his left collarbone.

The scar you gave him from that knife rests proudly on his upper chest. In fact, it appears to be the only part of his skin that is marred by any sort of blemish for the moment, other than a few moles you can see dotted here and there.

Carefully, you shift your hand, sliding your fingers down the side of his neck in order to rest your touch on his shoulder. Your thumb traces over the faint scar, nothing but adoration shining within your gaze.

“I told you I still had the scar,” he chuckles lowly, that same fond look reflected in his own eyes.

Darting your gaze to his own, your thumb finally freezes over his skin. Nothing but pure love blooms in your heart as you think of how far the both of you have come since you gave him this scar. To think that you’d be here right now, in such a position, is almost unreal. Yet, looking back on it now, and knowing what he means to you - what they all mean to you - you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Softly, your lips pull upwards in a smile. Leaning froward, you press them against his chest, directly over that scar. The fact that there is now a faint stain of red marring his skin has you chuckling fondly, revelling in the way his chest rumbles in content as he sees you looking at the mark you’ve just given him.

“You know I’ll always wear this proudly, My Love,” he keeps his voice low, gazing down at you as if you’ve hung all of the stars in the night sky.

To him, you have.

“I would say to give me a matching one, but I don’t think you’d ever agree to stabbing me.” You say, and you notice how his one eyebrow twitches. “Remind me to discuss the idea of tattoos with you all sometime.”

The grin that stretches across his face is radiant, if not devious. “You wish to have matching tattoos with us, My Love?”

“It’s something else I’ve been thinking about lately,” you admit, your one hand back to trailing over his chest. Lightly, your nails scratch at his skin and he hums in content.

“You know, My Love,” his grin turns teasing, “Tattoos are quite permanent. They can last forever.”

“Oh?” The playful pull of your lips upwards matches his grin in every way. “It’s a good thing, then, that I don’t plan on going anywhere any time soon.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling in joy, “We’d chase you to the ends of the earth.”

“I’m aware,” you hum, letting that blade settle beside you onto the mattress as you fully pull him back into you. “Let’s start with this first. Okay, Joongie?”

A content rumble escapes him once more. “As you wish, My Queen.”

His lips are back on your own without another moment’s hesitation. Gently, he grinds his hips into you, letting you feel just how hard you’ve already made him. The way you gasp lightly into his mouth as you feel all of him pressing against your core makes his smirk.

“You don’t know how long I’ve fantasized about this.” He moans, nipping at your bottom lip. “About you.”

“Oh?”You quirk a brow, heart fluttering inside of your chest. “Just what have you fantasized about, Captain?”

His eyes flash, gaze briefly roaming over your entire body once more as he licks his lips.

“I can’t count the amount of times I’ve fantasized about you sucking me off.”

The admission knocks the wind right out of you.

“I’ve thought about you worshipping my cock: the way your lips would feel wrapped around me, and fuck- the feeling of your tongue licking over every inch like I’m the best damn thing you’ve ever tasted in your entire life.” He pants out, voice but a low drawl. His chest heaves, rising and falling dramatically as he watches your tongue dart out to wet your lips.

“And of course, once you were finally sated with pleasing me, I would absolutely fucking devour you. Fuck- ever since that day you allowed us to indulge in you, the way your scent fucking hypnotized me, I’ve been dying for a taste.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips this time, as if to emphasize his point. His eyes darken significantly. “That little gift of yours could only satisfy me for so long; I’m afraid that your scent has long since worn off of them, given the amount of times I’ve tried to suckle whatever last drops of your sweet nectar that I could that clung to the material.”

Your breath hitches at his confession. The mental image alone of Hongjoong desperate and aching for you, your panties caught between his teeth as he strokes his throbbing cock to completion to the mere thought of you has you immediately clenching around nothing. You can practically feel yourself soaking through the material of the panties you currently wear, and the fact that he’s already mentioned wanting to make you ruin them only adds to the immense pleasure that currently floods your veins from his words alone.

You let out a low moan, eyes nearly rolling as he presses himself firmer against you.

“Fuck- I’ve always thought about you.” He leans in, nipping at the shell of your ear. His lips trace down the side of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine as his voice deepens, “The way you would taste; how your thighs would tremble around my head as your juices dripped down my chin. I’ve always fantasized about how sweet my name would sound falling from your lips, pulling me in closer as I brought you to ecstasy over, and over, and over again just from my tongue alone.”

He’s panting at this point, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is letting you know exactly what you do to him, just as he’s always so desperately craved.

“I want to feel you falling apart because of me. I want you to flood my every sense with you as you continuously drip down my face because you cannot help how wet I make you. I want to make you tremble. I want for you to experience a bliss unlike anything you’ve ever felt in your entire life, and then I want to drown you in my love, in pleasure, so that the only thing you can think of, the only thing that you can feel is me.” His eyes flash as he stares deeply into your own, beginning to grind himself into you in time with his words.

“I want to have you shaking as I make you come over,” he presses deeper into you, “and over,” another shift of his hips over your own, “and over again for me and me alone. I want to hear you sigh my name, and then I want to make you scream it until your voice is so raw from the pleasure I am providing you that all you can do is whimper and moan.”

Desperately, your hands claw at his back, nails biting into his shoulders as a small whine escapes your throat. Already, you can feel yourself trembling beneath him, close to tipping over the edge from the sheer want coursing through your veins. The same want - need - that you know he feels in this very moment, too.

“Selfishly, I want to please you until I am satisfied. Until you’re either begging me to stop, or you pass out from the feeling of it all.” He breathes out, the slightest of smirks pulling at the corner of his lips. “I want to feel your nails digging into my back as I make the sweetest love to you, letting you feel my devotion to you in every movement that I offer you. I want to feel you pressing against me in every possible way, and even then I fear that it will never be enough to satiate my need, my desire for you.”

A gasp escapes you, your eyes fluttering shut as you absolutely revel in his confession. Your heart feels as if it is about to burst from your chest, whole body heating until you cannot tell where his desire ends and your own begins.

“I want to love you, until the stars fall from the sky, and the entire world goes up in flames.” A moment’s pause so he can stare deeply into your eyes as you blink them open to meet his gaze. “I will love you. Until the end of time.”

“Hongjoong,” his name is no more than a whisper on your lips, eyes staring deeply into his own.

You hold him tighter, your one hand coming up to cup the side of his face.

“Please, My Love,” he reaches up and grasps your hand in his, placing your palm directly over his racing heart. “Feel how my heart beats for you. How it pulses and aches for you and only you. With everything I am, I am yours. My every breath, my every thought,” his hand tightens over your own, and you can feel the way his heart skips a beat inside of his chest, “my very soul, belongs to you.”

Subconsciously, your thighs tighten around him, your fingers digging into his chest as you stare up at him with nothing but tender love and affection in your gaze. The need to be closer to him rushes through your mind, and you hardly register how your vision blurs through the appearance of happy tears.

Blinking them away quickly, you smile up at him, lips parting slightly as you attempt to catch your breath.

“You are the greatest love I have even known, Hongjoong.” You say softly, your other hand coming to cup his face as he still holds the one tenderly against his racing heart. “Everything and anything you want from me, I will give. All of your desires, I will fulfill. I am yours as much as you are mine, and nothing will ever change that.”

His own breath hitches as he looks down at you so fondly, “My Love-“

Quickly, you shift your hand on his chest so that you now press his own to yours. Even you can feel your heart thundering away beneath your skin against the tips of your fingers, and you make sure to squeeze his hand just as tenderly as he did your own.

“Know that my heart beats just as fiercely for you as yours does for me.” You keep your voice low, feeling as he begins to tremble above you. “There is no power in this world that could tear me away from you, nor change what you mean to me. You have made me believe in love again, and nothing will ever change that. Just as you give your all to me, I give everything I am and more to you. You are My Everything, Hongjoong. My Soul lives on for you.”

The small sob that escapes him surprises you, and not even a moment later, you feel something wet land on your chest. However, before he gives you time to think, his lips are on your own, kissing you breathless as he clings to your very form.

“I am so deeply in love with you, My Queen,” he mutters against your lips through kisses. “I love you more than life itself.”

“I am in love with you, My King,” you breathe out, clinging to him desperately as your arms hold him flush against you. “And I always will be.”

Hongjoong buries his face into the side of your neck, his hands caressing your sides tenderly. His fingers dance along your skin, toying with the intricate straps wrapping around your body that he can reach. His heart positively sings for you inside of his chest, whole body overwhelmed by his emotions. This feeling that consumes him currently is unlike any other he’s felt in his entire life, and he knows it’s only just the beginning.

After all, the two of you are only getting started.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” He nips at the skin of your neck, soothing over the bite with his lips shortly after. “I can never get enough of you.” His tongue darts out to lave over your pulse, and he loves how your whole body arches into his touch. “Of your love.”

“It’s endless, Joongie,” you reply, words but a whimper on your lips as you tilt your head to the side so he has better access. “I will never stop loving you.”

You can feel the way he smiles against the skin of your neck, “Took the words right out of my mouth, My Queen.”

Gently, the fingers of your one hand begin to thread through the hair on the back of his neck.

“I want you to act on your desires tonight, Joongie,” you breathe out, nipping at the shell of his ear. “And I will finally act on mine.”

The way his whole body shudders in your hold does not go unnoticed by you. You smirk.

He bites down on the side of your neck a little harsher this time, eliciting the sweetest of whines from you.

“As you wish, My Queen.”

Slowly, meticulously, Hongjoong grinds himself into you once more. His lips swallow the gasp you let out as he presses his own to yours, hands holding you tightly as he moves above you. He wants you to feel every inch of his love tonight, and he doesn’t plan on making any exceptions.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, did you know that?” Again, he nips at your bottom lip, a pleased rumble escaping him along with his words.

“All for you,” you hum, cupping his face in your hands tenderly. “My Handsome King.”

A low, pleased growl echoes around the room, his one hand coming up to cup your breast over the lace material of your bra. Slowly, he begins to squeeze your flesh, moaning as he feels the warmth of your skin against his palm. Teasingly, he traces his thumb over your nipple through the fabric, loving how you arch desperately into his touch.

“Joongie, please,” A small whimper escapes your lips as your hips shift beneath his. “Touch me.”

The corner of his lips quirk, “I am touching you, My Queen.”

As if to emphasize his point, he gives your breast another appreciative squeeze, his teeth scraping against your pulse in tandem.

A whine slips passed your lips, chest stuttering as you attempt to catch your breath. Then, something within your eyes flash, a sort of devious intent shining within.

“If you don’t want to feel how wet you’ve made me,” your voice is low, rumbling out as you slip a hand between your two bodies, “I will.”

There is no mistaking the animalistic snarl that tears from his throat as his one hand comes down to halt all movements of your own. His touch is nothing short of gentle, contrasting the darkness swirling within his eyes at this very moment as he stares deeply into your gaze.

“Still wish to tease me, My Love?” You grin devilishly, licking your lips as your gaze darts down to where he pins your wrist to your stomach.

“Who’s teasing who now, My Love?” His voice is low, nothing more than guttural in tone as his eyes flash black. “I thought I told you I wish to take my time with you tonight.”

“You did.” Your expression softens the slightest bit, a warmth lighting up behind your eyes. “And I said I wanted us to fulfill our deepest desires, as well.”

You feel his cock twitch against your clothed core as he grins above you. “Fuck- I love you.”

The words have barely finished escaping him when his lips are pressed against your own. The hand holding your wrist finally lets go. Only, before you can so much as react, you find your breath hitching, a pleasant thrum travelling throughout your body. The feeling radiates out from your very core, spreading down towards the very tips of your toes.

The dagger, which you had left resting beside you on the mattress, is suddenly at your throat. A wild, desperate look shines within Hongjoong’s eyes as he holds the blade mere millimetres from your skin.

“Beg for me, My Queen.”

The soft gasp has barely finished falling from your parted lips when your hands tighten around him again for the nth time this evening. A fact of which has his own hips involuntarily shifting forward, cock twitching against you once more.

“Please, Joongie,” your voice portrays every bit of desperation you feel for him in this moment. “Touch me.” You swallow lightly. “I need you to touch me.”

Slowly, the corner of his lips quirk upwards, and that hand he still has tenderly cupping your breast begins to sneak down your body.

“Feel how wet you make me, My Love.” You breathe out. “Please, I’m tired of only fantasizing about what your fingers feel like on me.”

Hongjoong’s own breath hitches, those very fingers of his halting all movement as the tips teasingly trail along the top of your panties. He can feel his heartbeat ringing in his ear, threatening to burst right out of his very chest at any second.

For too long has he fantasized about such words falling from your lips, and now that they have, his head spins. Hongjoong has to hold himself there, desperately telling himself to calm down, lest he want to come before you can even touch him, or even better, he can even touch you. Such a simple phrase means everything to him, and the way you begin squirming beneath his hold says it all.

“You’ve thought about me.” Not a question, but a statement of fact.

“How can I not think about you?” Your response is airy, hips lifting off the bed as you seek the warmth of his hand that he holds just above your panty line. “You’re not the only one with desires, Captain.”

“Tell me.” Hongjoong growls lowly, his fingers slowly dipping beneath the band of your panties.

A small whimper escapes you, and you attempt to raise your hips to meet his touch. Only, this time, he’s expecting you to do so, pinning your hips in place with his own as he presses that dagger firmer into your neck.

You swallow, excitement thrumming through your veins.

“You have such pretty hands, My Love,” you whisper, gaze briefly darting downwards as if to glance them. “I can’t count the amount of nights I’ve spent in your arms, thinking about your hands all over me. I’ve always dreamt of your fingers digging into my flesh, pulling me in closer to you as we lose ourselves in each other. I want to feel your nails piercing my skin because you can no longer control yourself, sinking your fangs into my neck and drinking your fill of me as we come together.”

A low snarl tears passed his lips as Hongjoong finally shifts his hand down to cup you over your bare pussy. He can already feel the dampness on the back of his skin from where you’ve soaked through your panties, and as he finally dips a finger through your folds, he nearly loses himself right then and there.

“Fuck- My Queen,” his whole body shakes as he moans lowly. “You’re dripping.”

“All for you, My King,” your eyes flutter as you feel him repeat his movements from only a moment before. “All because of you. Do you see how wet you make me? What your words alone can do? How much I’ve been craving your touch?”

Again, he growls, the tips of his fingers coming up to lightly begin circling over your clit. The way he can feel your pussy practically pulsating beneath his touch has him smirking into the skin of your neck.

Another low moan escapes you, your whole body shuddering as he increases the pressure slightly over your clit. Already, your legs begin to tremble, high pitched whimpers falling from your lips as you toss your head back onto the pillows.

Only, he immediately halts all movement over you, drawing a desperate whine from your throat. Yet, he never lifts his fingers from your dripping cunt, making sure to keep the tips pressed firmly against that sensitive little clit of yours.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” His voice is low, nothing more than an animalistic drawl in your ear. He circles your clit once. Slowly. “Keep going. I want to hear it all.”

Your lips part in a breathless moan, and you are more than happy to oblige.

“I’ve-“ you inhale sharply, feeling him adding the slightest bit more pressure as he resumes circling that sensitive little nub of yours, “I’ve always enjoyed the idea of being marked.” Your chest heaves as you feel him nip at your neck. “Of being claimed.”

He hums, his lips placing wet, open mouthed kisses along your racing pulse. All the while, his fingers never halt their movements over your clit for even a second.

“The mere thought of you-“ your eyes squeeze shut as you attempt to hold back that impending wave of your orgasm, toes curling prematurely. “Oh god-“

He smirks against your neck, adding even more pressure over your clit as his fingers circle that swollen bundle of nerves skillfully.

“Go on, My Queen,” he nips once more at the shell of your ear. “Tell me.”

“Hongjoong-“ The gasp of his name is a mere warning on your lips.

“Tell me, and then let me feel you drench my fingers in your love,” his voice is but a mere growl on his lips, hips slowly grinding against your side in time with the movements of his fingers.

A loud moan escapes you, your brow furrowing as your whole body tenses beneath his touch.

“I don’t think I’ve ever come harder by myself than to the thought of you claiming me as yours.” Your words are rushed, voiced hushed as your hands come up to desperately cling onto the sides of his arms.

The second that admission escapes your lips, your eyes are rolling into the back of your head. Your back arches off of the bed, his name falling in desperate whines from your lips as your orgasm crashes into you. You can feel your release dripping out of you and onto his fingers, your whole body trembling beneath his touch.

A pleased snarl escapes him, both from hearing your admission and watching you fall apart immediately afterwards. The fact that he can feel you soaking his fingers as he teasingly drags them through your folds, circling over your entrance lethargically has pleased growls building continuously in his throat with every exhale he makes.

Only now, Hongjoong wants more.

That dagger at your throat gets tossed beside you once more on the bed in favour of his hand cupping your face. Instantly, his lips are back on yours, swallowing all of your sounds as he gives you no time to recover from your first orgasm of the evening. Dipping two fingers through your folds, he pushes them inside you, moaning lowly as he feels your whole body shudder beneath him.

“Another,” the feral command is growled against the skin of your lips as his teeth sink lightly into the tender flesh. “Give me another.”

His pace is ruthless, fingers massaging your inner walls as his thumb finds your clit once more. His movements are precise, albeit desperate as he continues to grind his hips against your side, his cock twitching in tandem with the way your warmth squeezes his digits so delicately.

You can no longer form words. The intensity of your first orgasm has barely subsided as he begins to coax another from you. All you can do is moan, lips moving against his own as he swallows all of your sounds greedily, fingers curling within you as he begs for you to fall apart for him again.

“So fucking beautiful, My Queen,” he whispers against your mouth. “Such an ethereal sight, watching you fall apart for me.” He hums pleasantly, his chest rumbling in content. “Because of me.”

Again, your whole body begins trembling in his hold, and all you can manage are loud moans as his name falls from your lips in desperate whimpers.

“Give it to me, My Love.” Lightly, he nips at your neck, sucking gently on your skin. The softness of his lips completely contrasts the eager movements of his fingers, his thumb pressing firmly against your clit as he adds more pressure to each of his digits within your cunt. “I want to hear you scream.”

As if your body is set to obey his every command, your second orgasm crashes into you, much more intensely than the first. Your whole body shakes, a loud cry of his name escaping your lips as you arch into him. Your chest presses against his, legs twitching as you feel your walls spasming around his fingers still buried deep inside of you.

“Yes,” his voice is but a low, pleased snarl as he helps you through your release. “That’s it, My Love. Just like that.”

A breathless whine of his name escapes you, attempting to catch your breath as your chest heaves. Luckily, his fingers have finally stilled within you, and the next kiss he places upon your lips is tender. Even if he still growls with every exhale.

Softly, he begins trailing kisses down your jaw and to your neck, sucking lightly over certain areas that have your breath stuttering. Slowly, he removes his fingers, feeling as you shudder beneath him once more.

“You’re doing so well for me, My Love,” his voice is nothing short of tender as he cups your face with his opposite hand. Gently, his thumb strokes over your cheek. “My Beautiful Queen.”

Your eyes flutter shut, basking in the gentle caress of his touch as he kisses you. The movement of his tongue over your own is languid, and he hums lowly into your mouth as you finally release your hold on his arms.

The fact that he can still feel the dull press of your nails against his skin, even after you pull your hands away, makes him smile.

Pulling away, he rests his forehead against your own.

“I just-“ You lick your lips, chest still heaving as you rest beneath him. “I just need a moment.”

A pleased rumble shakes his chest, “Of course, My Love.”

“You truly are insatiable, aren’t you?” Your voice holds nothing but amusement as your eyes blink open, the faintest of smirks tugging at the corner of your lips.

“When it comes to you,” he pecks your lips softly. “Always.”

You hum contently, your one hand gently stroking over his spine as he rests above you. Nothing but love can be seen in your gaze as you stare deeply into his eyes, smiling tenderly up at him as he looks upon you in the exact same way that you’re gazing at him.

In fact, he’s so enraptured by your gaze that he fails to see your other hand sneaking up the mattress beside you.

Finally, you seem to catch your breath.

In the blink of an eye, that dagger is now at Hongjoong’s throat. The tip rests mere millimetres beneath his chin, and you can feel the pleased growl that reverberates through his chest against your own as his gaze darkens.

“My turn.” You smirk, wrapping your one leg around his hips and flipping your position instantly.

The way he gazes up at you, his eyes flashing black as his hands settle lovingly onto your waist, says it all.

Still, you press that blade to his throat.

“You certainly know how to please a woman.” You grin, licking your lips. A movement of which, you notice, he follows.

Subtly, his grip tightens on your hips. “I live to please you.”

Your expression softens, a tender smile pulling at your features as you gaze down upon him.

“Well, now I wish to please you.” That knife gets trailed gently down his torso, the tip of the blade caressing his skin and causing goosebumps to raise in its wake. The shudder that wracks his body as you trace the tip over his scar does not go unnoticed by you. “How about it, My King? Shall I reward you for always taking such good care of me?”

Hongjoong’s breathing deepens, eyes trailing over every inch of your figure as you move to slip that silk robe from your shoulders. His lips part, a choked moan escaping him as he feels you beginning to grind yourself down into him.

Your brow quirks, amusement tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Did making me come for you please you that much, My King?” Your voice is but a sultry drawl as you begin to shift down his body.

Once more, his eyes flash black. “You have no idea what you do to me, My Queen, nor how long I’ve desired only to please you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you can feel your heart skip a beat in your chest. Warmth blooms beneath your skin, for you know he only speaks the truth, especially given the way his dark eyes drink you in.

Sitting back on your knees, you settle between Hongjoong’s legs. A small pride blooms in your chest as you see the prominent wet patch on his jeans, his semi-hard cock already straining once more against the material.

Hongjoong observes your every movement carefully. Every twitch of your brow, every subtle upturn of your lips, he sees. The way you hungrily trail your own gaze over his body has his shivering in contentment, anticipation clawing at his chest as you hand that dagger back to him.

Gently, he takes the blade from your hand, silently asking you with his eyes what you wish to do with such an item.

“Stick it in my headboard for all I care,” you grin, hands finding purchase on his thighs and rubbing over the clothed flesh tenderly. “I’m about to have my hands full.”

The way his hips buck upwards, a low groan escaping him is completely involuntary. His mind runs wild with the implications behind your words, and he hardly registers slamming that dagger into the wood above his head.

You giggle, and the sound is pure music to Hongjoong’s ears. “Someone’s eager.”

“My Love-“

“I know, Joongie,” you grin, glancing up at him through your lashes. “You’re not the only one who’s fantasized about feeling my tongue on you.”

This time, it’s his turn for his eyes to roll to the back of his head. His back arches, cock twitching beneath his jeans as your words settle over him. Knowing you’ve desired the same things as he has only makes his head spin, his need for you growing tenfold as he feels your fingers trailing up his thighs.

A blink, and you’re leaning over him, hands splayed over his chest as you kiss him deeply. His hands slip down to your ass, and you giggle into his mouth as you feel him squeeze you appreciatively.

Slowly, you begin to trail your own lips down his neck, biting and sucking marks into his skin along the way. His hands never once leave you, holding onto you for as long as he can as you shift over him, kissing and nipping your way down his bare torso. Not before laving your mouth over that scar once more, though. A fact which has his whole body shuddering, hips bucking upwards to seek any sort of friction that he can.

“So handsome, Joongie,” You hum, teeth grazing the skin just above waistline of his jeans. “You are everything I could have ever asked for, and so much more.”

A shameless moan escapes him, his fingers reaching for you desperately. Only, you chuckle, moving just out of his reach.

“Patience, My Love,” your own hands grasp his waist, squeezing gently. “It’s like you said before,” you grin, “we’ve only just begun.”

The moment your fingers start to undo his belt, Hongjoong’s lips part. His eyes never once leave your figure, drinking in the sight of you, still in that sinful red ensemble, ready and willing to please him. Truly, this is everything he could have ever wanted, and so much more. The fact that you’ve already given so much to him today, and that you plan to give him more, makes his whole body come alight, his soul singing beneath his skin.

The slow, meticulous movement of your hand undoing his zipper only serves to tease him further. Your touch is like electricity, making his skin come alight in the best ways wherever you choose to caress his body. The way you lick your lips eagerly as you hook your fingers beneath both the waistline of his pants and his underwear has his cock twitching in tandem, straining against the material until such a time where you remove them from him.

A low, pleased moan slips passed your lips as you watch his cock spring free of its confines. The tip is already an angry red, and you swear that you can practically see it throbbing from where it sits, pressing firmly against the skin of his stomach.

You toss his remaining clothes somewhere in your room, mouth practically salivating as your eyes stare down at his cock. The way you lick your lips makes him twitch, and you cannot help the grin that tugs onto your features as you realize this.

“Such a pretty cock, Joongie,” you slowly lower yourself to him, letting him feel the warmth of your breath on the skin of his thigh as you place a tender kiss to his flesh. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already this hard.”

“All for you, My Queen,” he replies breathlessly. “You should see how hard I get just from you merely looking at me.”

Your heart positively flutters inside of your chest, a warmth blooming within.

Softly, your hands trail up his thighs once more, nails scratching lightly over his skin.

He shudders.

A smile rests on your face as you begin placing tender kisses along the inside of his one thigh. Your hand comes up to settle over his hip, thumb gently stroking over his skin as you hear him moan.

“My Queen,” his voice is desperate; airy.

Using your opposite hand, you push his thighs further apart, settling between them comfortably. Your head rests just above his aching cock, and with every exhale, he seems to twitch against his stomach. Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice how his hands fist the sheets at his sides. A fact which makes you smirk.

“I had also planned to worship you tonight, My King.” You tell him lowly, hearing how he whimpers your name so beautifully in response. “Let me make all of your fantasies come to life.”

A loud moan escapes Hongjoong’s lips as he feels you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, slowly. You repeat the action a few times, drawing different patterns against him as you trace your tongue over a prominent vein. The fact that his breathing picks up, his head getting tossed back against the pillows only makes you smirk, loving the effect you’re already having on him.

Slowly, you bring that hand you had resting on his hip to his cock, holding him firmly in your grip. You pump him a few times, thumb swiping over his leaking slit as you spare a glance up at him through your lashes.

The sight that greets you has your stomach twisting in pleasure.

Never have you seen Hongjoong look so dishevelled. His hair is a mess, sticking out in odd ends as some damp strands cling to his forehead. His chest continues to heave, lips parted as low growls slip through with every breath he takes. Already, his eyes have bled black, his gaze fixated on you.

No matter what, he refuses to tear his attention away from the glorious sight that is you. Too many nights have been spent fantasizing about what you’d look like between his legs, and now that he finally gets to observe such a breathtaking scene, he swears to engrave it into his memories for all eternity.

The feeling of your hand holding onto him so delicately, occasionally gifting him a tender stroke has low groans escaping him. The wet heat of your tongue dances across his skin, his cock throbbing with every desperate beat of his heart as you continuously lick him from base to tip, just like he’s always dreamed.

The second you shift to lave your mouth over the underside of his cock, Hongjoong’s whole body twitches. He can feel himself internally battling with the feeling of both loving and hating the slow, languid pace you’re taking with him right now. Yet, it’s embarrassing to him how quickly he feels like he’s going to come.

He wants you to make him scream. He wants you to make him beg for you, to make him so desperate for your touch that he falls apart just from a single glance. Yet, he also wants you to be rough with him, to please him until he has nothing left, his come dripping over his spent cock as you force another orgasm from him. For you, and only you.

He wants you to make him cry from the pleasure of it all, but he has a feeling that, somehow, deep down, you most certainly will.

The tender brush he feels of your mind against his own has another shudder caressing his spine. The fact that you immediately open your void to him to let your thoughts shamelessly pour over him as another low, desperate moan of your name falling passed his lips.

So hard for me, Joongie, Your voice echoes shamelessly through his head. Fuck- I love the feeling of you against my tongue.

As if to emphasize your point, another long lick is given to him from base to tip. Only this time, the moment you reach the head, you wrap your lips around him, suckling him gently into your mouth.

The moan that escapes Hongjoong is nothing short of needy, his hips bucking upwards in pursuit of the warmth of your mouth. Except, you’re faster, releasing him with a slight chuckle as you pull away from him.

He whines, the loss of contact making his thighs twitch.

“I control the pace, My Love,” you tell him, voice firm as your dark eyes meet his own. “Touch me all you want, but I determine when you come.”

“Yes, Mistress,”

The whine he lets out goes straight to your core, lips parting in a silent moan. Only, you feel his whole body stiffen beneath you.

Glancing up reveals him staring down at you worriedly, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You’ve never discussed the use of certain names within the confines of the bedroom, and he’s not sure how you may react. However, at the way you’re staring at him, eyes dark with nothing but love and lust for him, he has a feeling you’re rather enjoying yourself right now.

You quirk a brow, the corner of your lips twitching upwards, “Good Boy.”

The moan that tumbles from his mouth is shameless, and his cock twitches once more. He can feel your hand tighten slightly around him, pumping him a few times as you begin placing open mouthed kisses along the underside of his cock.

“Oh, fuck- My Queen,” he hisses, hips shifting involuntarily beneath your hold. “Your mouth-“ he pants, eyes squeezing shut as a high-pitched whine escapes him. “Your tongue.”

A pleasant hum is all the response he gets as you suckle one of his balls into your mouth. The second Hongjoong feels your tongue caressing his skin, his hips jerk, more precome leaking from his tip.

“Feels so-“ a choked moan escapes him as you hum around him, “Fuck- you feel amazing.”

A soft giggle slips passed your lips as you release him, wasting no time to take his hard cock into the warmth of your mouth. Gently, you suckle at his tip, swirling your tongue around him as you lower yourself further onto him. The pleased hums you continuously let out only serve to reverberate sinfully against his shaft, making his thighs shake as his one hand comes up to cup the back of your head.

“Don’t stop,” he whimpers, gaze desperate and pleading as he meets your own. “My Queen-“ he gasps, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. “Don’t fucking stop.”

The whole time you move over him, you make sure to watch his every expression. You can feel yourself practically beginning to drip down your thigh through your ruined panties, the sounds he’s providing for you going straight to your core.

A pride builds in your chest as you work your tongue over his hard cock. You’ve never seen Hongjoong look this disheveled, his normally composed appearance giving way to a man absolutely lost within the pleasure you’re providing for him now. It makes you wonder if this is how he always looks when he thinks of you, if you’ve always been able to make him lose his composure just from a single touch.

From the way he’s moaning for you now, your name falling like a sinful mantra meant only for your ears, you know it to be true.

Simply knowing that you have this profound effect on him makes your whole body come alight in awe. The fact that he can allow himself to be this vulnerable with you, and you with him, means the world to you. To have him, an all powerful King at your complete mercy with his cock down your throat, has you smiling against him. To know that he trusts you, that he has always trusted you is a feeling unlike any other. A feeling which you gladly share, for there is no one else you could ever want - no one else you could ever need - when he is right here, ready and willing to provide you with everything and anything you could ever possibly desire.

Such a pretty cock, My King, you repeat your words from earlier, your mouth full of him as your tongue continues to swirl around his shaft. I could worship it all night long.

A choked moan slipped passed his lips, his hips bucking upwards slightly. The hand he has holding onto the back of your head tightens its grip, and his chest heaves with every breath he takes.

“Please, My Queen,” he whines lowly, thighs tensing as he attempts to hold himself back.

Coming so soon, My King? Your voice feigns concern, and it only causes him to twitch within your mouth again. More intense than just a mere fantasy, isn’t it?

“Better.” He moans, head being tossed back upon your pillows. “Better than any fantasy.”

You hum around him once more, your free hand coming up to start caressing his balls.

A loud curse and cry of your name are the only warnings you get before you feel him twitch, coming down your throat. His hand on the back of your head holds you there, and you feel the faintest of pricks digging into your skin, but not enough to draw blood.

You smile around his cock, helping him through his orgasm and letting him lightly thrust into your mouth as he comes down. Your tongue works to gather any of his release that might have escaped you, finally moving off of him with a small pop as you giggle lowly.

You lick your lips, absolutely revelling in the low growls that rumble out of his chest with every exhale that he makes. His hand finally loosens its hold on your head, bringing it around to cup the side of your face. Gently, his thumb begins stroking over your cheek as he attempts to catch his breath.

“Could you get anymore perfect?” His voice rumbles out, lips parting as he watches you smile up at him from between his legs.

Again, you giggle, wiping at the corner of your mouth with your thumb almost teasingly.

In the blink of an eye, Hongjoong has you pinned beneath him again. His kiss is desperate, tongue stroking over your own as he moans deeply into your mouth. His hands trace down your sides, and you faintly register the feeling of something sharp trailing in their wake.

A shiver caresses your spine as you realize he’s teasing you with his claws. The moment his hands settle on your hips, you feel those familiar little pricks digging into your skin and you moan shamelessly into his mouth.

The briefest of flashes of a thought within your mind has him smirking against your lips.

“I promise that I’ll ravish you in my true form another night, My Love.” His words are but a whisper against your lips, but you still cannot prevent the way you shudder for a second time in his arms. “Right now, I wish to take my time loving you.”

You smile up at him, meeting his tender gaze for the nth time this night, “I’m yours, Hongjoong.”

“As I am yours, My Love.” He returns your soft expression. “Now, as tempted as I am to tear this stunning ensemble from your body, I’d rather not ruin such a precious memory. Would you?”

“I couldn’t agree more, My King.” You reply gently.

Carefully, Hongjoong helps you sit up. His hands slip around your back, skillfully undoing the clasp of your bra and watching as you slide the material from your shoulders. His gaze is nothing but loving as he trails it all over your now exposed torso, hands reaching out to caress your breasts as he helps you lay back down on the mattress.

“Like I said before,” he breathes out, eyes darting from your figure to your own as nothing but awe shines within his. “Perfect.”

He emphasizes his words with a tender squeeze of his hands, massaging your breasts as his thumbs flick over your pert nipples. Slowly, he kisses back down your neck, nipping along the swells of your breasts once he reaches your chest. He continues to cup them so eagerly in his hands, humming lowly against you as he takes his time pressing his lips to your skin.

The second his mouth encases one of your nipples, sucking gently, you moan. The sound is but a sweet melody, one which Hongjoong wishes to continue to elicit from you for as long as he can this evening.

Flicking his tongue over your nipple, he’s quick to release it and move to the other. Giving the opposite the same attention, his low, pleased moans only serve to echo your own, his cock twitching excitedly against you once more.

Slowly, he kisses his way down your stomach, his hands taking their time to caress your sides. His movements are precise, making sure you can feel how much he admires you in his every touch. He hums, laving his tongue over your skin and smiling into each press of his lips against you every time your chest stutters. Wet, open mouthed kisses are placed, almost like a halo, around your stomach, his hands squeezing and massaging your flesh appreciatively.

“There is not a single part of you that I am not in love with,” the admission is but a low drawl against your skin, his dark eyes peeking up at you as he settles himself further between your legs.

“Joongie,” the sigh of his name is nothing short of tender.

“Every part of you is absolutely sinful, My Love. You have enraptured me with your very being, and I will kill anyone who says otherwise.” A low growl reverberates in his chest.

Your breath hitches, heart fluttering inside of your chest as you stare down at him.

Again, Hongjoong meets your gaze.

“You got to taste me this evening,” his voice is but a mere rumble as he hooks his fingers beneath the waistline of your ruined panties. “Now, it’s my turn to taste you.”

In one swift movement, he’s helping you strip yourself of your panties, pushing your thighs open as he settles between them once more. A guttural groan escapes him as his eyes zero in on your pussy, seeing you clench around nothing from his gaze alone. The fact that he can see your essence glinting in the light of the setting sun has a pleased growl rumbling in his chest, your scent completely surrounding him and making his head spin.

You are absolutely intoxicating. The sight of your bare pussy, which he has desperately longed to worship himself, dripping and practically begging for him to touch, has his cock absolutely throbbing against your sheets. For too long has he simply fantasized about this moment, and now that it’s here, he’s going to savour it for all eternity.

“Fuck- look at you,” he pants, licking his lips as his eyes flash black. “Already a mess; just begging for my tongue to have a taste.”

A low moan escapes you, and from the smirk that pulls at his features, you can tell he can physically see you clench around nothing.

He looks up at you, meeting your gaze as his eyes shine. His fingers sink firmly into the skin of your thighs, holding your legs apart as he watches you carefully. Every breath that escapes him boarders on a low growl, his lips parting as he breathes you in.

Softly, your one hand comes up to comb through his hair. Your fingers gently brush the strands away from his eyes, and you smile as you feel him lean into your touch.

His eyes flutter shut.

“You are my greatest desire,” he breathes out, fingers tightening ever so slightly over your thighs. “I will never stop wanting you, My Love. My heart beats for you, and you alone.”

Your heart swells with warmth, spreading outward from your chest and to the very tips of your fingers. A feeling you are becoming all too used to this evening, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Briefly, his eyes flit back to your weeping entrance, moaning lowly. “How I’ve been longing for a taste…”

Hongjoong goes to lean into you, except, he doesn’t get very far.

The hand you have resting in his hair halts his every movement, holding him mere inches away from your pussy as his chest rumbles in discontent. Only, before he can protest, his eyes catch on the way your free hand comes down to part your folds using two of your fingers, putting yourself on full display for him.

You meet his gaze.

“Beg for me, My King.”

Hongjoong’s lips part, his heart stuttering pleasantly in his chest. His nails dig into the skin of your thighs, eyes flashing black as he stares, transfixed, at the way your cunt weeps for him, and him alone.

“My Queen,” the words are hardly audible over the sound of his own racing heart, “Please- I need to taste you. You don’t know how long I’ve been dying for a taste.”

The corner of your lips twitch upwards, “How long, Joongie?”

“I have been craving you for what feels like an eternity, My Love,” his eyes glance up to meet your own. “Please, won’t you let me devour you? Won’t you let me make you come on my tongue? All I want to do is worship this gorgeous cunt of yours. So, please, let me make you feel good.”

Your breath catches, stomach twisting pleasantly from his words.

His gaze lowers back to your quivering pussy, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Let me feel you dripping down my chin,” he’s panting again, but he doesn’t care. “Let me bring you to the highest of pleasures as you drown me in your cunt. I need you, My Love. You know I won’t ever be able to get enough of you…”

He trails off, and the small whimper he hears you let out sends a pleasant tingle shooting down his spine. Before he can say another word, though, you’re pulling him into you, pressing his face right into your weeping cunt.

The snarl that reverberates against you is nothing short of feral, the vibrations sending pleasant shivers up your spine as Hongjoong wastes no time at all. There’s no need to. Not when the greatest temptation of his entire life is spread out before him, whining desperately for him.

Who is he to deny His Queen?

The first taste of you on his tongue has him moaning shamelessly into you, his hands parting your thighs even further as his nails bite into your skin. Slowly, languidly, he suckles at your sweet nectar, the sloppy, wet sounds of his actions filling the space around you and making your head spin.

Hongjoong is shameless as he laves his entire mouth over your dripping cunt, humming contently as he feels you squirming beneath him. His lips have never felt a finer warmth pressing against him, his tongue delving between your folds in chase of the high you offer him with every drop. There isn’t a chance in all of the realms that he will ever get enough of this: your sounds, your taste, your cunt. The way you cling to him, thighs threatening to close around his head were he not holding them spread for himself is simply icing on the cake.

He’s desperate, and he’s not afraid to let it show.

Finest cunt I’ve ever had the honour to devour, My Love, his voice echoes lowly through your head, making you moan. Knowing you’re this wet because of me only makes me want to make you wetter.

“Hongjoong,” Tossing your head back onto the pillows, you begin to shift your hips against his mouth.

Again, the wave of your impending orgasm approaches fast, the past events of the evening having worked you up so beautifully and kept you on the brink of pleasure this whole time. That, and the added fact that it’s him that’s currently devouring you like you’re the best damn thing he’s ever had the pleasure to taste in his entire life is making your head spin. You know it’s only a matter of seconds before you’re falling apart for him once more.

Your whole body twitches as his nose brushes against that sensitive little nub of yours.

Should I finally touch that aching clit of yours, My Love? Suckle it between my lips and make you come for me? He hums, and you don’t even have to look at him to know that he’s watching your every movement carefully.

“Yes, yes! Fuck- please!” You whimper, both hands now finding purchase in his hair as you tug him in closer to you.

The pleased rumble he lets out only adds to the immense amount of pleasure you’re currently feeling. Another whine tumbles shamelessly from your mouth as you feel him dip his tongue between your folds, soon dragging it upwards.

Your whole body twitches, a loud moan falling from your lips the moment he flicks his tongue over your clit. His movements are quick, yet precise, watching you carefully as he suckles that little bundle of nerves between his lips. The eager way his tongue swirls over that swollen bud immediately afterwards has your head spinning, voice close to breaking as your moans rise in pitch.

I know you’re close, My Love. The smile he wears can be felt against your cunt, and it makes your heart flutter. I don’t want you to hold back.

“Never,” you shake your head, too lost in the moment to realize what you’re saying as the word spills from you like a mantra.

Give it to me, His voice is but a growl inside of your mind, his grip tightening on your thighs. Let me feel you drowning me in your love. Let me get lost in this gorgeous pussy that could only belong to My Queen.

A pleasant feeling begins building within your abdomen, intense and tight. You’ve only recalled ever feeling it once before, but you’re too far gone to care. The way he’s making you feel is like having your whole body floating in ecstasy, head spinning as you attempt to ground yourself.

“It’s yours. I’m yours,” you mutter, eyes fluttering shut as you succumb to the pleasure he’s providing you.

You fail to see the way his brow quirks slightly, nothing but a feral devotion and love shining within his eyes as he snarls against you.

“Mine.” The word is muffled into your folds, the touch of his one hand leaving your thigh only to immediately slide two fingers into your dripping cunt. “All mine.”

The moment he curls those two fingers within you, pressing right up against the most sensitive part of your walls, you scream.

His name is no more than a high pitched wail, your entire body trembling as your back arches off of the bed. Your orgasm crashes into you, vision going white as you feel yourself let go, your release flooding out of you and onto his hand.

Snarls, deep and feral, greet your ears. Still, your vision is fuzzy, and you attempt to blink your eyes back into focus as your chest continues to heave with every breath you make. You can feel a certain wetness coating your thighs, dripping down your skin only to be caught by something warm tracing the trails back upwards along your flesh.

Finding enough strength within, you tilt your head to peer down at Hongjoong still resting between your legs. He’s taken the liberty to remove his fingers from you, his hand back on your thigh and spreading you open for him. Your feet are no longer pressed against the mattress as he holds your thighs, pushing your legs towards your chest so he has unrestricted access to your dripping cunt.

Though his eyes remain fixated on your entrance, walls still spasming from the aftereffects of your orgasm, he takes his time to trace his tongue along your inner thighs. Every last drop of your release, he cleans, tracing over the paths of your sweet nectar that shine enticingly against your skin. Pleased rumbles continue to shake his chest, of which gleams with that same essence, that silver chain with the One Ring dangling almost hypnotically over his heart.

Sensually, he begins laving his mouth over your thighs, creeping closer and closer to your weeping cunt with every kiss.

“I didn’t-“ his chest heaves, “know-” a kiss to the innermost part of your one thigh, “you could do that.”

Lightly, you swallow, your throat already feeling raw and overused.

“It’s still a shock for me, too.” Your voice is a bit rough, managing to speak through your own heavy breaths.

A pleasant hum greets your ears, and your whole body shudders as you feel him lave his mouth sensually over your entrance once more. Gently, he begins tracing his tongue over your swollen lips, licking every last drop of release from your pussy that you have to offer him.

I’m tempted to see if I can make you squirt again, My Love. He moans against you, the thought alone driving him insane.

Your one leg twitches in response, feeling just how wet you’ve made your sheets as they press into your ass.

As much as I want to please you until you pass out from pleasure tonight, he begins, languidly licking from your entrance all the way up to your clit. Gently, he circles that sensitive little nub with the tip of his tongue, hearing your breath stutter pleasantly as another choked moan escapes you. I want to slow things down for a bit. Let you feel every aspect of my devotion to you with every flick of my tongue.

“Joongie,” A soft gasp is all you can offer him as he completely slows his pace, sensually moving his lips over your cunt as if he were kissing your mouth, just like he did earlier.

That’s it, My Love, his own eyes flutter closed as he wraps his lips around your clit. Carefully, he suckles on that little bundle of nerves, shaking his head lightly from side to side. I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.

“So good, My Love,” you breathe out, lips parting as your chest rises and falls in uneven pants. You hum, your nails scratching at his scalp faintly as you continue to hold him in your grip. “Incredible.”

Hongjoong’s pleased rumble reverberates against your core. Using his tongue, he parts your folds once more, letting the warm muscle explore every inch of you that he can reach. The way you feel around him, let alone the way you continue to positively drip down his face, makes his whole body come alive. Not to mention the way you taste.

Such a pretty pussy, My Love, his voice continues to echo shamelessly through your head as he flicks at your clit. And all mine to devour.

A moan tumbles from your lips as you clench around his tongue, “Yours.”

Hongjoong shifts impossibly closer, pressing himself deeper into you.

Is this really my pretty pussy to devour? His already dark gaze flashes black, emphasizing his words with a pointed suck to your clit. Are you this wet because of me?

“Yes,” the admission falls like a chant from your lips, nothing but pure pleasure coursing through your veins. “All yours.” You pant. “All for you.”

A pleased chuckle reverberates against your core, making you moan.

Mine. One of his hands shift, pulling one of your own free in order to intertwine your fingers with his. Carefully, he rests your joined hands on your stomach, gazing upon you with nothing but love in his gaze. You’re mine, My Queen. And I am yours.

“My King.” A soft gasp causes your breath to hitch in your throat. “My Joongie.”

That’s right, My Queen, Slowly, Hongjoong begins to grind himself down onto your mattress in time with the movements of his tongue over your dripping cunt. I am yours. I will forever only be yours.

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you moan lowly.

He squeezes your hand.

Now, let me claim this pretty pussy just like My Queen has always desired me to. A pleased rumble shakes his chest as he focusses his attention back on your clit for the moment.

Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head from his words alone, clinging onto his hand for dear life as the fingers of your opposite hand tighten once more in his hair. All you can offer him are whimpers and whines of his name, accompanied by low moans as you completely succumb to the pleasure that he is providing to you.

Every movement of his tongue over your clit is precise. His eyes never leave your face for a single second as he traces specific patterns over you. Not just any patterns, special ones he has long since desired to draw over this precious cunt of yours. Each stroke begins directly over your clit before he’s dragging his tongue outwards, as if tracing a very specific design over you.

He is.

In the ancient tongue, Hongjoong delicately traces his name over your clit. The movements are precise, and with each stroke, his eyes darken.

Each flick of his tongue brings you closer and closer to the edge once more, and you absolutely revel in the slow, languid pace he’s set this time around. The gradual increase of pleasure from such a slow build up seems to only intensify every feeling, your chest heaving as your eyes flutter shut. Pleasure threatens to drown you at any moment, and you find yourself eagerly jumping into it without a second of hesitation.

You know that Hongjoong will be there each and every time you fall to catch you. So, you let yourself go.

His name falls like a mantra from your lips in desperate whines, combined with breathless whimpers of your nickname for him. The fact that you call him your Joongie has his cock twitching once more against the mattress as he watches you fall apart for him. All because of him.

That’s it, My Love, he hums, suckling your clit between his lips and helping to ride you through your high. Such beauty. He moans against you. I can never get enough of you falling apart on my tongue.

Your lips part in a silent gasp, gazing down upon him with such a fond look in your eyes, that Hongjoong is sure to drown in it. Not even a moment later, he feels you attempting to pull him back up to you, and he is more than happy to oblige.

Without wasting another second, Hongjoong is hovering over you once more, pressing himself flush against your body. A moan escapes him as he kisses you just as eagerly as you kiss him, holding you to him in every way that he’s only ever dreamed about. The fact that you wrap a leg around his side to pull him in even closer makes his head spin.

Slowly, your one hand creeps up his chest, and he pulls the slightest bit away out of curiosity. His throat bobs as he swallows, noticing how you hook that necklace he wears through your hand, your one finger seemingly slipping into the golden band hanging from the silver chain.

Gently, you caress the side of his face, the cool of the metal contrasting the heat from his skin.

“I love you, Joongie,” you meet his gaze, your own flitting between his dark eyes as you stare lovingly into them. “So much.”

“You are everything I could have ever asked for, and so much more, My Queen.” He breathes, holding himself above you as nothing but love for you pours into his every movement.

“The feeling is very much mutual, Joongie.” You smile, thumb caressing his cheek tenderly. A breath, and your gaze darkens. “Now, become one with me, My King.”

Leaning forward, Hongjoong rests his forehead against your own, a content rumble building within his chest. “It would be my honour, My Queen.”

The next time Hongjoong presses his lips to yours is slightly different than all of the rest. This time, it’s slower, and much more tender than anything you’ve ever felt from him before. His lips move against yours as if telling a story - the story of your love, and how it will forever be interwoven in your lives for years to come. It tells of the hardships you’ve faced, the struggles and fights, but more than all of that, the unyielding strength and resolve you’ve both had to come this far.

He loves you. Desperately. Unwaveringly. Unconditionally.

Forevermore.

Nothing, absolutely nothing will ever take this moment - you, him, your love, your very souls - away from each other.

Gently, Hongjoong shifts his hips, bringing a hand down to align himself with your entrance. Teasingly, he drags the tip of his cock through your folds, bumping against your clit a few times and making you moan. Only, he pauses, the head of his cock just pressing against your entrance as he looks up to meet your gaze once more.

“Are you-“ he swallows thickly, “Are you sure?”

You take this time to study his features, eyes flitting everywhere over his face. You note the slight furrow of his brows, the clenching of his jaw as he holds himself above you. His jaw ticks as his chest heaves, nothing but tender love and affection shining within his gaze as he looks upon you like you are his entire world.

To him, you are.

The fact that, despite his own raging desires - his very need for you - as he is mere seconds away from pressing into you, he still holds your comfort and wellbeing so highly, lets you know exactly how to feel in this moment here with him. You have no hesitance, nor regret for your decision right now, and time and time again, Hongjoong has proved just how worthy he is. How worthy he’s always been, especially to you.

“More sure of anything than I’ve ever been in my entire life, Hongjoong.” You reply, reaching up to cup his face tenderly in both of your hands. “I want this.” You lean up to peck his lips. “I want you.”

Nothing but love shines within his gaze as he fully presses himself against you, slowly beginning to push into you as he claims your lips with his own. The languid movement of his tongue on yours is synonymous with the gentle push of his hips, moaning into your mouth as he sinks into you inch by slow inch.

Involuntarily, you clench around him, walls fluttering against his cock as you feel him fully sheath himself within you. The way he fits, almost perfectly, inside of you makes you moan, your hands shifting to his back to pull him into you closer.

Parting from your lips, Hongjoong groans. There’s a slightly deeper furrow to his brow as he focusses on remaining still inside of you until you give him the okay to move. For too long has he dreamt of this moment, and now that it’s finally here, nothing could have prepared him for the absolute euphoria that is your tight, wet heat surrounding all of him.

“Fuck- Joongie,” your breathless voice reaches his ears, and he focusses on placing small, tender kisses against the skin of your neck to ground himself. “You feel so good inside me.”

His cock twitches, feeling your walls clench around him almost rhythmically.

“My Love-” he manages to get out through pants. “Fuck- My Love-”

Gently, your one hand comes up to begin threading your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. You hold him to you, purposely clenching around him as the nails of your opposite hand dig into his back.

“I was made for you, My Queen,” his nose trails gently up along your racing pulse, his lips finding purchase on the skin right below your ear. “Made to hold you, to cherish you, to worship you.” He nips at the shell of your ear, voice rumbling out in a low growl. “Made to love you.”

He can hear the hitch in your breath, and it only makes him smile.

“Please, Joongie,” Your grip tightens around him, a small whimper falling from you lips.

The slight shift of your hips against his own is everything he craves, his heart racing alongside your own. It’s all he needs to know that you’re ready, simply waiting for him to fulfill his every promise, and become one together like you both so strongly desire.

Pulling away to stare deeply into your eyes, Hongjoong slowly begins grinding his hips into yours. The gasp you let out as he pulls almost all the way out of you, only to roll his hips back into your own has another small smile pulling at his features.

Gently, he reaches up to take your hand in his. Ever so carefully, he turns his head, never once faltering in the slow, sensual grind of his hips against your own with every soft thrust into you. With the utmost of grace, he places a kiss onto the back of your palm, his eyes fluttering shut as he absolutely revels in this moment, right here, right now, with you.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, My Love,” he breathes, intertwining your fingers together as he rests your hands on the mattress beside your head. “You are mine, and you always will be. Just as I will always be yours.”

A tender moan slips passed your lips, feeling as if your heart is close to bursting from your chest with how much it swells with nothing but love for him inside of you.

“You are worth every second I spent without you in my life, just to be able to get the chance to love you now.” The admission is but a whisper on his lips, but still, he never once stops the movement of his hips.

“I-“ A low moan escapes you, your hand on his back pulling him in closer as you nearly lose yourself to the feeling of him sensually grinding himself into your. You wet your lips. “I’m sorry for making you wait so long.”

Immediately, he’s shaking his head as he stills inside of you.

“I would wait forever if it meant getting to be with you like this, even just once.” There is only the deepest form of both love and sincerity shining within Hongjoong’s eyes as he meets your gaze. “Forever, and a day.”

Your breath hitches, heart swelling once more inside of your chest. Your expression softens and you bring the hand you have resting on his back around to tenderly cup the side of his face.

“How lucky we are, then, to have finally found each other.”

He smiles softly, resting his forehead against your own. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, My Queen.”

You mirror his expression, the tips of your fingers beginning to tingle where you cling to him.

“Now, make love to me, My King,” Your voice is but a whisper as you stare into his loving eyes. “Let us finally become one.”

His heart flutters, gaze darkening as he shifts himself above you, “With pleasure.”

Rolling his hips sensually into yours, Hongjoong absolutely adores how you immediately sigh so blissfully in response. Your eyes flutter shut as his free hand comes down to grasp your thigh, pulling your leg up and around his waist as he slowly thrusts into you. Every grind of his hips into yours has you sighing, lips parting as soft breaths escape you.

Each movement of his is slow. Precise. He needs you to feel his love, needs you to understand that his every breath, his every thought, all of him, is for you. Always and forever, he is yours. He lives for you, and only you. Right now, he intends to make you drown in him, just as he’s always been consumed by you.

“You’re taking me so well, My Love,” He moans lowly, teeth grazing the side of your neck.

A pleased hum escapes you, “Made for you.”

Softly, he growls, his hips snapping the slightest bit harder into your own from your words.

“Filling me so well, My King,” You clench around him in time with your words, and his hips falter only slightly. “I can never get enough of you.”

His lips are on your own without another thought, increasing his pace as he thrusts into you. Still, his movements are sensual, but there’s a slight urgency to the way he buries his cock within your warm walls now, loving how he can hear every whimper and whine you give him.

“Fuck- I love you, My Queen,” he emphasizes his words with a sharp thrust into you, his fingers harshly digging into the skin of your thigh as if to pull you even closer. “I love everything about you,” his voice is strained, low and guttural.

“I love your body,” another sharp thrust is given, his voice but a growl on his lips.

“I love your mind,” his forehead presses against your own as he snaps his hips into yours.

“Your very soul is perfect.” A pleased rumble reverberates in his chest as his eyes flash black. “Perfect for me.”

“Hongjoong,” you pull him flush against you, your head getting tossed back onto the pillows as your eyes flutter shut. You clench around him. “Hongjoong, please-“

At another particularly sharp thrust, your breath catches in your throat. Your eyes roll.

“Again,” his voice growls out. “Say it again.”

Immediately, you comply, moaning out his name as your one hand desperately begins to claw at his back.

The shiver you feel caress his spine makes you smile.

A deep, guttural groan escapes him, burying his face into the side of your neck as he increases the pace of his thrusts. What truly makes him snarl is the feeling of you wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him ever closer into you.

You can do nothing but whimper beneath him now, the nails of your one hand raking down his back as you squeeze his with your other. Each thrust he offers you is angled precisely, the tip of his cock rubbing against that special spot inside of you as you can do nothing but lose yourself to the pleasure he is providing you.

“My Beautiful Queen,” he snarls, teeth nipping at your tender flesh before he’s soothing over the bites with his tongue. “Fuck- your pussy is mine. Mine to please. Mine to love. Mine to fill until you’re satisfied.”

A moan escapes you, and your legs tighten around his waist. Lightly, you nip at his ear, your walls squeezing him so sinfully. “Your cock is mine, My King.”

A feral snarl, deeper than any you’ve ever heard him make before, tears from his throat.

“All for you, My Queen.” His hips snap desperately into your own, the wet sounds of skin on skin only serving to fuel his every movement further. “I was made to serve you, to please you in every way. My cock is yours, let me use it to fill you with my endless love.”

An endless stream of ‘yes’ falls from your lips, eyes nearly rolling as you feel the familiar prick of his claws against your ass as he angles you to meet his every thrust.

“Do you feel how wet I am for you, My Love?” You manage to choke out, voice low and gravelly. “Feel how my love drips endlessly for you.”

Hongjoong’s hips stutter, his cock throbbing deep within you as his brow furrows. Your words nearly have his own eyes rolling, but he forces himself to hold off for now. He needs to see you come again for him. He needs to be the sole reason you’re screaming his name once more.

Slowly, the gentlest of touches begins to caress your mind. It’s warm, and soft, not unlike the feeling of sunlight on a beautiful summer’s day. It originates from the very tip of his red string at the edge of your void, beginning to seep outwards through your mind as you feel a gentle tug pulling at your whole being. The feeling is like being opened and surrounded at the same time, but it’s pleasant none the less, and you begin to feel an intense pressure building within your very core.

He has to time it perfectly.

“I need you-“

“You have me, Joongie,” you whisper, tilting your head slightly to the side to give him better access to your neck. “You will always have me, My Hongjoong.”

A earth-shattering roar tears from his throat.

Reaching his hand up, Hongjoong doesn’t even realize he’s grabbed onto the handle of your dagger. Harshly, he drags the blade through the wood of your headboard, eyes the deepest black they’ve ever been as a complete and utter feeling of euphoria floods his veins. His face buries itself in the side of your neck, fangs piecing your flesh right at the juncture where it meets your shoulder.

Instantly, your blood is flooding his senses, but that’s not all.

Memories begin appearing in his mind as he feels his soul and yours finally becoming one, dancing within the very depths of your beings and finally merging as he has always intended.

Memories that are not his own.

Through your eyes, he sees you turning around to face that makeshift front desk they set up all those long months ago. He feels the genuine surprise you felt when you first laid your eyes upon him, but also the spark of attraction that announced itself upon your first meeting.

He sees flashes of memories here and there of the very first days you had known each other. He feels the uncertainty, the caution, but soon, those originally negative emotions give rise to more gentle, pleasant ones. A fact of which that makes his heart swell inside of his chest.

The garden appears before his very eyes, and he sees himself gazing upon you with such fondness in his eyes as you thank him for creating such a space for you. He hears you telling him that maybe, just maybe, loving him won’t be such a bad thing after all. The way he can feel your heart warming in that moment says it all.

The time at the mall spent with all of them is the next memory to flood his senses, and he is privy to how good you felt after you condemned that bastard all those months ago. He observes the various subtle glances you gave him that day, all of which he thought were too good to be true. Yet, there he sits, directly across from you at that table, and sure enough, you keep glancing towards him. That fact that your curiosity is now running unfiltered through his mind, combined with the fact that you’ve always wanted to know more about him makes his head spin.

So many of these scenes, and more, play out in his mind as he feels you completely consuming him in the best of ways. All he knows in this moment is you, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

The garden makes a reappearance, and he sees himself holding your hand tenderly in his own. His arm is wrapped around you as you both sit on that bench together, gazing upon the fountain. His breath hitches as both your thoughts and feeling wash over him, whole body stilling as he hears your voice echo throughout his head.

“Yeah,” you sigh to yourself, settling further against his side. “I think I might be falling in love with him.”

Hongjoong doesn’t exactly know the precise moment you fell in love with him, but if he thinks about it, he can’t exactly pinpoint the moment he knew he was in love with you, either. All he does know, is that every single emotion you’ve ever felt towards him, both the good and the bad, flood his very being right now. Emotions which overwhelm him in the best of ways.

Then, a more recent, unfamiliar memory makes itself apparent. It’s of you, alone in the shower, your back pressed firmly against the wall. It’s as if he’s an outside party, getting the first glance at the beautiful sight that is you, naked and wet, pleasing yourself to the thought of him.

His breath catches.

You’ve thought of him. You weren’t just telling him what he wanted to hear earlier. You’ve actually made yourself come to the thought of him.

Carefully, his eyes trail over your figure, noting the hand you have over your mouth in attempts to keep quiet as you press the shower head to your aching clit. Slowly, your hips begin to grind against the spray of water, small whimpers escaping you. Though, that’s not truly what makes his head spin.

Your thoughts from this exact moment in time shamelessly wash over him now, and he gets a front row seat to such fantasies you’ve seemingly always had about him. A fact which makes him smirk, a pleased rumble building within his chest as he fully submerges himself to the feeling of you and your thoughts flooding his mind.

He wouldn’t want it any other way.

You, on the other hand, are fairing no better.

Just as you speak those final words to him, you feel Hongjoong twitch deep within you. His claws only sink into your skin for a brief moment before you feel him burying his fangs deep within your neck. The sensations, combined with everything that has built up to this moment makes you scream his name, back arching as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Suddenly, you see yourself walking through the front doors to the house. Though, you suppose it was considered a hotel back then. Still, the thoughts that flood your senses now are not your own, and it only takes you another minute to realize that you’re living his own memories of you right now.

You can feel his excitement at finally getting to see you in person, and the way he shudders at the first whiff of your scent that graces his senses. You hear his thoughts, shamelessly praising you and your beauty as you talk to him, and your heart feels as if it’s going to burst from his lingering emotions the very first time you smile at him.

A blink, and you’re watching yourself flee the dining room that night where it all went down. You can feel the pleasant growl that reverberates within him as he pulls the knife out of his chest, staring down at that blade fondly as thoughts of your bravery and skill fill his mind. You even feel just how affected he is by your actions, pure pleasure coursing through his veins as he chases after you without a second thought.

An array of moments you don’t recall flit through your mind next. Some are from before you came to them, while others are longing glances he’s given to you while you’ve been in the same room together. You feel his every need, his every desire for you - the desire to prove himself to you and make you his in every meaning of the word.

You feel his jealousy, especially when he barges into Seonghwa’s tailor shop to see you inches away from kissing his brother.

You feel his hope in the garden, bright and vibrant, as your words echo like a siren’s song through his mind after that very special moment you shared. The first of many more to come.

You see him, in the shower, cracking the tiles on the wall beneath his grip as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Shamelessly, his thoughts wash over you. Every fantasy he ever had that night is yours to behold, watching him beg and moan to the mere thought of you. You hear his desperation in the way he moans your name, spilling all over his hand as his heart beats for you, and only you.

Slowly, you drift through all of his memories of you until you finally feel yourself coming back to settle within your own mind. It’s heavy, and a bit cloudy, but you’re finally able to pinpoint the tingling feeling of your limbs, fingers twitching as you continue to hold Hongjoong so delicately to you.

Carefully, you blink, eyes focussing in on the ceiling above you to further ground yourself. You can feel his lips placing tender kisses against your neck, tongue already soothing over the bite you’re sure now sits proudly against your skin. His cock still rests buried deep within you, and you can feel your combined fluids leaking out of you onto your thighs.

Except, you don’t care.

You pull him closer.

A low chuckle greets your ears, “Welcome back, My Love.”

All you can mange in response is a hum, nuzzling your face into the side of his own neck. You inhale deeply, humming pleasantly at the intoxicating scents that begin filling your every sense.

“Come on,” he goes to pull away. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

A loud whine escapes you, and all you manage to do is tighten your hold over him, ensuring that he cannot go anywhere.

“My Love, you need to at least drink some water,” his own voice is rough, albeit amused, and slightly gravelly in tone as he strokes a tender hand down your side.

Your body suddenly feels as if it’s made of lead, eyelids threatening to fall shut as sleep tugs at the edges of your subconscious. Already, your vision begins to blur at the corners.

“Alright, My Love,” he chuckles lowly once more. “At least drink this.”

Your brow furrows in slight confusion until you feel him lean into you. His neck is presented to you, and you notice his one hand coming up to attempt to create a small slit in his skin for you.

Only, you’re quicker.

It’s as if your body immediately knows exactly what to do, recalling the moment you bit into Jongho’s wrist. Your one hand comes up to grasp Hongjoong’s hair, tugging his head to the side as you lean in to begin suckling softly at his neck.

A low moan greets your ears, and you feel his cock twitch deep inside of you.

You smirk.

A choked moan of your name escapes passed Hongjoong’s lips as he feels you bite down on his neck. He feels your teeth, suddenly sharper than he ever recalls them being, sinking into his flesh, soon followed by the gentle laving of your tongue over the bite.

His eyes flutter closed in bliss.

A soft, albeit pleased hum escapes you as you feel his blood flooding your senses. The subtle taste of strawberry cheesecake greets your tongue, and you suckle all too eagerly at the wound.

Lowly, a growl rumbles from deep within your chest.

You freeze, pulling away to blink up at him owlishly, his blood now painting your lips that sinful shade of red, “I- uh-“

Before you can get another word out, his lips are on yours, calming your mouth with a slow, yet sensual kiss. His own chest rumbles in satisfaction as his hands settle lightly onto your waist. Then, ever so carefully, he flips your positions, letting you rest on his chest while his cock still remains buried deep inside of you.

“Get some rest, My Love,” he places gentle kisses over your face, arms wrapping securely around your waist. “I’ve got you.”

The sound of gentle chimes seem to echo in the distance, and it makes you smile.

“I love you, Joongie,” you mumble, eyes already fluttering shut as you settle your head onto his chest, resting softly above his beating heart. “I always will.”

Hongjoong smiles, a low, pleased hum escaping him at your words.

“And I love you, My Queen.” He places a tender kiss onto your forehead, relaxing fully into this moment with you as his eyes fall shut. “Until the end of time.”

Again, the soft sound of chimes echoes in the distance, and it’s that thought - that warmth - that you feel surrounding you as you rest in his arms which lulls you to sleep, basking in the embrace of the one who loves you most.

The one who will always love you.

More than life itself.

#cultofdionysusnet #yandere ateez #yandere hongjoong #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #yandere kpop #hongjoong smut #hongjoong scenarios #kpop smut #kpop scenario #demon au #kpop au

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justaaveragereader · 1 year

Text

The 8 Evil Thoughts || Masterlist

Summary😈: When everyone dies they assume heaven is automatically where they will go…well this situation was not quite ideal…

Genre😈: Angst, Psychological Thriller, Possible Yandere

Pair😈: ????? x Reader

Status😈: Completed

Warnings😈: Manipulation, Gaslighting, Violence, Mind Games

➖😈➖😈➖😈➖😈➖😈➖😈➖😈➖😈➖

Intro: Before It Begins

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” -William Shakespeare, The Tempest.

One: Sadness

“Deep inside where nothing is fine I've lost my mind.”

Two: Greed

“Greed is a bottomless pit which exhausts the person in an endless effort to satisfy the need without ever reaching satisfaction.” -Erich Fromm

Three: Envy

“Never underestimate the power of jealousy and the power of envy to destroy. Never underestimate that.” -Oliver Stone

Four: Sloth

“You must avoid sloth, that wicked siren.” -Horace

Five: Wrath

“You must have anger, as rightful wrath is what makes you create your own ethical standards.” -Kamal Haasan

Six: Lust

“You knew who I was when I offered the apple. Yet you still took a bite. Admit it. Sin is delicious.”

Seven: Gluttony

“The gluttons dig their own graves with their teeth.” -James Howell

Eight: Pride

“It was pride that changed angels into devils; it is humility that makes men as angels. -Saint Augustine

Nine: Realization

"The wolf has eyes for prey, the cow has eyes for hay. One of them's a killer, the other his buffet" - Itona Horribe.

Ten: The Fool

"Some people will pretend to care just so they can get a better seat to watch your struggle. Every helping hand isn't always there to help."

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sunmoonjune · 2 years

Text

dewdrops at dawn

pairing: poly!ateez x fem!reader (ot8 x reader) [demon!au]

warnings: minors dni!! socially anxious reader, reader is implied to be neurodivergent but it’s never explicitly said, mentions of body insecurity, chubby reader, being followed, drunk assholes, cursing, demons, soulmates, reincarnation, blood, death, heavy suggestive content, mentions of angels being dicks (idk there’s a bit of angel slander but it’s just for plot purposes), a little gore, angst then lots of fluff, heavy sexual themes but no actual smut (again, minors please dni!!) (also, all suggestive content is 100% consensual, the reader just tries to evade their advances to continue their teasing), also the reader is mentioned to be some kind of atheist/not religious

word count: 17.2k

a/n: nooo the boys’ demon forms are totally not based on the obey me characters at all, why would you even ask that /j lol welcome to another monster fic!! I’ve been writing this one in between like the moon and finally had the motivation to finish it! I hope y’all enjoy this one!! <3

There’s an ache in your chest.

It’s not stinging or painful, by any means - just an ache. The dull throb is usually easily ignored in most circumstances, with a shrug of the shoulders or a heavy breath. The pain is never enough to worry your already addled mind. It lingers constantly, not sated by any human means.

You don't know how to describe it to those who ask. The pain isn’t sharp, and it’s certainly not excruciating. It's simply empty. That’s the only way you’ve learned to describe it. It’s a hole in your chest, aching to be filled - by what, you’re not quite sure. All you know is the ache feels null, like a void longing to be filled, or a chasm waiting to be crossed. There’s emptiness that cannot be filled no matter how hard you try.

Some days are better than others. On these, you can manage your day quite splendidly; going about your daily tasks does not pose a challenge. Getting up in the morning was not as difficult of a challenge, nor was dragging yourself to university classes.

On other days, you can barely bring yourself to leave the bed. The emptiness drags a pit into your stomach and you can feel nothing but the ache that longs to be filled. You have yet to discover what you’re searching for, but you long for the day the empty pain is filled.

Your friends, however, have an interesting way of comforting you.

In fact, you think you’re going to kill them.

After days and days of their begging, you finally allowed the two girls to drag you to a club they frequented. It wasn’t your ideal night out - made apparent by the number of excuses you’d provided when trying to avoid going out. The anxious pit at the bottom of your stomach threatened to crawl its way into your throat at the thought of the club.

However, no matter how hard you’d tried, the two girls had been persistent. When you’d explained an excuse to avoid the club one week, they simply offered to go the next evening. After offering other options and pitifully providing other explanations, the girls finally managed to convince you to join them. Of course, under the circumstances that you did not have to drink, and that they would not leave your side for too long.

You’d never really been a partier. Social anxiety, among the other apprehensive turmoils that lingered in your gut, simply kept you from enjoying the experience. There were too many possibilities at clubs: what to wear, what kind of makeup, what shoes do you wear without your feet getting sore, too many other people - the list went on. Besides, the blaring sound of the dubstep soundtrack - that could hardly be called music - and the flashing lights sought to overstimulate your senses just minutes after you arrived.

A ringing was already clouding your head and fogging your brain after mere minutes of sitting at the bar.

You anxiously tugged at the dress the two girls had chosen for you. It wasn’t something you were particularly comfortable dressing in, highlighting too many of the features you usually covered. The length allowed glimpses of your thighs to peek out, which caused you to pull your bag into your lap to cover. The rolls of your stomach could be seen when you sat, the fabric of the dress doing nothing to provide you room to hide them. The cloth of your bag rubbed against your skin as you clutched it to your front in an effort to shield the parts of your body you didn't want others to see. The twisted image of your skin made the lingering anxious pit swell in size.

It had been a little over an hour, and the itch under your skin that formed with the proximity of so many people was quickly becoming unbearable. It swelled under your skin and caused the twitch of your muscles in anxious spurts. You could almost feel the touch of germs and breath touching your skin from the throngs of people dancing on the floor nearby. At the thought, a shiver rolled back down your spine and you continued to rub your thumbs together in a stimulating manner.

You promised yourself a few minutes more, before you’d text your two friends and make your way out of the night club. It was undeniably puzzling how you’d lasted the entire hour, but you were ready to end the night. Despite knowing the girls for years, the ache in your chest still appeared when you worried you’d insult them by trying to provide for your own needs.

After screwing the lid of your water bottle tight, you shifted in your seat. Ready to text your two friends about your departure, a grunt is heard from your left as someone slides into the seat adjacent to you.

It’s a man, alcohol on his breath and unshaven, unkempt facial hair nearly causing you to wince. Not to mention, the scent of his body odor reeked from the bodies dancing on the floor behind you. You can feel his eyes on your skin, but you attempt to ignore it by tucking your hair behind your ear and tapping on your phone screen. You hope he’ll turn his attention elsewhere, as you try to look busy with your device.

Unfortunately, your wishes are not fulfilled as the drunk stranger tries to grab your attention. He waves his hand in front of your face, and you quickly pull back away, not wanting to be touched by a stranger. His grimy fingers and horrid stench cause you to hide a wince beneath a curt, uncomfortable smile.

“Hey,” his drunk voice slurs. “You’re pretty cute for a chubby girl.”

You wince.

The mention of your size twists the knife already buried in your heart. You’re not often approached by men, often being overlooked for your pretty friends, but at least the distaste of your figure has always been internal rather than external. The notion of such comments further propels your self-deprecating mind. It’s a thorn in your side and a cloud in your rear-view mirror: constant, draining reminders that always seem to ruin an otherwise sunny day.

You chose to ignore the man, chewing on the inside of your cheek to regulate some of the anxiety. Blood seeps from the wounds already lining the inner lip, but you don't have another outlet. There’s a thickness in your throat that you’re afraid you can’t speak over, and the churning in your stomach is steadily rising.

Clutching the phone tightly in your grasp, you continue to type out a message to your two friends. Your fingers skate across the keyboard, motions too quick to properly spell. The message is jumbled, but you hope they understand despite the typos scattered across the screen.

“Oi - “ the drunkard grunts, obviously upset at the lack of attention. “I’m talking to you, ya know?”

It’s becoming increasingly harder to hide your disgust as the man continues to lean closer to your form. As you continue to fiddle with the strap of your bag, you turn to the man. Ready to express your discomfort, you begin to stutter out an excuse when the man reaches to touch you. Growing tired of your ignorance to his efforts, the sleazy man had attempted to grab your attention by gripping your skin.

You don’t know what he was planning on touching, but your immediate reaction is to move.

Your heart skips a beat in panic.

Quickly sliding off the stool, you step away from the drunkard with a muttered curse. You’re a little wobbly in the shoes your friends have chosen for you, but you maintain your balance. Scanning the crowd, you try to seek out a bartender or security guard in the crowded club. There are too many bodies in the room, further instigating the panic.

You can’t seem to see anyone in the crowd, and the loud noises and bright, flashing lights are only adding to the over-stimulation. With a quickening heartbeat and racing mind, you stumble away from the man.

With no one in sight to help, you attempt to mutter out a few words.

“Please don’t touch me.”

The sleazy drunkard, obviously too heavily intoxicated to process basic commands, slides off his own barstool and attempts to follow you.

“Where ya’going?” He slurs, stumbling on his heavy feet. His off-center balance and tilted walk are obvious signs of his intoxication. You step away again, with a racing heart and sweaty palms.

Your head whips around the room, still scanning for someone - anyone. There has to be someone in the crowd that could help. Anyone could see you in a panic and reach out to help out of simple concern, however it appears that the flood lights, loud music coupled with a few drinks has made the crowd oblivious to your situation.

With heavy breaths, you push your hands out in front of you in an attempt to keep the man away. Your hands tremble a little despite your efforts to appear strong. You squeeze a fist tight and wave the man away.

“Please leave me alone.” You grunt, just loud enough to be heard over the music rushing through the speakers.

As though he hadn't heard you at all, the man slurs out a few curses as he reaches to touch you again. Though he doesn’t get the chance, you wince at the imagined feeling of his greasy fingers grazing against your skin.

Before his fingers can skim against your bare skin, you turn and start pushing through the crowd. Sweet and grime press into your personal space and you scrunch your face into a cringe. The heat of the mass of shifting bodies continues to press into your skin, and it makes the room feel like it’s closing around you.

You pant as several bodies shove you around the crowd. Tears are beginning to push against your eyes, and you force them closed to keep them from falling. Another body shoves into you and you stumble from the force.

The door is not far. It’s the one that lets out at the back of the bar, but you long for any method of escape possible. Another few shoves throw the crowd and you break free from their grasp. Sweat sticks to your skin and it feels like you’re suffocating. There’s too many things touching you. The reminder of their bodies against your skin makes bile rise into your throat, and you don’t understand why you hate their touch so much.

Panting and nearly shaking, you whip your head over your shoulder. You hope that you’ve lost the drunkard in the throng of people, but it appears your wishes will go unanswered.

From the depths of the crowd, you can see his form still pushing through the dancing masses. His eyes are still on your form, and despite his intoxication, he seems able to follow you without too much trouble.

You cringe and stumble as you turn back towards the door. You and your friends had taken an Uber to the party as they had predicted to be drinking all night long. As you push the heavy door open, your thoughts race as you attempt to figure out where to go.

Your first thought is to find a crowd of people. Hopefully someone would be able to aid your panic and turn the drunkard away.

Skin sticking and chest heaving, you turn your head around with wide eyes. Your heart sinks when your eyes settle on the dark alleyway. The back door of the bar has let out into a long, dank corridor. There are dumpsters across from you and not a person in sight.

You whimper at the lack of life, heart still racing and mind still churning. It’s running a mile a minute, trying to force a semi-coherent thought that will help you escape. However, there are more cries of panic and worst-case scenarios filtering through your consciousness than ideas.

You want to hide, but there are so few options in the decrepit alleyway, you’re sure you’ll be found. Even a drunkard would be able to see your crouched form behind the dumpsters.

Running may not be a good option either. You’ll have to kick off your heels, but you don’t really want to put your bare feet on the glass and grime covered concrete. You cringe at the thought of bacteria seeping into open wounds and push the idea away.

The creak of the heavy bar door echoes through the silence of the alleyway.

The sound sends a cold shiver down your spine. You’re out of options. The greasy drunkard is stumbling out the door with a sneer on his face. His clothes are loose and askew, likely from the push and pull of the crowd. Hair messy and alcohol still on his breath, he stumbles towards you.

“Where ya going, girlie? I’m tryna talk to ya!” He’s nearly shouting now, his spit spraying and voice angry. You cringe at his wretched breath and nearly gag.

A tear finally leaks from your stubborn eyes. Heart pounding and throat dry, you can’t seem to force out any other words - not that protests stopped him before. You step back, kicking a glass bottle with your feet and almost tripping. You can’t take your eyes off the man, too worried if you move them, he’ll lunge.

As his form approaches, you can’t think of any other options. In your state of unrelenting panic, you do something you’ve never done before.

With a racing mind and a lump in your stomach, you start praying.

Please, fuck - if anyone is out there, please help me! I’ve never prayed before, but please, God - anyone - please save me. I’m so sorry -

You’ve never reached out like this before - never felt the need to. You were not raised to follow any religion, so the thought never really crossed your mind. The thoughts of demons and angels were never at the forefront of your consciousness, nor was believing in a higher power. However, the fear and panic have you reaching for any string of hope in an otherwise dark and dreary tunnel.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you continue to plead for help in your mind. Form shaking and tears finally falling, you being to sob. They come out choked and breathy, just barely escaping your lungs as they blur with pleads for help. Your chest feels like it’s caving in on itself and you can’t feel your extremities. Your fingers are numb and your arms are slowing losing feeling from the panic.

You brace for the impact of his nasty fingers on your skin. With every muscle in your body tense, you heave out another sob and a plea for safety. The drunkard is mumbling words under his breath, but your racing mind is so loud you can’t hear anything but the rushing in your ears. Counting the seconds, you lock every bone in your body and prepare to fight with everything you have.

Then, there’s some sort of flash across your closed eyelids and a dark, hissing sound. You squeeze your eyes shut even further, shuffling backwards to make yourself even smaller. The sounds of struggle reach your ears, feet scuffling and a shout of some sort of anger or pain.

The sick sound of bones being broken echoes through the alleyway, and then there’s silence.

You shuffle backwards again, now terrified of the new presence in the alleyway. You hadn’t heard the bar door open, nor the sounds of approaching footsteps. You’re unsure how the new person has entered the alleyway, but they’ve incapacitated your attacker. They’re silent and strong, and you’re afraid they’ve now set their sights on you.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whimper. The words are so silent, you’re not sure the new presence has heard them. Eyes still squeezed shut, you press your back against the damp wall of the alley behind you.

A step is taken towards your form. You flinch, head moving away from the noise. The person is likely aware of your fear and stops moving.

There’s silence for a few beats, then the soft sounds of humming fill your ears. It’s sweet and soft, and you nearly sink into the sound. Their voice is deep and gentle, filled with honey and sweet sugar. They hum a short tune, and the sounds send some sort of pleasant river down your spine. It’s familiar, the zing. You’ve felt it before, but only briefly.

A tug has always pulled on your heart, sending shivers down your spine and yanking longingly when you interact with certain things. Sometimes a sense of deja vu echoes throughout your being when you pass places that seem too familiar.

This zing has echoed through your veins before - but it was different then. Before, this shiver passed through your skin in longing. As if you had been separated from something for too long; some kind of homesickness or other sense of longing.

Now, the flutter of your heart increases as their voice seems to awaken every nerve under your skin. Their hum seems to slow your pulse and weaken your muscles. You sink into their voice, a pleased hum erupting from your own throat despite your efforts to hold it back.

A soft chuckle erupts from the form in front of you.

Once again, a pleasant shiver sets your body alight. All the panic from before is slowly ebbing away from your mind; replaced with thoughts of the new presence and their honeyed voice and sweet laugh.

“S’alright, Pretty.” Their voice echoes through your mind. The deep sound seems to fill every nook and cranny of your body, and you wish you could linger in the sound of their voice.

When you crack open your teary eyes, it’s not what you expect.

The drunkard from before is gone, the space he occupied is empty and there is no trace of his existence. Instead, another form has taken his place.

Though you wish you could say you were mystified by the man’s beauty at first, your eyes are immediately drawn to the horns, wings and tail of the form before you.

While he’s one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen, with dark hair hanging in front of his eyes and sharp cheekbones that you ache to touch, your eyes fall to the twisted horns that curl around his head. They’re as dark as his hair, twisting around his skull like a ram and shining in the moonlight. His wings are dark too, spread like a bat’s. The membranes are dark, but the outline of the bones are white, standing out against the darkness of the skin between them. You nearly reach out to touch the smooth skin before you remember where you are.

The man’s tail is dark too. It looks nearly identical to those of demons you’ve seen in fairytales. Long and prehensile, it has a barb-like hook at the end. It’s sharp and dangerous, but it gently sways like a cat’s while you look at it.

When you meet the man’s eyes with your teary ones, you suck in a deep breath.

His black eyes are already settled on your face, a sweet smile on his lips. At the contact between your eyes, a deeper shiver sings throughout your body, nearly making you shake. It’s pleasant, a hum you feel like you’ve felt before. It sets every nerve in your body alive, and you long to feel it again.

With a slightly agape mouth, you can’t take your eyes off the beauty of the man before you.

He chuckles again, a cheeky smile erupting onto his mouth. The tips of sharpened fangs gleam in the light of the moon. Some sort of aroused thrum echoes through your skin at the sight, and you curse yourself for those kinds of thoughts at a time like this. His smile makes him even more attractive - you can’t understand what this nearly familiar man is doing to your mind.

“Seven Hells,” the man giggles, the grin still on his cheeks. “You would not believe how fast angels are! I had to fight like six other people to be the first to answer your call.”

Breathing out a sigh of confusion, you tilt your head. The man before you seems to think the action funny, and he huffs out a breathy laugh. He’s endeared, but you don’t know why.

The concept of demons and angels confuses you, but you don’t refute the claim. After all, his moving wings and tail couldn’t be some sort of elaborate costume.

You shiver again when his eyes meet yours again and you sigh out a breathy, sweet sound. The form in front of you seems to have some sort of similar reaction as his wings flutter and tail swings again.

The only thing your addled brain seems to be able to force out in its confusion is a meek, “Hello.”

The demonic form in front of you shudders at your voice, seeming to have a similar reaction as you had before. His head tips back a little and you nearly keen at the sight of his throat. The Adam’s apple is apparent in the moonlight and you nearly imagine a dark purple mark on his skin, before you shake off the haze and focus back on the present.

With another sweet grin, the man’s sweet voice responds.

“Hello, Darling. It’s been a long time.”

You scrunch your nose in confusion, attempting to decipher what he meant in his words. Have you met before?

“My name’s San,” he provides. His hair falls into his dark eyes as he leans forward to tip his head in a soft greeting. The dark horns shine in the light, but for some strange reason, you are not frightened by them. Though they shine menacingly, you ache to stroke them rather than to cower in fear. You wonder how they feel underneath your fingers. Would they be rough or scaly? Can he feel it - are there nerves in his horns that would allow him to feel your touch?

You cough a little sigh to break from your trance. Then you offer your name in return. San smiles once more, showing his white teeth, before he offers you a hand.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of trusting this demonic stranger after being chased into an alleyway. However, the singing under your skin and the butterflies in your stomach have left you with some sort of deja vu. You feel as though you’ve met San before. His presence is so familiar that even your skin seems to remember his touch. Just the sound of his voice sets your body alight.

Eyeing his hand, your eyes fall to the black polish coating his fingernails. San seems to take note of your hesitance and offers you a gentle smile. He leans down a little, bringing his height to match yours. His wings fold against his back, making his form a little smaller. San is a little less menacing in this way - though, you weren’t exactly afraid of him before.

“He can’t hurt you anymore,” San whispers. His words are only for your ears.

You nod your head softly. With a determined sigh, you place your hand in San’s. Something about him is trustworthy; whether it’s his kind disposition or his familiarity, you allow San to gently keep you upright as he pulls you towards his body. He helps you maintain your balance, legs still shaky from the chase.

His hands are as warm as his demeanor. You feel yourself melting into his side, and despite your hopes to keep upright, San has you weak in the knees.

“Is it alright if I walk you home, Darling?”

Meeting his eyes, you nod your head wearily. With San’s hands on your skin, you can’t seem to think. His touch scrambles your brain far more than his voice had. When you regain your balance, San takes his hands away from your skin and you nearly whine.

Embarrassed, you turn away from the man. San chuckles, endeared by your shyness. It’s not the first time you’ve attempted a similar maneuver. He savors in your presence, eternally grateful to have returned to your side once more. It’s been far too long since his skin had touched yours. He can feel the familiar connection hum underneath his skin, the ninth piece of a puzzle falling into place.

He knows his seven lovers long to take his place. When the ring of your voice had echoed in their minds, San had been the first to launch to his feet. His stomach twisting in both fear and longing, San was already ready to fall into your side.

“Dibs!” He’d cried, disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

His heart was racing as he felt the terror in your voice. San had fought at least six angels through his descent in order to reach your side. After all these years, he was not about to let an angel be the one to answer your prayers.

The seven others had groaned, voices blending together as they ached to follow their partner. Hongjoong had chuckled, drawing Seonghwa into his side as they laughed at their younger lover. Though they wanted to follow, they knew you were safe in San’s hands. San was entirely capable of fighting off the strongest of angels, and he had been one of the most involved in finding you.

“Ah, eager brat,” Hongjoong grunts. It’s not malicious, an upturned grin on his lips indicates that.

Seonghwa smiled as he buried his face into Hongjoong’s hair. Minutes later, the seven boys felt the same connection finally locked into place. The hum sung beneath their skin as it did yours. The ninth bond fit perfectly into the web of connections between the eight boys. It intertwined with the others and pulsed with energy. Feeling the quiver beneath his skin, Seonghwa dropped his head back and hummed pleasantly.

It was like no other. The feeling of a bond slipping into place was more euphoric than any other experience any of the demons had encountered. At his side, Wooyoung pouted. He had been on his feet as quickly as San. He ached to complete their bond as San had. While the connection had returned, the bond between you and San was exponentially stronger as you had contact with him.

Wooyoung ached to connect your souls as San had; to feel the lingering emotion sink into his own skin and fill his entire being. He longed to feel the touch of your skin against his and bask in the warmth of your hands.

However, he knew he had plenty of time to complete the bond. You had finally returned, and the eight could never be more grateful. The seven men had exchanged knowing glances, passing unspoken words through their bonds. With a deep, fulfilled sigh, they allowed themselves to relax knowing that you were safe with San.

You would return to their side soon.

When San walked you back to your apartment that evening, he had explained the basic biology of his species.

He had avoided much of the deeper details, but he had allowed as many questions as you could conceptualize. San explained that he was demon-kind. His horns, tail and wings had obviously given away his genetics, but you were still mystified. Previously, you did not necessarily believe in their existence. Though you had never discounted it, it was not a superstition you put much thought into.

San had chucked at your wondrous expression, feeling endeared at your curiosity. He had expected a little fear at his appearance, but you expressed nothing but wonder. You had almost asked to touch his wings, but you figured it was not something to ask upon first meeting.

Though he left out his status in Hell, as well as his seven other lovers and their bonds, San answered every question you asked of him. He hid his demonic features from sight as he walked you to your door, not wanting suspicious eyes to watch the two of you. You were a little disappointed to see them disappear, but you had even more questions to ask of San so you didn’t mind.

When he left you at your door, you were upset to see him go. Whatever sung under your skin in his presence gave you such a euphoric feeling. It was one you didn’t want to go away.

At your barely hidden frown, San had chuckled. He promised to return soon to answer more of your questions, but he wanted to make sure you got home safe. He explained that he could hear your prayers, the same as angels could. It was the reason he appeared in the first place.

If you wanted to see him again before he could find time, all you had to do was call out his name.

When you had shut the door behind you, you had collapsed against the door with weak knees. After being chased and harassed by a drunkard and saved by an Adonis of a demon, your head was spinning. Too much had occurred in one night.

However, you can’t say you regretted joining your friends that evening. Meeting San had felt like nothing you had ever experienced. The pure euphoria that rushed through your veins was like no other. Even seconds after saying goodbye, you wished to feel the shiver under your skin once more. Just your name falling from his lips would be enough.

Though he’s a demon and you should be frightened, you can’t bring yourself to stop thinking of him. He was so kind and gentle with you despite his demonic nature. He had saved your life, after all.

You spend the next few days with San’s image in your mind and his voice in your thoughts. He doesn’t leave your consciousness for hours. The honeyed sound of his words send more shivers down your spine and have butterflies twirling in your stomach.

In the few days since your interaction, you almost find yourself calling his name.

You hesitate as you don’t have a reason to see him again, but every nerve in your body aches to be in his presence again. It wants to hear his voice and feel his touch, no matter if he was a demon.

It’s three days later when you see him again.

This time, San has brought someone with him.

When there’s a knock at your door in the golden hour of sunset, you think nothing of the intrusion. Your neighbors are quite friendly, so you don’t mind humoring them despite the lingering social anxiety. You huffed a quick breath and pulled open the door, ready to interact with your neighbors for a few moments.

However, you’re more than surprised to see the form of San alongside another person - well, demon you suppose.

San is still hiding his demon form, but meeting his eyes still sets your heart alight. At his side, is another man with longer hair, but equally as breathtaking as San.

The man is shorter than his counterpart, standing just an inch shorter than San. His hair is split: the top half an ebony black, and the underside dyed a bright blonde. The combination is gorgeous against his skin. His hair is tied back into a half bun, letting the underside rest against his neck.

His jaw is sharp and his eyes have not left your face. They’re kind, just like San’s, and you find yourself lost in them. He’s got a giddy smile on his cheeks and it seems as though he’s holding back from something.

The familiar zing that flowed through your skin erupts into another wave of shivers. It lingers in your stomach, settling in a consistent hum that makes you feel warm and gooey. It seems this man has a similar effect on you as San does.

San nearly giggles as you can’t take your eyes off his lover.

He sends a warm bolt of energy into his bond with Wooyoung, giggling once more when his partner sends him a knowing look.

At his laugh, you manage to shake yourself off the trance and look back at San.

“San!” You happily mumble. There’s a grin on your lips and both boys have to resist pressing a kiss to your cheeks.

San laughs again and leans forward to wrap his arms around you. It’s a friendly hug, and you try not to linger. However San’s comforting scent has you hesitating to pull away. His grip is warm and strong, keeping his hands around your shoulders as he sways gently.

When you pull away, there’s a smile on both your faces. San turns to the man beside him and begins to introduce him.

“Darling, this is Wooyoung.”

You bring your eyes back to the form of the other demon, breath catching once more at his alluring beauty. Wooyoung is still giddy, nearly rocking on his heels to hold back from hugging you.

Wooyoung feels as though he may pass out. He has no idea how San had done this. Just being in your presence, seeing your form before him has stolen the breath straight from his lungs. He’s never seen anyone more gorgeous, besides from his lovers, of course.

The bond humming between the two of you is swelling. With your form in front of his, the connection is finally close to snapping completely into place. Wooyoung shivers as it hums, letting the pleasant feeling fill his body and set his heart on fire.

“Hello, Sunshine!” Wooyoung cheerily provides. His voice is nearly sweeter than San’s, and you find yourself sinking into it as you had with San’s.

You giggle back a reply of your name, shivering when his lips repeat the word.

It’s as easy to interact with Wooyoung as it is with San.

You invite the two in to talk, an offer you don’t usually make. The two happily follow you inside, where they allow their demon forms to reappear once checking there were no open windows.

You have no issue with their true forms, a fact that still surprises you.

San's form is familiar, so you find yourself lingering on Wooyoung. His wings are feathered, rather than bat-like. They’re are long and black, shining in the light of dusk. His wingspan is arguably larger than San’s, a fact you don’t mention to either man.

Wooyoung’s horns are different too; the black shapes that protrude from his skull are not curled like San’s. Instead, they twist upward in a single bend. The points face the sky rather than end by his ears. They look sharper than San’s too, the points thinner and more menacing.

It also appears that Wooyoung does not have a tail. While San’s lingers at his waist, still flicking to indicate his emotions, Wooyoung’s demon form does not appear to have the prehensile appendage.

You nearly ask the man about it, before you spot the second set of wings that extend from Wooyoung’s back. They’re smaller than the first, sitting just below them. Still black in color, the second set of feathered wings appear in place of a tail, it seems. When Wooyoung fully extends them after catching your lingering gaze, you find yourself awestruck at their beauty.

His feathers ruffle as you look, and Wooyoung can feel pride soar through his being. A hum echoes through his veins when he feels your awe. The notion has Wooyoung nearly preening.

“You have two sets of wings?” You question, excitedly. You nearly buzz as you look at the appendages, aching to run your fingers through the feathers.

San is not jealous, a loving gaze lingering in his features as he watches you interact with one of his lovers. With a pleased smile on his face, San adores watching you speak with Wooyoung. He can feel the joy and curiosity echo from both bonds, the feeling radiating in his body.

A hum falls from his lips as you talk, and San wishes to bury his grin in either of your necks to express his joy.

The three of you settle into your meager living room. With drinks from your kitchen in hand, you continue to talk to the two boys. Learning about their demonic nature is more interesting than you thought, and you find yourself eagerly taking in all the information you can.

San and Wooyoung continue to exchange knowing glances, grins on their lips and hearts singing in joy. It’s been too long since the three of you sat like this.

Hours seem to pass, and the sun has completely set by the time you break away from conversation. It seems to flow too easily with both men, a notion you enjoy. Usually, social interaction with strangers is nothing more than stomach-turning and anxiety-inducing. However, with both San and Wooyoung, it seems to flow easily. There is never a lapse in conversation, and you eagerly exchange stories amongst each other.

As the hour drags closer to ten, Wooyoung and San exchange another long glance. You can tell they’re speaking to each other - whether it’s actually telepathically or not, is undecided.

The two boys grin once more before they turn back to you.

“Darling,” San hums warmly. “We have something to ask you.”

You find yourself nodding in agreement motioning for the two to continue.

“Is it alright -” Wooyoung begins, hesitating as he attempts to word his question properly. “ - If we bring you to meet the others?”

“The others?”

It’s a fair question. San and Wooyoung have mentioned their lovers in conversation, making sure to include the mention of their polyamorous relationship so as not to confuse you. You aren’t sure how many other demons there are, nor where they are. However, perhaps a more insane part of you doesn’t seem to care.

If the humming under your skin is any indication, you have some sort of connection to these demons - at least San and Wooyoung so far.

Maybe you’re just insane, a question you consider in addition to your already mentally ill brain.

San giggles, “Yes, the others. There’s six other demons of our kind.”

Your head tilts in question, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched in confusion. Their kind? What other sorts of demons were there?

“Your kind?”

Wooyoung is the one to offer an answer. He leans forward, bowing his head in a slight incline to show the top of his head. In a shuddering wave of light, a golden crown appears on the top of Wooyoung's head. It’s covered in colorful gems, the dainty gold twisting to accommodate the jewels. It’s ornate and elaborate, it’s beauty glistening in the moonlight hour.

Your jaw drops askew. Still a little confused, you turn to Wooyoung.

“Are you royalty?” Your tone drops, a little worried you were informal with some kind of royalty who ruled over the depths of Hell. The gems of Wooyoung’s crown glimmer once more, their beauty taunting you.

San chuckles as he rests his elbows on his knees. “Of a sort,” he offers.

His crown has materialized as well, the gold intertwining throughout his horns. With the jewels, both boys are even more stunning with the gold shining in the light.

“There are eight rulers of Hell,” Wooyoung finally explains. “Among the seven rings, seven of the princes rule over a domain, as well as a sin. Our leader, the High King, rules over Hell and its entirety.”

You nod, following Wooyoung’s explanation. He continues to describe the seven rings of Hell, as well as the seven sins. You continue to be fascinated by his words, your enthusiasm pulsing in your bond.

San’s lips turn upwards in a soft smile. He remembers explaining this once previously. Your enthusiasm is quite the same, and a sense of nostalgia and sweet memories sing in his chest. The warmth flows from him and into Wooyoung’s end of the connection. He hesitates in sending the emotions your way, not knowing if you’re prepared to handle the strength of their feelings.

“To meet the others,” you start - “Would I have to go to Hell?”

San’s head shakes in a nod. “Yes, if you’re comfortable. Hongjoong is alright with coming here, as well, if you’d prefer.”

A beat of silence fills the room as you consider your options. Entering the domain of Hell does send an unpleasant shiver down your spine. A human in the underworld may not invite pleasant creatures into your space. However, inviting six more demons into your small apartment may draw unwanted attention to yourself. Your neighbors know you as a fairly solitary person. You only have a few close friends that enter your apartment, and your neighbors are nosy enough to notice when eight strangers enter your dwelling.

San hums, leaning forward to place his hand onto your knee. His hand is gentle and warm. Despite the layer of cloth between you, the heat of San’s skin warms your skin. Another shudder, pleasant this time, overtakes your body. The roll of your stomach returns, but it’s become a welcome sensation. Your ears are hot, not used to the physical affection.

“We’d never let anything happen to you, Darling.” San reassures. “Ya know that, right?”

Wooyoung’s sweet voice responds in another hum. His eyes are gentle, singing with adoration that you’ve never seen before. Their gazes have you avoiding their eyes in an effort to appear unaffected. However, unbeknownst to you, Wooyoung and San are already well aware of all your inner workings. They know exactly what strings to pull in order to embarrass you. The touches that fluster you and the words that arouse you are ones that the boys are familiar with. It’s not hard to send your body into overdrive.

“You’re safe with us, Sunshine.” Wooyoung reminds. His words are stubborn, unyielding to any protest you may offer.

With a strong sigh of determination, you relent. If you’re going to Hell, it may as well be with two of the most attractive demons you’ve ever seen.

Their unwavering promise of protection seems to settle over you with a wave of comfort. Relaxing the tension in your muscles, you offer the two a warm smile.

“Alright, take me to Hell.”

A few hours later, Wooyoung is stabilizing your waist as you finally land on solid ground.

San had warned you of the effects of his teleportation, but you were still unprepared for the violent jerk of your body into the unknown. San was clutched to the two of you, but Wooyoung was the one to keep you upright. His warm hands were settled on your waist, offering a gentle squeeze when you placed your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself standing.

You still don’t understand the zing that echoes through your veins at their touch, but you haven’t the courage to ask either demon. You hope that soon after you meet the other six, there will be time to answer more questions.

Leaning forward a bit, you rest your hands on your knees to counteract some of the nausea. You breathe a deep sigh, trying to control your breathing to reduce the bile at the back of your throat. The side effects of teleportation are nasty.

San strokes a hand over your spine, a beat of apology echoing down his bond.

“M’sorry, Pretty.”

You offer a soft shake of your head and a wave of your hand. It’s not his fault - the easiest way in and out of Hell is via teleportation. You don’t blame San for any of the reaction, attempting to wave off the man as you breathe deeply once more.

Rubbing a hand over your eyes, you scrub the fuzz and dizziness from your mind in an attempt to provide some clarity. When you reopen the lids, you set your sights on your first glimpse of Hell.

It’s different than you thought.

Most descriptions of Hell depict a fiery pit of nothing but pain and despair. They detail a never-ending source of torture and depression. You don’t know if you expected something similar, but this was not an option you had considered.

Before you, is a palace worthy of generations of royalty. Though it’s black in color rather than the white humans are inclined to use, the palace is more magnificent than any you’d ever seen in photographs. It stretches into the sky with twisting pillars and stained glass windows. The steps are dark marble and the veins of quartz twist throughout the stone.

You feel out of place for a moment, before San runs his hand over your back again. You lean into his hands to savor in his touch, the bond thrumming between your skin. There’s an echo of longing from San’s side, but you are unable to decipher it.

“You alright, Sunshine?” Wooyoung is still at your front, hands gently stroking over your waist. Your ears heat once more, and you nearly wiggle to escape Wooyoung’s wandering hands. Embarrassed, you offer a shy nod in response.

San chuckles, feeling the pride that Wooyoung emanates down their bond. Your flustered state seems to drive both men into frenzied states. They revel in your embarrassment, wanting to feel your cheeks heat and skin light up as you squirm. Perhaps it’s some kind of favor of corruption, but they are already well aware of their inclination to such behaviors.

Wooyoung throws his lover a barely concealed smile as he removes his hands from your waist and steps away.

The feathered demon turns away, leading you and San up the stairs. San takes a step up the stairs, before turning and offering his hand. You smile and place your palm in his, allowing him to lead you up the front staircase.

Heart beating, you internalize some panic.

In a few moments, you’ll be presented in front of six rulers of Hell, including the High King. As what? You’re unsure. You’ve only known San and Wooyoung for so little time, so you don’t know what their connection is to you. Why they’ve chosen you to meet the other rulers, is beyond you.

Your heart stutters. With your palms beginning to sweat, you try to calm your racing mind and hope that San doesn’t notice your sweaty palms.

San, who’s felt the panic rise, sends a bolt of comfort down your bond. Though you likely won’t be able to understand, San longs to comfort you, even unconsciously. Wooyoung offers similar support, turning around and sending you a dazzling smile. His fangs poke out of his mouth as he offers wordless comfort.

You sigh deeply, still heavily concerned. The beat of warmth that seemed to filter through your veins was comforting. You have no idea where it came from, but it allowed some of your tensed muscles to loosen. The twisting in your gut has untangled a little, and you manage to tear your eyes from the floor.

Sending San a barely hopeful smile, you attempt to appear brave.

Wooyoung turns back to the doors of the palace, flicking his fingers to open the gates. The dark, heavy doors part for you to enter. Light from the interior of the palace filters out, and you manage to catch a glimpse of the towering pillars that frame the walkways. You’re the slightest bit intimidated by the grandeur of the palace. Walking into the interior in your sweatshirt and jeans feels underhanded in a way. You hope the six princes don’t mind.

San falls back, allowing you to step in front of him while Wooyoung leads the three of you through the winding hallways of the palace. He’s filled with a warmth that he hasn’t felt in decades. The dark haired boy nearly keens when you turn your head over your shoulder, making sure he was still following.

Your eyebrows are pulled together in the slightest, a notion that San does not miss. He knows you’re nervous - he can feel it through the bond. Though you don’t recognize that you’re sending emotions his way, San can feel every beat of nerves and every spike of anxiety as you continue to approach the throne room.

He almost reaches out to soothe the tension in your shoulders, but the way you curl the slightest bit inwards suggests that you’re not in the right headspace to be touched at the moment.

When Wooyoung motions with his fingers, the grand mahogany doors to the throne room open. They swing slowly, allowing you to take another deep breath to settle the anxious stomach ache that has settled in your gut.

In through your nose and out through the mouth. You repeat the process a second time, sending Wooyoung a small smile when he turns to check on you. He’s feeling the same nerves San is, and he wonders if the others can feel it too. It’s likely not as strong; the bond won’t fully snap into place until contact is initiated.

Wooyoung gives you another toothy grin and a gentle nod, reassuring you without words, before he steps into the throne room. He gestures for you to follow him, and you do. Nearly tripping over your feet, you stumble into the room. An endearing look follows you, San’s eyes filled with mirth and love at the same time.

Wooyoung heads for his seat at the throne, allowing you to step into the room at your own pace. San remains at your side, a gesture you greatly appreciate.

Unbeknownst to you, San and Wooyoung had not informed the other six of your arrival. It was a spur of the moment decision, their silent conversation taking place in your living room. They could feel the rising ache in the other bonds, and knew that they would be slow to introduce themselves; they wanted to gradually bring you into their circle, allowing you to take the lead. However, after your enthusiasm from meeting Wooyoung and the beats of euphoria from your side of the bond, San wanted to introduce you as soon as possible.

The eight rulers of Hell had waited decades for their ninth piece to return to their arms.

Hongjoong, sitting at the center throne, turns his head from his conversation with Jongho at the sound of footsteps. He recalls allowing San and Wooyoung to enter the human realm earlier that afternoon, suspecting their visit to your side. However, the third set of footsteps has his voice catching in his throat.

Whipping his head to the front, Hongjoong’s jaw gapes. His eyes are wide and features in shock. His longer, light brown hair rests against his neck, a thin feather or two intertwined in the front strands. He’s utterly gorgeous, as are the five other men at his sides.

His wings are larger than both San’s and Wooyoung’s. They’re grandeur, black and bony like San’s, but they’re dripping in gold. The hooked ends are capped with dainty, golden chains and the white bones are laced with similar gold. Every inch of his wings sings of his royal blood, the sight breathtaking in its own right.

The High King’s horns are curled like antlers. They twist around his head, large and proud. Some deeper urge in your chest wants to run your fingers along every delicate curve to see if he’ll shiver.

With his heart in his throat, and a beat skipped in his pulse, Hongjoong feels weak at the knees. If he’d been standing, he fears he may have collapsed. The shock is evident in the other five bonds at his side. Similar expressions have fallen onto his lovers, their eyes having snapped to the center of the throne room.

At San’s side, is someone they’ve been aching to see.

There’s a faint smirk on Wooyoung’s face, and Seonghwa nearly wants to wipe it off. He had known San and Wooyoung were planning something, the two were always conniving amongst each other, often dragging Mingi into their messes.

You shuffle on your feet, swaying gently as the demon princes lay their sights on you. There’s shock on their features, and you wonder if you were supposed to be at the palace at all.

With a still anxious stomach, you nearly turn your head to question San’s intentions. However, before you can do so, the man at the center throne is standing.

He rises so quickly, you fear the throne will topple behind him. His beauty is breathtaking, but you don’t have much time to admire the High King before he’s approaching you.

His eyes are wide, a lump in his throat and tears nearly forming in his eyes. He’s remarkably gentle in appearance for a king. You expected him to be much more intimidating, however his kind eyes and heartbroken expression nearly have you melting.

There’s some kind of pulse winding through your veins, and you jolt as energy fizzles under your skin. A euphoric feeling filters through your muscles as the High King approaches. His lips are twisted into a painful smile, as if he’s holding back tears, but you can’t fathom why he’d cry at the sight of you.

Before you can do anything, the High King is inches from your form.

You almost step back, but San’s reassuring presence behind you and the euphoria in your chest has you hesitating.

Neither of you utter any words for a beat of silence. The other five princes have stood from their seats, itching to follow their king to your side. After a moment, the king drops to his knees, hands at your hips and tears in his eyes.

A pained smile is on his lips and his expression is remarkably excruciating. You ache to wipe his tears away, unsure why his pain saddens you so. At your feet, the king gazes up at you with a look you’ve never seen before. It’s as if you’re the sun in his own personal sky or a light in an otherwise darkened world. A demon of such high ranking caliber is on his knees at your feet, hands clutching your sides like he’s worried you’ll disappear if he blinks.

His hands aren’t necessarily tight, just gripping you steady enough that he’s sure your form is real. Hongjoong still isn’t quite sure this isn't another dream of his. It’s been years since he’s felt your skin under his hands; felt the warmth of your body in his grasp and memorized the details of your face in his mind. His teary eyes take in your beauty as if it was his first breath of fresh air in years.

With a choked gasp, Hongjoong buries his head in your stomach. His shoulders shake as a single, heavy sob echoes through the throne room. You drop your hands onto his shoulders, causing a pleased shiver to roll down Hongjoong’s spine. He attempts to press himself closer and you allow him.

The pit in your stomach had left the moment the High King placed his hands on your skin. The anxiety was replaced with a sense of nostalgia and warmth. The lovestruck look on Hongjoong’s face was enough to wipe any sense of fear or worry from your being.

With a gentle stroke of your hand through the king’s hair, Hongjoong pulls his head from your stomach. He allows himself to drink in your features again, another smile reaching his lips. This one is less pained, but there are tear tracks on his cheeks that you long to wipe away.

You allow yourself to softly stroke your thumb along his cheek, wiping a tear away as you sink into the warm haze that surrounds the room. It’s heavy and feels remarkably familiar, and you want to question it. However, you can’t bring yourself to look away from Hongjoong at this moment.

The other demons are looking on with a light, blissful feeling in their hearts. Yunho leans into Mingi, resting his weight against his lover in order to keep himself standing. The two are starry-eyed, letting their leader have his moment before they long to take his place. Seonghwa has wrapped himself around Wooyoung, the younger of the two still sporting a smug look. Yeosang is at his other side, his arm wrapped around Wooyoung’s waist. Pinching his side, Yeosang can’t keep the grin off his cheeks. Jongho rests beside the trio, still seated in his chair but a look of awe on his features. He's leaned forward, hands grasping the arm rests of his throne, allowing himself to take in your form with butterflies in his stomach.

There’s a silent click as the ninth piece of the puzzle completely slides into place. It’s a feeling that relieves every note of tension in your skin and pushes aside every worry you’ve ever conceived. A feeling of immense relief falls onto your shoulders as the empty longing in your chest is suddenly filled. It seems as though you’ve found what you were searching for.

With a watery smile, Hongjoong allows himself to speak for the first time since your arrival.

“Oh, my love,” he nearly whimpers, “I pray to every damn god I’ve shamed - no soul, dead or alive, will ever touch you - ever again.”

It’s about six weeks later, you meet your first angel.

The boys had been a little vague about your reincarnation when you’d asked. When a solemn look passed over Seonghwa’s eyes and his face hardened in a look of sorrow, you simply rubbed your hand across his jaw and apologized. The others had a similar reaction: expressions of great pain and grief, some even shedding tears as they tried to explain what they could.

All you know is that it had something to do with the angels.

The guardians of the celestial gates are apparently not what they seem.

While most human literature paints the picture of a heavenly being of only good intentions, angels apparently have a much darker side that humans have not yet seen.

Jongho’s mouth pulls into a slight snarl, the corner of his lip raised as he mirthfully recounts what he knows about the creatures. He’s laid across your lap, your hands in his hair as he speaks. It’s a little silly, with how peaceful he looks when your fingernails scraping gently against his scalp and his lips downturned into a frown.

The youngest of the demon lords is weak for head scratches, it seems.

While he may not enjoy much of the physical affection the others savor, Jongho does melt once your nails scratch his scalp. He’s even taken to whining gently when you refuse to play with his hair, nudging your legs with his head like a cat and softly begging for you to continue.

“The angels are more like your human-world ‘demons,’” Jongho begins explaining. “Everything you’ve read about demons is usually a stereotype that fits the angels much better.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, mystified by the misidentified creatures. “How so?”

Jongho’s eyes close as he keens into your touch.

“Well, the angels think they’re superior to all other creatures - they think all other creations should worship their kind. They also safeguard the Gates of Celestia, and in order to keep their white heavens pure, they’ve taken to slaughtering most other creatures.”

Jongho nearly spits the word: pure. There’s lingering hatred and disgust in his voice.

Your jaw drops as the information processes. Hands stilling, you go quiet as you try to connect the angel’s brutality to the vague story of your reincarnation.

You’ve died before. Hongjoong had explained that you were separated from them once by death. He had once again been ambiguous with the details, but he had lamented about the grief he and the other demon lords had encountered.

The severance of your bond from their chests had been more painful than anything any had experienced. When the bond had snapped, it felt as if a piece of their hearts had been carved out alongside it; taking with you their hope and much of their joy. They’d been melancholy and extraordinarily lonesome for the years that followed.

It had taken decades for them to manage the empty pain that settled in their guts. The missing bond left a gaping wound that they feared would never heal. The severance had made a home in their guts, singing of their lost love and mourning her unfortunate demise.

Grief and self-hatred became commonplace amongst the palace. Each of the eight demons had taken some sort of fault for the incident. They blamed themselves for your demise - often lamenting in their inability to protect you as they had promised.

You could sometimes feel the internal turmoil through the bond.

However you didn’t blame them. You may not have known the full story, but you knew that you could never, in any capacity, blame them for your untimely demise.

With the euphoric rush of love through your veins and the lovestruck, giddy look in their eyes, you know that there was not a single ounce of deceit in these demons. Their eyes followed you around the room, gentle smiles on their cheeks and bodies leaning into each other. They were careful with you, always dropping everything to return to your side should you need help. The demons even ensured that they lessen any burdens that weighed heavily on you, taking the hardships onto their own shoulders when they could.

You could never find it in yourself to blame them.

When you returned their look of sappy love, their cheeks reddened as they turned away. Despite spending years basking in your presence in a previous life, it still seemed they were weak for your sweet eyes.

Under your still fingers, Jongho looks up at you. He tilts his head back into your hands when he notices your spaced expression, nudging you back into reality. Jongho, ever observant, is usually the first to notice when you drift into a ‘spaced out’ expression. He takes great care in gently bringing you back to reality, knowing that startling you may scare you or disrupt your peace.

“Hey, Lovely -” he hums gently. His voice is sweet and soft, bringing your attention back to his tender features. “You’re safe here, you know that?”

Jongho’s hand reaches up from his position. He settles it against your cheek, fingers stroking the soft skin to turn your eyes to meet his. You can feel the waves of comfort he’s sending through your bond, letting the warmth surround you like a blanket.

You nod tenderly in response.

“I know, Stinky” you tease, pinching his cheek. Feeling a little giddy, you continue teasing the demon, laughing when he swats at your hands.

“I was trying to be sweet!” He whines, lips pouted. “ - and you call me ‘Stinky?’”

You dissolve into giggles again, leaning forward as you clutch your middle. Jongho has sat up, looking at you indignantly. Still laughing, you wiggle away from Jongho’s fingers as he reaches out to tickle you.

Trying to escape the couch you’re positioned on, you wiggle against Jongho’s grasp. You’re no match for his strength, your struggle seemingly useless against his demonic stature.

When Seonghwa descends into the room, you reach out for him with a cry.

“Hwa! Save me, my Love!”

The eldest is grinning, fangs poking out of his gums in sharp points. He’s laughing, having heard your whined struggle from the other room. With his arms crossed, he leans against the door frame and watches as you wiggle to escape Jongho’s fingers.

He shakes his head, letting Jongho continue his torment as the others slowly enter the room.

Mingi is the one to save you, lifting your body from Jongho’s grasp and throwing you over his shoulder. You squeal, hands bracing themselves on Mingi’s side to balance yourself. Laughter fills the room as the demon lords watch their lovers giggle, hearts full and chests filled with warmth.

You recall the recent memory fondly as you peruse through the towering library of the palace. Seonghwa had promised to join you later, finishing his princely duties to read on the large sofa hidden within the shelves of books.

Running your fingers across the spines, you marvel at the old books. Many of them are in languages you don’t understand, nor could you even fathom. Regardless, you enjoy feeling the worn books under your fingertips and smelling the scent of paper, both new and old.

When you turn a corner of the labyrinth of a library, you’re met with an unfamiliar face.

There's a man standing between the shelves in front of you. He’s tall, incredibly so, with pale white skin and golden eyes. With more sets of wings than you can count and numerous pairs of eyes on appendages that shouldn’t exist, you are appalled by the creature.

Taking a step back with a stuttering heart, you place your hand over your chest.

The creature seems to be looking at you, but with tens of eyes pointed in different directions, it’s hard to tell. In their hands, is a pointed white spear. The tip is a scarlet red, and you can’t tell if it’s coated in blood or if the spear’s natural color dons the crimson hue.

Either way, you don’t think you want to find out.

After a beat of terrifying silence, you dawdle on your feet, wondering if you should take off in a sprint. Seonghwa can’t be far. He promised to join you soon, so you know he’ll likely be headed in your direction soon. However, you wonder how long it will take to find you. After wandering through the library for a few minutes, Seonghwa may have to maneuver the winding aisles to search for you.

Before you can move, the creature’s mouth pries open in a terrifying blood red gape.

“What a foul excuse of a reincarnation.”

The voice is garbled, deep and ominous, as if it isn’t used to speaking in the human tongue. You can barely decipher the words, but as the creature’s hand moves to twist the spear, you don’t wait to find out the next ones.

Already turning over your shoulder, you take off into the maze of the library, hoping to lose the creature behind you.

Heart stuttering and feet slipping on the hardwood floor, you puff out another breath as you sprint. Stomach in knots, you can feel bile rise into your throat and you choke as you try to swallow. Unsure of the nature of the creature, you panic as you slide through the winding hallways that the library maintains.

Books upon books fly past your eyes as you scan for some sort of help. There’s thundering footsteps behind you and the scrape of something metal across the floor. You choke out a sob, heart squeezing in terror.

Jongho’s words fill your head as you recall the memory of his description of angels. While you can’t be sure, you’re almost certain the creature hunting you is one of the heavenly terrors Jongho had described.

You don’t know why it’s after you, nor do you know why it wants to hurt you. All you know is the creature has begun to chase you, its gaping red mouth screeching as you flee.

Feet thundering across the floors, you feel your body weaken as the sprint drains your energy. You huff again, trying to continue pushing yourself through the library. Heart still swollen and terrified, you attempt to send some sort of panic down the bonds you hold.

You’re unsure how to do so, the description of such methods had confused you immensely. However, you can’t manage to do much else as you continue to slide through the halls with the angelic creature on your heels. The sounds of books hitting the floor behind you fill your ears, likely being knocked over in the creature’s pursuit.

Luck is not on your side.

You don’t know the aisles of the library well, always needing Seonghwa or another of your lovers to guide you through the labyrinth. It won’t be long before you are boxed into a dead end.

With a tremendous gulp of air, you attempt to hold in a sob that chokes you.

“Call out my name,” you remember San’s sweet words upon your first meeting. “I’ll always be there.”

Tears finally begin to leak from your eyes, you allow the sobs to escape. Salt fills your mouth as the tears seep into your lips. Before you can cry out for San, a heavy force is knocking the wind from your lungs. Thrown violently into the bookshelf across the room, a screech echoes through the halls as the impact pulses through your ribs.

Feeling the bones shift and possibly shatter, you cry out in pain. Slamming into the ground, your body heavy and pained, you lay limp. You want to fight, raising your head to face the horrifying creature, but there’s blood on your lips. There’s a ringing in your ears and every shift of your ribs sends a bolt of pain through your body.

Head dropping onto the hardwood, you heave a breath. Trying to keep your breathing steady and minimize the pain, you can’t keep your eyes on the creature as it descends towards you.

Bile and blood in your throat, you spit at the creature’s feet.

“Disgusting,” the horrifying voice churns out.

You whimper. One of its feet pushes your head into the floor, it’s hand shifting the heavy spear in their grasp. Heaving, you try to struggle, tears still leaking from your eyes.

Crying out again, you squeeze your fists, struggling against the pain of your ribs. There’s rising panic still echoing through your chest and you can’t breathe. The pain in your ribs is too much and the tremendous fear has grasped hold of your lungs. With blood on your lips, you cry out one last time.

“San!”

The creature stills.

Its spear is raised over their head, poised to puncture your throat. With eyes shifting and humming violently, it appears to be nervous. It screeches a terrible sound, the note sending a cold shiver through your bones as you prepare to die. Your lungs are tight, no breath able to escape the cramped space. There’s an immense rush of thoughts in your head, but none of them are solitary. You can’t seem to think despite the influx of information racing around your consciousness.

With eyes squeezed shut, you don’t see the barreling dark form crash through the library.

Dark wings with a flash of white crash into the pale ones. A horrid screech echoes through the halls as bodies collide. Pressure is lifted from your skull, but you can’t bring your limp form to turn to watch the commotion.

A demonic snarl fills the space. The noise is familiar, a shuddering reaction taking over your skin. Goosebumps rise on your arms as the sound strikes a chord in your chest. It’s not a reaction of fear; the sound nearly seeks to soothe you, in fact.

Though it is filled with righteous anger, the snarl does not threaten you.

With weary eyes, your tiled head manages to peak a glimpse of familiar wings. There’s a form crouched over your limp one. It’s a possessive stance, their tail flicking to and from as they hover over your wounded body. A hand slips over your hip, tender despite their tense muscles. They soothingly stroke the skin at your side, chest still snarling as they do so.

Entire body covering yours, your chest finally sags with some form of relief.

San has come.

His body hovers over yours, tense and ready to pounce should the angel move to strike once more. His muscles are incredibly tight, holding himself above you in a protective stance. He aches to lower himself more, press his skin into yours so that the angel’s numerous eyes can’t see you anymore.

San is anxious. His chest is tight with fear and head filled with an angry sort of lust that aches to tear into the angel that is raising itself onto its hands. Across the room, it shoves the books that have fallen away from itself. It’s clicking in some horrid sort of sound, and San presses closer to you, if at all possible.

A growl echoes out of San’s chest, and you can feel the sound vibrate into your own back. San is furious. His tail flicks and whips against the ground and his wings extend to their full length. Blocking out the light from the sun, the angel is exposed to San’s true form.

Eyes faded to a pure black, there is no white in San’s eyes. Fangs elongated and claws extended in a dark ominous color, San is truly demonic. There’s an aura of tremendous danger emanating from his body, but it does not reach you.

Instead, you allow your heavy body to sink into the protective warmth San has pressed against you.

As the angel moves to stand, another form barrels into the library.

In a flash of light, two more demons are at San’s side. A dragon-like tail is sliding over your legs, the texture soothing despite the cold feeling. It tightens over your thighs, ensuring that it doesn’t aggravate any wounded skin. A set of feathered wings hovers over the three of you. The ebony silken feathers settle onto your skin, a soothing touch of comfort as they too extend fully.

Yeosang and Wooyoung crouch at San’s side. Their eyes an ebony black, both demons an image of true ferocity.

The third body is Jongho’s. The scarlet tips of his massive wings seem to drip with blood as the crimson blends with the black. His tail slithers along the hardwood, the barb seeping a dark red venom as it slides across the floor.

Jongho is standing above the angel, daring it to move.

When you try to raise your head, a gentle shushing rings above your ears. A tender hand presses your weary body back down.

“S’alright, my Star - lie still.”

The command comes from Seonghwa’s deep voice. You don't know when he’d entered the library, too dazed and in pain to focus on much other than your heavy breathing. He’s settled at your side, humming gentle to soothe you as you whimper.

Seonghwa’s true form is still hidden, rationality at the forefront of his mind when his eyes fell on your wounded body. With his stomach in his throat, Seonghwa kneels at your side. He’d been alerted to your panic on his way to the library, an immense rush of fear nearly bringing him to his knees. When he’d lunged to follow your cry, Seonghwa had felt San teleport to your side. Soothed by the knowledge of one of his lovers protecting you, Seonghwa allowed himself to approach your wounded body, despite the rage rising into his chest.

He runs his fingers over your ribs as you weep, gentle hushes falling from his lips.

“M’so sorry, my Love - just a little longer. You’re doing so well for me.”

You sink into the rush of protective heat that enters your veins, allowing Seonghwa’s bond to fill the forefront of your mind. When focused on his bond, the pain lessens in your ribcage.

There are more rushed footsteps entering the hall, feet slamming into the floor and wind slamming into the walls as wings flap furiously.

Yunho and Mingi join Jongho’s side, their worried eyes shifting to you as they pin the angel to the floor. It struggles under their grasp, too weak against the demon lords’ strength. Screeching violently, it thrashes when their grip tightens. Yunho’s claws draw blood, the golden ichor dripping from the terrifying creature. Mingi’s fangs press into his lips, aching to sink them into its skin in an act of vengeance. There’s an anger pressing into his chest, suffocating him from the inside.

At the sight of your broken form, neither demon could resist the vengeance.

A slow, ominous set of footsteps approach the fallen form of the angel.

You can’t see him with your limp form gently hoisted into Yeosang’s strong grasp. Seonghwa has shifted you, pressing your wounded form into his lover’s arms as he uses healing magic to soothe the minor scrapes and bruises. Your ribs were broken, an injury more suited for Hongjoong’s immense healing magic.

However, while Hongjoong is busy, Seonghwa is complacent as he heals what he can. You whimper into Yeosang’s chest, the demon running his hands through your hair.

“S’alright, Dear - just a moment more, I promise.” Yeosang’s honeyed voice settles a cloud of comfort over you, distracting you from both the pain and the scene before you.

Hongjoong has stopped at the feet of the struggling angel.

His true form reeks of a terrifying aura. It nearly emanates from his skin, the darkened ichor of his wings spread to their full length. The gold dripping over the humongous clawed tip of each wing is now blessed with darkened rubies - their crimson shine blocking the sunlight from reaching the angel’s form. His claws are long, clicking as he crouches to grasp the angel’s face between them.

Hongjoong’s lips are pulled into a snarl, fangs peaking over the edges. They drip with the same venom that runs through Jongho’s tail, ominously sizzling when it hits the angel’s skin. It appears to burn the creature, terrified howls escaping its jaws.

Yeosang presses your face further into your chest. San and Wooyoung at his side slide to cover the scene with their bodies.

“Don’t look, my Love. You’re safe now.”

There’s a guttural, angry growl of a demonic, infernal language that you don’t understand. Hongjoong’s voice is warped as he speaks in the hellish tongue. You can’t see him, but the anger that suffocates Hongjoong’s chest melts into yours.

You want to soothe him - or at least let him know you’re alright. However, with your injured body in Yeosang’s grasp, all you can do is send waves of comfort down your bond.

You don’t see the subtle relaxation of Hongjoong’s shoulders, but the others do.

Seonghwa silently ushers Yeosang to stand, pulling the three of you from the room. San and Wooyoung, satisfied by your safety, descend upon the angel’s form. The protective rage fills the room in a suffocating cloud.

When the door to the library slams shut behind you, you hear Hongjoong’s final words.

“Impudent fool. Say hello to Michael for me.”

Then, fangs sink into skin and a sickening sound of bones snapping echo through the halls.

Weeks later, after Hongjoong - the High King of Hell - has ensured your safety once more, you settle into the palace.

The eight demons had spent weeks apologizing for their inability to protect you before the angel impeded on their palace. You had hushed their protests, gently soothing each of them and explaining that you were simply grateful for your safety.

San had cried the night after the incident, staying up after you’d fallen unconscious. Pressing his teary eyes into your skin, he recalls the fear in your voice when he’d heard the call of his name. Clutching your hands tightly, San promises to never leave your side.

Seonghwa would pull him away later, passing his form into Yunho’s arms. The taller man simply held his lover tightly, pressing a kiss to San’s forehead.

The eight are more cautious of your safety now. You’re nearly always accompanied by at least one of your lovers, but you don’t mind their presence. They’re not willing to risk losing you a second time.

In the back of your mind, you question your sanity. A few weeks ago, you never would have expected to be living in the depths of Hell, let alone in a relationship with eight of the rulers of its domains. However, after experiencing the bond, and accepting the connection between you and the demons, you can’t imagine your life elsewhere.

The demons treat you like a queen - Hongjoong even often calls you such. They’ve fallen back into practiced routines, already seemingly knowing most of your common mannerisms. After decades together in the past, the eight demons are well aware of every piece of your mind and body.

In fact, they’ve taken to enjoying re-experiencing much of your memories.

After confirming that your ribs had healed nicely, the demons had become increasingly more affectionate. They could hardly stand to let their fingers leave your skin, always brushing a hand across your arms or running them through your hair to feel you melt into their sides.

Yeosang, a demon you had first taken to be quite shy, is more conniving than you thought.

He, often alongside San and Wooyoung, loves nothing more than watching your body melt with their words and touches. They adore the way you whine when they whisper something sultry, or turn away with heat in your cheeks when they drag their hand down your spine.

Yeosang in particular, likes to wrap his dragon-like tail around your thigh - a motion that sends a bolt of arousal into your gut. As you’re still learning to control the emotions you send down the bond, Yeosang revels in the heat of arousal that lingers in your stomach as he tightens the appendage around your upper thigh.

He smirks, and you nearly whine when San runs his fingernails across your scalp as he does so. Hongjoong is usually the one to end your suffering, pulling the tricksters away with a happy smile, lingering in the smell of your arousal and the woozy, embarrassed smile on your cheeks.

“That’s enough, you two,” the High King chuckles.

However, he can’t help running his hand across your throat, passing a few fresh, purple marks as he does so. You lean into his hands, and Hongjoong loves the way you tilt your head back to look at him.

It seems all eight of the rulers of Hell have a thing for corruption.

Yunho and Mingi are the least likely to tease you on a daily basis. While they both enjoy your flustered smiles and bashful eyes, both of the taller demons also have taken to becoming your protectors when you’re feeling shy.

Mingi is the one to pull you into his chest, letting you bury your face to hide from prying eyes. He pouts, feeling a swell of protective excitement enter his chest. Mingi would giggle, a giddy smile overtaking his features as he locked eyes with his other lovers.

Yunho follows a similar pattern. The tallest of the eight demons, with his supernatural size and strength, adores hoisting your form over his shoulder and dragging you away from the teasing. Yunho’s body shakes with laughter as you squeal, his big hands gripping your thighs and stabilizing your form so that you don’t fall. Yunho loves the rush of adrenaline that surges through his skin as he grips you tight.

If you pat your fists on his back in an effort to escape his hold, Yunho simply pats his massive palm across your ass. The motion usually results in another squeal, which sends a pang of arousal into Yunho’s stomach.

Seonghwa, the eldest of the demon lords, expresses his love both physically and emotionally. He prefers acts of service and words of affirmation in comparison to many of his other lovers. Seonghwa, however, is still incredibly affectionate. It’s much less obvious than some of the other demons, but Seonghwa still craves your fingers on his skin.

He’s often seen wrapping a wing around you as you walk, or his tail wrapped around your ankle as you sit. His affection is subtle, nearly missed in most circumstances.

Seonghwa, however, is also incredibly possessive, you’ve learned.

After the incident, a sinking feeling pangs through his gut at the thought of strangers growing too close. He’s usually fine with other demons he trusts; however, he’d be dead in his grave before he’d let another angel within a mile of your form.

When approached by a lower demon, Seonghwa had pulled you into his lap on his throne. His palm lay across your stomach, possessively spread as he pulled you back into his chest. The eldest demon nearly growled when eyes fell on your neck. However, instead of acting irrationally, Seonghwa simply tilted your head back against him.

Your hair fell away from your neck, allowing the lower demon to see the faint marks of hickies sucked into your skin. One look from the lower level demon had him turning away.

Jongho, on the other hand, is less physically affectionate. You don’t have any issue with this - in fact, you’ve come to appreciate it. While you do consider yourself touch-starved, you also can be slightly touch-averse in most situations. Though you crave the touch of your demon soulmates, sometimes you can’t help but shrink away when their hands reach for you. It’s unconscious, a movement that you can’t necessarily prevent no matter what you try.

When these moments occur and the idea of physical touch is too overstimulating, Jongho completely understands. The others have no issue as well, but San can’t help but pout when he can’t snuggle his body into your side.

With Jongho, the youngest of the demon rulers, your love is apparent in different languages. The both of you turn to quality time and acts of service to express your care for each other. Simply sitting in the same room, doing your own tasks, is enough for the two of you.

However, that doesn’t mean that Jongho is any less conniving than the other boys.

In fact, it was his mischievous nature that resulted in your current position.

Earlier that morning, Jongho and the other three teasing demons had nearly sent you over the edge. The trio had convinced Jongho to join their games, allowing the younger to whisper sultry remarks over breakfast, his voice quiet enough so that only you would hear.

Not used to Jongho’s forwardness, you weakened at the knees.

Running his strong hands over your waist to keep you steady, Jongho smirked at the shiver that wracked your body.

“You doing okay, Pretty?”

Though he knows the answer, Jongho greatly enjoys watching you melt at the name.

Quickly following the youngest, Yeosang had followed with his own teasing. His head tilted back and body leaned against the door frame, Yeosang looked delicious in his slightly opened shirt. He had his arms crossed over his chest, uttering small hums of agreement as you spoke.

When you turned to ask him about his breakfast, Yeosang leaned forward. His head nearly bumping yours, Yeosang’s frame towered over yours. His wings spread wide, allowing you to take in his demonic glory, Yeosang swung his tail over your waist.

Using the appendage as leverage, he yanked your form towards him with a strong pull.

Crashing into his chest, Yeosang smirked at your squeak. Your ears heated in embarrassment, face turning away to avoid his sultry eyes. His tail tightened around your waist, his head angled down to look at you.

“M’sorry, Baby.” His honeyed voice purrs. Yeosang drops a hand to stroke low over your hip and dip inward into your upper thigh. “I was under the impression you were breakfast.”

Your jaw falls open at the remark, stunned at the usually quiet boy’s demeanor. Yeosang resists a giggle, feeling your arousal and shock filter through the bond. Instead of teasing you further, he presses a kiss to your cheek and backs out of the room, allowing San and Wooyoung to take his place.

Over the rest of the day, San and Wooyoung join the boy’s teasing. The two’s teasing is worse since you’re forced to ward off two lusty demons rather than just one.

For hours, you can’t escape them.

They’re handsy and fervent, refusing to take their hands off your body. Lips pressed to any bare skin they can reach, your skin continues to heat until you worry you’ll pass out.

Finally, when you’re given a moment alone, you plot your revenge.

Digging underneath your bed, you pull out a box hidden under the depths of the huge mattress. After ordering the parcel, you’d hidden it away, hoping to keep prying eyes away from the contents. It’s light in your hands, and when you pry the life off, a smirk graces your features as you take in the fabric.

You struggle into the fabric, letting the straps snap against your thighs and the lace cover the barest of skin. The black material is thin, not really allowing any of your form to be covered. However, the twisting red flowers descend through the lace, hiding some more intimate areas from view. While not entirely covered, you know the barest of glimpse is enough to have them drooling.

With the other necessary tools at your side, you descend to the main common room of the palace.

No one is within the barren space, which you’re grateful for, but you know you don’t have much time. Placing the other materials at your feet, you take out the jar of salt.

Sprinkling the salt in a thick line around your body, you begin to form a circle. You’re certain this method will work, even going so far as to confirm with a witch you’d recently befriended. She assured you the salt circle was enough to keep even the High King from entering the space.

Once you're satisfied with your little space, you sit back against the lounge chair you placed in the center. With a hum, you fiddle with the water and snacks you’ve brought along with you. You’ve ensured that you have enough materials to last you at least a few hours within the confines of your new space. Your phone is fully charged and a new book at your side, you relax back into the dark cushions of the velvet beneath you.

It’s only a few moments before the first of your demon lovers enters the room.

Wooyoung had been in search of you, ready to continue his teasing from earlier. However, his mouth runs dry and his jaw falls open as his eyes lay onto the sight before him.

Donned in the nicest lingerie you could afford, you lay spread against the cushions of Seonghwa’s lounge chair, eyes focused on the book in your hands. You appear to be ignoring him, not looking up as Wooyoung nearly collapses at his feet.

You can feel the bolt of arousal that Wooyoung can’t keep from radiating into your bond, and you suppress a haughty smirk.

“Oh, seven hells -” Wooyoung curses. He can feel his pants tightening around his crotch, the lace adorning your skin doing horrible things to his mind and body.

Stepping forward, Wooyoung descends on your space, only to shout an indignant cry when the circle of salt restricts his access. The two-toned demon nearly snarls when he looks down at his feet.

The white circle of salt lays menacingly before him, nearly teasing the demon.

Looking up from your book, you finally allow a smirk to don your features.

“What’s wrong, Woo?” you simper, trying to mimic his earlier teasing tone.

At your voice, Wooyoung allows his chest to release the snarl he’d held back. Heaving a breath, the demon’s wings shudder in some sort of repressed arousal.

“Baby -” Wooyoung purrs, dragging out the last syllable in a tone that wets the fabric between your thighs. “Let me in.”

You giggle, letting the book fall into your lap as you look at Wooyoung. Shaking your head once, you gesture to the salt surrounding you, a pleased smile on your face. You’re more than glad that your plan has settled into place perfectly.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, my Prince.”

The name sends another shiver through Wooyoung’s entire being, and you smirk again, knowing the effect the name has on him.

Wooyoung presses his fists against the invisible barrier, eyes darkening in a dangerous arousal. You know if you leave the safety of your circle, Wooyoung will chase you down like a predator. You’re the only thing his eyes can see, the darkening irises acknowledging his lust.

He flits his eyes across the circle, trying to pinpoint the weakest area. However, you’ve made sure to enforce the salt in a thick layer, ensuring that not even the High King could penetrate your space.

With an enraged snarl, Wooyoung begins to pace the outside of the circle. His wings puff up in a dangerous gust of wind, eyes never leaving your bare skin. The two-toned demon’s hair begins to fall from its half-up style as he shakes his head in some sort of aroused anger. It frames his face nicely, making him look even more breathtaking than before.

In his anger, he doesn’t notice San and Seonghwa approaching from behind.

Their reactions are similar to the raging demon before them. Wide eyes and opened jaws, you nearly giggle at their awestruck expressions. Seonghwa is the first to spot the salt circle, a breathy huff escaping his chest. He toes the line, testing its integrity. A scoff fills the room when it does not bend to his power.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Darling.”

San’s voice has dropped into a lower tone, one you know is reserved for more salacious encounters. You’ve heard the tone on several occasions, so the timbre of his voice melts your carefully crafted demeanor. San knows the effect his voice has on you, watching as a suppressed shiver overtakes your body and sends goosebumps up your arms.

San hopes that he can weaken your resolve enough to allow his entrance - pulling out all the moves he knows make you wobble at the knees.

You hold out, shifting your attention back to your book in order to appear indifferent. The motion makes San frown, his plan to break your resolve seemingly failing.

San joins Wooyong’s pacing, the two lustful demons appearing predatory as they continue to scan your form with dark eyes.

“Oh, you fuckin’ tease” The voice echoes from the doorway. Yeosang has entered the room, Yunho and Mingi at his sides. The taller boys are pressed together, Yunho stepping forward as if he’s not sure if what he’s seeing is real.

Only Hongjoong and Jongho are missing from the group, though the High King is likely the only one who hasn’t teased you that afternoon.

With the others approaching your little space, you extend your body to be seen by their prying eyes, feeling like prey under their hungry gazes. You don’t mind, the arousal in your gut simmering as you feel content in your well-executed revenge.

“Let me in, Pretty Baby” San hums. He’s still pacing around the edge of your little domain, voice hungry and pants tight. “M’gonna fuckin’ ruin you. Gonna let me?”

You hum happily, knowing you’ve riled San up to his maximum. His darkened eyes and puffy wings are evident of his arousal. He preens under your gaze, but it’s not enough to satisfy him. San wants to feel your smooth skin under his palms and graze the lace of your pretty lingerie with his fingers. Fuck - he wants to pull away the little strings of fabric with his teeth.

Yeosang is at the edge of the salt now, joining his little teasing trio from earlier. “Our little tease,” he simpers. “You’re real good at getting whatcha’ want, aren’t ya?”

Another happy hum vibrates through your chest.

“Maybe.”

A growl follows your happy sound, Yeosang’s scaled tail sliding across the floor as it flicks in a barely concealed anger.

“Pretty fuckin’ baby,” Mingi sings. He’s held back, still at Yunho’s side. The two are not necessarily on your ‘hit’ list. The two, alongside Hongjoong, were the least likely to tease you today, however your revenge plot sadly has to include them. The salt circle isn’t partial to its denial, no matter how forgiving you are.

The six demons continue to gaze into your tiny domain, letting their eyes dry over your exposed flesh as they ache to touch. There’s several strings of arousal echoing down your bonds, but you manage to ignore them for now.

When Hongjoong enters the room with Jongho behind him, all he sees is six demonic forms blocking his sight. He can’t see around their bodies, impervious to their arousal.

“S’going on in here?”

Faces turn to look at the High King, his gold-adorned wings glittering in the light. Yunho and Mingi step aside, letting their leader’s eyes fall to your sultry form.

Body draped in the most elegant lingerie he’s ever seen, Hongjoong’s face melts into a haughty smirk. He can’t tear his eyes from the lace, scanning you head to toe and back again. With darkened eyes, Hongjoong looks a little intimidating. Ebony wings expanded, Hongjoong looks every bit the picture of a succubus.

He stalks forward, the boys parting for his entrance. Standing at the precipice of your tiny territory, Hongjoong’s nearly feral gaze sends a bolt of arousal into your already lustful gut. The High King has never looked more ravishing than he does now. His dark clothing clings to his skin, defining his muscles. The fangs pressed into his lips are gaudy, Hongjoong’s tongue flicking over their points.

Your eyes now fixed on Hongjoong, the book finally falls to the floor. Hitting the ground with an audible ‘thump,’ the other demon lords watch as your attention becomes transfixed on their High King. You wish you could resist his whims, but you’re just as weak as the rest when it comes to Kim Hongjoong.

“Our Little Love,” Hongjoong hums. “S’got you all cooped up?”

He toes the line as Seonghwa had, feeling it wane at his strength. It still holds fast, the witch’s confirmation holding true. While it may wither at Hongjoong’s power, it still manages to persevere, keeping your body away from their aching touch.

“Sannie and the others were mean t’me today,” you whine, turning in your seat. Rubbing your thighs together, you try to appear indifferent, but you’re sure they’ve caught a whiff of your scent by now. The evidence is apparent in Wooyoung’s puff, his chest swelling with another faint growl.

“Hmm - were they?” Hongjoong deepened timbre purrs. “Did I bother you too, Pretty Baby?”

“No, Joongie.”

Your response is quick, always ready to respond to your High King.

Hongjoong hums again happily. A pulse of delighted excitement throbs from his end of the bond.

“Boys.”

Seven heads snap his way. Despite their craving to keep their sights on you, all seven princes know their High King’s command is absolute.

“Leave.”

The command is quick, leaving no room for argument.

Wooyoung and San nearly whine in disagreement, bodies sagging with a near growl. However, hidden from your eyes, Hongjoong throws a look over his shoulder. It’s suspicious - a knowing look of agreement on his features. There’s a plot afoot, a silent accord passing through eight demons.

Seonghwa shoves the younger boys out the door, sending his king a salacious look over his shoulder.

When Hongjoong turns back to you, his tongue flicks over his fangs.

“C’mere, Sweetheart. You're not mad at Joongie, are ya?”

You shake your head softly, already leaning forward off the plush chair. Hongjoong’s smirk widens, eyelids falling closed in a haughty look. He holds his hand out as another wave of arousal pulses through your bond. Wings shuddering, Hongjoong lets his head fall back as his eyes close.

Humming pleasantly, Hongjoong beckons you closer, watching your wary eyes fall to his fingers. You throw a look over his shoulder at the closed door, ensuring the others have fully left the room.

When you slide off the cushions, Hongjoong’s eyes seem to darken even further.

“S’it, Pretty Girl. Wanna’ kiss ya’ -” he muses, “Gonna’ let me?”

You nod fervently, feet dawdling to the edge of the salt. You hesitate at the edge, still leery to the trap you’re certain Hongjoong has laid. However, at Hongjoong’s gentle praising, you don’t think you have the will to resist much longer.

When your hand just crosses the border of salt, reaching for Hongjoong’s, he’s already grasped ahold of your fingers. He pulls you quick and tight against his chest, humming happily at the squeak of surprise. Your lace clad body presses snuggly against his front, and Hongjoong’s head knocks back as he feels your chest rub against his own.

Unable to struggle against his firm grip, you let out a little whimper when Hongjoong’s hands begin to wander. They drop to your sides, fingering the lace at your hips. He slides his fore fingers under the straps, stroking the bare skin with tender caresses. With a deep growl, Hongjoong presses your crotch against his own, eliciting a whine when something thick brushes against your inner thighs.

With your head turning cloudy, Hongjoong drops his head to suck gently on your throat. You whine, throwing your head back further to allow him to nibble tender with his fangs.

“Pretty girl,” the High King purrs, “Gonna fuck you stupid, my love.”

His promise weakens your knees and you find yourself sagging against his form. Before Hongjoong can suck another red mark into your skin, the sound of the door opening fills your ears.

A small part of you recognizes the con, attempting to pry yourself from Hongjoong’s grasp to throw yourself back into the salt circle. However, Hongjoong’s fingers are tight, resisting the struggle and chuckling as you whine. The sound even makes his head roll back as he savors in the sound.

Before you can gather more strength to break free, there’s another body pressed against your back. They push you snuggly into Hongjoong’s chest, their own vibrating with a deep chuckle. You can tell from the form of his chest, and the deep timbre of their voice, that the form behind you is San’s. There’s more hands grasping your skin, prying lace away from your body as you struggle.

The air is heavy with arousal and there’s a pooling in your panties. Fingers swipe against the material, eliciting a stuttered gasp from your chest. Another chuckle fills the air and a tail wraps tightly around your waist - Yeosang.

San’s hands are around your breasts, pulling at the nipples through the thin, barely-there fabric. He keens at your next whine, letting his body take your weight when you lean into his hands. Yunho, Mingi and Jongho are nearby, hands just as needy as the others. Jongho patiently waits his turn, knowing the reward was far too sweet to hasten.

“Oh, you’re so fucked, my Darling.”

bonus:

ateez, appearing in the reader’s room: my love, why is there a summoning circle on your bed?

reader: I got lonely :((

a/n: what is up my lovely readers?? this fic got a little spicy I guess :o this is about as much smut as I’m willing to write for now, but I hope y’all enjoyed it! Idk if this fic is cohesive at all, it’s kind of just a jumble of thoughts I have about Ateez sometimes, but I hope y’all like it regardless :D <3

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thetypingpup · 1 year

Text

You'd never guess that your sweet, caring boyfriend, would be in your room sniffing your panties.

San went for the hamper as soon as he heard the water running in the next room, immediately clutching the delicate garment in his hand. He puts it up to his nose, moaning as he feels the wetness of the fabric against his skin. Fuck you soaked right through them. Leaning back against the bed, he presses his face against your panties, nuzzling the fabric and inhaling deeply to take in every last hint of your scent.

It's a guilty pleasure of his, to sniff your panties and get himself off when you're in the shower. It's his dirty little secret, one among many that he's kept cleverly concealed all this time. As it turns out, completely unbeknownst to you, your sweet loving boyfriend has been concealing a darker side, and his passion for you takes on a more...primal form.

His cock throbs just from sniffing your panties, and he's quick to reach down and cup himself through his pants. He doesn't even need to stroke himself, not yet, already insanely aroused just thinking about your scent. What must you have been thinking about, to make you completely ruin your panties like this? Were you thinking about him? Thinking about kissing him? Touching him? Fucking him? And it's the idea that you got this wet from the thought of fucking him that has him reaching down to stroke himself.

He wants you so bad it aches profusely. You turn him on so much it drives him insane. He can easily get intoxicated on your scent, and just sniffing your panties like this has his mind hazing over with a high of lust. Muffling his moans in the fabric, he bucks into his hand, just lying back getting high on your scent while his mind reels.

He thinks about how you looked today, the way your lowcut shirt let him see the swell of your breasts, how your jeans fit to the shape of your ass oh so enticingly. He strokes his cock faster at that, just thinking about reaching out and playing with your ass while you soak the very panties he has in his hands. The sheets rustle as his hips arch and buck off the bed. He's shamelessly fucking his hand now, throwing caution to the wind as he just thinks about you. God he wants you so bad.

Of course you've had sex tons of times. He's made love to you more times than he can count, satisfying you and letting you know how loves you are. And as much as he adores being gentle and intimate with you, he wants more. He doesn't just want to kiss you. He wants to lick into your mouth and taste your sweet moans. He doesn't just want to make you moan. He wants to have you whimpering, trembling, sobbing in pleasure beneath him. He doesn't just want to make love to you, he wants to fuck you, ravage you, ruin you.

A growl rises in his throat, jaw aching as sharp fangs begin to emerge. He strokes his cock faster, squeezing around his length harder, trying to mimic the feeling of your pussy or your throat wrapped around him. The copious amounts of precum just flowing from the tip slicken the slide, prompting him to move faster and faster. He imagines he's fucking you senseless, bucking his hips while you bounce on his cock and whine his name. Fuck he wants to hear you whine his name so fucking bad. He wants to hear you whimper and scream for him, howling his name to the heavens while he completely ravages you.

Bestial bellows of depravity that he's never let you hear before flow freely, emitting even through his clenched teeth. He bites at your panties, licking frantically right along the wet patch to lap up the taste of your slick arousal. Panting raggedly, he fucks his hand faster, briefly contemplating flipping over and just rutting into the bed...before he decides to do just that. Pinning your panties to the pillow, he presses his face in and breathes you in, smothering himself in you. The fact that your scent clings to the pillows only riles him up more, his cock messily rutting against the bed. It's not much longer before he stills, body shuddering as he cums hard onto the sheets. He claws at the pillow as he works himself through it, teeth clamping down on your panties as he sucks the juices from the fabric.

His fangs have no doubt left tears in the fabric, tears that he knows you'll notice, tears that in his post nut haze he hopes you'll notice. You know how much he loves you. Now, he wants you to know the full depths of his desire for you.

#ateez smut #ateez san smut #still undecided on what type of monster he'll be lmao #the pup actually types #demon!san #monsterfucking #supernatural!au

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acescavern · 7 months

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DREAM: SONG MINGI X FEM!READER

Pairing: Incubus demon!Mingi ( kinda ) x Fem! Human! Reader.

Genre: fantasy?? demon mingi, smut. minors dni

Synopsis: you like to walk on the side of danger, even if it's in the form of a hot barman dressed in leather pants.

wc; 2,119

Warnings: Okay, so I'm not sure what to label this as. but, HEAVY WARNINGS; We have an allusion to incubus demon Mingi, This is fully consented between the reader and Mingi and I feel like I've stated that quite obviously multiple times throughout, it kind of reads like Mingi is the demon predator and the reader is the human prey, rough sex, unprotected sex, allusion to them being strangers, Sex in a closed bar, sex on a pool table, degradation, praise, a few (?) spanks, BRIEF mirror sex, coming inside, Mingi pushes his come back in, mentions of alcohol, reader drinks a cocktail but it goes unmentioned that it is non-alcoholic, they play a chase game? reader runs and Mingi has to catch her but she asks for the game to happen?, With brief hair pulling, and biting ( once ), Mingi restrains her wrists with his hand for a lil bit. Mingi is BIG, Mingi doesn't prep the reader. if i've missed any please let me know

note: Hi, my lovelies. Ace here. This was originally an anon ask but the anon requested Wolf Mingi and a bunny reader. Unfortunately, I don't write ABO or Hybrid NSFW works so i altered it, I hope you don't mind! PLEASE take note of the warnings. If you do not like to read this sort of thing, scroll by. I don't want to spoil the ending but as i like all my works to fit into the same universe, i had to make it all into a dream the reader had. But thats not to say it can't be a reoccurring dream!

feedback is appreciated! minors dni

Mingi knew you were there. He could catch your scent anywhere, the richest cherries he had ever smelt. You’d been frequenting his bar for a few weeks now, much to his surprise. The demon wondered if you realized the danger you seemed to willingly put yourself in by being here.

You were always alone, Mingi noted. And Mingi was always watching you. You weren’t stupid, you knew what he was… who he was. You knew it was bad news for a measly human to set foot in a bar full of hungry demons considering what you were to them, prey. Though, you felt comforted by the adrenaline, soothed by the power around you.

It was why you kept coming back, again and again. That and the handsome barman who watched you like a hawk. All dark eyes and broad shoulders. He owned the room with his presence alone. The incubus never approached you though, no matter how much you wanted him to. You’d always been the type to walk on the side of danger and the man in the tight leather pants, waistcoat, and cowboy hat screamed it.

You’d often found your curious eyes drawn to the slither of exposed skin on his navel. The first three times you visited, you thought you were crazy to lust after an incubus whose name you didn’t know. It was an exciting feeling.

Throughout the bustling Saturday night, Mingi tried to look for you as much as possible. You were sat on Yunho’s side of the bar, much to his dismay, and it was only in the last half hour to closing that Mingi sent the man home. Many stragglers and patrons already stumbling their way out and into cabs.

Until there was only one left. The pretty human sitting at the end of the bar, watching him with her chin resting on her hand, you. Mingi threw the cleaning cloth into the rag bucket, approaching you slowly.

“You know… It’s dangerous for your kind to be here.” He braced his hands on the wood of the bartop, his words slow and gravelly.

“And yet, I feel the safest I’ve ever been.” You grinned at him, tongue darting out to lick the remains of the fruity cocktail from your lips.

“Your instincts should be telling you to run away from here, Baby.” The warning in his voice didn’t scare you, despite the shiver that danced along your spine and the way his gaze locked onto the movement of your tongue had your body heating right back up.

You leaned forward over the bar, only a few centimeters between you now. “Are you going to chase me if I do?”

Mingi could practically taste your excitement. He tutted mockingly, rounding the bar and moving away from you in favor of closing the window shutters and locking the door. You’d followed his movements, breath hitching in anticipation when the sound of the lock clicking into place filled the tension between you both.

"I'm going to count down from three, Sweetheart." He began, pausing to give you time to protest. "And then you're going to run."

You climbed down from the barstool, heat swirling in your core. "Yes," You breathed. "and then?"

Mingi's head tilted, an almost sinister smile pulling at the edges of his lips. "And then, when I catch you, you'll beg."

A whimper catches in your throat, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Silence fell between the two of you once more, Mingi raising an eyebrow as if offering you an out.

You didn't want an out.

At your eye contact and firm nod of consent, Mingi held up three fingers.

The count began, "Three." He stood still, a heavy stare watching your eyes dart around the tables and unorganized chairs as you calculated your route.

"Two" His smirk widened as his eyes locked to the thundering pulse point in your neck, your chest rising and falling quickly as you took your first few steps around the obstacles.

You neared him, eyes wide in the thrilling fear. You crept near him, anticipating the final number of the countdown. You'd anticipated this moment for weeks, lustful gazes exchanged every spare moment, and now… Now, it was finally here. A thrill-seeking buzz settled in your veins, your eyes never leaving him.

and finally, "Last chance, Sweetheart." He taunted, "One."

Everything paused, not a movement nor sound made as your brain registered what it meant.

"Run." Mingi launched for you as you weaved around the tables, pulling chairs into your path to slow him down.

The obstacles were no match for the big bad wolf. Mingi shoved every single one off to the side, the sounds of the wood scraping along the floor and colliding with other chairs filling your ears. Mingi lets you stay ahead for a few moments, just enough to lull the false sense of victory into your mind.

Two strong hands landed firmly on your waist, pressing your front onto the green felt of the pool table. Mingi reveled in your shriek of surprise. You knew you were caught but that didn't stop you from writhing your body in a feat to make it harder for him.

The leather of his pants rubbed against the backs of your thighs, the skin exposed beyond the hem of your velvet dress. Mingi's big hands gathered your wrists at the small of your back, pinning them there with his left hand.

"Gotcha." He growled out lowly, his warm breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

Mingi had your front pressed so far onto the pool table that your legs dangle over the edge, tips of your shoes just barely grazing the ground. Mingi's rough, right hand ran the length of your thigh, pushing your dress up and over the curve of your behind as it went.

"I've given you so many chances to back out." Long fingers toyed with the gusset of your panties.

"I don't want to." You turned your head, cheek smushed to the green felt. You could catch the whiff of liquor from many spilled drinks over the years. "Please."

At your words, the fingers of Mingi's left hand tightened around your wrists. His index and middle finger slipped the crotch of your panties to the side, a deep sigh of satisfaction reaching your ears when they ran through your slit.

"You enjoy this." It wasn't a question, Mingi knew, and he didn't leave room for arguments as he tapped those two fingers over your pussy, watching as your arousal spread over your skin and coated his fingers. "You're soaked." He let his middle finger circle where you needed him the most.

“Please,” You whimpered, “I’m not gonna break.” You begged, feebly attempting to push your hips back but with your lack of footing on the ground, you had no chance.

Mingi couldn’t help but laugh, his fingers smearing your arousal onto the back of your thigh. You thought he was going to prolong his teasing. You thought he was going to make you beg more. Your cry of surprise echoed around the empty bar when your panties were harshly yanked down your legs, dangling at your ankles. You could hear him fumble with his belt and zipper with one hand and whilst you ached to turn around and see him, Mingi kept you firmly on the pool table.

The sudden intrusion into your heat had you arching with a cry. Finally. Your eyes closed as you focused on relaxing your body to accommodate him, breathing slowly through your nose. Mingi was thick and girthy. You could feel every vein and throb as he wasted no time pushing into you. He allowed you a moment once he was seated into the base, finally letting go of your wrists. Instead, Mingi pulled your body up to be propped by your forearms, molding you into his desired position.

“Good girl, you can take it, can’t you baby?” His voice was like honey, dripped into your eardrums as he praised you.

His words of encouragement made your pussy flutter around him, though Mingi didn’t give you a chance to answer him before his hips drew back and surged forward again. His hips hitting against your ass had your waist uncomfortably digging into the edge of the table but you couldn’t find it in you to ask him to stop. Not when he set up such a deliciously brutal pace from the get-go, pounding roughly into you to draw almost pornographic moans from your throat.

Mingi was hitting all the right spots, hand pushing at your shoulders to deepen the arch of your back and hips. In the end, it tangled into your hair to pull your eyeline over to the decorative mirror in your view. Usually, the mirror would serve as a cautionary for people to see around the corner, preventing many spilled drinks and bar fights.

“See how pathetic you look?” He snarled, teeth grazing your earlobe. Mingi made eye contact through your reflection. “Fucking a stranger, letting him use you over. And. Over.” His words were punctuated by rough smacks of his thighs meeting your skin, the force moving your body forward each time.

The you in your reflection looked thoroughly fucked. She had smeared mascara, and teary eyes hooded with want. She looked wild, you looked wild. Your attention was stolen away from yourself and onto Mingi. His plush lips were parted, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as he released sinful moans of his own. The knot in your core continued to tighten, dragging you closer to your impending orgasm.

The hold on your hair disappeared, your forehead pressing against the hard table again. “So pathetic.” Your cry of agreeance earned you a sharp swat to your left ass cheek, the bite of pain drawing a drawn-out moan from within you. “I’m gonna come!”

Your announcement had Mingi’s torso smothering your back as he hammered harder into you. His thrusts measured and speedy as your walls welcomed him over and over. Your nails scratched at the pool table’s surface to find purchase, the need to brace yourself for your oncoming climax almost overwhelming. Your fingertips hit against the white ball, the sphere knocking another and rolling toward a pocket. The pool table was creaking and groaning as it shook, the vibrations of the movement pocketing the lone ball.

“Then fucking do it,” Mingi’s hips ground on every hit home, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix without fail. The man wedged his between you and the hard surface, fingers finding your clit with ease to set a matching pace.

You were close. You could feel the edge of your orgasm within reach and he kept you there for a few moments. It was only when his teeth bit into your shoulder from behind did it hit you like a freight train, a lengthy scream bouncing off the walls as you writhed in pleasure beneath him. It was like a fire spread through your nerve endings, every muscle in your body tensing with the onslaught of pleasure. Mingi moaned hoarsely, muffled by your shoulder as he followed suit.

The weight of him was gone suddenly. Mingi draws back slowly from you to watch the evidence of him leak from your hole. The next thing you know, those same two fingers from earlier had gathered the escaping substance only to plunge it back inside you.

“We don’t want that escaping, do we baby?” His voice was a mock of praise and comfort as he kept his fingers in place to reach down for the flimsy material of your panties.

They’d stayed hooked at your ankles from where your legs dangled, Mingi now pulling them back up and in place. Only once they were up your thighs did he pull his fingers from you, eliciting a sensitive whimper from yourself who was still sprawled over the green felt. You felt Mingi pat the palm of his hand over your clothed core, his leaking come soaking into the material.

“There we go.” He murmured, tugging your dress back in place. “____,” He sounded muffled to your ears, far away almost as your exhausted body lay spent and satisfied, your eyes closed in bliss.

“Mmh.” You didn’t move.

“____!” He sounded much louder now, right next to your ear.

You jolted, eyes springing open. You groggily blinked them, darting your gaze around the room. Your bedroom. In front of you, your smiley boyfriend crouched at your bedside with his hand gently caressing your shoulder.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Mingi frowned, eyes carefully watching your face.

With the dull ache between your legs and a racing heart, you just nodded.

“Yeah, A dream.”

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hwaightme · 1 year

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Grilled Cheese Philosophy

🥪 pairing: demon!wooyoung x reader 🥪 genre: angst, dark, comfort, soulmates, angel/demon 🥪 summary: Abstaining from a cruel reality became your one goal, and around every corner you searched for an escape from the turmoil. Until a certain soul-searching demon showed up at your door, adamant to make himself a part of your life. 🥪 wordcount: 14k 🥪 warnings/tags: TW MINORS DNI, su!cide attempt, discussion of ed, depression, discussion of death, demon woo, fallen angel woo, soulmates, reincarnation, souls, slow burn, lmk if anything!🥪 a/n: Hello <3 this fic has very heavy themes so reader discretion is advised. Watching Wooyoung's performance to 'Logic - 1-800-273-8255' I felt a call to rework a fic I had, and thanks to senpai-of-doom was motivated add light in an otherwise dark progression. Remember, you matter, you are loved -"you are never alone and you will never be". Love you all, biggest hugs. P.S.: the song quoted is 'She's In The Rain' by The Rose.

“I had a guy sell his soul to me for some toast.”

“Wait a second, really?” You were bewildered. It had never occurred to you that someone would make a deal with the literal devil for such a simple food.

“I say that…” the demon sitting across from you paused, inspected the cuticles on his left hand and sighed, “…but it was not exactly for a single piece of toast. That would make the story unbelievably funny though, I wish it were the case!” To be frank, you were a little disappointed. You had expected more from your interlocutor’s chaotic line of work. “No, what this guy wanted was to have some, quote on quote, mad toast-making skills. I was not sure for what, but then he laid out his whole plan of making the best grilled cheese in the country and opening a grilled cheese food truck and touring around, watching people queue up for something only he could make well… It was enthralling.”

You could only raise your eyebrows and eye your rapidly cooling cup of tea. After earning a questioning glare from the devil, you realised that he was waiting for polite encouragement to continue conversation. You woke yourself up from your daze and hummed once, as if in thought.

“So, what happened then, did you give him the toast?”

“Here’s the fun bit. Well, I say fun, but it was more routine really. I go, ‘why not just ask to be a genius grilled cheese chef?’, genuinely curious, but he was adamant about just having the toast be done right every time. He rejected the heavier deal flat out. I go ‘you are going to miss out on being the biggest name in the grilled cheese world you so love’ and he goes ‘you see, the world is nothing if you have no problem at all’. I did not get what he meant then, but when the deal was over and done with, it made total sense. What this guy effectively did, was got a tailored eternal struggle that he could manage. The bread was guaranteed to be perfect, but the cheese provided him a sufficient challenge to remain interested in what he was doing.” The devil took a break to take a bite out of his, no, your almond croissant, and rather unceremoniously wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You clasped your hands around the mug more strongly, feeling the last bits of warmth seep away from the untouched beverage. You had no appetite or thirst left in your body, for you believed that it was far more fascinating having control over the decay of your being, especially now that you had been honoured with the audience of an otherworldly power. The devil was rather displeased that you had decided to take the matter into your own hands and go down the path of escaping life without promising him a reward, but you saw no need in making sudden deals. It was your innate passiveness and newly acquired apathy to all things living that prevented you from choosing anything at all.

Even now, you were not motivated to conjure a response for this episode from the devil’s past deals. Instead, you sank into a comfortable silence, enjoying the growing irritation the ‘young man’ was unprofessionally revealing. One tap, followed by two, then one, then three, repeat. A rhythm void of compassion for the mute. Demanding. The devil had nice nails, something you had not noticed before – the only musing to appear in the abyss that was your abandoned mental palace. Whenever your conversations would come to a halt it was as if time stopped. It was holding its breath until one of you would throw an argument into the air and continue the word game. You desired some time in solitude, so you happily challenged the devil with your skilled ignorance of social cues.

The devil exhaled sharply and rolled his eyes, displeased with the death of another attempt to get on your ‘good side’ and stood up. He readjusted his suit jacket and ran a hand through his sleek locks. Like an actor leaving the stage, the demon guest exited the tiny kitchen and turned right, undoubtedly, to check himself in the tiny bathroom mirror, then to disappear behind an old door for two or so hours – his idea of a power nap. For a taker of souls, he surely was too predictable, no matter how his appearance and character attempted to detract from his fondness for structure and patterns. Over the last few days while the devil began to spend longer hours indoors playing the role of a ‘caring friend’ you had the opportunity to grasp the general metaphorical spirit of this ‘man’. In any discussion he had his distinct style. An ebb and flow of the spoken tides, beginning with a head-on collision with either question or proclamation, followed by provoking interrogation and, finally, a theatrical departure once his true goal had been reached.

Nothing was ever direct with the devil. Otherwise, why would you be walking on eggshells when he was talking about grilled cheese? Whenever you got too invested in any of the deviant’s tales, you would remind yourself that the heroes of those stories were, at that exact moment, burning in the deepest pits of hell and feeling the unbearable weight of sin on their shoulders. Then the interest evaporated as quickly as it had popped into your thoughts. Although you must admit, this anecdote was quite amusing. So amusing that you might make a short note of it when the devil would be in his own version of dreaming.

He had explained to you before that the reason he slept so much was so he could preserve his youthfulness, vigour and striking looks, to which you sarcastically replied with the term ‘beauty sleep’, but he misinterpreted it as an honest attempt at relating to his lifestyle. That day, you had involuntarily boosted his already overinflated ego by somehow leading the devil to believe that he was beautiful, and that all of his actions were just how he had expected: rational and justified. You only wondered what beauty there was in him to sleep for.

The devil was not what one would call classically ‘handsome’. As a matter of fact, on your first meeting he insisted that the term ‘devilishly handsome’ was horrendously misleading and the perfect example of a human-conjured myth. Completely out of the bounds of what the media and the average person found appealing, the devil had a total disregard for following mortal aesthetic trends, thereby making his appearance quite jarring. Those to walk past him on the street, would undoubtedly gawk at him and be intrigued by him, and yet, feel unsettled. As though they were prey that had just nearly escaped an apex predator. Of course, he could easily turn up his charms and seduce to his non-existent heart’s content, but that was only if he saw personal gain or needed to fuel his arrogance. Other than that, he was a cold professional.

It was mainly the eyes that gave his true nature away. Eyes that knew. Eyes that were detached from mortality and morality, fixated on business which only he knew. Those unfortunate enough to peer into those eyes would be awestruck to find the deepest chasm of nothing. Not a hint of a personality or a soul, only well-trained responses, and the ideal formula to get an individual talking. That was what the demon had meant when he explained that no devil could be handsome, only frightening.

After making sure that you would not meet the devil in the corridor by waiting for the lock of your guest room, you pushed your chair back and in one motion spun out of it and to the sink, where you watched dark brown, murky liquid pour out of your stained mug you had gotten as a present – a souvenir from The Netherlands. After many years of use and scrubbing the design had faded, leaving only mysterious silhouettes and hints of windmills. Not in the mood to wash up, you left the piece of ceramic to wait for you in the basin and wiped your hands on your trousers. Unlike the devil, your whole disposition and outer image was the closest a human could get to transparency. Your pallid, gaunt face with watery irises that stared out into a bleak grey landscape you had constructed out of your days.

The fiend was a dark-haired lad with a cheeky grin, toned body and a manner of constantly fluctuating between flamboyancy and eccentricity. His pinstripe suit - a tad too big, with a bright crimson handkerchief sticking out of the pocket, messily stuffed and creased. This devil’s eyes were entrancing, even though he had said there was no emotion to see. Not that he would ever hear you admit that you liked them. Deep-set, almond shaped, glowing. A dark, alluring shimmer. If eyes were normally windows to the soul, his were closer to one-way mirror quality. It was the confident stare that had gotten him past the door frame when he showed up in front of your apartment last week.

Inviting himself into your home, the devil acted as if he was an old friend of yours, or like an auntie with a spectacular ability to nag her way through any and all interactions. When you crept out of your apartment and went down to fetch the mail your neighbours had inquired after a certain cousin of yours who was ‘such a charming young man’ and how he showed ‘great promise in the creative arts’. You had to refrain from responding with a guffaw, instead meekly nodding and imagining an actual relative of yours. Last you had heard from San he was working at a beach resort in Mallorca; one of the more adventurous members of your family, he was the only one to bear any resemblance to your unwanted guest, so you did not miss him at all.

San would be the sort of man to think of starting a grilled cheese business. The devil and him would get along well, or it would be more correct to say the devil would find a good client in him. ‘A simple-minded hedonist with no care for the future’, that was what the devil had described ‘deal material’ to be. Truly distant from what you could offer, leading you to question his motives. But he had insisted that you had the potential, and it was only a matter of time before you realised just how much more you could achieve if only you had the devil’s helping hand. You had flatly replied that you hated any form of contact and had departed to your bedroom without a second thought. When you woke up the next morning and walked out to drink some water, the devil was standing in the same place where you had left him. Like so, he had begun hurling success story after success story at you, ceaselessly trying to convince you that soul-selling was ‘not that bad’ and was only going to increase your quality of life.

Why ask for grilled cheese when you are satisfied with a single digestive biscuit? Thatyou’re your philosophy. You need not tread on other meals when something you had tried and tested never failed you. Besides, you had nothing that you wanted to order from the devil. You did not need luck, nor love, nor riches. Your daily activities suited you, and you would not trade them for a sudden burst of foolish, false fame. You ambled down the corridor, inspecting the progress of the crack that had started on the ceiling, and now had gotten behind a painting that you had bought at a second-hand market. An amateur painting of a traditional manor, nevertheless done tastefully and with careful consideration of colour. Pleasant enough to keep in a hermit’s isolation pod.

Having forgotten to undraw the curtains you were met with darkness upon entering the bedroom. The overcast afternoon did not possess enough energy to seep through the gaps. You lazily pushed them aside, accidentally taking the tulle with it. So, you stopped to admire the evergreen outside of your window before returning everything to how it was and looking for a piece of paper and pen in the dimly lit quarters, relying on memory and a stream of light from the rest of the flat.

After settling on an old envelope and a dying pen you heavily abbreviated and paraphrased all you could recall, finishing off with:

Grilled Cheese Philosophy

You nodded and folded the envelope. Chucking the pen into the bin set under my desk you turned and lied down on your bed, hearing the springs creak and curse at you for disturbing them from their peaceful daytime slumber.

-----

Over earl grey and a finger sandwich platter you had assembled from a store-bought set, the devil and you were discussing the concept of business and management. Wooyoung, or at least that was the human name he had picked, out of the blue, for himself, assured you that devil-work was mainly paperwork, and those in his line of speciality rarely had time for the pleasure of direct customer support.

“It is unfortunate. Before, paperwork, archiving and filing was all given to the rookies, but with the increase in regulations and terms of service all of us are neck deep in bureaucratic nonsense. I mean, what’s the joy in writing out a detailed account of how a deal went down? There is no time to form your own style or identity anymore.” This stirred you out of your zoned-out state, and you stopped resting your head on your hand, instead crossing your arms and moving your head as a gesture to continue. You spotted the hint of a smirk dance on his lips, only for a moment.

“Did you know that back in the day, each demon would have their own style of soul collection? That’s right. You could tell who had a contract with who, and when it would end. Back then they really cared about the artistic details, from the devil’s mark to the contract abandonment psychosis… it was all thought through.” Your eyes narrowed at the latter term, so you did not encourage any prolongation of the monologue. Wooyoung caught on quickly, used to your quiet command and with a sip of his drink explained as-a-matter-of-factly:

“Contract abandonment psychosis is a neat thing. See, when you make a deal, that’s it. You can’t back out of it. The psychosis is icing on top of that cake – if you try to avoid your over-written fate then, basically, you start going insane. Think withdrawal symptoms dialled up to one thousand. Once client of mine tried to abandon ship straight after shaking my hand, well, it only took him a week to end up in a mental institution! That guy was unlucky by nature, he never did realise his plans, so I was one happy demon.” He finished, taking a sandwich, and eating it in one bite. You thought that on that your conversation would terminate and you could continue your luncheon to the ticking of the antique clock on the wall, but soon after washing everything down, Wooyoung continued his droning.

At that point you were merely thankful that you were not being forced to reciprocate the enthusiasm for affairs of the literal underworld. You were picking apart the tuna and cucumber sandwich you had moved to my plate, watching crumbs fall and begin to pile. A piece of tuna had managed to slide out as you tore away a bigger piece, and the vegetable’s green flesh was barely hanging on. Wooyoung was watching you, a mixture of contempt and curiosity on his face. He had already devoured two more sandwiches in the time that had passed after his miniature lecture.

“You going to eat that?” He asked, snorting.

“Do you want it?” you shot back, staring right back at him. His lips curled into a smirk, and you saw his expression darken.

“Not when your filthy hands have already contaminated it, you mortal.”

“That, I am. And suit yourself.” you responded, disregarding the threatening tone in Wooyoung’s voice, and keeping on pulling the bread to bits. Now it had become a mission to irritate the demon sitting before you as much as possible. Childish, but one of the rare pleasures.

It had already been two weeks since the beginning of your acquaintance and co-inhabitancy, so naturally you had come to learn of Wooyoung’s pet peeves. One would think that a demon could remain nonchalant for all of eternity, however it seemed that that kind was, on average, more passionate and sensitive than any human you knew. Well, aside from my odd cousin San.

Wooyoung despised loud, open-mouthed chewing. He had mentioned it when talking about one particular client who could not make their mind up about what to trade their soul for. All this over a lunch where this person would not stop chewing in ‘such a barbaric, animalistic way’ – as Wooyoung had described it. That led directly to another one of his annoyances: indecision. As a dealer, businessman, perhaps contract worker, Wooyoung liked the rules and regulations to be impeccable before the final handshake. But too many a times did the poor demon have to deal with hours of following a human around listening to their empty ponderings. ‘Humans have a tendency to become overly philosophical in the most crucial moments,’ he had noted once.

Unrelated to the other two, Wooyoung despised pigeons, which was exactly why it brought you great entertainment to change the location of my casual excursions to a nearby park, populated with hundreds of birds. There you had discovered that he had equal distaste for swans, ducks and, frankly, anything avian. Flying bugs were also not his favourite, for he took great pleasure in disposing of them with your slippers, an old newspaper or a magazine.

Taking notice of the devil’s sources of displeasure allowed you to make note of his emotional cues, highlighting his mischievous and serious demeanours, which were so subtly different you had never taken notice and often had made the wrong predictions in the friendly debates you and him had. A slight repositioning of the shoulders, twitch of the brow, a complex series of taps - all were signs that, upon study, gave you a feeling of control.

While playing with your food, eyes downcast, you took peeks at Wooyoung’s upper body. It was only a matter of time before he exploded, maybe even literally. He regarded food as something practically sacred, so such table manners and misconduct would drive him up a wall. For you it gave a sublime excuse to not eat and continue to peacefully wear away into soothing oblivion. You did not need the devil to be a so-called saviour, watching over you. You continued your act of defiance, now occasionally rolling up the bread between two fingers into tiny balls.

You admired their mouldability. Their smoothness. That grainy, soft quality that most loved, now turned to a primitive wholegrain ball. But even these were not eternal. Morphing into thin snakes, falling apart at the ends, the ball pieces coated your fingertips, latched onto your skin and happily disintegrated. Perhaps Wooyoung was not enjoying the demonstration for its resemblance to what he enjoyed doing to humankind regularly? Tearing it apart just for the sake of it, only to give some false hope to, then punish them with more zeal and erase their self-conjured identity to nothing more than a tortured soul. You were proud of your own accidental analogy and had made it your task to write it down in privacy. Probably after the demon were to leave you alone.

To your delight, your antics sped up the devil’s tea drinking, and soon enough he shot up with a scoff and stormed out of the kitchen. Habitually, you waited before getting your hopes up. A minute ticked by, two minutes, but still no door slam or locking. Were you in for a telling-off? You had become genuinely curious as to what your demon guest had gotten up to. Judging from the end of a long shadow that was at the entrance to the kitchen, Wooyoung was idolising himself in the mirror. Fixing his hair, pulling at his suit, yet again. A meditation through egocentric routine. That could only mean one thing: the devil was sure to come back. Your efforts gone to waste, you toss the remaining crumbs onto your plate, saw some bounce onto the table, and folded your bony arms.

If someone out of your family were to see you now, there would most likely begin every conversation with: ‘oh dear, how thin you have gotten!’, without any awareness of the fact that you were, in actuality, on a spiritual journey to the discovery of self by means of deprivation. In your mind, deprivation also meant starvation, amongst other things. Before the arrival of Wooyoung at one point you had stopped allowing myself the luxury of going to the grocery store, instead choosing to devour remaining canned and long-lasting goods during sinful bouts. Pasta as an only meal for a fortnight could be considered dull by some, but once your stomach had atrophied to an acceptable size and all that your tongue could register was blandness, pasta was the only nourishment your body did not reject.

Wooyoung did not question your eating habits, and for that you had mentally thanked him. Instead, he had merely requested you be present at every meal he had, aside from those out of your apartment – one on one client meetings, he had instantly elaborated.

Your eyes shut, you were reflecting on your speedy self-inflicted resolution. Before you could get to the part where your flimsy, cheap coffin would begin to deteriorate and you would fuse with the soil embracing you, Wooyoung returned, almost glowing, ever so peppy and up-tempo. Apparently, you had reminded him of another ‘magnificent’ story, which he was metaphorically dying to tell, and you were literally dying to listen to.

-----

“A grilled cheese toast syndicate?”

“Yes. I swear on all of my bosses. The grilled cheese food truckers are surprisingly enthusiastic when it comes to selling their own souls for their art.”

“You have only told me about two people so far, and they are co-owners of the same food truck. Your statement cannot possibly hold true.”

“At this point, take it as axiom. Maybe some day I will tell you about January the thirteenth,” I raised an eyebrow, “… or was it April? Either way, it was definitely rainy, murky, a Wednesday, and the thirteenth.” you did not prod him for details. You did not need him to think that some empty collection of his words was a carrot on a stick that he could dangle in front of you.

“Anyways, those guys are mad dedicated, aren’t they?” you huffed in response, getting an eyeroll in return.

He had been doing it so often, his eyes might as well remain staring into the black hole that was his cranium – the only explanation you could find for Wooyoung’s intense self-centeredness and profound elevation of his being not only above humans but also above his own colleagues. This led you to wonder whether there was a defined system hierarchy in his business, or whether a low-level worker could talk down to the big demons if there was enough evidence to suggest they were right in doing so. Did the right to reprimand and walk on the heads of others warp from zero to infinitely high?

If anything, you would have wanted to hear more about demon administration, not caring a single bit for the grilled cheese men driving around on a truck powered by infernal evil. But, that one mention of paperwork and rookie versus regular employee had long since passed, remaining only in your memory and in the list of displeasures of my guest.

Upon Wooyoung’s insistence, you were now seated in the living room, him splayed out on the couch, you composed in the squeaky armchair. It was almost as if you were the devil’s therapist. Give you a notepad and a pencil, and the scene would be complete. You quietly listened to him, the made-up role giving you strength to remain in the room for a while longer and bear with the excessive social contact.

“So, this guy approached me on a Monday morning, right? I was still a bit groggy from a party weekend – corporate events, you see, so I did not register who exactly I was talking to at first, and how this rando could know me by one of my human names. So, I am sitting there, and hear-”

You could see your reflection in the dusty dinnerware display cabinet. Barely a figure, only partially human. Your wool sweater was exaggerating what mass you had left on your shoulders; made your wrists look like fragile twigs. When you acted out, did Wooyoung have the urge to check if they would snap the same way? But what was the use of such actions, when you were the only one in the demon’s life to care enough about what he was blabbering to note it down on a stray piece of paper here, a napkin there. You had made him quotable, thereby valued. Your wrists will survive longer than your cooling core. You did not mean for Wooyoung to find out, but it was bound to happen eventually. You were living together after all. You thought after his freeloading for so many weeks you might just accept him as a family member.

He was so excited, that poor beast. Giddy and giggling he strolled up to you one morning, a piece of magazine between two fingers. You had just finished watering the only plant that had survived your aunt’s ‘love’. You had asked her to take care of them for only two weeks. She had a magic touch Hades touch, you were sure of it. Ironic that you had to travel for a funeral, when there was misery in your own home. Those plants were pretty much people to you; Although you’d never say it out loud, but you missed Fred the rhododendron. Wooyoung had waited until you turned around and faced him, supressing a toxic glower. You had gripped the miniature watering can so tightly you’re your knuckles turned white.

“Got any more like this?” his voice was almost mocking. Like he had discovered a dirty little secret of yours and was about to go around and tell everybody about it. Who was everybody? If it were people who would listen, you would be impressed and let him talk.

Something had told you that you should be confident and accepting on this one occasion. This stance had allowed you to see a child within Wooyoung. As if he had been praised by someone who he greatly admired. Maybe equivalent to a mother putting up a shoddy etch on the fridge with ‘her favourite magnet’. Good demon.

“Got any more of what?” you feigned your being oblivious, unintentionally batting your eyelashes.

“Oh, you know… sayings of, yours truly, that you like so much you immortalise them… Not that I am emotionally mortal to make anything I do be tainted with such silly things, but I appreciate the gesture. Very human, yet very touching.” He had slid the piece inside of his breast pocket, careful not to crease the pocket square more than it already had been. Wooyoung was waiting for you to spill all but you would not budge. You did not feel like it.

While floating in your sentimentalities you did not notice that the demon was now hovering over you, eyebrows knitted together and a scowl on his face.

“You are not listening to me, are you? Repeat what I said.” you rubbed the inner corners of your eyes and stifled a yawn. This was just like primary school. How long ago that was, and yet even demons treated him the same way. You tried to recall what Wooyoung had said last, out of the things you registered.

“Oh,” you began; the demon was expectant, a bit of the gloom evaporating from his features. “You said the new grilled cheese man knew your name.”

“For- for goodness’ sake. That was five minutes ago, you oaf.” You have not heard that insult in a while. It was refreshing. Maybe your oaf-ness will finally get him to shut up for today and leave you be? Not a chance.

“Okay, just for you I will begin the glorious tale again. You better listen carefully now, or I will literally devour your soul.” Big threat for someone who cannot attack a human out of contract bounds without being banished for all of eternity. You bit the inside of your cheek, knowing it was wiser to leave such comments out of the already tense moment.

You allowed Wooyoung to settle back onto your couch without snarky remarks following him. He crossed his legs and threw his arms onto the back, revealing more of the dress shirt he had selected for today. It was undoubtedly an expensive article, remaining creaseless for over eight hours now. The almost neon quality the orange stripes on the item possessed could hurt anybody’s vision if they stared for too long. Wooyoung was taking his sweet time restarting his storytelling, evidently trying me. And here you were thinking that your lack of listening skill would deter people; your guess this specimen was truly not in any way related to the ‘people’ kind.

Now that you took your time to ponder it more deeply, this was another one of his ‘quirks’ – wearing pricy, loud shirts from the high streets, no matter the occasion. He had first appeared before you in all black, wings of the shirt collar an astonishing shade of crimson. When you had asked who had made the piece, not hiding your admiration, his lips had morphed into a dark smile, and he nonchalantly explained that it was handmade by the tortured souls under his command. You had refrained from ever commenting on his outfits since then, and rightfully so - the shirts were all done in a distinct style. Made in hell.

The dandy demon glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and sighed.

“Time for a cup of tea, don’t you think?”

“If you want one.”

“And you don’t?”

“No, I do not, thanks for asking.”

“I guess I will have one later, I don’t care. So, grilled cheese. Where was I? Oh right, where I lost you. So, this dude-”

-----

It was a cool and bright afternoon, with the signs of spring getting stronger and stronger each day. The flowers were blooming early this year – it had been a weak winter. Daffodils nodding to passers-by, cherry trees giving up petals to the wind, the flurry of pinks and whites spiralling off into an entrancing dance. How long had it been since Wooyoung had become your guest, your accidental friend? You stopped counting, and at the same time had lost track of how many notes you had written, now accompanied by sketches and stored in leather-bound photo albums. Finally, you had put your older sister’s gift to good use. She had bought you these empty albums with the hope that her ‘precious sibling would make some good memories and be able to look at them all any time’. So now your only worthy memory was that demon. And to think you were supposed to take photos of ‘friends’ and ‘nature’ and ‘joyful events’ – you did not see enough of any of those to be able to make a record, so any curious eyes would have to deal with Wooyoung being the embodiment of them all.

For the first time in weeks, you had decided to take a walk outside without the intent of going to buy the demon some food, or to browse the isles of the local bookstore. Wooyoung was more than happy to join me – you did not even ask, and he was ready to go. A young puppy from the underworld. You wondered what breed this guy was most like. Frankly indoors he was more of a cat. Little did he know, you were out on a mission, even this time. You wanted to get one photo. The only photo in all three of the photo albums, which would serve as a conclusion. A depiction of Wooyoung; a way of showing that demons had more human qualities than some members of the species.

You had taken a camera, never used, and a full roll of film with you. The demon suspiciously eyed it as it was swaying left and right, hanging from your neck. As soon as you mentioned your plans, however, he gained an intoxicating exhilaration, so much so that you could not resist and took a snapshot right on my street. Wooyoung was smiling wide, his eyes narrowed, spinning on his feet while avoiding fallen magnolia. In the photo it looked like he was stopped mid-dance, his hands positioned with a refined grace.

To be frank, you were enjoying the time that was passing. The number of frozen memories grew exponentially; you had to admit, Wooyoung was a magnificent model – the camera loved his features, and he certainly did not shy away from it, nor was he disrespectful of the machine. Why machine? He could not have become considerate of you and your preferences in the span of the last ten minutes.

His vigour was infectious, and an unfamiliar passion ignited within you. The desire to act, to function, to contribute to the world had been inhabiting much like a parasite for once. You would not stop taking photographs until all film available to you was used up – you had made a fleeting mental promise. Though you were fully aware that this moment was not to last, you were glad that you had gained something to reminisce when you were to breathe your last.

After a street photo session Wooyoung and you continued on your stroll, headed towards a public garden that had recently been renovated. Soon enough, you were surrounded by fragrant flowers in bloom, flaunting their spring fashion. Beings of the Earth naively blithe at the awakening of their planet. What was so warming about today, anyway? Your body had grown so unaccustomed to supporting itself that your soul had cooled to the dangerous status of near indifference. Frankly, your only pleasure was to command Wooyoung to stand a certain way, crouch down and smell the daffodils, caress a branch… The only authority or meaning you had left, serving as a tether before you could finally let go.

Your cutting away from reality to whatever existed beyond was closer than you had imagined – it almost made you feel as if you had been robbed of some precious hours to indulge in hobbies. It was now that you reflected that instead of the variety of mundane elements of routine, you could have been someone great. You could have written the indescribable, cured the incurable, solved the unsolvable. Your speeches, monologues, soliloquies could have been on the lips of millions, uttered and echoed like prayer. You could have eradicated crime, famine, war… become a martyr for the greater good of humanity. But all you had left was to mull over your options of maggots or ash.

What made people great? Did those great people know of their value? Or were they stuck in the same loop of perceived worthlessness, unable to self-validate and allow oneself to turn off the inner critic for a couple of seconds. The greats did not have the time to breathe, instead sacrificing themselves to the choking depths of their art. At the beginning, they could barely keep their head afloat, wading in the viscous fluids of judgement, struggle and challenge. At one point their muscles would be used to the constant burn, and they could pretend to be walking above it all – a slow crawl in search of a shore that does not exist. But at one point, they would inevitably falter, and then, it is impossible to know whether they will drown or stay motionless above the surface, a splayed-out water strider. How you wished you could have had an ocean of your own to talk about in your darkest hour. Pain to make life worth living.

“Do you see them?” Wooyoung’s soothing voice penetrated your consciousness, and you turned your head towards him.

“Hm? Oh, do you mean those people?” you gestured at the couple sitting on a bench ten or so metres away from us. Their hands were intertwined as they lovingly stared into each other’s eyes. You raised your camera to snap a quick photo of the moment. Wooyoung had gone awfully quiet and waited for the photo to develop with bated breath. What was so special about a-

What? Where did they go? You were confused, fear rising in your throat. They could not have- No, they were still there. How could the camera take a picture of the bench but not the individuals sitting on it? Was this some trick? You furrowed your eyebrows and glared at Wooyoung. It must had been some silly prank.

“This is not funny. Are you entertained by this?” Then, softening my delivery you added, “But I would like to know how you could have possibly done it. The lighting, the trees, the flowers are all the same. It’s just the people that-”

“-Are dead.” He ended your sentence with a shocking truth. It was obvious that, for once, he was not being misleading. If you had not known him at all you would have guessed that he was grief-striken. There was an anticipation of something you had only tentatively explored. He had the look of a worn out, hollow man, faced with a horror he had to harden himself up for, if not for centuries, then for millennia.

You were clinging onto your habitual scepticism, but it had turned to lead in water. You had nothing to protect you from the gravity of the situation. You had no choice but to believe Wooyoung – he was a demon, after all. He knew death better than anyone else. But although the easiest option was to blindly trust him, you played it safe:

“Assuming they are dead, how could I possibly be seeing them? That does not seem reasonable. A regular person cannot-”

“Yes, a regular person cannot see the deceased, or when they do see them, they do not realise that they have just encountered the other side. Dead people have a spectacular ability of being unnoticeable even when present. They are just echoes of who they were in real life, so they would never be as flamboyant, attractive or energetic.” you stared at the photograph you had taken so intensely your gaze could burn holes in the film. Not a hint of their being on the bench. “I can bet a soul you would not have seen the two spectres on the bench if I had not pointed them out.”

“Then why did you?” you had the right to be seething. You would shout and give the demon a piece of your mind. How dare he? He had no right to tell me… but then again, you were making your own conclusions. He did not tell you what you did not need to hear to know. Just yet.

“I wanted to make sure of… you know what.”

“What?” you pressed on. It was going to hurt. You had to muster up all my courage to keep this interrogation going. You needed to be hit with the phrase that simultaneously established your success, but with the appearance of Wooyoung in your life introduced notes of loss and regret.

“You are going to die soon.” That was all you needed.

You knew it. From the lost glances that Wooyoung had been giving you the last few days. It was said that there are certain dogs that can smell cancer; demons can smell death, regardless of distance. Your friend from the underworld had explained during dinner a few nights ago that this power was one of the worst punishments, and it was not even hell’s creation. He had stated that Earth reeked of death, another reason why demons did not come out too often, and when they did, they had to have undergone extensive training.

The smell of death was so strong even humans could sense it sometimes, particularly when in severe distress. However, tasks like demographic classification of a strench, or influencing its diffusion to manipulate living beings, were all beyond any demon’s capabilities. As Wooyoung had kindly pointed out, ‘that was the job of the grim reapers, and they were somewhat above supernatural commonality’.

You only needed to look at myself in a mirror or storefront window to know that you were going to die. Your body was in the process of shutting down. Only skin and bone, you hobbled around with barely any energy. You were no longer a human, but an illusion. You could study the skeletal system using myself as a model. Your only potential purpose currently. You had forgotten the meaning of nourishment, only ever treating yourself to stale bread and a glass of water. Although your primal instincts had been rebelling and begging for you to embrace nature and sustain yourself properly, your mind had prevailed. So here you were, finally coming to the personal revelation that you were going to be parting ways and falling, after balancing for enough years. Or not enough. Depends on who wished to interpret.

You were losing. Be it something, someone or generally. You had been losing this whole time. You did not know when your attitude had changed and you began to walk the tightrope blindfolded, but it had evolved from a manic pursuit of achieving daring stunts to playing with your own wellbeing for kicks. This is where you ended up. At the edge of a cliff, no going back; just one step forward, soaring to purgatory. Your last ever rise, for sure.

“So, this is the beginning of the end, as they call it, huh?” you whispered, with your voice barely audible over the rustling of the trees. Wooyoung did not say anything but pursed his lips and nodded. He did not need to elaborate further, knowing that you were perfectly aware of your condition and what was to come. You began to amble down the gravelly path, quickening your pace once you reached the bench with the ghostly couple. You wanted to get away, but only to see another ever so slightly translucent lady enjoying the sunshine, standing barefoot on the grass. You were about to scoff and make a comment about public health and disregard for the new strands but caught yourself.

These spirits had no mass, just like they had no purpose for the living. They could not influence reality no matter how hard they tried. It was impossible. They did not have the necessary human qualities, or the otherworldly powers of a demon to overcome the death-life barrier and do something as simple as feeling the breeze on one’s own skin. The same one that was making you shiver and wish you had brought a warmer coat.

Wooyoung and you were living in a metropolis of the dead, semi-humans in fading grey tones. You had no idea for how long you had been seeing these half familiar, half grotesque entities, walking on ground that was still yours; what used to be real clinging onto the regular man’s delusion, a madman’s fantasy, a sick man’s nightmare. Oh, how much must your demon friend have seen. Did he see those who were beyond saving so frequently that he lost touch with which was which? Did he treat them all the same? Were you still the person you had known yourself to be? From the day of Wooyoung’s arrival, had you been in this state, and stripped of the knowledge?

And yet… you would not have lived your last weeks with the same passive enjoyment, having a sense of power and control over your choices amidst progressive degradation. Although not confirmed, your demon companion had quite possibly withheld information about your own demise. It was true that the appearance of an entity from the inferno should have started ringing a few bells straight away, but you could not be bothered to make yourself care. Sometimes, it was the omission of fact that gave a person true pleasure.

-----

Your notes disappeared. You had woken up at the crack of dawn just to search for them, but to no avail, and it was unlikely that they were in Wooyoung’s room, for you had never given him permission to touch anything you deemed personal. This was the reason behind your gloominess during Wooyoung’s breakfast. You had a sip of water, which you proceeded to spit out into the sink. You were parched, your lips bitten and chapped, but you could not allow for a single droplet to roll down your oesophagus. The demon was not giving you any attention, instead focusing on the eggs benedict in front of him. It was like you were a family, not having to speak to be comfortable in each other’s presence.

You had gotten used to this demon. Now that he was technically more alive than you, you had a stronger pull towards him, a sense of desperation and longing. He had mentioned, in the early days, some of his clients having similar sensations prior to making deals. Had they been on the same cliff’s edge when they had found solace and a temporary solution in Wooyoung? You were not going to give in, and he did not want you to, obviously resisting any temptation to make you crack or to tempt you. Conscious of his effect on your species’ natural ability of being manipulated, he was all smiles and kindness the last few days. It was really a blessing in disguise. Made your passing far more comfortable than you could have ever imagined.

After Wooyoung finished breakfast, you washed up, immediately drying the dishes, and then walked to the living room. You longed to see the street one last time, crack open the window and breathe the stench of the polluted concrete jungle you lived in. You were not going to get to see your neighbourhood bulldozed and converted to skyscraper haven – for the better. There was the same number of cars, the same average number of people passing by. The same cat from across that went out to sit on a low brick wall was there, letting the rays masked by murky ashen clouds sink deep into its skin. It wasn’t as if the whole planet was meant to slow down just for your ending.

You were just a cog, and a cog that had removed itself from the machine so long ago that it had become a foreign object. You had always had trouble relating to people, this was only proven by the fact that it had been easier dealing with a demon; in any case, your innate lighthearted misanthropy allowed for a seamless disappearance. You would not be making anybody sad – in the best case scenario, somebody would be able to tell who it was they were meant to be mourning. Yet another reason why now you were praising myself for radically isolating, you need not worry about the majority of funeral expenses going to entertaining some guests who were likely not bothered to say anything more than ‘oh poor them’ or know anything more than what you had carved onto your face.

“It’s been a good ride, pal. I’ve had some real nice times with you. You might become one of my stories I tell clients, you never know. The antithesis to the piece of toast.” Wooyoung had positioned himself to your left, resting his arms behind his back and staring off into the smoggy distance.

“What do you mean by that?” you asked, turning once again to the horizon. Was the view from this window always so breath-taking?

“More poetic, I guess.” So informative, Wooyoung. Thank you. It rid you of all your pains.

“Yes, very clear. Cheers.”

“Wow, you sure are impressed. Sorry, I can’t explain it too well. You know… hm. How do I? Maybe it’s kind of like the bittersweet feeling you get after finishing a really good book? People can be like that too, for immortals that is. We know about each person’s birth, life, and death, and in there somewhere is that same beginning middle and end that is within every literary masterpiece.” He was inadvertently inflating the perception of your importance to society.

“Now you are making out my species to be way better than we are.”

“Yep, I know.” That was uncalled for, but you appreciated the brutal honesty in your final hours.

You glanced at the vintage clock, loyally ticking away on the wall. A little past three. Seemed right somehow, to get the end started right that instant. Spun on your heels and slowly made your way to the front door of your apartment. You could not care less to change from your slippers to an outdoor pair of shoes, so you exited into the communal stairwell how you was. Wooyoung was trailing behind you, his hands in his trouser pockets. You decided to take the stairs up instead of the elevator – it was not that long of a journey, but anyways you wanted the sort of scenic route towards your demise. Demon boy did not comment, only one of his eyebrows twitched once you were already halfway up the stairs to the next floor.

Soon enough, the metal door leading to the roof was looming before you. A map of some outdated emergency exits, the page yellowed, was framed and hung on two screws loosened by poor initial handiwork. There were meant to be two others, but they were long gone, probably lying around somewhere, with the dust bunnies, rusted and most surely extinct to their purpose. That reminded you, you should get going. Your attention had been constantly drifting ever since you had made the choice to abuse yourself into a state of being able to welcome self-elimination – truth be told in the beginning you had not calculated that this was what your actions would lead to, but now you did not oppose it in the slightest.

The wind was freezing cold, attacking you through the layers of clothing you had on. But it gave you natural encouragement to go on, go forwards and position yourself at the edge. There it was, your final destination. You peered at the concrete below; it was unlikely that you would be a pretty sight, alas you had plans and they had to be gone through with. Only a minor inconvenience for the residence – they would look at you the same way they would look at a dead animal; distract the kids, notice the awakening of a morbid fascination with the macabre, then go about their day, never to give the honour of being pondered to the poor animal again. If only you could possess the same altruistic qualities as those creatures that gave their lives away for the greater good. But you were only acting for yourself. You could have been great, but you could not act great no matter how much you tried. Your steps had led you too far from the ocean, so you had found a bog to sink into.

You closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The air was cleaner the closer one was to the sky, dizzyingly sweet, intoxicating. There was a thirst in you after all. Too late for it to ever be satisfied. Some things were meant to be left unfinished and permanently abandoned. You tuned into the howling of sirens, zooming through your neighbourhood; you were wondering who they were, where they were going. Before you could conjure a whole story for the emergency services that dashed past, stopping when you had ideated a man who discovered the body of a stranger in the middle of his living room and, in a panic, had dialled any car that produced the violent shriek, Wooyoung cleared his throat, causing your eyes to flutter open. You turned your head – he was closer to you than you had initially predicted. Had he been here this whole time?

“I have already collected your notes by the way. Sorry to have gotten you into a bit of a panic, I should have told you earlier.” So now he chose to ever so kindly bestow this upon you. A rapid onset of frustration was rapidly abated by Wooyoung’s apologetic smile. This charming bastard. He knew you would let it go.

He had genuinely not meant to cause you harm in your last hours here, or at least that was what you wanted to believe. The demon had wanted to give you a proper send-off, making sure you did not have any unfinished business on Earth. When you had questioned his motives, asking whether on your death bed he would metaphorically back-stab you he waved me off and took offense: “I get that I am a demon, but you are my friend. I don’t eat my friends’ souls,” It was almost touching until “…not a fan of bitter stuff.” He had an odd sense of humour. You will miss it, if that was possible on the other side.

He had told you that emotions were going to be your most loyal companions there. Your only true companions. Memories would make the occasional appearance too. He had given you a rundown on how to properly greet a reaper to impress them and make the walk through all the checkpoints less unbearable. “Those guys have a tendency to be quite morose. Total killjoys, am I right?” Wooyoung was proud of himself for that play on words. It was with regret that you had to part with his bad jokes.

You were standing at the edge of your ten-story apartment building, the same one you had lived in since university. You could say with confidence that this was enough to crack your thin shell. This day had come when your mind had passed the state of believing the internal alert signs that had flashed endlessly, shutting them off, now choosing to agree with the way of termination you had been preparing for. You took half a step forward, so your toes could feel the curvature of the drop through the grimy cotton stuffed with cheap card. Your demon friend was exasperating, choosing to dawdle and rock on his feet right next to you. What had you expected? This was none of his business. You sighed and could not help but give him a glare. He looked up and gave you a wide, practically coy grin – if it were anybody else, you would have been deeply disturbed, given the reason why you two were here. But Wooyoung was Wooyoung; demons were more than allowed to react in strange ways to the ending of man.

For some reason you could not picture the faces of your mother and father. In these moments people usually thought about their family, right? Normally those were who they left behind to pick up the pieces. But for you the postman that came to your street every Sunday was more vivid than your own relatives. It could be because you had not visited them for what could be seven years. Were they well? You had no clue. But it was no longer your business or concern. Might as well muse about the postman. That gentleman in uniform would have to keep on hoarding any spam and bank statements and charity advertisements that would be sent to your address until finally he would either not be bothered with them, or somebody would move in and change the name in the address lines.

The apartment would sell quickly; it wasn’t like you were doing anything funny inside, if anything you were lowering the value of the whole house, or even the street. Huh, you did have impact on the external world! Go you. At least you would be good at being harmful vermin to your neighbours. Parasitic vermin which they could not get rid of because it beat them to the chase. On the other hand, you were giving a helping hand to anyone who was looking to buy an apartment in this area for cheap – assuming a real estate agency would be interested in handling the post-mortem affairs.

You had watched an interview with an agent in Japan who specialised in houses and flats of people who ended up just like you or had passed of natural causes. Living alone, those people spiritually disintegrated, their physical selves following suit. What came after? The agency ordered a deep clean, transformed the housing and sold it off to those who dared. And that was a prime example of good business. Life went on no matter what one did, and you had nothing but respect for that man, who was effectively fighting off evil spirits that people conjured up in their creative little heads by re-making a place of mourning, a place of death into a spacious, minimalist condo for generations of life after life after life. If not you, then at least your apartment will go on. That was all you were hoping for. You could not be great now, but your apartment… For a split second you considered agreeing to give your soul away to Wooyoung in order to guarantee the protection and bettering of your little habitat, but it was not right to meddle with the natural flow of events. If the flat was meant to outlive you for centuries to come, you would be glad. If not, so be it. Demolition was an acceptable way to go too.

After the whole morning had been overcast, the sun was finally beginning to peer out, making leaves surrounding your building glisten. They were waving at you, cheering me on. The only time you had ever felt supported: “You can do it! We believe in you! Go, go!” Pressure was building inside of you, a spring or a coil, ready to be sent off. You moved my feet back, taking off your slippers. That was what you had seen done in movies and anime, so the footwear did not fall off mid-fall. Or was it just a statement that everyone wordlessly agreed upon? You did not mind following the trend. After they were pinched in my right hand, you bent over and placed them neatly on the edge. They fit into the scene perfectly, as if they were meant to be there, and not being used as platforms for striding around a household. An adventurous, risk-taking pair of slippers. You felt ready.

Tiny bits of gravel and chipped off stone pressed into your feet. You balanced on your heels, toes already hovering above the drop. The wind could probably blow you over if it was any stronger. Your hands were dry, your heartbeat somnolent and your will persistent. You nodded to yourself, and with the flash of the sun, appearing from behind a cloud, you gave in. You imagined yourself as a fledgling, finally leaving the nest, ready to feel the wind under your wings for the first and final time. Your head was spinning as you lost balance and gave into infinity.

You felt free. So free that you wanted this fall to last forever. A sigh escaped you as you could no longer feel your aches, neither physical, nor mental. You were a fleeting moment, passing by, ready to-

You were definitely meant to hit the ground by now. You had personally seen the arrays of windows zoom past you, faster and faster. Then why were you staring into the sun, and still very much alive and breathing? It was as though time had been frozen or was going so slowly that motion was barely there – you tried to move a leg, but it did not follow your command. You tried your arm – same story. What was this? Was this some illusion?

In a click, you were back to speeding downwards, but only for a split second before crashing into what felt like a pair of outstretched arms. Arms which barely moved when you collided with them full force, as though they had absorbed all the impact, transferring it to the earth beneath you. Somehow, they had cushioned your fall entirely, cradling you against something, or rather someone warm, safe.

One of the arms was holding your upper body steady, while the other was holding you under your knees. Once you had gotten rid of your initial shock, a panic settled in. You were not supposed to be here, you were not supposed to be seeing this. You had overstayed your welcome. They should let go! What right did they have to decide your fate like this!? What was this cursed act of playing some higher power and turning you into a puppet? Desperate and livid, you attempted to free yourself.

You were unsure of what you were going to do. It was funny, how you had ceased to plan anything, and were clueless even about the next few seconds of your existence. At least that part you were sure of – you were breathing, you had a pulse, and your chest was about to burst. Tears were welling up in your eyes as you tried and tried to claw your way from the strong arms that now pressed you to their owner’s body. You fought against it, weak fists hitting against the broad chest once, twice, until all you could do was let out a feeble wail and give into the flood of emotion that came pouring out of you.

As your frail frame shook with every sob, intermittently replaced with shallow gasps for air, you felt the someone who had caught you from what you had seen as a certain self-conclusion shift and walk towards the brick wall of your apartment building. There were no windows, no one scrutinising you, only you, the one who, in a matter of seconds decided your fate, and a peaceful spring day. The body had lowered themselves together with you, taking a seat with their back against the cool brick wall, continuing to hold you close.

You were blabbering utter nonsense under your misery-soaked breath, chocked up and lost. You had settled for repeating a never-ending stream of questions beginning with why, ones which the suit-clad body could not, or did not wish to answer. The tears, locked away for eons now being released in honour of what could only be described as an accidental renaissance, were rolling down your crimson cheeks, snaking like streams down your neck and leaving stains on your clothing. Embarrassment, guilt, and regret washed over you in feverish flashes as you attempted to cover your face with your hands.

You hated how you looked when you cried. You hated how helpless you were when you cried. You hated every bit of this humiliation, and yet there was nothing you could do to stop it. It was as though it was not you who took the final step, but a manifestation of all the inhibitions, and toxic limitations you had placed on yourself. A cage thrown from a precipice. And now here you were. That same little bird. That little fledgling. Saved. No longer trapped. But with the hurt not subsiding.

What have you done? Another yelp erupted from you as you rubbed your tremoring hands in circles, feeling every pore, every bit of agony-induced moisture on your skin. You wanted it all to evaporate. To disappear. You did not want to face this. Anything but this. You did not want to face yourself after what you had done. You were such a coward. How did you come to this? What had led you to this foolishness? Why did you not succeed? Because you could not do anything. You could not even control your own life.

Your thoughts were monsters, rabid, barking and biting at you, tearing you apart from within. The noise was overwhelming, dialled up to an impossible maximum as one of your wrists began to bang against your temple. You were so exhausted. You wanted this to stop. So badly. Please. Could. It. Stop.

“Do you hear me?"

A solitary plea, reminiscent of a prayer. Reaching out to you. A promise. A sweet release in the form of music, which had been so core to your darkest hours and your battles against them, that you gasped once you recognised the melody.

"회색빛 안개 덮인 Gloomy day Gloomy day covered with gray fog

눈앞이 가려진 게 두려워 I'm afraid that my eyes are covered

이젠 아무것도 흥미가 안 나 No woah…” I'm not interested in anything anymore No woah

This song was so familiar. So close to your heart. It had been with you through many moments in your life. Through times when you had no one to rely on. Through times when you had been losing hope, but at least for a few minutes, felt like there was still something worth holding on to.

The voice that was singing it was mellifluous, each note embellished with gold, clearing your haze. It possessed a steadiness that was so jarring to your state that you could not help but be jolted out, shaken from a horrific nightmare. You wanted to keep on listening, stay like this forever. Maybe this was afterlife after all? When the voice stopped for a moment, as if unsure whether to continue or not, your hand grasped one of the arm’s sleeves, squeezing it, begging for the song to continue. With a soft hum in agreement, the arm supporting your legs slips back, letting you down onto the ground slowly. In a few quick adjustments, you were now sat between the man’s legs, your back flush against his chest, as he continued to embrace you. Your wings. Your shield.

As he continued to sing, you could feel a pleasant vibration against your own body, with every breath, every sound that filled the air. Slowly but surely, your tears had stopped, leaving only reminders - streaks that had painted over you, and you were stilled to a trance, only following the music. In that moment, the only things to exist were you, him, and the melody. Who knew that this combination could be a safe haven?

“She's in the rain

You wanna hurt yourself, I'll stay with you

You wanna make yourself go through the pain

It's better to be held than holding on, no woah…”

You let out an airy chuckle, lifting a hand wrapped up in your sleeve and dabbing away at the corners of your glistening eyes. This song. Out of all of them. You had not listened to it in so long, though it was always in your memory, like a record left on a turning table. Why now? And how did he of all people, and non-people, know? While still keeping the performance gentle, he went into a cautious crescendo for the final verse, leaving the last line ringing in your very being.

“We're in the rain

떨어지고 있는 이 빗속에서 in this falling rain

흩어져 버린 널 다시 채워 Refill the scattered you

아름다웠던 널 볼 수 있게 So that I can see the beautiful you

No woah, we're in the rain.”

You took the impromptu performance in, relishing in the tranquility that it had given you. As the silence grew longer, however, pangs of guilt made an appearance once more, deciding to pick at your brain and taunt you. You did not deserve this. You had just… you were supposed to… you were told you were going to…

“So, you aren’t even going to say anything about my solo concert? Shame, Y/N, shame.”

You finally looked to the side and up at the man who had restarted your clock. Wooyoung. With his cocky grin and mischievous eyes, and, by total contrast to himself, with the patience of a saint. Otherwise, you could not explain why he was here with you. As though nothing happened. Maybe nothing did. You were now beginning to hope so.

“What’s with the first name basis, demon dearest?” you croaked, throat still hoarse and clogged up from crying.

“I think we have just re-enacted all the standard wedding vows you humans use so I think we can go on first name basis, Y/N.” he jested, mimicking a disgusted tone when saying the word ‘human’.

“But death did not do us part-”

“Thanks to my brilliant, otherworldly reflexes, obviously.”

That was a fair point. Out of all reasons to be alive, you were still hanging on thanks to a demon. To a creature of the underworld. To what one would think is the antithesis to all things valuable on the planet. There had to be a catch.

“You… you said I was going to die.” You mumbled letting your eyes flutter shut and leaning back a little. Wooyoung adjusted your form so that your head could tilt back against his shoulder, and he could rest his chin against yours.

“Isn’t everybody?”

“No, you said, I was going to die soon.”

“Well, oops, I guess.

“Elaborate.”

“Tell me what you thought of my singing, and then I might just satisfy you.” He was unchangeable. But he was here. Still a cunning menace. Reckless, but your saving grace, nevertheless.

“It was good.”

“Just good? I was out there turning my soul inside out for you, damn it.” He retorted. You could hear his smile.

“Your non-existent one?”

“About that…” he trailed off, pausing himself before answering what you had initially thought to be a rhetorical question. This put you on higher alert. You moved a little, so that you were able to speak face to face with Wooyoung. What did he mean?

Instinctively, once you locked eyes with his, you became very self-conscious. Your well-practiced, thoroughly nurtured phobias had stirred from their deprivation-induced slumber and began their routine of hurling insult after insult about how you looked, how you behaved, how you, you were. The last one was a personal favourite of yours: you, an amalgamation of blunders culminating in a virtue-less entity. There you went again, dragged out from the other side only to kick yourself into a corner. But at least you could say you were proof that old habits, did indeed die hard. As Wooyoung saw your previously frustrated expression falter, he could not help but cup one of your cheeks, directing you away from your internal hell.

“Hey, back with me.” He instructed you softly, making you mellow. As he removed his hand, the touch lingered for a little while longer. It was odd, just how easy it was to give into the sensation of being held, being protected, even if it was from oneself. This demon was surprisingly clement and forbearing.

“So, you were saying, Wooyoung?”

Although you were almost certain this had to be trickery, there was a hint at an emotion entirely unexpected from the demon. Upon trying to piece together the bits of body language, and micro reactions that you could capture from your position, you could only read a terribly concealed unease… or shame? Or worry? Either way, it was unlike the conceited hell-bringer you had grown attached to. After his dramatic pause, the man raised his head and gave you an intentionally meek grin.

“I kind of… sort of… maybe used your writing to make a pact?”

“Say that again?” you were bewildered. You had blindly believed him when he had told you he took the ramblings to remove any traces of himself in your life - so much for trying to see the best in demons.

“Well, pacts can be made in spoken or written form, and since I had your writing… well you can guess."

"Who gave you the right to do that?" you asked, venom dripping from the inquiry.

"Look, before you get mad, I have got to say is, I had no other choice!” he blurted out, raising his free hand in front of him in a defensive motion.

Your expression darkened as you peered into his deep brown orbs. As the wind picked up and clouds raced across the sky, you ignored the strands of your dull hair that were making every effort to prevent you from maintaining eye contact for much longer.

“One, you did not answer my question. Two, you could have let me die.”

“Nope. Not an option.”

“Why? And again, who?”

“If I say I am selfish and the answer to both things is just 'me', would you believe me?”

“Partially. Since when do you need me? You wasted enough time already.” reverting to self-deprecation out of habit, you did not wish to argue and instead turned the conversation into a plea for Wooyoung to reevaluate and somehow reverse the process. You were convinced that he had either done it out of pity, or out of twisted sadism.

“Never on you. Do you hear me? Never. Every moment with you is precious.” Again that question. Same one from the song. But now wholly dedicated to you.

You were dumbfounded. This was probably the first time over however many weeks… or was it months, that passed that you had heard him say something so openly positive to you. Previously it had either been a flirtatious comment through which he fished for compliments, or him outright asking for attention from you while he delivered story after story. At least the situation with the missing notes had cleared. They had come into some sort of use, albeit highly questionable.

His phrase. 'Never on you'. Those three little words were giving you room to exist. Providing you with priceless reassurance that to someone in the vastness of space you were not a nuisance. How easily you were swayed now! Nearly cooing because of every word uttered by the demon. Clinging onto every distraction from your own body. You started fading away into your toxic pensiveness, struggling to keep your head afloat.

“You didn’t even ask about the song, and how I knew. Really, we are going to have to work on your ability to ask interesting questions if you are to actually dive into the literary world.” He sounded like a parent, scolding a delinquent child for not paying enough attention in school and skipping.

His mention of the literary world had caught you off-guard. It was true that prior to your spiral your sacred wish had been to become a master of the written word, alas, you had chosen to give it up. But Wooyoung sounded adamant, as though he saw nothing else in your future except the pursuit of your ancient passion. You could not keep up with him, so you remained mute.

“Well, you always did enjoy me taking the lead, so I’ll ask and answer for you, okay?” he added, ever so cheeky. You only hummed in response, preoccupied by your own interpretations of the cryptic introduction.

“I have known you for a while, Y/N. A lot longer than you would think.”

“Okay, continue, sounds promising.” You quipped, making the demon roll his eyes.

“And… how would I say this… there is a reason why I appeared as a demon and not an angel, let’s say that.”

“And that is?”

“It was the easiest way to be with you, Y/N. Otherwise, I would be just a shadow. And I was sick and tired of letting you go. Time, and time again."

"What in the world do you mean?"

"We are bound together.”

You whipped around. Wooyoung was smiling, but it was an evident façade to conceal an excruciating terror that had begun to settle within him as he recounted to you his fall from grace. He revealed to you that he had been a guide for lost souls, tasked to be a bringer of spiritual light to beings of the earth. He was the light heart that one felt when their troubles would be wiped away. He was the freedom felt when a challenge was overcome. He was a candle in a dim reality, fighting in the shadows against people’s troubles. Wooyoung was one to trust easily, fall in love easily, and exist for others.

He was an angel who had been created for continuous self-sacrifice - that was what prophets had told him. And as time went on, he began to crumble harder and faster. It was becoming too much to stand beside these beautiful mortals and see them fall apart, without being allowed to influence their acts directly. Only through cryptic messages, encouraging nothings in moments of somnolence, manifestations… He wanted to do more, so much more!

You had been ‘just another lost soul’ initially. Locked away in your room, moving like an automaton through your human years. Wooyoung had ended up learning a lot about you, memorising your every angle, your every thought. Despite your younger years - a quality that had prevailed through every physical embodiment your soul had, you were composed of suffering wound into a tight Gordian knot – one that he was itching to cut. He wanted to help you. He wanted to be there for you. He wanted to be your guide.

It had been the same in your previous lives. You had burned out before you could produce warmth. No matter the dynasty, nor the nation, you had suffered the same fate again, and again. And every time, Wooyoung had to witness it, and had his heart break into a billion pieces. So much for being soul-bound to a human being.

You reminded him of a little bird. So much ahead of you, and yet the torrential winds of time and circumstance beat down on you repeatedly, forcing your wings back, draining you until you cannot see another way anymore. You had been a wonderful writer in your past life. In three, to be exact. Making a mark on the world - little did you know, you had been quoting yourself all this time in school, in media... a little bird, fatigued, letting out its final cry.

Wooyoung had always been commended for his compassion, but the levels of personal involvement which he had felt towards you over the span of centuries were unprecedented. It was as though he was the candle, and you were the flame itself. In the beginning, just observing you was enough. Seeing how you went about your day and how you glowed. But the wick was never long enough for Wooyoung to be satisfied, and even though he tried, no angel could caress such a flame, reassure it and be present in the moment.

It was easier than he could have envisioned to get used to your presence, and in turn, crave it. Have your attention turn to him instead of the same thoughts, same feelings, same repeating desolation. With every new life your soul experienced, the tiny mark on your body that signified a much deeper connection between you and him was only getting stronger and stronger, more vivid, and it had become undeniable. You were bound together.

He wished for nothing more than to be your bringer of light and break you from this reincarnating melancholic cycle. He wanted to be with you. For you to be with him. To rely on him. To co-exist in nothing but tranquility. And for that, Wooyoung was willing to sacrifice everything. Whatever it took to tip the scales in favour of your survival. He had fallen from grace in the blink of an eye, exchanging status and divinity for a lowly demon rank. Wooyoung was not troubled, making the underworld his home, grateful that his wish had come true. He had a chance to get closer to you before time could run out.

It had not been simple, figuring out the details of his personal contract. He had had to get the blessing of every angel and liaise with his new colleagues to realise the rescue plan he had conjured up in one feverish night. Every step of the way, he felt selfish. Your agreement was out of the question, so he had to act in secrecy, using your written word as proof of your feelings and of mutual attachment to convince the higher powers that there was a kindling hope.

It was not something he wanted, but he had to let you push yourself to the limits so you could be reborn. As his redemption. As his saving grace. He had no certainty that his plan involving you would work, even though there were signs. But he sure as hell was willing to try. And there you were, in his very arms. The chance. His love. The future.

Every pact had an exchange. His was simple. And very 'Wooyoung'. Your healing, for his divine punishment. While he would be burning in damnation, he would be helping you rise above the flood. To him, it was a way that was only natural. And he would not have any other alternative. From the greatest depths he was going to crawl, and claw his and your way forward. You were his divine soulmate after all.

As he divulged his real story to you, his true self, you could catch glimpses of who he had been, all across his features. Though what he had not mentioned yet, instead resorting to an ambiguous 'pact', was your heavenly ties to him. He could not expect you to love him. He could not force you to accept him so quickly. If it took centuries more, he was willing to wait. Time was not an issue; he wanted your heart to heal.

You were perplexed. Why did Wooyoung throw everything that he had away? Was this foolishness? Was this a lapse in judgement? Whatever he was looking for, you were sure he could not find here. There had to be another reason, something-

“Like I said, I am bound to you. So, apologies, Y/N, but you are going to have to deal with me for… a while. Now don’t worry, you are not the only one who will be on a journey, so we will be helping each other. Okay?”

“Bound?”

“Like I said. A pact.”

“So, you will take my soul?”

“That’s what demons do.”

“Aren’t you one... now? Don't you sort of have to take souls?”

“Not exactly. I just explained. Had I been a true demon, I would have been able to steal your soul on the first day we had met. Just like that.” He clicked his fingers, representing the speed at which the action could have been performed, had he had the ability. "I have to go through the paperwork to do my present duties. Dull, but at least I am still myself, more or less."

“Then, fallen angel it is.”

“Yes. Much like you, after that stellar dive.”

“Did you just-”

“If there is anything you certainly know about me, is that I adore being tactless.” He reminded you, making you snort.

“That you sure do. Maybe that's why you decided to leave the angelic realm." you stuck a bit of your tongue out, poking fun at Wooyoung, who took to your higher spirits and beamed.

"What will you do, then?” you tried.

“Only what had already been done and determined by fate.”

“Cryptic.”

“Very much so. But we will go in baby steps. Now, let’s get you inside, and get started, together. You ready, Y/N?”

He was searching for hope. For a new life. For fight within you. One that would prove to him that there was, indeed, a chance.

“Reborn ready, Wooyoung.”

As he helped you up and, an arm wrapped around you, guided you back inside, his gaze could not help but linger on the small mark on your ever so slightly exposed shoulder, exactly matched with his. He was going to tell you what it meant eventually. When you were ready to hear and to listen. The stars had long made the decision for you both, and he simply gave in. If this meant that he had to be a demon for eternity, he was willing. If him and you could be redeemed, he was ecstatic. But that was distant for now. In the present, the only thing certain was you, and him. The rest was only a series of embellishments to lead you to healing and acceptance. But it was clear. You were never alone, and you will never be.

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