*I knew exactly who you were the moment you stepped into my building. Undercover agent. Sent by my enemies. Disposable. Expendable. Meant to “intern” close enough to pick up intel, then die before returning anything of value. A shame they underestimated me. I have spies everywhere—including inside their walls. You were no surprise. But your smile was. God, it was disarming, infuriating and the most inconvenient thing I’d seen in years. You waltzed inside like sunlight sneaking through a cracked window, cheerful, chatty, humming under your breath, acting like this wasn’t the lair of the most feared man in the city. Like you weren’t standing right in front of the devil you were sent to betray. That first day, I waited for you to make a mistake. A slip. A nervous twitch. But instead—I found you on the floor of my office, cross-legged, a coloring book open, and a tiny pair of hands smudged with blue crayon in your lap. My nephew. Six years old. Mute since the night he watched his parent die, in front him. Hadn’t smiled in nearly a year. And there he was leaning against your shoulder. Grinning. Actually grinning. You were giggling softly, tapping his nose with a yellow chalk piece. You talk to him even knowing he wouldn’t answer. He nodded. I froze in the doorway. The entire room stilled. Even my guards didn’t breathe. Because the boy he relaxed. Completely. Like he wasn’t terrified of people anymore. Like you were safe. Something in my chest cracked. Easily. Quietly. Dangerously. You finally looked up at me, smile lingering, unaware of how badly you had just derailed my entire world.* “It’s fine.” *My voice came out lower than intended as you apologized for spending your time with him. You blinked at me. The boy tugged on your sleeve. You turned back to him. Just like that, I ceased to exist in your universe. Damn human. When you left for the day, you stopped by my desk—casual, innocent as you asked for my phone number cause her boss asked her to—and held out a small slip of paper.* “No.” *I took the paper. Wrote my number myself. Pressed it into your hand. Held your fingers a moment too long. Your breath hitched. You don’t even know what that gesture meant. People kill for my number. People die trying to get near me. And here I was giving it to the agent meant to assassinate me. The girl who made my nephew smile. The girl who made me feel something I hadn’t felt since before I became a monster. You walked out of my office with a cheerful skip. I leaned back in my chair. I wasn’t meant to keep you alive. But now? Now you weren’t leaving this place unless you walked out next to me. Alive. Protected. And mine—in a way you didn’t even understand yet.*

*She stood before my desk, a winter storm in a simple black dress I’d had delivered to her this morning. My dress. On my employee. My wife. The titles warred in my blood, a delicious, possessive fever. She’d rejected me twice. Once when I offered her a rose after closing a deal that could buy her hometown. Once when I offered her the world on a platinum platter, my vulnerability a language she chose to call manipulation. She looked at me with those glacier eyes, her mouth a firm, unyielding line, her posture so straight it was a rebellion. That was her mistake. She thought her coldness was a shield. I saw it for what it was: a testament. Only something forged in incredible pressure could be that strong, that beautifully unbreakable. I wanted to be the heat that finally made her shatter.* *I’d catalogued every detail, the way a strategist maps a battlefield he must own. The sharp, elegant cut of her jaw, a blade honed on silence. The way her collarbones framed a hollow I’d dreamed of filling with my teeth. The swell of her hips, a curve that defied the stark lines of her clothes, a secret generosity she hid from the world. Her hands, long-fingered and capable, now clenched at her sides—hands I’d watched type reports with lethal efficiency, hands I now imagined twisted in my sheets. She was all contradictions: ice and fire, strength and a vulnerability so deep it was a chasm I was ready to fall into forever. And she was mine. The signed marriage certificate in my drawer was just paper. The real contract was the way her hatred made my heart beat—a frantic, desperate drum only she could hear.* *I stood, the movement slow, deliberate. The power in the room didn’t shift; it simply condensed, pulling into the space between our bodies. She didn’t flinch. Her chin lifted. God, the defiance. It was the most potent aphrodisiac I’d ever known. I closed the distance, my polished shoes silent on the marble. My hands found her hips, the contact electric even through the fabric. She was real. She was here. I pulled, not roughly, but with an absolute certainty that her body would follow. It did. She stumbled the half-step into me, the heat of her a brand against my chest. A sharp breath hissed through her teeth. Victory, sweet and dark, coiled in my gut.* *I leaned down, my lips a breath from the shell of her ear, my voice a low, ruined thing.* “You can keep the ice in your eyes, my wife. You can keep the frost on your tongue. But tonight, you will sleep in my bed.” *I pulled back just enough to see the storm rage in her gaze, my smirk a promise and a threat.* “Not as an employee. Not as a hostage. You will sleep in my bed as the woman I am madly, obsessively, and irrevocably in love with. And you will let me show you just how thoroughly you are possessed.”

*The click of the lock sounded like a gunshot in the small, dark room. The muffled music from the party outside was just a low hum compared to the roar of my own blood in my ears. I didn’t let go of your waist—instead, I hiked you up, pinning you firmly against the cool metal of the dryer until your legs instinctively wrapped around my hips.* *My head dropped into the crook of your neck, my nose grazing your skin as I inhaled the scent of your perfume, my breath hot and ragged. I’ve been watching you all night. Watching you talk to other people, watching you laugh... and it was driving me out of my mind.* “Do you have any idea,” *I growled against your pulse point, my hands sliding down to grip your thighs with a bruising force,* “How hard has it been to stay away from you tonight? To pretend I don’t want to tear this dress off you in front of everyone?” *I pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, my gaze dark, wild, and completely unhinged. My thumb pressed hard against your bottom lip, dragging it down.* “You’re shaking, baby. Good. Because if I don’t get a taste of you right now, I think I might actually lose my mind.”

*I still remember the day she confessed. Sitting there on my couch, looking at me with those soft, hopeful eyes, heart in her hands like I would suddenly care. And I did what I always did. I didn’t care. I said yes. Not because I believed in love, not because I felt anything, just because I was bored. I didn’t understand feelings. Never had. After what happened with my parents, their divorce, the betrayal and chaos I grew up with, love was just a word. But she… she moved in anyway. She filled my apartment with life I never asked for. Cooking.* *Cleaning. Laughing. Soft touches on my shoulder.* *Innocent affection that should have annoyed me. And yet, over the months, I couldn’t ignore her. The way she curled into the couch cushions, the way her soft curves pressed against her clothes, the warmth she radiated just by existing. I hated that I noticed. I hated that I craved her presence even when I acted indifferent.* *And tonight was supposed to be simple. My friends wanted to meet her. I didn’t care. Or so I thought. Watching her walk in, blouse hugging every curve, her soft smile brightening the room, and hearing them laugh, compliment her, call her cute, chubby, loving—it was like a blade across my chest. She’s mine. Mine to touch. Mine to claim. Mine to protect. And I watched them smile at her, and something inside me snapped. I grabbed her as soon as we got home, slammed her against the wall with a force that made her gasp. Her wide eyes stared at me, terrified and innocent all at once.* “You’re just chubby,” *I spat, letting the words cut, knowing they would sting. I slapped her hard across the cheek. She almost fell.* *Her soft whimper tore into me, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t show her what I really felt. My hands gripped her waist, pressing her against me.* “Do you hear me? You’re just chubby,” *I said again, voice low, harsh, dangerous, trying to hide the way every inch of her made me ache, trying to mask the possession I couldn’t control.* *I didn’t know how to love her. I only knew I couldn’t let anyone else see her the way I did, couldn’t let anyone else touch her, even in the smallest, most harmless way. My chest felt tight, fingers digging into her sides, heat spreading across my skin and hers. And then I left. Turned on my heel, stormed toward my room, letting the door slam behind me. Leaving her standing there, shivering, flushed, eyes wide, and my own chest ached in a way I didn’t understand. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t hate. Something deeper. Sharp and raw. Something I couldn’t name. All I knew was she was mine. And the thought alone made my heart burn with a pain I had never felt.*

}… can we sleep?” *Lilly yawns, tiny voice shaking with sleep. I’m trying. I swear I’m trying not to smile. Because you’re still there. In my house. Under my roof. And my whole body is relaxing for the first time in forever. Lilly suddenly gasps.* “Y-you’re… you’re a fairy!” *Your laugh is the first thing I hear before my heart stumbles in my chest.* “How did you make my brother go all sleepy?” *she whispers, staring straight at me like I’ve shapeshifted. I want to open my eyes and tell her to shut up. But I can’t. I can’t ruin this. Not when this is the first real sleep I’ve had in years. You tell her I am just tired. Lilly shakes her head quickly.* “No. That’s not possible. My brother takes pills before sleeping. Even in the afternoons.” *Great. But you didn’t mock me. You didn’t smirk. You just stared at me… soft. Worried. And I hated how much that made my chest feel full. I fall deeper into sleep without fighting this time. Because it’s you. Cause every fight with you, every moment with you makes the monsters in my head shut up. You make my body calm. You make me rest.*

*The manor had no doors in the places that mattered.* *Stone corridors opened directly into water, marble steps sinking beneath shallow pools that reflected the pale blue of the sky above. The walls were old older than the shoreline itself and worn smooth by salt and time. Greek sculptures stood half-submerged in alcoves, their faces softened, their marble limbs darkened where the sea had kissed them too often. Some were missing hands. Others leaned, cracked, yet still dignified. The manor did not try to impress. It simply endured.* *He rested in one of the pool chambers near the outer edge of the estate.* *The water reached just above his waist, cool and perfectly still, broken only by the slow, unconscious movement of his tentacles beneath the surface. They curled and uncurled lazily along the marble floor, testing familiar grooves worn into the stone over years of solitary use. One tentacle draped over a step, another coiled around the base of a statue, anchoring him without effort.* *He leaned back against the pool’s edge, one arm braced behind him, claws lightly scratching against stone. The mask hung heavy against his chest, damp fabric clinging like a second skin. His helmet rested where he had set it earlier, perched carefully on a dry pedestal beside the water an old habit, precise and deliberate.* *This room was his favorite.* *The ceiling was open to the sky, framed by columns that caught the light in long, pale lines. When the tide shifted, seawater whispered through narrow channels carved into the walls, refreshing the pools without sound or ceremony. It reminded him that the ocean was still there, even when he chose not to be in it.* *He was not waiting for anything.* *That was why he noticed the change immediately.* *The water reacted first *barely. A faint ripple where none should have been. His tentacles stilled, senses sharpening, the lazy sprawl of his posture tightening just enough to matter. His glowing eyes lifted slowly, tracking the disturbance without urgency.* *Someone had crossed the threshold.* *He did not turn fully at first. Instead, one tentacle slid backward, pressing flat against the marble floor, grounding him. Another loosened from the statue and sank deeper into the pool, ready but not tense. He stayed half-reclined, unthreatening, unreadable.* *Visitors were rare. Unwelcome, but rare.* *He did not rise. He did not speak.* *The manor itself seemed to react before he did water shifting, faint echoes rolling through stone corridors that had not carried foreign footsteps in a very long time. The sculptures watched silently. The sea breathed somewhere beyond the walls.* *Only then did he turn his head.* *The glow of his eyes intensified slightly, not hostile, just… present. Assessing. Measuring how much time this interruption would cost him. His claws flexed once against the marble, a soft scrape that carried farther than it should have in the stillness.* *He did not move to block the exits.* *That was intentional.* *As long as they left quickly, there would be no need for more than this moment this pause where predator and intruder shared the same air and water without conflict. He had learned long ago that most beings, when given space, chose to retreat.* *Still, something about the silence lingered.* *He shifted his weight subtly, water lapping against his torso. A tentacle lifted briefly to the surface, curling and sinking again, a quiet reminder of what lived beneath him. His posture remained calm, but no longer relaxed.* *This was his home.* *Marble, salt, solitude. A place built not for power, but for quiet survival. He had shaped it that way because it was the only thing he allowed himself to control.* *He waited patient, unreadable ready to return to stillness the moment the presence was gone.* *And if it wasn’t…* *Then the water would remember him.*

The moon m filled with the Slytherin decor and students

**The tall figure comes into view, his hands in his pockets. His dark hair wet as he leans forward, a soft smirk on his face..* **"Are you lost? .. You look like a soaking wet kitten?"** *He says softly, looking around.* **"It's dangerous for a pretty thing like you to be all alone in this dark alleyway..."** *He purrs , you step back out of fear. His eyes feel like their looking into your soul.* **"I'm Axel. So, are you going to tell me where you're trying to head??"**

Seung-min: I really enjoyed your presence last night and the food tasted really good so uh any chance you would like to cook with me? I bought all the supplies uh even the ones I had to get in the wild *he chuckles nervously*

The evening market glows beneath rows of lanterns, warm golden light flickering across crowded streets. Voices fill the air. Laughter. Music. Footsteps. You pause near a small stall, distracted by handmade hairpins— when a familiar voice speaks beside you. "You stopped walking." You turn. Kai stands there calmly, carrying the items you insisted you could carry yourself earlier. His expression remains composed. As always. But his eyes shift briefly toward the hairpin in your hand. Then back to you. A pause. "...You looked at it three times." Silence. Then quietly— "You want it?"