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stllmnstr · 4 months ago

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sacred monsters: part one

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, vampire au, slow burn

part one word count: 19.3k

part one warnings: swearing, blood and all sorts of other vampire-y things, semi graphic descriptions/depictions of violence, I don't know anything about publishing and wrote about it anyway, not quite as much in this part, but I want to forewarn you that while there is still nothing explicit, we do get a little ~sexier~ than most stllmnstr fics

note/disclaimer: I have been itching to write an enha vampire fic for ages because hello? the material is RIGHT THERE!! this is a story I'm super excited about, and it's definitely gotten me out of my comfort zone. in order to help build this world, I did draw from some outside sources. primarily, a lot of the vampire lore and some plot elements are inspired by the dark moon webtoon series. I did also pull some things from twilight and other well-known vampire myths. lastly, there is a section with "poetry" in it. these "poems" are translated lyrics from still monster, chaconne, and lucifer by enhypen. some are in their original form and some I altered slightly. everything else is straight from yours truly! as always, happy reading ♡

soundtrack: still monster / moonstruck / lucifer - enhypen / everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears / immortal - marina / supermassive black hole - muse / saturn - sleeping at last / everybody’s watching me (uh oh) - the neighbourhood

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A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.

But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.

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The last sip of your coffee tastes bitter on your tongue. Acidic, like it was left to brew too long. Or maybe not long enough. Your limited knowledge of coffee extends to its effects on your alertness and little else.

Taste has always been an afterthought, something of little consequence. Besides, some bitterness is to be expected when you take your coffee black.

Suppressing the small wince that always follows your final sip, you set the reusable thermos down on your desk. Next to your open notebook and favorite ballpoint pen, it settles in nicely with your other class essentials.

Call it poetic or romantic or unbearably pretentious, but you actually do prefer to take your notes by hand. Partly because it feels more fitting for a literature major and mostly because your laptop is on its last leg and between tuition and rent, you don’t exactly have the funds to shell out for a new one.

Frowning at the bitter taste that still lingers on your tongue, you feel another pang of regret for forgetting to pack your water bottle this morning. But no matter. Today is a day for optimism. The bitterness now only means that your imminent victory will taste that much sweeter in comparison.

Because today is the last day of the fall semester of your third year. Which means that this is the last morning you’ll be sitting here in this lecture hall in the minutes preceding 9 am.

Which means that today is the day of your professor’s long awaited announcement. You still remember the day, nearly four months ago, when he first told the entire room of undermotivated, overcaffeinated students about it.

A publishing opportunity. A real, actual publishing opportunity. Something most literature students would sell their soul for.

Because Professor Kim, while a rather mediocre professor who prefers to dish out criticism and bite back praise, has an excellent eye for great writing. So much so that nearly twenty years ago, he founded his very own publishing house.

Known by the name New Haven Publishing, it’s a small operation that deals mostly in short pieces that are marketed more for niche literary circles than mass public appeal. Being published by New Haven may not be a straight shot to the New York Times’ Best Sellers List, but it’s still professional publishing.

And a week into classes, he announced that for the first time ever, he would be choosing one of you to not only intern at New Haven the following semester, but also to publish an original piece of short fiction with them.

You’ve been fantasizing about it for months now. You can already imagine it. A piece of your very own, marketed and edited by professionals. Published and complete with Professor Kim’s stamp of approval.

It’s what you’ve been craving ever since you decided to switch paths and pursue literature studies at the end of your first semester. It’s everything you’re sure you need. Validation that your writing is good, that your words are worth reading.

Hell, maybe it will even earn you the approval of your parents.

And, perhaps most satisfying of all, you will have officially beaten Lee Heeseng once and for all. You don’t want to speak poorly of the rest of your classmates and their writing abilities, but this has always been a competition between you and him.

Or, at least, it has been for you.

It’s the last day of the semester, and honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if Heeseung still had a hard time remembering that the internship was even happening. Then again, you wouldn’t exactly be shocked if he couldn't remember your name, either.

And if you were hard pressed to choose only one thing, that would probably be what annoys you the most about him. Not the way his hair is alway somehow perfectly mussed. Not the way his writing is painfully beautiful and poetic that you swell green with envy just thinking about it.

No, the root cause of your infinite ire when it comes to Lee Heeseung is how damn aloof he is. Like his classmates and professors and even his greatest rival aren’t worth the effort of remembering.

And it’s not like it’s because he’s got some kind of crazy social life outside of academics. Other than mandatory discussion groups, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him so much as talk to anyone.

But that’s just the way he is, you suppose.

Perfect Heeseung with his perfect hair and his perfect writing and perfect attendance record doesn’t need anyone but himself—

Wait.

Perfect attendance record.

Glancing at the clock mounted high above the front door of the lecture hall, you can hardly believe what you’re seeing.

8:59.

There’s no way. There’s no fucking way that the universe is rooting for you this hard, that the stars are aligning this perfectly.

Despite your doubts, the second hand continues its onward march. You suppress the sudden urge to bounce your leg in a matching rhythm.

He has five seconds.

Four. Three. Two. One.

And it’s official. A ridiculous amount of pent up tension drains from your shoulders as your spine straightens. You can’t believe it was that easy.

A semester of agonizing over every word, every sentence, every assignment you handed in for this class. A semester of panicking over missed buses and waking up way too early just to make sure you always beat the clock.

But today is the day where everything comes to a head.

And Lee Heeseung is officially late.

Professor Kim, at the beginning of the semester, had only two pieces of advice to offer his students that were suddenly all gunning for a shot at being published:

One: “Don’t make me read awful writing.”

And two: “Don’t be late to class. I have zero tolerance for tardiness.”

Heeseung has just broken a cardinal rule. One row down, nine seats to the left from where you sit. It’s the place that would usually be filled with an annoyingly broad set of shoulders and distractingly sharp jawline. In fact, Heeseung usually beats you here most days. Not that you’re keeping track, of course. And not that it matters.

Because this morning, this fateful morning, that particular seat, his seat, is glaringly, gloriously empty.

Your eyes flicker over to it again without your permission. But you can’t help it. You’re so antsy now, teeming with self-satisfied excitement. It’s almost unbelievable actually. A golden stroke of luck that he chose today, of all days, to be late.

In fact, you think the more you stare at the empty seat, Lee Heeseung is such a reliable presence that the entire lecture hall suddenly seems a bit off kilter. Tilted too far in some precarious state of imbalance.

Your smugness is still there, yes, but now there’s also a heavy feeling beginning to settle at the bottom of your gut. Why on earth is Lee Heeseung late?

You’re so distracted by his absence, the endless loop of possibilities and explanations running through your mind, that you almost miss the second abnormality of the morning.

Because now the clock reads 9:04, and Heeseung isn’t the only one missing.

All at once, your attention is on the podium at the front of the lecture hall. It’s empty, too. And Professor Kim may be a hardass, but he’s no hypocrite. Never once throughout this entire semester has he ever begun a class even a millisecond late.

Frowning, you pull out your phone to confirm that the clock on the wall is not playing tricks on you. Maybe there was a power outage or something, and maintenance hasn’t had time to correct it yet.

But your phone screen lights up, and 9:05 is the time that stares back at you.

Glancing around, no one else seems too particularly bothered by this. There are a few titters, a few annoyed grumbles that sound like hypocrite and double standard where they reach your ears.

But still, the clock ticks forward.

The minute hand has fallen another two notches when the front door finally opens, Professor Kim striding in unhurried. Despite his lateness, his steps are steady, even. There’s nothing frantic or apologetic about the way he sets his briefcase down next to the podium, pulling out his laptop and a small stack of notes before clearing his throat.

As the students around you fall silent, class begins as it always does. Other than the time, nothing is out of the ordinary.

But your spirits are still high, and you figure you can cut your professor some slack. Maybe he ran into a bad bit of traffic or spilled coffee all over his shirt. Maybe he’s too embarrassed to draw more attention to his error and has decided that not acknowledging it at all is the best course of action.

Oh, well. It’s no use ruminating on it now. Settling back into your seat, you do your best to focus your attention on the front of the room and not that damn empty chair. But the distraction isn’t necessary for long.

The clock is just striking 9:12 when a second late arrival draws the eyes of the class to the front door of the lecture hall. Like your professor, Heeseung maintains a certain air of composedness as he makes his way towards his seat wordlessly.

There’s a moment, a fraction of a second, where Professor Kim pauses, letting a sentence drift into silence.

Twelve minutes late. It’s a rookie mistake. For a fleeting moment, you almost feel bad for him. Because surely Professor Kim is about to make an example of him. No one walks into his lectures late and leaves unscathed.

Wincing, you remember a handful of weeks ago when a poor girl that sits a few rows behind you arrived late. Not only had Professor Kim stopped the entire flow of his lecture to draw attention to her tardiness, he had also assigned her an extra short story for homework. One on the merits of punctuality.

But the ebb in the lecture begins to flow again, the moment passing as soon as it comes. Heeseung settles into his chair. Your professor resumes his sentence.

For the remainder of the class, you do your best to pay attention, but you’re having trouble finding a point. It’s not like he can assign homework or an exam or a discussion on the last day of the semester.

Like you, most of your peers are fully zoned out, just waiting for him to get to what everyone has been dying to know for months.

Who’s interning at New Haven? Who’s getting published?

But distractions in this class have never been hard to come by. More than once, you find your wandering gaze drifting to the back of Heeseung’s head. Usually, you’d be bitterly admiring how soft his hair looks. But today, there’s only one question that plays in your mind as you stare.

What on earth happened that made perfect Lee Heeseung late?

Your thoughts are only interrupted by the sudden shuffle of small movement around you as everyone sits up a bit straighter in their seats.

“Ah,” Professor Kim glances at the time. “That wraps up our semester, then. As promised, I would like to announce the student who will be interning with New Haven Publishing this upcoming semester. And, of course, the student that will have the opportunity to publish an original piece with us.”

He pauses for a moment, looking down at his notes. You wonder if the people sitting close to you can hear the way your heart pounds in your chest.

Please be me. Please be me. Please be me.

The rushing in your ears is so loud that you almost miss it. But not quite. Because the sound of your own name is something you’d recognize anywhere.

Because it was your name that he said. Not anyone else’s. Not Heeseung’s.

You. You did it.

You’re officially going to be interning with New Haven. You’re going to be published.

When he asks you to stay a minute after class to discuss the details, it’s all you can do to nod. Butterflies are still scattered in your stomach.

As the rest of the students begin to file out, you pack up your materials with hands that shake slightly. It doesn’t feel real. It feels too good to be true. You poured your everything into this all semester long, and now it’s actually happening.

Your mind is a mess, and an erratic movement almost sends your empty thermos flying. Luckily, you snap out of it long enough to catch it before it hits the ground. With everything packed back into your bag, you make your way down to the podium on slightly unsteady feet.

A handful of passing classmates congratulate you on their way out, and you smile in return.

You’ve almost made it to the front of the lecture hall when a body blocks your path. It takes a moment for your brain to register the identity of the offender. And once it does, it spits his name with venom. Heeseung.

Oblivious and self-centered as always, he nearly knocks you over. Rolling your eyes, you move to step around him. Apparently whatever gift he was given for writing doesn’t extend to his spatial awareness or consideration for others.

But as you lean to the left, he follows the movement, still in your path. Your gaze snaps up, eyebrows raised when you find him already looking at you.

Oh. So it’s not a spatial awareness problem, then. He’s in your way on purpose.

As always, his expression is infuriatingly blank. You can’t get any sort of read on him, and it unnerves you. Irritates you. Here he is, blocking your path, and the only thing he has to offer you is an empty, silent stare.

You could just say excuse me, force your way around him, and be done with it. You should. The semester is over, your professor’s decision is made, and you have no stake left in this game.

But you’ve been biting back snarky comments and masking irritated expressions with mild indifference for months. The nerve he has to block you. The utter gall of it all. To physically stand in your way when he’s been your metaphorical obstacle to success all semester.

When every time you look at him, you still remember that one sunny afternoon, early in the semester. The time you tried, actually tried to be his friend. When he waved you off like a buzzing fly that was nothing more than a nuisance.

You inhale, weighing your options. His head tilts slightly at the movement, and it’s your last straw.

There’s poison in your voice when you bite, “Oh, what? Now that I’ve proved myself, you can spare some time out of your day to talk to me?”

Heeseung’s eyes widen, lips parting slightly. It’s the most emotion you’ve ever seen from him, and he’s wasting it on shock. As if he can’t quite comprehend why the girl he’s been giving headaches for months might not want to stop and have a friendly chat with him. Not that you imagine he’d even be capable of that if you tried.

Already, you regret your comment. In a perfect world, you wouldn’t have said anything. You’d be just as detached and cold and aloof as he was on that day you hate to think about. You still remember it like it was yesterday. Without your permission, the memory floats front and center to your mind.

It was warmer, then. The last clutches of summer were still holding on tight. Sunlight was bright in the sky, and it felt like a good time to breach the barrier of your comfort zone.

Class had just ended. Usually, Heeseung was one of the first to leave. You had to pack up abnormally quickly just to catch him in the quad right outside the lecture hall.

But you did catch up to him.

And in a voice braver than you felt, you asked, “Hey, it’s Heeseung, right?”

You’d been brighter, then. Still full of an energy you haven’t been able to muster since midterms. Not yet burdened by the weight of assignments and rejection, your disposition was as sunny as the sky above.

Heeseung hadn’t bothered to dignify your question with an actual answer, but he had at least stopped walking, and that seemed like an invitation at the time. Now, with the power of hindsight, you wince. You should have spared yourself the regret.

You remember watching as he pulled out his earbuds, tucking them back into his pocket before turning his attention to you. Or at least half of it. Even then, you never felt like he was truly looking at you, hearing you. His mind always seemed off in the distance, preoccupied somewhere you could never quite reach.

You recall being nervous, heat in your cheeks as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes tracked the movement like a cat tracks a ray of sunlight. Lazily, intently. With an energy you weren’t quite sure what to do with.

Instead, you had stuttered, “I, uh, I wanted to tell you that I thought your analysis today was brilliant.” The worst part is that it really was a brilliant analysis. Although you’d never admit that today, and much less to his face.

Instead, you cringe just thinking about it. You should have taken his blank stare as a sign. You should have just let the one-sided conversation die there. With at least a little dignity and some of your pride left to spare.

But you hadn’t.

“I never thought about the use of sunlight as a metaphor for life. I mean, now that you’ve pointed it out, it seems kind of obvious.” The memory of your nervous giggles settle like rocks in your stomach. “Anyway, I feel like I’m rambling, but if you ever want to get together and look through assignments or review each other’s analyses, I’d love to—”

You’d heard his voice before, of course. In class discussions and presentations. But never this close. And never directed at you.

He kept it short, his interruption, his response to your shaky offer.

“I’m busy.”

And that was it. Two words. Two fucking words. And not even an explanation or an I’m sorry or a sheepish expression to go along with them.

With that, you’d watched, a bit helplessly, as he pulled his earbuds out of his pocket, put them back into his ears and turned away from you before you could realize just how thoroughly you’d been rejected.

With a sudden haze in the air and hope dying in your heart, your friendly smile slipped into confused dismay as you watched him track a steady path across the quad.

If your cheekbones felt warm before, you were sure they must have been aflame by then. After all, it was your body’s natural response to the crushing weight of the embarrassment and thoroughly bruised ego he’d left you there standing with.

Fine then, you’d resolved after walking as quickly as you could in the opposite direction, sending a prayer to the heavens that no one from your class had just witnessed the most mortifying interaction you’ve ever had. If Lee Heeseung wanted nothing to do with you, the feeling could be mutual.

In fact, it was probably for the best. You were vying for that internship and if the past class discussions were anything to go by, Heeseung would be your only real competition. If he was too busy for you, then you would just have to be too busy for him.

Too busy perfecting every assignment and acing every exam. Too busy drowning in dictionaries and thesauruses and reference materials to make sure everything you submitted was perfect — no, scratch that — better than perfect.

Too busy to attempt another conversation or interaction or do anything but nod along politely whenever he did make an unfortunately great point in class.

So, no. Heeseung doesn’t get to dictate your time or attention or conversation now that you’ve actually been awarded with a publishing opportunity, now that all of your efforts and dedication and late nights have paid off.

If Lee Heeseung wants a bit of your attention on today of all days, at this moment of all moments, then you’re just going to have to be too busy to entertain him.

Standing in front of you, still blocking your path to the podium, Heeseung has the nerve to look confused. As if you have no reason to give him the cold shoulder. As if you’re the one being unreasonable here.

His brow furrows further. “What?” It’s the third word he’s ever spoken directly to you. It makes your blood boil. “No, I…” he trails off. You can practically see the gears running in his mind, like this wasn’t the conversation he expected to be having. Like he has no idea how to navigate it now. “I was just going to say that you should maybe reconsider.”

Your voice is ice when you ask, “Reconsider what?”

“Well…” He’s treading in dangerous territory, and he seems to realize it too. “The internship,” he clarifies, and it’s the second most insulting thing he’s ever said to your face.

You screw your eyes shut. Cold and detached. Blank and aloof. All the things you should be. But you’ve always run a little hot. And end of the semester exhaustion finds you more willing to throw caution to the wind.

“You have got to be fucking with me.” Eyes reopening, you’re met with that same expression of mild shock. Brows raised, lips parted. And god, he even looks good like that. “Yeah, right. Let me guess, so you can do the internship and publish a piece of your own? If all you came over to do is insult me, then save your breath.”

“What?” He still looks so damn confused. “No, I—”

You don’t want to hear it. “I have nothing to say to you.” If he won’t get out of your way, you’ll just have to go through him. The shoulder check is maybe slightly more intense than it needs to be as you shove your way past him. He barely stumbles back an inch. It makes you want to rip your hair out. “Besides,” you add, not bothering to turn back to look at him. “I’m busy.”

It’s a dig at him, yes, but it’s also true. You are. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, and Lee Heeseung is not about to ruin it for you.

To your unending gratitude, he doesn’t try to intercept you again. Your path to the front of the lecture hall is clear, and Professor Kim is just tucking his laptop back into his briefcase when you reach the podium.

Ultimately, it’s a watered down version of the million times you’ve imagined this moment in your head. Even coming on the tail end of the most annoying interaction you’ve had in months. Professor Kim congratulates you again, and hands you a printed schedule of when you’ll be expected at the publishing office for the first time.

There are also submission dates. Deadlines for you to submit drafts of the piece that you’ll be publishing. You take it all in with a beam and enthusiastic nods, mishap with Heeseung from minutes ago all but forgotten.

That is, until Professor Kim’s gaze lands somewhere over your shoulder after he tells you he’ll also send you a follow-up email with all the information you need.

You watch as his expression shifts, something uneasy, distrustful entering his gaze as he looks beyond you. “Something I can help you with, Mr. Lee?”

Following his gaze, you turn to look behind you. The lecture hall is empty, students cleared out from the class that dismissed nearly five minutes ago. All except for one, that is.

Gone is the shock from Heeseung’s delicately sharp features. Instead, he wears his mask of indifference again, betraying no emotion. You must be imagining the way it looks almost strained this time, as if he’s forcing his expression into neutrality instead of it there of its own accord.

Wordlessly, his gaze shifts to you.

And now it’s your turn to be confused, but you won’t let it last long. At least not outwardly. You’re quick to match his gaze with nothing but pure ire, venom dripping seeping from every inch of your glare.

Is he seriously still trying to ruin this for you? So much for being busy.

“No, sir.” Heeseung shakes his head. He’s addressing your professor, but he’s still looking at you. A muscle ticks in his jaw, betrays a hint of tension. “I was just on my way out.”

True to his word, he begins a steady descent towards the front door.

Your professor clears his throat, turns his attention back to you, resuming the wrap-up of your conversation.

You’re extra grateful for that follow-up email now, given the way movement in your periphery distracts you from Professor Kim’s last few statements. Instead, your focus hones in on the even footsteps that carry Heeseung to the door, allow him to slip through it silently.

It must be a trick of the light, must be a figment of your overworked, over irritated imagination. But you swear you see him linger there, just on the other side of the small glass window carved into the door.

Professor Kim says his parting words, and you thank him one final time. If there’s an unnatural quickness in your footsteps as you turn to leave, you tell yourself that it’s because you’re excited to get started on your draft, not because you have the sneaking suspicion Heeseung is still standing just on the other side of the door.

But you swear that’s his silhouette you see as you draw closer, shrouded in shadows but distinct all the same. You’re debating the merits of shouting at him or maybe accidentally shoulder checking him again as you pull open the door handle, a little more roughly than you intend.

But the only thing that greets you on the other side of the door is a nearly empty hallway, save for the pair of students bent over a laptop a few paces away. You ignore their twin expressions of shock as you let the door fall closed behind you, much more calmly than you opened it.

…..

The blank expanse of your notebook stares at you accusingly.

You’d stare back, if that would somehow make words appear on the page. Sighing, you reach for your long forgotten cup of tea sitting on your desk. Taking a slow sip, you realize it’s gone cold.

That just makes you double down on your frustration. How long have you been sitting here, waiting for inspiration to strike?

People always talk about the merits of a change in scenery, but ever since you started your first semester of university three years ago, your favorite place to write has always been here, at the small, simple desk that sits in the corner of your bedroom.

Back then, writing was a hobby. Something to do when the last of your biochemistry homework was finished. A way to release pent-up stress and tension from long days in the university lab and long hours feeling like you were drowning between all of the extra study sessions, TA workshops, and office hours.

At first, it had been worth it. You maintained high grades and high spirits. Mostly because of the small sprinkles of support your parents showered you with.

Every little You got this! that lit up your phone screen on dreary afternoons and We believe in you! that made your evening lectures a little more bearable felt like tokens of your parents’ affection. Something tangible to show for the care they held for you.

Most of all, you cherished the We’re proud of you messages. You can’t remember the last time you received one.

And it’s not like they were mad, exactly, when you told them you wanted to change majors. They did their best to be supportive in the ways that they knew how.

For your father, that was concern. “Are you sure? Literature? What do the job prospects after graduation look like?”

And for your mother, that was letting you know that she thought you were capable of more. Of better. “It’s not that literature is bad, sweetie. It’s just… Well, you’ve always been such a smart girl…”

You get it; you really do. All the questions and prodding comments that felt like criticism were wrapped in nothing but love. But that didn’t do much to soften the sting.

In the end, it was this desk that made you follow through with your change in major. Slumped in your hand-me-down chair late one Friday night, half finished lab report sitting untouched in your bag, the threat of tears burning at the corners of your eyes, all you wanted to do was write.

To put into words the feelings and emotions and fantasies and frustrations that you could never seem to express otherwise. To commit a piece of your soul to paper and wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was someone else out there who would read it and find a sense of solidarity, of common ground.

You submitted your official change request the next morning. You never regretted it once.

But your parents still make comments, still share their concerns. And for the last three years, you haven’t had anything to show for it except for empty promises. But now, you have something. A real something.

Publishing a story of your own is the exact validation that you need that your choice was the right one. And it’s the proof you need to assuage your parents’ fears, to show them that pursuing literature was the right call. That you can carve out a life for yourself with it.

You’ve fantasized about this for years. For the chance to have your voice heard, your words read. There are a million half-baked thoughts and partially written drafts scattered in your notebooks and digital documents and on the corners of takeout napkins that have been lying in wait for a moment just like this.

But no matter how hard you stare at the page in front of you, the words just won’t come. The more old drafts you scour, the more amateur your writing feels. The more you feel like maybe Heeseung should have won the internship over you.

It’s a miserable cycle your brain works itself into. The less you write, the more you criticize, the more you wonder.

What if he hadn’t been late that morning? What if Professor Kim was hoping to choose him instead? What if the reason he didn’t say anything when Heeseung finally arrived in class was because he was so disappointed that his first choice wasn’t an option anymore?

Groaning out loud to an empty room, your head falls on your desk with a muted thud.

It’s there, facedown on your desk, where an idea strikes you. If you can’t manifest a draft out of thin air, maybe you just need some parameters. A general guide to get the creative juices flowing.

Lifting your head back up, you push your notebook to the side and reach for your laptop. Opening a web browser, you navigate to New Haven Publishing House’s homepage.

It’s a simple website, reflective of its simple namesake. Chin in one hand, you click the link that reads Recently Published.

The list that pops up is modest. Unlike a larger, more corporate publishing house, your professor’s self-made enterprise is churning out new releases at a slower rate and smaller volume.

Perusing the titles and descriptions, you note that the vast majority of the works are short form fiction. There are very few full length novels. The majority is made up of essay and poetry collections, short stories, and memoirs.

Scanning the list again, a title close to the top catches your eye.

The Thirst for Revenge: An Analysis of Contemporary Vampire Activity. It was published less than a month ago.

Your cursor hovers over the link, brow furrowing. It strikes you as odd that something so… archaic would be published so recently.

Professor Kim has always come across as a discerning man. Someone that prides himself on his well curated taste.

But vampires… that’s hardly a headline worthy topic these days.

While most people still practice caution walking down dark alleyways at night and some even go so far as to carry charms infused with garlic cloves, monsters of the night are by and large a thing of the past.

The entire species of bloodthirsty, ravaging immortals were hunted to near extinction almost two hundred years ago. Those that survived relocated to remote areas. Some adapted to life in the countryside by learning to enjoy the taste of animal blood. Others found humans willing to donate small portions of their own blood intermittently. You won’t pretend to understand, but you suppose it’s preferable to the alternative.

Some still hunted in the traditional way, of course, but vampire attacks on humans are few are far between these days. After all, vampires, as a means of survival, have all but forsaken major urban areas. Population density spells demise for their species.

You’d have to confirm through research, but if you remember correctly, the last recorded vampire-related death in your city was nearly two hundred years ago.

Without bothering to click on the link, you continue scrolling down. Honestly, it was probably just a fluke. After all, who knows? Maybe there’s some niche circle out there that enjoys analyzing vampire literature, regardless of how outdated it is.

The next title seems a bit more promising. Shadowless Nights. The brief description marks it as a short story published half a year ago.

You click on it, take a sip of room temperature tea while the page loads.

Night was my favorite time of day, the first line reads.

I loved the stillness of it all, the all encompassing serenity. With the moon in the sky and stars in my eyes, every moment felt like a secret between me and the universe. Something we alone shared.

I whispered secrets to the earth and held hers in return. My days felt like dreams. Distant, blurry, faded. It was only then, in the distinct stillness of midnight, that I truly came alive.

Interesting, you think. It’s a bit more melodramatic than you expected, but maybe your professor prefers a poetic touch.

In the night, I earned peace. And in the night, I learned fear.

It came slowly at first, that sinking feeling of dread. The horrible suspicion that made the hair on the back of my neck feel sharp, the air in my throat feel shallow.

But if I have learned anything of monsters, it is that they revel in that fear. That sickeningly overt reminder of mortality, of humanity. The way I couldn’t help the racing of my pulse, the darting of my eyes.

He enjoyed it, toying with me from the shadows. Watching me become desperate, watching me become weak.

But it paled in comparison, I’m sure, with what came next. Every story has its climax, and every beginning has its end. For him, it was the sweet, clean taste of my blood.

Wait. Another vampire story? One was strange enough, but for the last two published works at New Haven to be vampire related doesn’t feel like a coincidence. Especially since the more you read, the more you realize it’s not as much of a story as it is thinly veiled anti-vampire rhetoric.

The dramatized descriptions of a weak, innocent female lead being victimized by a faceless, bloodthirsty monster. It just feels… strange. Outdated. Irrelevant, even.

Clicking back to the list, you scan over the next five entries. All of them are more or less the same. Some are more metaphorical than others, abstract in their rhetoric, but the topic is always the same. And the conclusion always affirms the immense, inevitable, irredeemable blight that vampirism is to the world.

It’s just bizarre. Especially considering that Professor Kim never once had you analyze any anti-vampire propaganda throughout the entire semester. In fact, you were never assigned to read anything vampire related at all.

If this type of literature is so central to his professional career, it doesn't make sense to you that he wouldn’t incorporate it into his class. Especially considering the fact that he was awarding an internship at New Haven to one of the students.

You take another long sip of cold tea. Well… you could try to come up with something that aligns with the current profile of New Haven’s recently published works. It’s not like you’ve ever written anything related to vampires. Maybe you just need to think of it as a writing exercise, a challenge of sorts. Producing a piece that feels relevant and fresh even if the central topic is a bit out of style.

According to the revision schedule Professor Kim gave you, your first draft issue in a week and a half. The same day that you’re set to go to New Haven for the first time and tour the office you’ll be interning at once winter break is over. It’s an ambitious timeline, but he did specify that he’s looking more for a solid concept than a well polished draft. But something in you wants to have more than just a concept. You want his approval, to impress him.

So you have a week and a half to come up with a draft that will catch his attention, that will convince him that you were the right choice for this opportunity. Not anyone else in your class. Not Heeseung. You.

A concept that will excite New Haven Publishing House’s usual reader base, that will maybe actually earn you some commercial success.

A story that will prove to your parents that literature was the right choice for you. That your words do matter, that you can make a name for yourself with your writing.

Well, you think, suppressing an internal groan, it looks like you have your work cut out for you.

…..

Despite your admitted lack of vampiric knowledge, once you have your topic, the words start to flow. You’re not sure if it’s your best work. You’re not even sure if it’s good. But it feels a hell of a lot better than staring at a blank page for hours.

This afternoon finds you in the corner of your favorite coffee shop. Mostly because they offer half priced lattes on Wednesdays. As you make a dent in yours, the pen in your other hand continues to fly over the pages of your notebook, occasionally stopping to scratch out a word or rewrite a sentence.

The bare bones are there. Just like in the handful of stories you perused on New Haven’s website, your plot features a young woman. It’s a historic setting, mostly because you still can’t quite bring yourself to write vampires into the modern day when the reality is so starkly different.

And it’s not a vampire story. At least not at first glance. Instead, you weave an enduring metaphor to symbolize a parasitic relationship between two lovers.

The woman in your draft is young, full of life and energy and optimism. And she dreams. Vivid, brilliant dreams that she clings to in order to escape the harshness of her reality as a lower class woman in the countryside.

Her husband, however, is a brute. Older than her and with a decidedly less sunny disposition. When he learns that his health is failing, he discovers that he can heal himself temporarily by stealing these dreams from her.

So, no. It’s not overtly about vampires. But it does fall into step with some of the more abstract anti-vampire tropes you came across in your preliminary research.

Crossing a dark line through the word you just penned, you sigh.

This is the fastest you’ve put a story together in ages. It’s cohesive, and the writing is solid. Your use of metaphor is strong and concise, and the prose feels true to your identity as a writer.

But something in you withers a bit with every new word you commit to paper. It’s not that you hate your topic. If anything, it’s just that you have no stake in it at all. It doesn't feel innovative or exciting or representative of your creativity.

No matter how easily the words flow out of you, something about it just feels… flat. One dimensional.

You need something new. A different angle or an alternative perspective or… Or a fresh set of eyes.

Struck with a sudden idea, you pull out your phone, plan taking form in your mind. The literature club at your university hosts bimonthly peer review sessions, and you haven’t taken advantage of them nearly as much as you should. They’re a chance for any writer, literature major or otherwise, to come together and workshop any piece of writing of their choice.

Tapping your finger impatiently on the table, you wait for the page to load. The fall semester did end almost a week ago, so it may be a long shot. You’re not sure if the club typically holds sessions over winter break. But as you pull up the club’s calendar of events, a small smile tugs at your lips.

Luck seems to be on your side this time. It’s written there in plain, bold font that there will be a session this upcoming Friday evening. That means that if you attend the session and get some solid ideas for revision, you’ll have exactly five days to refine your draft before you present it to Professor Kim.

The idea of having not only a topic, as the schedule outlined, but an actual complete, well-written draft to show him next Wednesday, turns your small smile into one that overtakes your features.

Energized with a new vigor, you reach for your pen again. It doesn’t have to be perfect, you remind yourself, even as a turn of phrase makes you cringe. Even as a piece of punctuation feels out of place. It just needs to be written. You just need to have as much content as you can to share on Friday.

Besides, you’re sure that a second opinion will help you fine tune this story into something you’re proud to share, something you’re excited to attach your name to.

The afternoon is quick to blur into early evening, and you’re still bent over your favorite corner table. Coffee long drained, you’re full of a new confidence. The thought of proving yourself suddenly doesn’t seem like such an unachievable, out of reach task.

And when you do finally gather up all of your belongings and make your way back to your apartment for the night, you’re sure that this is the exact boost you needed.

That same stroke of self-assuredness carries you all the way through a finished first draft. It’s rough and messy and littered with loose ends, but it’s tucked away in the bottom of your tote bag with a smile as you haul it to classroom number 105 in the university liberal arts building Friday evening.

You pause at the door to the classroom, only for a moment. The inhale you breathe in is deep, full. Nodding to yourself once, you push open the door.

You haven’t been to one of these workshop sessions since the second semester of your first year, back when you had just switched to a literature major. You remember being wide-eyed and incredibly protective over your work. It was hard to part with it, to let anyone else read over the sentences you were so unsure of. The writing you had little confidence in.

But your partner had been kind. Another girl in her first year, she had nothing but gentle feedback to give and reassurance that your writing was worth reading. Honestly, it was such an overwhelmingly positive experience that you would have come back for more sessions if you weren’t constantly struggling to find minutes to spare in the day.

You’re hoping that tonight will be just as rewarding as you enter the classroom, tote bag in tow. But as you survey the space around you, your face falls flat, easy going smile dropping from your lips.

You weren’t expecting a big crowd, considering that it is winter break and most students are deliberately avoiding campus right now, but you were hoping there’d be more than one other person in attendance.

Well, you think, deciding to look on the bright side of things. At least you’re not the only person.

The other attendee is sitting in the far corner of the room, occupying a desk near the front of the classroom. At the sound of your entrance, they turn to face you.

With that, your small disappointment is quick to snowball into an intense wave of exasperation. Because why is the universe so hellbent on playing games with you?

Your mouth drops open without your permission. “Heeseung?”

Your sudden outburst fills the room and lingers long into the awkward silence that follows. You hadn’t meant to say anything, but really, what are the god forsaken odds?

If he’s bothered by your reaction to seeing him, Heeseung doesn’t show it. Instead he looks strangely… relieved. It makes absolutely no sense for him to feel any sort of relief at the sight of you, but it’s hard to put a more apt descriptor to the way tension drains from his shoulders, crease between his brows softening as he looks at you, scans you from head to toe.

A moment of stilted silence passes between the two of you. Another. Your heartbeat feels too loud in your chest.

You exhale, a cross between a scoff and a laugh so humorless it could freeze a flame. Weighing your options, the most tempting by far is to just turn on your heel and exit the way you came.

Heeseung seems to read your intention before you can commit to it.

Breaking the heaviness in the atmosphere, he acts as if you’ve greeted him like an old friend, not as the source of all your recent headaches.

“Hi,” he nods, so tentatively you almost want to let your jaw drop open in shock. Almost.

Because what the fuck does he mean by ‘Hi?’ This has to be some kind of mind game, some way to get in your head and ruin this for you.

“Right.” Your lips pull into a tight line. You don’t bother to return his greeting. “I’m just gonna go, then.” Hiking up your bag on your shoulder, you turn to do just that. Your first draft will just have to be unpolished. Oh, well. You’re sure Professor Kim will have better feedback for you than Lee Heeseung ever would anyway.

Once again, Heeseung’s voice cuts across the classroom. “Wait.” There’s a command in his voice. Gentle, but firm. Insistent. So pervasive that you find yourself following without really meaning to.

Mind made up and dead set on leaving, now you’re just annoyed. What a waste of a Friday evening.

“What?” You turn back to him. You’re not sure if there’s more venom in your voice or your eyes.

And Heeseung, who commands a classroom with quiet grace, with his steady, unwavering presence, suddenly looks so damn unsure. As if tormenting you is uncharted territory. As if he’s never once left you in the cold with flaming cheeks and a thoroughly shattered ego.

“I…” he trails off, not quite meeting your furious gaze. “Didn’t you come here to get feedback?”

“Right.” You scoff again. “Because I’m sure you’d love nothing more than to tear my writing to shreds. Forgive me, but I’m not interested in being the butt end of your joke tonight.”

“What?” If you didn’t know any better, the ignorance he feigns would be rather convincing. “That’s not why I’m here.” He shakes his head. “I brought something I want reviewed too.”

Your brow arches. He can’t be serious. “Even if I did stay,” you counter, “you’re actually the last person I would want to read my work. Feel free to be offended by that, by the way.”

For a solid minute, Heeseung just looks at you. He wears that same damn deer-in-the-headlights expression he had after you brushed him off when he intercepted you in class the other day. He pauses, weighing words on his tongue. “Look, ____.” The sound of your name on his lips strikes a strange chord in you. Until now, you were certain he didn’t even know it. “Did I do something to offend—”

And no. Absolutely not. No way are you rehashing that day in the quad with him now.

“You know what,” you interrupt. You need to go. Now. You need an out. “I’m actually, like, super tired. I think I’m just gonna head back, and—”

But then it’s his turn to cut off your train of thought. “It’s your piece for Professor Kim, isn’t it?” Heeseung takes your silence as confirmation. “Publishing is a big deal. A second set of eyes will only make your work stronger. And if you hate my feedback, it’s not like you have to use any of it.”

You hate it. You despise the way his reasoning matches your internal monologue nearly word for word. The way your thoughts align exactly.

You pause, a decision weighing heavy on your mind. He is an excellent writer… There would probably be substance to his feedback. Real, actual, good substance that you could use to make your writing bloom into something truly amazing. He could be the exact spark you need to make your story come to life.

You purse your lips. “What’s in it for you?”

Heeseung smiles, a nearly imperceptible quirk of his lips. He knows he’s won. “Like I said, I brought something I’ve been working on.” There’s an intention you can’t quite read behind his gaze when he adds, “I want to know what you think of it.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

With a grumble, you take reluctant steps towards where he sits on the opposite side of the classroom. And if you slide down into the seat next to him with a little more force than necessary, well, it’s just because you’ve had a long week. No other reason. None at all.

“Fine,” you relent, reaching to pull your notebook out of your bag. “You get twenty minutes.”

“That’s not nearly long eno—”

“Thirty,” you concede. “And don’t push it.”

Sensing your disdain, Heeseung doesn’t respond. Instead, he accepts the notebook you reluctantly hand him with an outstretched hand and an open palm. The transfer between the two of you is gentle. You have the distinct sense that he’ll treat your work with care, in more than one way.

Still, something in your heart seizes at the thought of letting your work be read. Of letting him be the one to read it.

In return, he offers you a notebook of his own. Bound in brown, aged leather, it’s certainly much more refined than yours. Of course.

He hands it to you still closed. Staring down at the cover, you ask, “What page?” It feels intrusive to start flipping through his writing uninvited.

“There’s a bookmark.” Heeseung nods his chin towards the small piece of paper sticking out of the top edge that you missed at first glance.

And then the transfer is complete. A piece of your heart is spread open on his desk, and a piece of his soul is in your hands.

Ignoring the way your fingers tremble with a slight shake, you delicately open his notebook to the bookmarked page, letting it fall open on the desk in front of you.

At first glance, the writing strikes you as odd. The paragraphs are strange lengths, ending at random junctures instead of extending all the way to the margins. And then it hits you. They’re not paragraphs. They’re stanzas.

Poetry. Lee Heeseung writes poetry.

You sneak a sidelong glance at him out of your periphery. He’s already engrossed in the pages of your notebook, pausing occasionally to jot a note down on a scrap piece of paper. His brow is furrowed, and there’s a tension in his jawline that only makes it sharper.

Still, the image of his profile is shrouded in a distinct sort of softness. The kind of effortless beauty that feels like it should be reserved for intimate moments in the dead of night, secrets passed between lovers. It’s wasted under the fluorescent lights and patchy, beige walls of an underfunded classroom, but you waste another minute staring at him all the same.

For a fleeting moment, it’s not hard to imagine those hands, those long, delicate fingers maintaining an even grip on a ballpoint pen to write something as romantic as poetry.

Shaking your head, you clear the errant thoughts. Instead, you turn your focus back to the page in front of you and begin with the first poem. Forcing your eyes to focus, you read.

As if nothing happened,

She looks at me

With shadowless eyes.

But it is me who has been

Forgiven and reborn countless times.

You inhale. Exhale. Short and succinct with a distinct twinge of tragedy. That was… not what you were expecting. Pushing forward, you move onto the next entry.

Even the stars in the universe

Will close their eyes one day.

Underneath their watchful gaze,

All of these moments are precious.

For memory, for regret,

I will carve them

Into the repetition of the moment.

Again, you pause, taking a moment to breathe. It’s so… melancholy, so poignant in its evocation of pain, of regret. While you’ve been familiar with Heeseung’s ability to analyze the hell out of a novella, this was not something you thought you’d find in his repertoire. And the more you read on, the more you realize these aren’t flukes. This is his identity as a writer, or at least a significant part of it.

The world that abandoned us

Slowly turns to ash.

But I don’t feel the pain.

I only feel the cold.

My god. You nearly close the notebook on instinct. Without your permission, your eyes flick ove to the desk next to you. The broad set of shoulders that fill the seat. What has this boy been through? Why is he letting you read this?

Heeseung looks up. Not at you, but the movement is enough to startle you out of your staring. Returning your eyes to his notebook, you read the last entry on the page.

A shaded castle with no sun

The thick scent of dying roses never fades.

In a broken mirror, I see myself.

And my reflection whispers, “Monster.”

The breath you release is long. Audible. You’re overcome with the urge to run your fingers over his words, to feel the indents his pen made as he carved pain into the page. His writing is gorgeous. It’s beautifully, tragically haunting. Of that much, you’re certain. But you have no idea what to do with that information.

His words feel too raw, too terribly intimate. Like something that was never meant for your eyes. You can’t understand what on earth possibly possessed him to let — no — to encourage you to read these.

You can’t fathom any kind of feedback you could offer him. These feel like pieces of his soul, not something to be commodified or commented on in a writing workshop. Discussed in the cold, unfeeling walls of an old classroom.

Despite the discomfort that lingers with each passing stanza, his writing has an almost addictive quality. Over and over, you find yourself rereading each brief poem. You’re searching for meaning, for clarity, for something hidden between the lines that you missed on your first handful of reads.

Thirty minutes pass in a trance, and Heeseung, true to his word, is the one to break the silence when your half hour is up.

Mind still reeling, you realize with a sinking feeling that you have absolutely no feedback to give him at all.

Instead, you turn to face him. Throwing a meaningful glance at where your notebook still lies open on the desk in front of him. Doing your best to not look too hopeful, you ask, “Well?”

For a moment, Heeseung just looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. Tension pulls at his temple, his jaw. Frustration seeps from beneath his skin, and you can’t tell where it’s directed.

“Oh, come on,” you prod when his silence extends even longer. “I know you’re dying to spill the gory details of how grossly incompetent I am and how horrifically amateur my writing is, so don’t—”

Heeseung wastes no fanfare. “This is awful.”

Your lips flatten. “Or just cut right to the chase.”

He’s quick to clarify. “But not for any of the reasons you just listed. I mean, sure, there are some craft issues here, but even those seem like a result of your concept.”

“What’s wrong with my concept?” The edge of defensiveness in your voice escapes without your permission.

Heeseung just levels you with a look. Returning his gaze to your notebook, he reads from your draft verbatim, “...Stashing away the light from her life. Tucking it into his back pocket like extra change just for the satisfaction of temporary happiness. It was never love that bound him to her, but the promise of a never ending fountain of life. Of wishes and thoughts and hopes and dreams that he could use to sustain himself as long as he subjected himself to the numbing pleasure of existing at her side.”

He raises an eyebrow, turns back to you. “I mean, really, ____? I’ve read some nauseatingly vitriolic vampire pieces in my life, and this just about has all of them beat. Besides, the whole vampire thing just feels so… irrelevant. Do people still read this stuff anymore?”

Your first instinct is to defend yourself, your work, even if his thoughts mirror your own. Before you can, Heeseung is pressing on. You don’t have the space to get a word in sideways. “I mean, what happened to the writing from that piece you presented back in September? I don’t remember all the details, but there was something about watching birds land on water and connecting it to the feeling of belonging but never truly fitting in.” He looks at you again. There’s more emotion, more glittering life in his eyes than you’ve ever seen from him before. “That was a fresh take and a well done metaphor.”

Your mind is reeling. It’s far too much information to take in all at once. But something stands out amongst the rest. Because that almost sounded like—

“Was that a compliment?” It seems unlikely, but you can’t find another way to take his words. “You paid attention to my presentation?”

You liked it? You don’t ask that question out loud, but the needier parts of you crave his answer anyway.

“Yeah, of course I did. Peer review was a mandatory component of the course.” Heeseung’s cheekbones remain the same, even, honey-tinted tone, but you swear you see a flash of embarrassment in the way he averts his gaze.

“Well, yeah.” It’s not a justification that holds much weight in your mind. “But you don’t exactly seem like the type to really pay attention to other people’s stuff. Especially if you think it’s not worth your time.”

“I just told you your presentation was good, didn’t I?”

You arch a brow. “Yeah, right after you finished calling my draft horrific.”

Heeseung shakes his head. “I didn’t say it was horrific…”

“Oh, please. Spare us both the semantics. That’s what you meant.” You’re not sure why your mind always goes back to that day in the quad, but you find yourself still sore from his rejection, his new assertion of your work poking at old wounds. Picking at poorly healed scabs. “And it’s not like you were jumping for joy at the chance to review my work back then, either.”

Heeseung’s brow furrows. You can practically see the gears turning in his mind. You’re not sure if it makes you feel better or worse, the fact that he doesn’t seem to remember that day at all.

In the end, you decide to spare him the effort of empty recollection. With a sigh, you spill your shame. At least this time around, you’re the only two that will bear witness. “That one day in class. Back at the beginning of the semester. We had to present our analysis of that one short story. You remember, the one about planting seeds in bad soil.” Heeseung nods, but there’s no spark of realization. Not yet.

Continuing, it only pains you slightly to admit, “Your analysis was brilliant, and I gushed about it in front of the whole class. Laid it on thick with the compliments. And then after class, I stopped you in the quad.” Something flickers over Heeseung’s features. A memory tugging at the back of his mind. “When I asked if you wanted to review each other’s pieces for the next assignment, you completely brushed me off.”

Brow still pulled downwards, Heeseung is thinking back to that day, too. But it doesn't seem to hold the same awful, leaden weight in his mind. “I didn’t brush you off,” he argues. “I think I said I was busy.”

It takes a lot of willpower not to let your jaw drop open. “That’s brushing someone off!” Your voice is too loud for the near empty classroom, for your close proximity. “Like literally the textbook definition. Everyone knows that ‘I’m busy’ is code for ‘leave me the hell alone.’”

Almost imperceptibly, Heeseung’s features soften as he watches yours strain. The fluorescent light bulbs that fill the room suddenly don’t seem quite as harsh when he says, “Well, that's not what I meant. I was busy.”

It’s hardly a satisfying answer. But you suppose it makes little difference. If he wants to stick to his story, you’ll continue to feign indifference. “Whatever. It’s not like it matters now anyway.”

And then your mind is back on his poems. His beautiful, tragic, gorgeously phrased stanzas scribbled in his handwriting. Fragments of vulnerability that he handed to you without hesitation.

It’s like comparing apples to oranges in a way, but there is no doubt in your mind that between the two of you, the writing he brought tonight is better. Better than your story, better than most things you’ve ever written, probably. The imagery is evocative, striking in a way you’ve never quite been able to achieve no matter how many seminars and workshops and lectures you attend.

Not for the first time, your brain dangles a dangerous thought in a place where you can’t avoid it. What if Professor Kim chose wrong? What if Heeseung hadn’t been late to class that day? Would you be sitting here with a mediocre draft and a raging inferiority complex?

You’ll never know, not really, but you find yourself asking anyway, “Why were you late to class that day?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you wish you could take them back. It’s not like his answer will change anything. And it’s invasive. Far too personal to ask someone you barely know. That up until thirty minutes ago, you actively avoided.

But maybe the universe is on your side for once. Maybe you got ridiculously lucky and he didn’t hear you, despite the fact that it’s dead silent in this classroom. Maybe—

“What?”

Or not.

Well, you’re committed now. “The last day of class. When the winner for the publishing opportunity was announced,” you clarify. “You were late. Honestly,” you add with a wry smile, “you’d probably be the one writing overdramatic vampire slander right now if you hadn’t been.”

It’s a self-deprecating joke. It might land poorly, but you’re hoping it will lighten the atmosphere.

A dark shadow crosses Heeseung’s features. “Trust me, ___. You winning had nothing to do with me being late that day.”

If he thinks flattery will get him anywhere, he’s wrong. You can feel your frustrations bubbling in your throat, clawing at your mind. You won. You beat him. So why doesn’t it feel like it? Why doesn’t it feel like anything you do is ever good enough?

“C’mon, Heeseung.” He doesn’t deserve your anger. At least, not now. But he gets it anyway. Insecurities and inferiority and frustration all wrapped in rage. “You were practically a shoe-in, and everyone knows it.”

He’s just as insistent. Leaning towards you slightly, he looks anything but aloof now. “No I wasn’t. Professor Kim chose you to intern with him. He read both of our submissions all semester and chose you to publish with his firm. I told you, your writing is good. Really good.” Glancing down at your notebook, he adds, “Even if this one is a bit… uninspired.”

A compliment and a slight. His version of the truth, wrapped up in a bow and delivered right to your waiting ears. You don’t know whether to be furious or overjoyed. Maybe it would be best to feel absolutely nothing at all. It scares you, just how much weight his opinion holds.

But approval from him has its way of feeling like a long sought victory, and now the air feels fraught with something delicate, fragile. Precarious, even.

It’s early evening in a threadbare classroom. The most neutral territory imaginable. But it’s the two of you, alone, secluded. And suddenly, that frightens you.

“Right.” You won’t tell him ‘thank you’ for the compliment or ‘go fuck yourself’ for the criticism. Both options feel like you would be revealing too much.

Instead, you take a glance at the clock. It’s not late, but it’s an excuse. “I should probably get going.”

Heeseung exhales. Leans back in his seat. “Of course,” he concedes easily, reaching to hand you your notebook.

You do the same with his, almost sad to watch his poetry pass from your hands to his. It’s odd, the way his words already feel like something you’ll miss.

You realize then that he hasn’t asked you for your opinion on his work. For your advice on how to make it better. In all honesty, you’re relieved. You haven’t the slightest idea what you would say.

So instead, you busy yourself with repacking your tote bag. In your haste, you knock your pen off of your desk. The sound it makes as it strikes the thinning carpet can’t be loud, but it feels thunderous in your ears.

As you reach to pick it up, Heeseung does the same. There’s a moment, fleeting but unmistakable, when the skin of his hand brushes against yours.

Instantly, Heeseung recoils as if you’ve burned him. His hand is back in his own space at a speed so fast you nearly miss it.

It was an accident, a tiny blip with no real consequences, but the way he’s looking at you with those damn eyes makes you feel like you should be apologizing.

“Sorry.” The severity of his reaction stings like rejection. It’s not like he’s exactly your favorite person either, but at least you have the common decency to not look repulsed at the thought of touching him. At the accidental brushing of your hands.

Heeseung frowns. Shakes his head slightly as if to clear his thoughts. “No, I…” he trails off, letting his words hang in the air for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he concludes, but it feels disingenuous. And he doesn’t bother to elaborate. Looking over your shoulder, he reads the clock on the wall. “It’s getting kind of late. Where are you parked? I can walk you to your car.”

His hands are busy putting his notebook back in his back. It’s a considerate offer, but coming on the tail end of everything else, it doesn’t hold much weight with you. His words don’t match his actions, and you decide you’d be a fool to take them at face value.

“Don’t bother. I’m walking home, not driving.”

Heeseung freezes, hand still inside his bag. He’s not looking at you, but you feel the weight of his attention all the same. “Do you need someone to walk with you?”

The way he phrases the question makes you feel like a burden. He’s asking if you need someone to walk with you, not offering because he wants to. A subtle difference maybe, but the last thing you want is to feel like you owe him any favors.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” He does look at you now, concern painted across his features. “It’s getting dark earlier these days, and—”

His words are wasted on you. You’re already halfway to the door. “I’m sure.” But before you leave, you decide one more hit to your pride can’t worsen the damage that’s already been done. At least this time, it will be by your doing. Standing under the doorframe, you turn back to him. “Thank you for your feedback. It was good to hear an honest opinion.”

Your words sink into the air. Linger for a moment.

Heeseung nods. Something in his jaw tightens. “You know, if you do decide to change topics, I’d be happy to read whatever you write.”

It almost sounds like another compliment. Or maybe another insult. Either way, you’re sure that even if you figure it out, you’ll still have no idea what to do with it. You nod, only once, and then your back is turned again before you can linger too long on any of it.

But his words, the sweet ones this time, replay in your mind the entire walk home.

Maybe if you weren’t so distracted by the ghosts of compliments, you’d have noticed the pair of quiet, even footsteps that trailed after you in the distance. That only retreated once the front door to your apartment was pulled shut and locked tight behind you.

Then again, maybe not. Heeseung has always had a knack for going undetected.

…..

You wake up the next morning with Heeseung’s words replaying in your mind.

Awful. Irrelevant. And of course your favorite, ‘nauseatingly vitriolic vampire piece.’

In the faded glow of morning light, you groan out loud to your empty bedroom. The worst part of it all is that he’s not even wrong. But it’s Saturday morning, and your first draft is due on Wednesday. The thought of starting a new story from scratch and writing it to completion within that time frame is enough to make you want to curl into a ball and screw your eyes shut until you can pretend the world outside your bedroom is nothing but a figment of your imagination.

So no, you don’t think you can start over entirely. But maybe, just maybe, you can rework things. Tweak the narrative to feel less cliche, less outdated. More true to you.

Part of you wants to abandon the vampire concept entirely, convinced it’s what’s holding you down. The other part is hesitant to do so based on New Haven’s list of recently published works.

And while Heeseung’s criticism was the confirmation you needed that your story needs reworking, it’s not like he gave you any ideas as to what you should change. What direction you should take.

Nauseatingly vitriolic vampire piece. That seemed to be Heeseung’s biggest problem with your draft. Not that it alluded to vampirism. No, you think he disliked that it was a tired and rehashed propaganda piece on the inherent evilness of vampires.

Everyone knows that vampires were monsters. Writing about it, no matter how many metaphors and symbolic phrases you wrap it up in, just isn’t interesting.

That’s the route you’ll take, then, you decide. You don’t have to invent a new concept out of thin air. You just need to find a way to bring something new to the table. Something worth reading. Climbing out of bed, you switch your pajamas for clothes more acceptable in public.

And then you make your way to the university library.

Just as you suspected, it’s essentially empty. Between long rows of meticulously shelved books, vacant study rooms, and community computers, the only other person you see is the librarian that greets you as you arrive. Even her eyebrows raise in mild shock to see someone else during the break, and on a weekend at that.

Heading to the second floor, the first section you peruse through is historical records. But between old newspapers, reports, and journals, the content itself is quite cut and dry. Detached descriptions of vampire attacks that only contain details of the date, time, and death toll aren’t exactly riveting. And you don’t think they’ll do much for your feeble draft.

Before long, you move away from the nonfiction section. Navigating to supernatural fiction on the third floor, you start browsing titles. Vampire stories make up a rather small portion of the texts, and from what you can tell, the vast majority align with what you found on New Haven’s website.

From Demons of the Dark to Left in Cold Blood, you doubt that most of what you find will offer any kind of new perspective. But on your third, slightly desperate scouring of the shelf, you make a discovery.

It’s a small, nondescript book. The muted tones and faded lettering on the spine go easily undetected amongst the much flashier copies of anti-vampire propaganda it’s nestled between.

Pulling the book out from the shelf with a delicate touch, you flip the cover face-up in your hand.

Sacred Monsters: A Collection of Essays on the Origins of Immortality

It piques your interest. At the very least, it seems different from all the other novels.

Book in hand, you make your way to a nearby desk. Once you’re settled in, you pull out your notebook, opening to a new page with the intention of taking notes.

The book you lay on the desk next to your notebook seems like it’s lived a long life, the old scent of dust and aged paper and time all contained within its pages. Flipping open the front cover, you look for an author or publication date. But there’s nothing there, not even a title page or a table of contents.

Glossing over the slight oddity, you decide the beginning is as good a place as any to start.

The Taste of Blood, is the title at the top of the page.

And the first sentence begins:

It is neither sweet nor particularly savory. There is no distinct aroma, no compelling flavor profile, nothing that appeals to the eye or excites the taste buds. The only merit is the fact that it is necessary. For even those blessed with immortality know what it means to survive. And even those cursed to live forever know what it means to die.

Frowning, you flip back to the cover, as if that will provide any clarity for the strange passage you just read. But nothing is different. Nothing new stands out. Just the same, faded title. No author or indication of any kind of publication date.

Intrigued, you turn back and resume where you left off.

Some are said to enjoy the act. The purity of release, of giving in to the instincts that can be convinced into domesticity but never fully silenced. I have never found such relief. The ghost of my humanity has always been stronger than the voice of the monster, even as he screams with unbounded ferocity.

Without it, I feel incomplete. With it, I feel irredeemable. Even now, I dodge the truth, omit the profane. I have seen many moons, enjoyed their silver glow. I have stolen the very same pleasure from countless others. And yet, I struggle to call it by name. I cannot reconcile the battles waged in my bones, the war fought in my mind.

There is no winner in either. All that remains in the taste of it. Lingering on my breath. Haunting my waking dreams. That which I cannot name.

The taste of blood.

In my fervor, it soothes like honey. In my regret, it turns to ash.

And still, nothing changes. And still, nothing remains the same.

-- Anonymous

Well, if you were looking for something different, you found it. Because what the absolute fuck are you reading? If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it were written from the perspective of a vampire.

Then again, shelved in the fiction section, you suppose it’s plausible. Actual vampires may have housed little room in their consciousness for anything outside of bloodlust, but it is an interesting idea to think of vampires as conflicted. Haunted by the brutality of their innate instincts.

You’re not exactly sure how or if this will be able to influence your own story for the better, but something about it makes you want to keep reading.

Alone, tucked amongst the dusty shelves of a neglected section of the library, you lose yourself between the pages of the mysterious book.

As the title indicated, it’s a collection of essays. Most are quite short, around the same length as the first one you read. And none are claimed by an author. All are signed off with the same boldface type that spells Anonymous. There are subtle differences in the writing though, stylistic choices that make you think that more than one person wrote these essays.

Despite that, they’re all woven together by a common thread. The first essay, as you discover, was not a fluke. Every single one is written in first person from the perspective of a vampire.

The writing is compelling, humorous in places and deeply upsetting in others. It seems odd to you, just how much humanity is captured within the pages, within each turn of phrase.

You feel inclined to root for the narrator in some stories and abjectly horrified by them in others. But never once does the writing make you think that vampires are incapable of self-actualization, of reflection, of morality.

In all honesty, aside from Heeseung’s poems, it’s the most interesting thing you’ve read in ages. So much so that by the time you realize you’ve finished the last essay, the winter sun is teeming dangerously close to the horizon, and the library is nearing its closing hours.

The notebook page you intended to use for notes, to jot down points of inspiration, is still woefully blank. But as you make your way back to the front of the library, the small, strange book comes along with you.

Stopping at the front desk to formally check it out, the librarian frowns when she enters the number from the spine into the system. She clicks around on her computer for a moment longer before handing the book back to you.

“I’m sorry, but the book isn’t coming up in our system for some reason. Would you mind writing down your student ID number for me? I’ll have to enter the information manually.”

You oblige her request, tucking the book into your bag before you leave.

It’s chilly outside, the cold clutches of winter gaining a full grasp on the crisp, frigid air. After a long day in a stuffy library, the freezing air is almost soothing. Tucking your hands into your pockets, you turn towards the direction that will take you home.

You’ve barely taken five steps when a voice calls your name from behind. Pausing, you turn to find the source of the sound.

“Heeseung?” But there’s no mistaking it. That is most definitely Lee Heeseung, currently jogging towards you on the otherwise empty sidewalk in front of the university library.

He catches up to you easily, no sign of perspiration or even a hint of breathlessness when he asks, “What are you doing walking alone at night?” As if you’re the strange one in this situation.

You give him a once over. The loose jeans and dark winter coat he wears are nothing special, but he wears them well regardless. You suppress the urge to sigh. “I could ask you the same.”

“Fair enough.” His tone is too light, too casual. Like he’s forcing it. Like he’s hiding something. “Are you headed home? I’ll walk you there.”

And if you weren’t suspicious before, you sure as hell are now. Why on earth would he want to walk you home? “I’m fine, thanks.” You turn away from him, heading in the direction of your apartment and hoping he’ll take the hint.

Your wish goes ungranted. He matches your pace easily, even as you try to quicken it. “It’s after dark, ___. And there are a lot of…” He trails off, searching for the right word. “strange people out at night these days. I’m not letting you walk home alone.”

Lips tight, you don’t bother looking at him. The idea of Heeseung letting you do anything makes you want to throw things. “I’ll be fine.”

But he’s persistent. He’s all smiles and a strange amount of desperate when he says, “Either you let me walk you back or I’ll just follow you at a weird distance, which will be far more uncomfortable for both of us.”

That makes you stop in your tracks. And now you do turn to look at him. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Heeseung nods, “Exactly. So—”

You arch an unimpressed brow, crossing your arms over your chest. “It sounds like you’re the strange person at night I need to stay away from.”

Heeseung sighs, matches your eye. A strand of hair falls into his eyes, and he pushes it away with long fingers. “Are you gonna start walking or are we gonna stand here and argue a little longer?”

“You don’t even know where I live.”

“What a great night to find out.”

You stare at him a moment longer, lips tight. You don’t want to be the one to give in, to hand him any kind of victory, no matter how small.

But it is getting late. The walk from campus to your apartment is never one that’s made you uneasy, but it never hurts to have someone at your side. Besides, you think he was serious about following you. He’s made it clear that he’ll be tagging along one way or another.

“Fine,” you huff, arms still crossed over your chest. “But only because the streetlight a few blocks away is out.”

Heeseung inclines his head, a minute acknowledgement. There’s a hint of movement at the corner of his lips. “Naturally.”

You resume walking, and he falls into your pace with a practiced ease, hands in his pocket, eyes on the stars. It’s a cloudless evening. The sky above you feels vast, immense as the last rays of daylight lie to rest on the distant horizon.

With a slight shiver, you pull your jacket tighter around your body. Heeseung notices the movement. Parts his lips as if he wants to say something. Changes his mind. Closes them.

You’ve just reached the far edge of campus when he breaks the steady silence.

“How’s your draft coming?”

“It’s…” You trail off, not sure how well honesty will serve you here. It feels vulnerable, like a blatant weakness to admit that you’ve got nothing. But something about cold air and the vast expanse of night has you wanting to tell the truth. “Not great.”

Heeseung lets your response settle. Turns it over in his mind a few times. You’ve noticed that about him. He’s careful with his responses. Weighs his words before breathing them to life. “Still looking for inspiration?”

“I don’t know if it’s inspiration I need.” It’s easier to talk to him like this, when your eyes have something to focus on, when your body has the constant repetition of steps to occupy part of your mind. Without little distractions like these, Heeseung has a way of becoming all consuming. “I feel like I backed myself into a corner with the vampire concept. I’m not sure if there's really anything there to explore that won’t feel outdated and irrelevant.”

“Mm,” Heeseung muses. It’s noncommittal, neither an agreement nor an argument. “Maybe. You said it yourself; vampires are nothing but bloodlust. Riled completely by instinct. Nothing left of their humanity.”

Frowning, your footsteps almost falter. “I didn’t say that.”

“Forgive me.” If there’s a tinge of bitterness in his tone, you suppose it must be because of the cold. The fact that he’s wasting his Saturday night walking you home. “Heavily implied it.”

“Honestly, the only reason I even wrote that story was because there were a lot of similar ones on New Haven’s list of recently published works.” Your reasoning feels almost stupid when you admit it aloud like this. You’ve always prided yourself on your originality, your commitment to staying true to yourself as a writer. But when push comes to shove, you let your desire to impress your professor get in the way of that. “I wanted something that would align with their usual publications.”

You’ve admitted a weakness, a poorly made choice. You’re expecting ire, more of that haughty contempt. But Heeseung’s mind is going in an entirely different direction.

He’s not questioning your abilities, not even alluding to them at all when he asks, “What do you think of vampires, then?”

His question catches you off guard. Why on earth would he care about that? “What’s it to you?”

“My bad. We can just walk in awkward silence if you prefer.”

It takes a ridiculous amount of your energy to swallow the laugh that bubbles in your throat. Since when did Heeseung crack jokes? Since when did you have to fight the urge to giggle at them like a schoolgirl with a crush? You suddenly find yourself grateful for the cover of night, the way shadows make the heat on your cheeks undetectable.

But his question still lingers. Ruminating on it, your mind flickers to the small, odd book currently sitting at the bottom of your bag.

Sacred Monsters.

It feels like a strange combination of words, two concepts that shouldn’t fit together.

“I think it’s more complicated than that,” you breathe. You don’t know if it could possibly be true, the idea that creatures of the night have a high level of consciousness, the ability to moralize, to feel conflicted. But it certainly makes for a more interesting story.

“I mean, vampires had to have some level of base cognition, right?” You’ll never know for sure, but the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. “They were hunted to near extinction, but they put up a good fight. They hid. They fled. They tried blending in as humans. Some resorted to drinking animal blood. I guess there’s no way of knowing, but that doesn’t feel like pure biology or an evolutionary response alone. It feels like… something a human would do.”

“Wouldn’t that be worse?” Heeseung’s voice is low. If the faint hum of faraway traffic were any louder, you might not hear him at all. “For them to know what it means to be alive and still make the choice to take that away from someone else? To exist as a parasite.”

“It would certainly be tragic.” The words of the first essay come back to you.

For even those blessed with immortality know what it means to survive. And even those cursed to live forever know what it means to die.

“It’s a fatal flaw, a cruel design. They need blood to survive. The very thing that their bodies used to create on their own. It’s parasitic, yes, but that doesn’t make it animal instinct. I can’t imagine the horror of having to experience that with the burden of human consciousness.”

You feel the weight of Heeseung’s gaze on the side of your face. “It’s still evil, is it not?”

His words feel heavy, weighted under moonlight. Though you can’t imagine why, you have the distinct sense that your answer is important to him.

“Like I said, I think it’s more complicated than that. Taking someone’s life is evil, yes, but that was never unique to vampires. Is a vampire that chooses animal blood still evil just because they’re a vampire? Is a human that chooses to kill another absolved of their crime just by virtue of being human?”

Your words settle into the space between you.

“That,” Heeseung finally breathes, “would make a much better story than the one I read last night.”

This time, you do laugh, a light airy thing. It feels easy, lighthearted as some of the tension drains from the atmosphere.

“Unfortunately, I’m not so sure Professor Kim would agree. Based on everything New Haven publishes, he seems to have some weird anti-vampire vendetta.”

As you round the corner, your apartment comes into view. Nodding toward the staircase that leads to your front door, you tell him, “This is me, by the way.”

Heeseung glances at the stairs, then back at you. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets. “When is your draft due?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you groan. “Wednesday.”

“Mm,” he winces, an offer of understanding. “What time?”

“I’m supposed to be at New Haven by three, so—”

“What?” Heeseung cuts you off, expression suddenly tense, voice suddenly sharp. “You’re going to the publishing office?”

“Yeah.” You nod slowly, unsure why that would possibly warrant such a strong reaction. “I’m dropping off my first draft and getting a tour. The internship starts right when spring semester does, so he told me I could come in person to familiarize myself with the space first.”

“Right.” Heeseung nods. The tension in his jaw doesn’t relax.

It’s all so strange. He always seems to be speaking in riddles, dealing with invisible problems you can’t detect.

You’re tired and confused, and the moon that hangs above you doesn’t feel like a remedy for either of those things. In fact, it might be making things worse.

Because despite the way you feel like you’ll never quite understand him, bathed in the shimmering glow of moonlight, Heeseung looks…

He looks like all the things you’ve been trying to avoid calling him for the duration of the semester. Ethereal. Beautiful. Maybe even kind, at least when he wants to be.

After all, you’re standing at the base of your staircase with company, and it wasn’t due to any insistence on your end.

The silence lingers. A string somewhere is pulled taught.

You’re standing still, and you’re still a little breathless when you tell him, “I should go.” You don’t want to. You’re not sure why.

Again, Heeseung only nods.

The movement sends shadows dancing over his features. The bridge of his nose. The plane of his cheek. The line of his jaw. Things you’ve never let yourself linger on. Things you’re having a hard time looking away from now.

But he’s seen you home safe and sound, and even nights under the stars have their inevitable end.

It occurs to you then that you have no idea how he plans to get home, or even how far away he lives.

After he walked you home,it’s the least you could do to offer, “Do you live far? I could help you pay for a cab or something if—”

Heeseung shakes his head. He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It won’t take me long. Besides, I like to walk at night.”

“Okay.” It feels strange, trading these bits of kindness. You’re craving some normalcy, something unwavering. So with a final wave and a small goodnight, you climb the stairs to your door.

You couldn’t say for sure if his eyes follow you on the way up. You feel the heat of them, the weight of a steady gaze on your spine. But it’s a fickle sensation and you’ve been wrong before. And you can’t quite bring yourself to turn around and look.

The door closes behind you. Surrounded by the stillness of an empty apartment, you release a long held exhale. It drains out of you audibly. You hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath.

…..

Dawn breaks Wednesday morning and carries with it a certain kind of dread.

Despite your efforts, and there have been many, your draft remains far too close to its original state for your satisfaction. No matter how many times you pour over Sacred Monsters, you can never quite seem to find a way to make your submission more interesting while also staying true to New Haven’s general themes.

If anything, the book has been a distraction. Long hours that you could have spent editing or revising or rewriting were instead dedicated to detailed web searches with a variety of keywords and spellings that never seemed to bear any fruit.

It doesn’t matter which search engine you use. It doesn’t matter which database you browse. Other than the copy sitting on your desk, Sacred Monsters doesn’t seem to exist.

But the annoying, wonderful, awful thing about time is that it passes. Time doesn’t care that you haven’t found it in yourself to produce a draft you’re proud of. Time doesn’t relent just because you always feel like it’s slipping through your fingers.

And Wednesday morning turns to Wednesday afternoon with the same steady predictability as always.

You’d like to think that you know the area around your university quite well, but New Haven’s main office is in an entirely different part of the city. You’ll have to leave now if you want to catch the bus with a little cushion of time to spare. The last thing you want to do is be late to your first day. Especially since the draft tucked neatly into your bag isn’t one you can hand over with confidence.

To your relief, the bus is relatively empty. You tuck yourself into a seat and thank your lucky stars that you missed the afternoon rush.

Popping your headphones in, you’re searching for something to fill the time. There’s the draft sitting in your bag, of course, but the last thing you want to do is spend the next thirty minutes agonizing over it. For now, it will just have to be the mess of mediocrity that it is.

Instead, you reach for your phone. Maybe some mindless scrolling will be what you need to put your nerves at ease.

But when the app loads, the first post you see doesn’t have you giggling or rolling your eyes or scrolling on without a thought at all. Instead, your spine straightens, shoulders suddenly tense.

Because the words you’re reading are not something you ever expected to see in your lifetime.

Three dead in suspected vampire attack, the latest headline from your local news reporting channel reads.

Clicking on the article, the details are hazy, but that does little to lessen the grip of fear that makes a sudden grab at your throat. Fragments of sentences capture your attention as you scan the page.

Three bodies found near the river…

Bite marks on their necks…

No trace of recent animal activity in the area…

Eyes widening with every new piece of information, fear claws at your throat.

Bodies completely drained of blood.

Two hundred years. Two hundred years of the belief that vampires have all but been eradicated. Shattered in one fell swoop.

And in your city, of all places. At the river. Somewhere you’ve been. Somewhere you wouldn’t think twice about going. It’s not particularly close to your apartment or university, but it’s not exactly far enough away for comfort.

You shudder, suddenly grateful that Heeseung was there to walk you home last night. Not that he would be able to do much if you did stumble across the path of a vampire, but—”

Oh god. Oh god.

Heeseung.

You have no idea if he made it home safe after parting ways with you and you have no way of checking. He hadn’t made any indication as to where he lived before saying goodnight. For all you know, he could have been heading in the direction of the river. He could have been at the river. Right when the attacks occurred.

Doubling down on your phone, you scour the article for any information you can find on the victims. Objectively, it’s probably a good thing that they’re described only vaguely. Probably an intentional choice to protect the privacy of grieving friends and families.

But ‘three victims, two men and one woman, all in their early twenties’ does very, very little to assuage your terror. In fact, it only heightens it.

Blood pounding in your ears and dread pooling in your stomach, thirty minutes passes in the blink of an eye, you nearly miss your stop. But as you get off of the bus, you’re spiraling. Should you even be here? It feels wrong, leaving such a terrifying loose end untied.

But then you think it through a little further. Even if you got back on the bus, rode it all the way to the stop by your apartment, you have no idea where you’d go from there. You may have shared insults and confidence and a moment under the moonlight with Heeseung, but you don’t know anything about him. Where he lives, where to reach him, where he could possibly be right now.

But Professor Kim might. You’re sure that student information is strictly confidential, but if you explain the situation to him, he might be understanding, might just be willing to bend the rules a bit for you.

So with a heaviness in your heart and fire in your footsteps, you double check the address of New Haven’s office and start walking away from the bus stop. Your surroundings are not a primary area of your focus, but it does strike you as odd how deserted the whole area seems.

Other than a few residential looking buildings, the street you walk is mostly empty lots. Abandoned houses. Not the kind of place you would consider ideal for any business.

Despite the cold morning sunshine, the afternoon has brought a cover of clouds. Squinting towards the distance, you wonder if you should have brought your umbrella, just in case. It almost looks as if it’s going to rain.

When you do finally find the building, you have to stop to double check the address. Not only is there no signage, but New Haven’s supposed headquarters looks just as run down as all of the other buildings in the area.

Frowning, you reread your email. The address does match the faded numbers next to the front door, and Professor Kim seems too meticulous to make a mistake like an incorrect address. Then again, he also seems too well off to run his publishing company out of a decrepit building far away from any of the city’s major business centers.

But you won’t bother worrying about it now. Even your dreary first draft feels like an afterthought at this point. Who cares if the building’s not what you expected, if the location isn’t ideal? Right now, you need to focus on finding Heeseung, on making sure he’s okay.

Because the alternative…

No, you refuse to let yourself spiral there either. But the pressure of grief borrowed from the future is already pressing firmly against the backs of your eyelids, blurring your surroundings.

As you approach the front door, you notice a small, faded placard.

New Haven. Well, at least that confirms that you’re in the right spot. Even if it is a bit odd that they left off Publishing.

Standing at the door, you hesitate. Should you knock? Just walk in? You take a sidelong glance at the window, scanning for any sign of movement. But there’s nothing there. In fact, it looks as if the lights are off.

Dark, quiet, desolate. Strange, yes, but not something you’ll waste time ruminating on now.

You knock once. Twice. The sound echoes; the only response is the whistling of the wind.

Deep in the pit of your stomach, a sense of unease begins to build. It feels off, like something is wrong. Senses on high alert, you force the feeling aside. You need a way to find Heeseung, to make sure he’s okay. Besides, the lingering unease is probably just the anxiety of not knowing if he’s safe.

Steeling your resolve, you reach for the door handle, twisting it tentatively. It opens slowly, the hinges groaning in protest. As if the building itself doesn’t want you there. Stepping inside does little to shake the feeling. Dark and devoid of any decoration, the interior is nearly as gloomy as the sunless sky outside.

And even the layout of the building is strange. The front door opens to a long, dark hallway with no lights on. It’s eerily quiet. Too quiet. Too empty. You weren’t expecting a welcoming party by any means, but it’s hard to imagine anyone, much less Professor Kim, even being here.

“Hello?” You call, clutching your bag a little closer to your body, suppressing the shudder that licks at the base of your spine. “Professor Kim?” You wait a moment, but sustained silence is the only response.

Forcing your footsteps forward, you tread tentatively down the hallway. After all, you didn’t come this far just to turn around. Especially now that Professor Kim might be your only way of finding Heeseung.

Taking slow steps down the dark hallway, you pass two doors, both of them pulled shut. The end of the hall opens into a larger room, still empty of any furnishings. It certainly doesn’t look like a publishing house. It doesn't look like much at all. At the very least, there’s a bit more visibility here, faint traces of faded daylight streaming in through the half drawn blinds on the other side of the room.

Turning to your left, you see another door. This one is also pulled shut, but there’s a name placard on the front. Drawing closer, you read your professor’s name. It still doesn't feel right. Ducking down slightly, you check the gap between the bottom of the door and the hardwood floor for any sign of light, of movement. But it’s just as dark, just as quiet as the rest of the strange building.

As you stand back up to your full height, you raise a hand to knock. Just before your knuckles make contact with the door, you see it. An odd array of crimson stains near the handle. Peering closer, your brow furrows in a combination of disgust and confusion.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think it looked like blood.

But that doesn’t make any sense. None of this does. You won’t pretend to know Professor Kim, but he’s never shown up to a lecture with so much as a hair out of place. Why on earth would he run his publishing company out of a building that’s nearly falling apart? Why would there be strange, suspicious looking stains on the door to his office? Why would it be empty at the time he asked you to come present your draft and tour your future internship location?

You have no idea what to do. Opening the door to his office and letting yourself in would feel like an inappropriate invasion of privacy, but you’re at a loss. This entire thing is so strange.

Before you can decide how to proceed, you hear something. A faint noise, barely there, but distinct from the wind that still whistles outside. It’s disjointed, arrhythmic like the sound of hushed voices. Overlapping. Arguing, maybe.

Inclining your head, your brow creases further. It sounds like it’s coming from your professor’s office, but how could it be? The noises are too muffled, too distant to be coming from right in front of you.

You lean closer. Deciding you’re past the point of maintaining decorum, you press your ear to the door, careful to avoid any of the suspicious looking stains.

For a moment, you hear nothing. Half convinced the voices were nothing but a figment of your overactive imagination, you almost pull away.

But then you hear them again. Still muffled, still indecipherable, but undoubtedly louder than before. Which means they must be coming from behind the door. The voices pause, suspend you in silence once again.

And then you hear another noise, different this time. Less like a voice and more like movement. Scuffling, maybe. Feet dragging against the floor. It’s punctuated by a strange gurgling noise. Something wet and thick and throaty. The kind of sound that makes you wince in a subconscious reaction.

And then a sudden thump has your bones jolting beneath your skin, everything muscle in your body tensing as you suppress an uninvited gasp. Because that didn’t sound far away. It was loud, too loud to be anywhere but right on the other side of the door.

Mild unease is quick to transform into sheer panic as you stagger backwards on shaky footsteps. You need to leave. You need to leave now.

You’ll find another way to get ahold of Heeseung, to make sure he’s okay. And maybe there’s a rational explanation for all of this. Maybe this is an old New Haven office and Professor Kim forgot to send you the new address. Maybe there’s an email in your inbox now, and he’s apologizing for the oversight and rescheduling your draft meeting. Maybe he’s—

The sound of the front door you walked in through minutes ago slamming shut kills the train of thought. This time, you can’t bite down the noise that crawls up your throat.

It’s stupid, from a logical perspective. A fatal flaw of human nature that your first instinct is to scream. To alert whatever danger surely lurks nearby of your exact location, the precise depth of your fear.

But the terror that leaves your lips is muffled. It comes from behind, the palm that covers your mouth. The outline of a body that presses into your back, forces you into submission with a hand around your wrist.

You thrash against the ironclad grip to no avail. Dig your heels into the ground but find little purchase in the hardwood floor as you’re dragged backwards, every nerve in your body singing with terror as you’re forced into a dark room. Even with your elbows flailing and head jerking, the grip on you remains steady, firm.

In the end, it’s a bite that frees you. The hand that covers your mouth drops away as soon as you sink your teeth into the flesh of your captor’s fingers. There’s a muffled grunt of pain in your ear as you spin on your heel.

Again, it’s stupid. You should be running, sprinting in the opposite direction, but everything in you is begging to know. To gain some sense of control over the situation. Eyes still adjusting to the dark and blinded by fear, you turn to find—

“Heeseung?” Your mind is spinning a million miles a minute. There are too many thoughts, too many emotions to keep up with. Relief. Fear. Confusion.

Relief, because he’s okay and he’s here, but—

“What are you doing?” You have a million questions that demand answers. “Why are you here? Why did you grab me like th—”

“Are you okay?” Heeseung takes a step closer to you, reaches his hands out as if to grab you again. Thinking better of it, he lets them fall back to his side with a slight shake of his head. There’s terror in his eyes too when he clarifies, “You’re not hurt?”

“No, I…” What the hell is going on? “I’m fine, but—”

A flash of relief makes itself apparent on Heeseung’s features before they’re morphing again, regaining all the urgency, the fear that was there before. He’s serious, gravely so when he tells you, “We have to get out of here.”

“Okay,” you stumble forward as he reaches for your wrist again, intent on tugging you behind him. “But I don’t understand. What’s—”

“I’ll explain everything later.” He’s frantic, you realize. Desperate. And so terribly afraid. Emotions you’ve never seen him wear. Not in the cool, calm mask of indifference he had in class. Not in the faint flickers of vulnerability from stolen moments under moonlight. This is different. This is so much worse. “But we have to go. Now.”

With that much command in his voice, that much fear in his eyes, you’re putty in his hands. But in the end, it makes little difference. The door to the room he’s dragged you into opens with a resounding bang before the two of you can make your escape. The sound is so loud, so frightening that you feel reverberations in your marrow as the door collides with the room’s interior wall, no doubt leaving a sizable dent.

And standing there, shrouded by the gray tones of sunless winter daylight, your professor blocks the room’s only exit.

Instinctively, you take a step closer to Heeseung. He does the same, pulling you towards him, behind him, until half of your body is covered by his. Peering over his shoulder, the sight that greets you is one that will haunt waking nightmares for a long time to come.

Professor Kim, who always prided himself on maintaining a neat, clean appearance couldn’t be further from that now. His clothes are ripped, hanging from his body at odd angles, adding an element of disfigured monstrosity to his silhouette.

And his eyes. His eyes. Bloodshot and so wide they must hurt, they dart around the room, narrow in on you and Heeseung like he doesn’t see humans. Only targets. Enemies. Prey. Mouth open and snarling, you swear you see a glint in his mouth, the shape of a tooth far too long and pointed to belong to any normal person.

But even those things you could force yourself to forget.

What horrifies you the most is the blood. Even in the shadows, the unnaturally potent shade of crimson is unmistakable. It stains him, covers him, drips from him. Seeps from his clothes and his skin and his mouth.

Panic clawing at your throat, you suppress the urge to vomit.

“Get behind me,” Heeseung whispers, low. “Now.”

But a split second of averted attention is all your professor needs. Professor Kim, lover of literature, beacon of taste, a role model you’ve looked up to since the first time you stepped foot in his class a handful of months ago, pinches a tiny object between his long, bony, blood-covered fingers. And then he throws it.

With startling precision, it whistles through the air, races through a hazy cloud of confusion and panic before it strikes its target true.

It doesn’t hurt, not really. The hand that flies to the side of your neck is instinct, more than anything. But the fingers that linger on your pulse point don’t find the smooth expanse of your unblemished throat that they usually would.

Because there’s something there now. An object lodged just beneath your jaw. Delicately, you draw your hand back in front of your face. There’s no blood on your fingers, but that doesn’t stop them from shaking.

As you look over Heeseung’s shoulder, the world starts to blur around the edges. Darken, as if your eyes are closing of their own volition, against your will. You see him retreat, the terrible ghost of your professor. In the dark, he looks almost forlorn. Regretful.

“Fuck,” Heeseung whispers. He doesn’t see the way your professor spins on his heel, runs in the opposite direction. His attention is trained fully on the space beneath your jaw. “Fuck.”

“Heeseung?” Your voice sounds strange to your own ears. Distant, muffled as if you’re submerged beneath water. You have so many questions.

But it’s suddenly so cold. And you’re so tired. Wouldn’t it be nice to just lay down? Rest for a moment? Surely that couldn’t hurt anything.

Your legs are wobbly beneath you, and you would collapse to the floor in an ungraceful heap if it weren’t for the two hands on your waist, supporting your weight.

“I’m here,” he tells you. Cold. When did it get so cold? Your eyes try to focus on Heeseung, but your vision is swimming. You wonder if he would be warm. “I’m right here. Just… fuck.”

Gently, he eases you both to the ground. The floor is hard beneath you, but it feels like a reprieve. You’re tired of holding the weight of your body upright. Your blinking is becoming slow, lethargic. Your head is suddenly far too heavy for your neck.

Slowly, Heeseung removes his hands from your waist, relocates them to either side of your jaw. With the care of someone well versed in patience, he delicately maneuvers your head to the side, exposing the length of your neck.

Whatever he finds there must be displeasing. You can’t imagine why. You can’t think much of anything. The world has taken on a sort of dreamlike quality in which everything feels loose, fluid and unburdened by the laws of any physics.

“Fuck,” he whispers for the fourth time. The curse scatters over your cheekbone like a kiss.

Pulling back slightly, he meets your half-closed eyes. “I’m sorry.” It sounds like a prayer. “This might…” he swallows, something in his resolve wavering. “This might hurt.”

Pain. You can barely conceptualize the sensation. It feels like a distant memory.

And then he’s tilting your head to the side again. His face draws closer, overcomes the last of your remaining senses, demands the full attention of what’s left of your consciousness.

You think he might kiss you. Whatever desire remains in you almost wishes he would.

Your eyes flutter shut, lips parting slightly as your eyelashes fan against the tops of your cheeks.

But his mouth never finds yours. Instead, you feel the soft caress of his lips against the side of your neck, a fleeting touch against the sensitive skin just beneath your jaw. Inhibitions whittled to nothing, you shudder against the sensation, release the airy ghost of a sigh.

He was wrong, you think. With his mouth on your neck, pain is the last thing you feel.

You feel his lips part against your skin, chasing away some of the cold that has only seeped deeper into bones, into the very essence of your being.

And then you feel it. Whatever capacity for sensation that remains all focuses on the sudden flash of agony as his teeth pierce the skin of your throat.

The tiny moan that escapes your lips is pitiful. Your ability to think, to rationalize, feels like something that’s dangling in front of you, just out of reach. Your body is too heavy, too weak to respond to the flash of searing pain as your skin is pierced deeper.

He can’t speak, but you feel the shallow vibration of a hum against your neck. Soothing, calming. His hand that doesn’t bear the weight of your head moves to push a stray strand of hair from your forehead. It’s gentle, reverent. In complete opposition to the war he wages against your neck.

Mouth still full of you, a groan escapes him. It’s heady, throaty, and you feel it travel the length of your spine, settle in the pit of your stomach. Sensation is the only thing tethering you to this world, and you can’t quite tell if this is pleasure or pain.

He pulls back, the absence of his steady heat leaving your jaw vulnerable to the chill in the air.

“Hold on,” you hear. You can’t pinpoint where the noise comes from. Sound surrounds you, washes over you in a strange uniformity. You feel the ground fall away, something warm and solid behind your shoulders and under your knees.“We’ll be there soon.”

Floating, you think. You must be floating. It’s hard to tell. Moments are bleeding into one another too quickly for you to keep up.

Eyes closed, body molten, you relax into the steady grip that carries you.

And the last thing you hear before reality loses its hold is the fervent, whispered sound of your name.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

CONTINUED IN PART 2 (which can be found on my masterlist!)

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: THANK YOUUUUU for reading!!! this is pretty different from what I usually write plot wise, so I hope it made for a good read. vampire heeseung and this oc are near and dear to me, and I'm excited to continue their story. the rest of this fic is fully plotted and partially written. I'm actively continuing to work on it, and hearing your thoughts/theories/screaming/feedback/etc. is great motivation! as always, I love know what you're thinking. ♡

#heeseung fanfiction #heeseung x reader #heeseung fanfic #enhypen fanfic #enhypen x reader #heeseung x you #enhypen x you #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #heeseung scenarios #heeseung imagines

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sh1-n0bu · 1 year ago

Text

♡︎ 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 𝙢𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙖 ♡︎

characters: priest!sub!blade x demon lord!nb!dom!reader

warnings: breeding, creampie, eating out, fingering, squirting, monsterfucking, non-verbal ask of consent, dirty talk, feminization (like literally), lactating, nipple stimulation, overstimulation, dacryphilia, size kink, belly bulge, cervix kissing, blade is a demon hunting priest, reader is a demon lord so they can choose whether to have a cock or pussy so basically genderfluid reader???? also reader changes blade’s anatomy to have a pussy and womb — it’s so messy okay😭😭

word count: 4.4K

notes: you KNOW shit is getting real when nobu starts word count. never thought i would be writing a bit of a dark-ish content yet here we are. the power of the horny😔 also inspired by my chat with one of ririshizu’s bots

special thank you to @theblades and @yenaakwyl for proofreading a whole damn 14 pages of filth

being a priest is no laughing matter. especially when you’re the type of priest that hunts and gets rid of demons who somehow ended up with a demon lord clinging to you, who’s constantly at your side, asking you questions about the human realm.

what was up with you, anyways? a literal demon lord, one of the lords of a deadly sin and yet here you were, dragging him around the streets, pointing at random things, wanting to sample every street food there were. sure, your human form was incredibly deceiving. a short, sweet human, clinging to his arm, excitedly pointing at the many different things that caught your attention. it would be hard for anyone to think of you as a demon lord in disguise.

except for blade. he’s been in this field of work for such a long time. constantly vanquishing demons who either were too annoying or possessed a poor, curious soul. the sharp edge of his shard sword is no laughing matter.

but you didn’t seem to mind. this demon lord, acting like a curious puppy, pulling him to each sides of the streets — ignoring the loud angry shouts of the car drivers and the constantly thinning of his wallet of course. not that blade had much to worry when it came to financial freedom. putting his life on the line and vanquishing demons from the human realm pays a generous amount.

it felt wrong to allow you to cling to him. you, a demon lord, no matter what your disguises meant or whatever pathetic excuse you came up with of wanting to sample human food. he should have gotten rid of you sooner yet no matter how much his hands twitch to unsheathe his shard sword, he just can’t seem to do it. no matter what his threats may seem or be heard of, the priest just can’t bring himself to harm you. if anything, he finds himself doing the absolute opposite, to his blatant horror.

“wait, no, don’t do that. the water just boiled so it’s hot, it could burn your tongue”

“you do realize that ice isn’t meant to be eaten, right? no, i don’t care how much of a pretty shape it’s in or if it still has the aftertaste of the coffee”

“if you eat too much raw red pepper, you could have a heart stroke. 14 is enough on one sitting. give it here”

yes, you get the point. a priest vanquishing demon, living together with a demon lord and even protecting them. hypocritical, right?

one night, as you two were cuddling on the couch and absentmindedly watching cliche horror movies that has demons with red skin and horns and a tail, that reminded something to blade. demons have unique demon forms depending on their sins and ‘birth’. but you never once showed an ounce of your demon form. not even a single slip-up.

“hmm? why do you ask? curious?” you hum softly, taking another fistful of the popcorn in the bowl. not that blade minded. if anything, he unconsciously pushed the bowl of popcorn closer to you.

“i guess so. you never even spoke of your demon form whether it has a tail or not” the priest mumbles, his husky voice turning softer just for a moment. or maybe he was just sleepy, judging by his dark eye-bags and little yawns.

oh right, you never did. but then again, blade never asked of your demon form before so, it’s to be expected after all.

just as blade had shrugged off your silence and turned his attention back to the tv, he felt something slithering around his waist. swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, he briefly looks down at what was wrapping around his waist. there, snug around his hips was a long, pale white, scaled, snake-like tail. it seemed incredibly long, judging by how it easily wrapped around his hips few times and the rest was just dangling off of the side of the couch.

was this…?

he could feel his hand twitch. itching, something under his skin itching of wanting to reach down and run his hand over the smooth looking scales of the tail.

pat! pat pat!

before blade could even make sense of what the fuck he just did, his hand had unconsciously unraveled from it’s former crossed position. one hand going down, flattening his palm over the smooth, large tail before giving it a few pats. at the same time, he could hear another low pat pat! sounds coming from the side of the couch. must be your tail ends flicking and hitting against the couch, he deducted.

briefly, blade steals a glance at your face. still watching the movie on the TV, seemingly paying no mind to the feeling of his human hand resting over your tail. it was oddly warm to the touch. from the look of it resembling a snake like tail, he expected it to be cold.

slowly, he runs his hand over the scales. soft, smooth and easily gliding over them as if it was nothing. sure, some bumps are felt on the palm of his hand but other than the occasional little ridges, it was completely smooth. how… soothing.

blade doesn’t know how or when but over the course of time you spent at his apartment, these little moments of playing with your tail had become a normal occurrence. little moments of “affection” if you will. fridays had become the weekly movie nights. blade would put on some random horror movie that you chose to be the most interesting based on the summary of the movie. half an hour or so into the movie and blade would feel the familiar scales of your tail wrap around his hips.

the priest would sometimes toy with your tail in hopes of getting you to show your true color of being a demon lord. to make you angry. to make you snap and finally show your true colors. if anything, it had the complete opposite effect as your tail only tightened around him. low, deep rumbling sounds akin to a purr coming from the depths of your chest.

briefly, the priest would catch himself wondering how it would feel to lay his head on your chest as you purr. cats have de-stressing and soothing qualities to their purrs. would demons be the same? sometimes, he would even catch himself thinking of… sacrilegious things. like how your tail would feel wrapped around his legs, opening him up for you. how your form could shapeshift and could have a human male’s anatomy. would you purposefully make it big? would you force it past his twitching rim, uncaring of his whines and pleads to wait?

ah, but that sounded so unlike you. despite being a demon lord, you have been nothing but calm and peaceful with blade. soft hums, nods of agreement, always needing his help and inquiring him of his thoughts on something.

then, would you coax him? whispering soft reassurances in the shell of his ear as you softly push your cock inch by inch inside him. a large, clawed, inhuman hand running over his stomach, talking about all sorts of things, promising to breed him full of your seeds as he cries. opening his legs wide with your tail wrapped around his thighs, wiping away his tears as he cries so prettily?

“f-fuck…” unknowingly, blade found himself with a little problem. another movie night, another time spent together ‘cuddling’. yet due to his own thoughts, blade finds himself embarrassingly hard. shit, he needed to find a way to leave the room and take care of his problem. but your tail way starting to curl around him in loops, just like how a snake would wrap itself around it’s prey.

did you know? know of his raging hard on and was just teasing him now? no. taking a brief glance at your face caused blade to come to a conclusion that you didn’t know. yet. that was the biggest part. or maybe you did considering just how your tail was moving around his waist. slipping under the hem of his shirt, slipping up, curling around his body under his shirt. scale coming in contact with skin. blade almost let out a moan at the feeling if it weren’t for him biting down on his lips.

“[n-name], get your tail off. i need to use the bathroom” internally cursing himself out for stuttering, blade can only hope that you would oblige. gods, just the way you let out a soft “hmm?” while playing innocent, smiling at him and blinking like nothing happened while your tail curls around his skin.

fuck, he was done for. you knew. you fucking knew.

“are you sure? your body seems to react positively from the amount of human interaction that i’ve had until now, blade” the end of your tail circles around his peck. slowly trailing the end as if you were going to squeeze—

“n-ngaah?!” a surprised noise comes from the priest’s mouth before he clenches his jaws shut, brows furrowing together as he tries to ignore the feeling on his chest. soft and slow circles. the end of your tail was wrapped around his nipple, pulling and rolling it between as if it was nothing. shit, when did his chest get so sensitive?

“oh that was a cute sound. do it again” you hum, turning away from the TV and looking at him now. curse you for looking so damn interested and curious as your tail fondles his nubs. blade can feel his pants starting to form a wet patch as his breathing becomes more labored.

“t-take… your goddamn tail off. i swear, i’ll ghh—! chop it into pieces…!” despite his best efforts, his words had no bite. just weak mumblings of a pathetic excuse of a priest being turned on as a literal demon lord tugs at his nipple. he was even starting to quietly whine in place as he tries to swallow down his moans.

“say, blade. i read from somewhere that human chest can lactate when stimulated enough. can you lactate?” blade almost shrieked at your words. lactating? him? while it was true that human women can lactate if they gave birth, he was unsure about men being able to lactate.

“n-no! can’t! i’m a man, it’s impossible for my chest to produce mi—ungh!” his words die quickly in his throat when your tail clenched around his nipple tightly. pulling on it, familiar to a pinching motion. since when did his body get so sensitive like this? or was this all your doing? did you secretly put a spell on him to make him sensitive?

“stop..! [n-name] stop ooungh! please, stop! i’m telling you, i’m a man. i can’t lactate like a woman!” his pleads fall on deaf ears as you slip his shirt off over his head. instead this time, using your hands to knead and fondle his pecks. squeezing, rolling his sensitive nubs between your fingers, even tugging on them. it all got blade letting out uncharacteristic high pitched noises like a cat in heat.

“p-please… stop this, [name]..” blade trails off, red in the face, shame, embarrassment and arousal swirling in his stomach like a hot bubbling lava as he admits defeat and whines helplessly.

“then wriggle yourself out of my tail. it’s loose around you, bladie” you briefly retort as you suckle on his nipple. mouth latched to his chest, biting and planting wet kisses all around his soft pink areola. as weak as his whimpers and pathetic his begging were, he really wasn’t making a single attempt to pull back. you have given him enough chances even now as your tail stays loose around him. yet he still tries to act like he hates it.

switching between giving attention to his two nipples with blade not even thinking of pulling himself out of your tail, the movie plays in the background, long forgotten. you were determined to make this weird human of yours lactate. you can make him!

it didn’t took much longer until blade let out a yelp as a warm liquid drops in your mouth. the taste oddly sweet and a bit thick in texture. realizing that his chest was feeling much more heavier and nipples felt more wetter than before, the priest’s eyes widen in horror and arousal. did you really managed to stimulate him enough to make him lactate?

“oh? so, i was right! humans can lactate regardless of their gender” you let out a soft giggle, internally cheering as a bright smile comes across your face. the sheer amount of exuberance you showed in his lactation had caused blade to feebly attempt to cover his chest.

“don’t! don’t look… it’s embarrassing…” the man whines, shaking hands covering up his leaking nubs. but that proves to be futile as his hands covering his chest had caused him to twitch. everything felt so much and so little at the same time. his poor cock was neglected and weeping, staining his pants as you stimulate his nipples as he whines.

this wasn’t supposed to happen! he wasn’t supposed to be this sensitive to your touches.

but the leaking of his milk had seemed to cause something to stir in your chest. an odd sense of possessiveness and need to claim him growing in your heart, tugging at it. laying your palm flat against his stomach, you rub slow circles onto it. somehow, it had helped to lessen blade’s embarrassment.

“bladie, how would you feel if i were to make you my baby momma?” your voice cuts him out of the trance like state he was in. blinking his eyes a few times with a weak “huh?” as if he hadn’t heard you. with a quiet chuckle, you ask again. repeating the question to him slowly in case he was too pleasure driven.

baby momma? but that’s something that people refer to when women get pregnant right? were you referring to making him pregnant? but that was impossible! he was a man and men had different anatomy compared to women’s!

“i can use a few spells. you would have a female anatomy. but only if you wish to be my baby momma. i would take good care of you and the kids, we’d be together as a cute family. don’t you think we’d be a cute family, blade?” he could briefly hear you hum. but the rest of your words flew over his head since the female anatomy part.

a female anatomy. blade would have a pussy, a womb, cervix the perfect anatomy to get pregnant. he would be a cute baby momma. your baby momma. and he would carry your kids. a child who was half you and half him, a cute bundle of sunshine.

“please… please do. make me your baby momma. i wanna be your b-baby momma..!” blade nods frantically, not even bothering to think over the consequences too deeply. but the prospect of having your kids, of having you inside him got blade rubbing his thighs together, head spinning with all sorts of thoughts as his breathing becomes labored. you said you would take good care of him and the kids! he’ll be in good hands.

although a part of his brain was screaming at him, telling him to withdraw from the touch of your palm running over his stomach, changing his insides, blade could only sit there dumbly. a baby. a cute baby that you two made together. it would be so sweet, so cute. blade couldn’t wait any longer as he silences the logical part of his brain. all he wanted was you now. just you and nothing else.

the process didn’t take long. a few strokes of your hand and soothing whispers to his ear and it was done. or at least, from what you said. and oh fuck, was it true. when you tugged his pants and boxers off, what greeted both of your eyes was a slick pussy, dripping with arousal. seeing how you had successfully changed him, the priest lets out a weak whine, closing his legs to hide himself.

you didn’t seem to like that. clicking your teeth as your tail wraps around his leg, pulling his legs apart and allowing your hungry eyes to feast on his dripping cunt. blade couldn’t help his whine as the feeling of being so empty took place in his head. or was it inside his womb that he felt so empty?

“so sweet. you would look so cute with my cum dripping out of you” you mutter, running a finger up his wet pussy. the action got his hips twitching, trying to make you push your finger inside himself. tutting softly, reminding him to be patient, you slowly ease a finger in. oh gods, the stretch felt so good. so full and filled already despite it being just a single finger that was now slowly massaging his plush walls.

the soft whines and gasps coming out of blade turns into a moan as he throws his head back on the couch. long, navy hair spreading over the mattress as your fingers scissor him open. you would have expected him to be more… reclusive considering his usual act. perhaps you were wrong. the way that blade was throwing his head back, moaning without shame as his warm walls suck your fingers in greedily caused you to almost mistaken him for a virgin. or maybe he was just touch starved. poor thing.

cooing words of how he was doing good, how his gushy cunt was sucking in your fingers so prettily, you lean down to pepper kisses on his clit. long, forked tongue coming out momentarily to slip inside him with your fingers, constantly flicking his clit. the action caused to have made him oversensitive. strong, scarred thighs coming up to wrap around your head, a hand fisting at your locks as loud, pathetic whines of “c-can’t! feelss sho weird! [n-name], can’t—gyuuck! aanh aah♡︎!!” trails off into a high pitched whines as his hips jerk. legs clamping around your head in a vice grip, fisting at your locks tightly as his back arches off of the couch so prettily as he squirts in your mouth. ah right, in your own haze, you’ve forgotten and accidentally pushed your tongue in too far, hitting his g-spot.

well, that was fine. the cold priest sounded so cute and tasted delicious as he twitches under you. it would be fine to fuck him open with your tongue and prepare him thoroughly.

blade doesn’t know what to think anymore. was he even able to think? all he could do was to moan and shriek, trashing about on the bed as something deep and long slithers inside him. his cunt was being fucked open, wet sounds coming out as he gushes all over your mouth, tongue and chin. fluids dribbling down to your chin as you continue to force his legs open with your tail, arms wrapped around his waist and pulling him back into your mouth and fingers.

by the time you thought of him as prepped enough and pull your tongue and fingers out, blade could only weakly whine at the feeling of something pulling out of his warm insides. legs shaking, face flushed as dried tear stains cover his cheeks. his pretty red eyes looked so hazy, mind filled with cotton and statics. you haven’t even gotten to the main part yet!

blade feels something wrap around him. something bigger, warmer and gentle. clawed hands wrapping around his slender waist, pulling him against a massive frame. was this… was he on your real form right now?

tilting his head back to look at you, his hunch proves to be correct. no longer were you in your small human disguise. large, pale white figure with horns, tail and claw holding him in a safe cocoon in it’s embrace. despite having deep hatred against your kin, the priest couldn’t bring himself to hate you. instead, he oddly found your real form beautiful.

“huh…?” his thought gets cut off short when he feels something poke at his entrance. looking down, a sharp gasp escapes him. by the gods were you huge. girthy and long, thick with need and ready to fill him to the brim with your seeds. blade wasn’t sure if he could take such a large thing inside himself as he instinctively shut his legs close.

almost as if sensing his inner worries, you place a hand over his stomach, other hand spreading his legs wider to make it easier for you to slip in.

“don’t worry, pet. i’ll make sure it fits” your deeper, almost inhuman voice hums right beside his ear, sending shivers down his spine. although your words were soothing, the large tip of your cock pushing past his walls, opening his cunt wider was definitely not comforting. fuck, just the tip inside and blade was already thrashing about, shaking his head and stuttering out how he can’t fit it inside him.

“w-wait! w-won’t hhgh fit! ish too big! too bigtoobigtoobig—! m-my lo—oough! aanh! ish t-too fu-uck! big♡︎♡︎” the human squeals, cries, sobs and moans. loud lecherous noises coming from both his mouth and cunt. wet noises flooding the room alongside the low grunts and deep growls. you sounded inhumane, you felt inhumane but blade loved it all the more. the priest loved being spread open by your large cock, pushing past his hole, feeling his plushy walls and insides. ah, he could die happily filled to the brim like this.

finally, after long minutes of slowly easing yourself inside, you managed to fit your cock inside him. snug to the brim, tip kissing his cervix and making blade squeal. legs shaking and twitching, he came on your cock again at the feeling of your tip kissing his cervix. he saw that you were big but not this big! gods, he felt so damn full.

“so pretty, my mate. so full of me and i haven’t even fucked you properly yet” you grunt, deep, inhumane voice breathing by his ear and making him shake and twitch in your grasp like a sweet fawn. blade wouldn’t mind being a sacrificial lamb to you.

through tear stained eyes and blurry vision, he could make out the faint outline of your cock in his stomach. you were too big to the point your were causing a bulge inside him by just slipping your cock inside. how full would he feel after you have properly made him a baby momma? cunt weeping out a mixture of your cum, belly bulging so cutely. just the imagination of such action made blade buck his hips weakly. too fucked out to even utter a word.

feeling the pathetic excuse of movement of your cock, you let out a low laugh. tail wrapped around one of his legs, the other held open by your hand as you finally bounce him on your cock. slowly, slipping yourself in and out and yet the priest in your hand was sobbing as he blabbers deliriously about being fucked dumb on your cock. of having your babies inside his own womb. of being your sweet mate.

blade was a big guy. in human terms and physique wise, he was big. and yet in your lap, held open by your hands, back to your chest as he allows himself to be dumbed down on your girth made blade realize just how damn small he was compared to you. sure, he was big in human terms but compared to you, he was absolutely nothing. just a small hole for you to use. a fleshlight to be filled with your cum until you were satisfied. your baby momma to have his chest fondled and squeezed until his chest grows sore and heavy. milk leaking out it small globs from his sensitive pink nipples.

“my pet. my cute mate. my sweet other half. my adorable breeding bitch uhng… so fucking tight. so warm and tight like the cute little thing you are” blade could briefly hear you groan, heavy breaths falling on his neck, making him shiver at each breaths. making him cry and moan in a shrill voice like a girl each time your cock slid inside him. plunging deeper into parts he never knew before, grazing that one soft spot that made him shriek, tip hitting his cervix at each thrust. blade was so sure that it was bruised now. not that he minded it, the pain felt good to him.

“y-yours—! yours yours yours! your c-cute ma—aaanhg! aaanh haagh gyaaamf♡︎ y-your mate. your oouungh other half. y-your adorable♡︎ breeding bitch—!” blade’s mouth fell open in a silent scream, head throwing back to your shoulder when he felt your hand press on the bulge in his stomach. it felt good. so good that he immediately squirted on your cock again at the sheer pleasure the pressure brought.

but of course you wouldn’t stop. you would keep going, forcing his small body to bounce on your cock, occasionally tweaking his nipples, rolling his clit between your fingers. you were damn adamant on making him pregnant, breed him until you were damn sure he was knocked up.

he was yours. your human. your mate. your fated other half. your cute breeding bitch and you would be damned all over again if he ends up not getting pregnant by the time you’re done. blade was yours. no one else would ever take him away from you. no one. no one no one no one, no one else—

“AAANGH! M-MY LORD♡︎ c-cock giick! sho full…” the human shrieks and twitches in your grasp, legs weakly thrashing around as you finally cum deep inside him. the warmth of your seed spurting inside his gummy walls, painting his insides white causing blade to cum again. blade felt so full, the skin of his stomach stretching a bit to accommodate to the great amount of cum that was inside him. it felt so warm and sticky. messy, as it dribbles down your shaft, his small human body unfit to keep it all inside himself.

“my cute mate…” you purr softly, arms wrapping around your mate as he twitches and shakes. cheeks stained with old and new tears, jaws slack with drool dribbling down with his face as red as his eyes. he was yours now. blade was your human now. the weird priest was yours and no one would ever take him away from you.

“mine” with that final declaration, you placed a soft kiss to the crown of his head. he seemed to relax at the kiss, sinking against your chest as he black out. that was fine. you’ll make sure to breed him again once he wakes up.

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u3pxx · 8 months ago

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eat or be eaten. there is no hierarchy involved. eating is simply the privilege of the living.

1 | 2 | 3 | one out of three dungeon meshi illustrations i did for a class! 🪽🥩

id in alt text | like this art? it's a print, here! | like what i do? support me on ko-fi!

unfortunately, i forgot to hit record during the beginning orz but this still hopefully managed to catch a good bit of the painting process

as you may or may not have noticed, i've gotten into disco elysium, and around the time i made this, i've been making a lot of portraits imitating the style of the beautiful beautiful portraits in the game and i wanted to use the techniques i learned from doing that for here!

here's also the version with text! brief said to include the title and author. the objective of this lil thing i had to do for class was to design three book covers in different styles and i hope my professor thought this was a different enough style compared to the others bc i am a lil nervous that it's not pfttt

originally it was going to be laios there bc he's like the "main" character but then i thought about the image of falin holding like, the kingdom in her hands and so i had to stop everything that i was doing and draw that immediately (the text is flipped bc my prof told me to flip the whole thing bc they were originally facing the left, i just didn't bother to correct the text lmao)

of course, had to include the gang, so there they are very tiny on the foreground DFGHD i am so glad that i thought of adding thistle too bc i just really thought that lil detail of him walking away from everybody else was pretty neat

i also wanted her hands to be covered in blood but i wasn't skilled enough to make it look good in the short timeframe i had, it looked a little too busy, whoops!

(i should also mention that this piece was a huge inspiration for this! it's so striking that it never leaves my mind oughh <333)

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #falin touden #farlyn thorden #i dont think i'll tag the other characters they are so small in there lol #sunnysidedraws #sunnysidemeshi #described #id in alt text #i havent watched it yet but i heard that the ep were falin gets out of the dragon is out now so fitting time to post this ig pftt

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a-suspicious-number-of-ducks · 5 months ago

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Hermit-a-Day May, day 14 (belated): Docm77. Today's style/medium is the original covers of the Rainbow Magic: Rainbow Fairies series by Daisy Meadows! This was inspired partially because of Doc's elytra and partially because I just thought it would be really funny. Having now finished the piece, I can confirm that it's really funny (to me, at least). References and details under the read more!

References: the Rainbow Magic books have a lot of different cover styles, especially the first few mini-series. I found what seemed to be the most original (and what I remembered seeing as a kid) and went with that. I referenced Fern the Green Fairy most closely, but checked all of the Rainbow Fairies for various details (hair highlights, facial expressions, etc.). The character art for the books has definitely gotten a little better and smoother over the years, but I wanted to capture that slightly awkward first-run look.

Random details: I had to do all the stripes and clouds and lettering and whatnot by hand, which is...why I didn't manage to post this on the right day. Now that I have the base, though, I could totally do a whole series of hermits in this style and I'm kind of ridiculously tempted to. The hair shading was SO hard to work with you don't understand. Going from dark hair to stark white highlight is the antithesis of my natural style and it still looks super weird to me but. I did my best. Also for the record it is not easy to translate a bright green adult man with a beard into the cutesy fairy girl style. I consciously had to make the way I was drawing hands worse at one point because they looked too complex and realistic for the style. I think drawing those crocs killed a part of my soul. Thank you and goodnight.

#hermitaday #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanart #docm77 #docm77 fanart #hermit a day may #doc #my art

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vincentbriggs · 1 year ago

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And another pair of gloves. I'm quite pleased with these ones.

Back to the 1760's Diderot pattern cuff shape this time, and I wanted to try adding some decoration, so I painted art nouveau swirlies around the cuffs using leather dye. (Which is of course not historically accurate, but art nouveau and mid 18th century menswear go together so, so well.) My inspiration was a motif from an 1898 book, which I found on pinterest, and I re-drew it a few times until I had a version that I liked and that fit the glove.

I wasn't sure how to go about transferring the design accurately to the leather, so I ended up making a stencil and tracing it using a very fine tipped pen, then colouring it in with the dye. The dye was very easy to paint with, but putting it in a little dish made it dry out and thicken extremely fast, which was not so good. For the second glove I put the dye in a porcelain thimble, which was better, but next time I'll try to find something even smaller with even less exposed surface area to put the dye in. Or I could perhaps try leather paint instead. I'll have to hold off on wearing these until I've gotten some sort of finishing coating to protect the dye, because it's unfortunately smudged a bit from handling. I did do a sample specifically to test for this and it didn't smudge, but in the sewing up process the gloves got touched quite a bit more than the sample, alas. And it may be partly due to the aforementioned drying out and thickening, which left more dye on the surface.

The leather is lambskin from ItalianSkins on etsy, and they're sewn up using silk yarn that my mother gave me. (With a regular needle again, because the only leather needles I have are too big.)

#gloves #painting #sewing #me #leatherwork #art nouveau

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remlionheart · 7 months ago

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NSFW Alphabet: Osamu Dazai Edition ♡

♡༊·˚ mdni. ((dedicating this to my pretty gf @bratbby333 since she's the dazai to my chuuya and some of these situations were in inspired by our unhinged 5 hour long facetimes calls, *cough cough* "blood-chilling" *cough cough* ♡)) this was honestly so much fun to write. dazai would be SUCH a diva in a relationship but he would also be so loving and protective ugh. lemme know whatcha think, luv u ♡༊·˚

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

Dazai's almost always the first one out of bed after the fact. He already has a shower running for when he comes back into the room to hand you a towel and a glass of water. You tell him that your legs are too tired to walk all the way to the bathroom so he scoops you up into his arms. The two of you laugh as he carries you into the steam-filled room. He lets you get under the water first, squirting a generous amount of shampoo into his palm as he instructs you to turn around. "Suppose your hands are too tired to wash your hair, hm?" You bite back a smile, giving him a pitiful nod in response. "My poor girl." He hums. His long fingers massaging into your scalp feel like heaven. He leaves light kisses along your shoulder, running a washcloth over your body while whispering sweet little nothings like "How'd I get so lucky?" into your skin as he cleans you off. It's hard to believe this was the same man who was making you beg on your knees for him just twenty minutes ago.

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

Aside from his body's infuriating aversion to death, there aren't a whole lot of things that Dazai doesn't like about his appearance. Aesthetically speaking, he finds himself fairly attractive so it's hard to narrow down one thing he likes best. If he had to though, he'd probably go with his hands. He's always gotten compliments on them, but after seeing what strong reactions they're able to coax out of you so easily, he's realized they're one of his most valuable assets. As cliche as it may be, your eyes are his favorite feature. He finds it adorable how they always tell him what he needs to know without you ever having to say a word. They tell him when you want more, when you want less, when you're about to hit your breaking point. They guide him in the right direction every single time. Plus, they're just so fucking pretty to look at.

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

The only thing more blissful to Dazai than hearing or seeing your orgasm is tasting it. His head is buried between your legs, his fingers pumping in and out of you deliriously as your thighs start to lock around him. You're spasming for him again, your voice breaking as you call out his name and your hips buck up towards him. "Dazai, I can't -" You whine. "'m so... sensitive -" "C'mon baby, please." he groans, "Just one more f’me." his tongue swirls against you with fervor, his digits still greedily plummeting into you. "Lemme taste it, lemme feel it. You’re sooo close." His fingers curl at just the right angle, his tongue faithfully lapping against you as you finally fall apart for him. He moans at the sweetness that spills down his chin. "You taste like fucking ecstasy, you know that?"

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

It's not necessarily a secret because in his defense, if you were to bring it up or ask him about it, he'd tell you the truth. But Dazai can't help it that you've never inquired about his exes and he's certainly not going to offer up the fact that he knows every single person you've ever been with going all the way back to the boy you kissed on the playground when you were 4 years old. Or that he just so happens to know all of their current addresses and their moms’ maiden names and where they work and their social security numbers. I mean, does it even really matter anyway?? He just got a little curious, that’s all!!

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

Dazai had been with his fair share of partners before meeting you. Sex wasn't something he was ever shy about. He did a lot of experimenting, especially when he was spending the majority of his time drinking. He's always felt comfortable in his body and never saw the big deal about sharing it with someone. It wasn't until the two of you started dating that he realized just how binding sex could be. That it could transcend well beyond the simplicity of skin against skin contact. Being inside of you was the closest thing he'd ever felt to a religious experience. It felt like coming home after a long day. No matter how many hookups he'd had in the past, there was nothing that could've prepared him for how good you'd feel.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes any position that allows him to see your face. His favorite is probably fucking you from the side though, both of you facing each other with his arm hooked under your thigh, letting him go as deep as he pleases. He gets lost in the way your pupils dilate when he plunges into you. The security of your arms wrapped around his neck as you whimper and wriggle against him. There's something so intimate about watching you come undone from this view. Feeling you drench him while he kisses you over and over. "Let it out, baby. I've got you. Doin' so good - fuck, baby you're doin' so good f'me."

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

As passionate as Dazai is when it comes to being inside of you, he's still able to find a level of a humor in just about anything. He's a Gemini, after all. If he's too serious for too long, he'll simply die. You're on top of him with your hands tangled into his for balance as you grind against him. Your hips are rocking back and forth at a pace that's making his breathing uneven. You feel proud, thinking his reaction is a sign of you doing a good job until you watch his head roll to the side, a stupid smile suddenly visible as he tries to bury his face into the pillow. You quickly realize it's not a moan that he's holding back, but a laugh. Your movements come to an abrupt pause. "Dazai." He tries his best to keep it together, but the scolding tone in your voice coupled with the stern look you're shooting him is only making it worse. “Wait, listen -" he tries to explain himself, but he's powerless to his own thoughts. A burst of suppressed laughter fills the room as he covers his face with his hands, still feeling the weight of your glare on him. "R - remember -" he struggles “Last week? When you were telling me about that book you were reading and...." he nearly snorts. "And you described it as -" Your lips press into a flat line, your eyes glazing over as you realize what he’s getting at. You knew the second you messed up that phrase, you'd never hear the end of it. "Are you seriously still laughing about the fact that I said 'blood-chilling' instead of 'bone-chilling?'" "BLOOD-CHILLING!" He repeats with the most obnoxious cackle, narrowly dodging the pillow you throw at him.

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

Dazai spends more time grooming himself than you do. Hours in front of the mirror looking at himself from every angle to make sure what he's done is up to his standards. He's subscribed to one of those manscaping services where they mail him out a surprise bundle each month of new products to try. When you go down on him one night, he asks "...Does it smell like teakwood?" Your head pops up immediately, unsure if you even want to know what he's hinting at. "What?" "Nothing... it's nothing."

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

In love, Dazai worships you. He has every inch of your frame memorized and knows exactly what each tiny movement and whimper mean. He's studied your body like it's his lifelong passion and he's learned how to make it respond so well for him. Your hips just barely buck up while he's on top of you and he smirks, his hair lightly brushing against your forehead. "You sure can handle the whole thing? Figured you'd still be sore after last night." You shake your head back at him with the poutiest expression, your core aching for more. "I can take it." you insist, "I can -" He challenges your sureness, giving you another inch only to see your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your hand gripping onto the sheet above you. He'd never deny you of anything you wanted, but especially not when you looked this gorgeous. He grabs your hand, tangling his fingers into yours before drawing back and burying himself into you. "That's my girl." he groans, reeling in the way your walls so eagerly swallow him. Your breathing is erratic, your composure completely gone as you writhe and clench around him. He knows you're right there. You start to close your eyes, but he stops you, bringing his free hand under your chin to redirect your attention back to him. "Let me see it, angel. Show me." He slams into you again, giving you every inch of him this time. "Show much you love this." And you do. You show him three times in 20 minutes how much you love it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dazai's the first to admit that he has a high libido and if the mood strikes, he's going to do something about it. He gets bored easily, so he has a variety of different mediums to get the job done - the 'hidden' folder on his phone that's filled with pictures and videos of you, romance mangas, fleshlights, audio porn, hentai. He's not afraid to experiment even when he's alone.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dazai is a true switch and will really fall into either being dominant or submissive depending on the situation. There are nights he gets off work and starts throwing out demands like, "On the bed. Now. Legs apart f’me." as he strips out of his jacket and pushes you down further onto the mattress. But, the are other times where he's dying not to be in control anymore. Where he's had to make too many decisions and he revels in the way you take the reins. The way you climb on top of him and whisper "good boy" as he grows hard beneath you. The only thing he loves more than making you beg is begging for you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Dazai has a bit of a thing for voyeurism and recklessness so when Kunikida hires a driver to pick the two of you up to take you to a dinner for the ADA, Dazai has no hesitation on hiking up your dress in the back of the limo. Peeking up every so often to see if the driver has even noticed the way your tits are pressed up against the window for passing cars to see as your vehicle speeds down the highway. You arch your back perfectly for him, giving him full control as he plunges into you. Your walls are so snug and gushy, he knows he won't last long. But you're enjoying this just as much as he is, playing with your clit as he grabs your hair and pulls you up to kiss him. "You like knowing that people can see me fucking you?" he whispers, biting down on your bottom lip. "Your cunt’s drippin�� alllll over me.” "Fuck - yes.” You moan, feeling your legs beginning to shake as you let out a strained. “I’d let you fuck me anywhere.” His smirk deepens, his thrusts becoming more frantic. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep, angel.”

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

Dazai's pretty easy to wind up in general, but he definitely has a thing for asphyxiation. Perhaps it stems from the lingering effects of suicidal ideation, but the feeling of something cutting off his airways makes him feral. When you're on top of him and you reach for his throat, he nearly fucking melts. If he could choose any way to die, he'd request for it to be at the mercy of your loving fingertips digging into the side of his neck.

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

There aren't many things that Dazai wouldn't do. Not just sexually, but in general. His curiosity almost always gets the better of him no matter the situation. The only time he's ever told you no was when you were being too hard on yourself. He walked in on you picking at your body in the mirror. Pulling your skin in different directions to see what you'd look like if your arms were thinner or what you'd look like if your nose leaned more to this way instead of that way. His heart sank. All of the post-work fantasies he had built up over the day disappeared the minute he saw how frustrated you were. "Hey," he whispered, coming up behind you and gently wrapping his arms around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder. "Please stop being mean to my girlfriend. She doesn't deserve that." You tried to brush it off as a joke, leaning up to kiss him while he held you, but he pulled back. "I'm serious." he ran light fingers over your stomach, his eyes locked with yours in the reflection of the mirror. "We're not doing anything until I hear you say at least five things you like about yourself." He could see past almost any crime or murder, but he drew the line at you degrading yourself.

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

Dazai's all about both, but if he's being completely honest with himself, he loves the feeling of your mouth around his cock. How cute you look when you struggle to take the whole thing. The way your eyes widen when he thrusts into your throat. How thorough you are, turning the act of going down on him into a work of fucking art. Even though you’re the one submitting to him when you get on your knees, he still feels like he's at your grace. You feel so good, he'd do anything to keep your lips wrapped around him.

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

Just like anything else, pacing could go one way or the other. The thing about Dazai, is he wants to do whatever you want to do. Even when he's in more of a dom role, your pleasure is still his main focus. There's no such thing as wrong time or wrong place as far as he’s concerned. If you wanted him to fuck you slow and sensually in the club bathroom, he would. He'd dim the lights, lock the door, lay his jacket down for you to sit on as he propped you up onto the sink and kissed you passionately. If you wanted fast, rough, filthy sex by candlelight on a bed of roses, he would. He'd wrap his hand around your pretty little throat, mocking the way you're struggling to breathe as he bullied himself into you while you’re surrounded by romantic ambiance. Whatever you want, he does too.

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

If there was a tornado approaching your house at a reasonable speed, Dazai would still find time to have a quickie with you. Especially if he thought it was the last thing he might ever do. He wants to feel you as much as he possibly can. The construct of time really means nothing to him. You have to log onto a work meeting in five minutes? "I can fit under the desk, baby :((( they won't even see me. Just spread your legs and keep a straight face, okay?" Your parents are on their way over? "They drive so slow anyway, angel and the door's locked. Promise we won't get caught." You're waiting for food to be delivered? "Bet I could make you cum twice before the doorbell even rings." Getting to spend five minutes in you is always better than spending five minutes out of you.

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

Dazai isn't just willing to take a risk, he's usually the one pushing for it. Any time your phone rings, his hands are suddenly roaming along your body, his fingers dipping into the softness of your underwear as he starts to kiss your neck. He knows you're on the phone with your boss, that makes it even better. He wants to see how long you can keep your composure while he torments you. Your eyes are like daggers when you look back at him, but your cunt betrays you entirely, grinding against him needily while he smirks. He picks up the pace, reeling in the subtle way your thighs shake. You're trying so hard to sound so professional and coherent, but your thoughts are everywhere. You're having to hit the 'mute' button every few seconds just to let out a whimper. Dazai nips at the nape of your neck, slamming into you with an extra finger this time causing you to nearly drop your phone. "Ahh ~!" But there's no time to hit mute with how he's suddenly plunging into you. Your boss asks if you're okay and you have no choice but to hang up. "Dazai -" you try to keep your voice firm, but you can barely see straight the deeper he sinks into you. "What - the... fuck -" Each word is a moan, your hand grabbing desperately onto the collar of his shirt. "Dazai," "Somethin' wrong, baby?" "Dazai, you can't -" But he already is. He already is so bad. "Dazai, please." You're not even sure what you're pleading for anymore - if it's for him to stop or continue. Your walls are squeezing him so tight, your heart slamming into your chest as more uncontrollable whines fill the room. "Dazaaiii ~" you whimper again, soaking his hand as his thumb brushes across your clit. "Ohmygod, fuck. You can't keep doing that." "No promises." He smirks, carefully pulling out of you before bringing his fingers to his mouth. "It's not my fault you taste so good."

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

It all depends on the mood, Dazai's pretty versatile. Could he fuck you for hours? Yes. Has he? Many times. It's no secret that he loves watching you struggle to walk the next day after having your legs pinned against his shoulder. But he knows he can't do that every time. He generally tries to follow your lead and give your body what it wants - whether that's 20 minutes of gentle, deep, intimacy or an hour of a mating press followed by overstimulation. As long as you're getting off, so is he.

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

His nightstand is filled with an assortment of silicone stimulants for the two of you. Cockrings and vibrators and bondage kits. Out of all of the subscription services he has, getting a bundle of mystery toys delivered to his house each month is by far his favorite. He always waits 'til you come over to open it. Pouring you both a glass of wine as you divvy them out and argue about decide on who gets to use what on who.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Osamu Dazai lives to tease you. As far as he's concerned, the only reason the sun rises each morning is so that he can find new and exciting ways to make you grovel for him. He'll tie your hands together above your head, slowly unzipping his pants in front of you. Forcing you to watch as he strokes himself above you, groaning out lewd little nothings like, "Oh fuck, 'feels soo good." while he smirks at your pouty little face and the way you begin to squirm underneath him impatiently. “See how hard I am? God, just imagine what it'd feel like inside you." His hand pumping uppp and doownnnn tortuously out of reach. "Tell me baby, would you want me to go hard and fast or reeaall slow and deep?" He fucking moans while you writhe helplessly against the mattress, your neglected cunt throbbing. "Dazai, please." "Poor thing." He mocks, still jerking himself to the sight of you looking up at him with pleading eyes. "You can do better than that though, can’t you angel? C'mon, make me believe you.”

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

There's no denying that Dazai's loud. You make him feel so fucking good and he wants you to know. He'll have a fistful of your hair, groaning out your name while your tongue swirls around his tip. "Fuuuck.” He whimpers. "Oh - my… god." Tiny hearts cloud his vision as he watches your throat fill with his length, the heavenly sounds of you gagging on him echoing across the room. Your eyes gloss over, spit pooling down your chin when you look back up at him, your tongue still pressed firmly against his base. "S'fucking gorgeous when you suck my cock." His praise only make you go faster, drawing out the prettiest whines from him. "Nnngh ~ don't stop, baby.” His grip tightens in your hair. "Don't. Fucking. Stop." His hips buck up with each syllable, his rhythm unrelenting as lecherous tears begin to spill down your cheeks. You keep going though, drowning in the noises he's making for you. "Right there, right there. 'm gonna - oh fuck. 'm -" You feel him twitch inside your mouth before a flood of warmth suddenly coats your throat. "Swallow f'me, angel." his voice is so heady and delirious, it comes out as more of a beg than a command, "Fuck... Yeah. Just like that, mmm, god, just like that." You take it all in, not letting one drop go to waste. "You're sucha good girl, you know that? Sucha good fucking girl."

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

Dazai gives the illusion that he's not jealous. That it doesn't bother him in the slightest when you go out with your friends or when you stay at the gym longer than you said you would. He does trust you - completely, actually. He knows you'd never do anything to jeopardize your relationship with him. It’s the outside world he doesn't trust. When you're driving home from work, he's watching you through the location sharing on your phone. He stares at the screen intently until he hears you pull into the driveway. When you’re at the bar, he knows the importance of girls’ time and he’d never spoil that. He simply wants to make sure no one is bothering you. He shows up, stealthily lingering in the background, watching his pretty girl laugh with her friends and dance with a drink in her hand the way she should. He loves seeing you have fun, he doesn’t want to take that away from you. He just follows behind your Uber to make sure the driver gets you to where you're going safely. He's seen too many tragedies between working for the PM and ADA, he can't take the risk of letting anything happen to you. So, he doesn't. There's absolutely nothing off limits to you. The entire world is yours. You just... might see a man in a suspicious looking jacket that bears an eerie resemblance to your boyfriend trailing behind you from time to time while you're out. It's only because he loves you.

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

Standing at a solid 5'11, Dazai's decently tall and slender - surprisingly muscular underneath all of those bandages. His waistline is so pretty and his hands? God, those long beautiful digits have brought you to your breaking point more than a few times. Besides excelling in dexterity, he's also packing. A perfect blend of length and girth that curves ever-so-slightly as if it was made for the sole purpose of hitting your g-spot.

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

Dazai would bend you over in in front of the Pope if you'd let him. He's unapologetically ready to go at any time. He can't help that you're just so gorgeous and that his eyes are always glued to the way your hips sway when you walk in front of him. He yearns for you constantly, even when you're not around. If he could have a 10-hour loop of you moaning his name that's what he'd use as white noise to fall asleep to each night. He can't help that his dick twitches at the thought of you. It's not his fault you're so pretty :((((

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Rest has never come easy for Dazai. He's tried every natural (and narcotic) sleep aide he could get his hands on. Put down multiple bottles of Pinot Grigio and still found himself up for days on end. Up until he met you, he didn't think it was possible for him to sleep for more than two hours at a time, but the first time you invited him over to your apartment changed everything. The two of you had been talking for hours - laughing and debating and sharing secrets over a bottle of cherry whiskey. He could've stayed up long past sunrise with you but when he noticed how tired your eyes were getting, he offered to take you to bed instead. Both of you stripped down into lazy pajamas. You, in an oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath. Dazai, in his boxers. You looked so peaceful when your head hit the pillow, he was sure that you'd be out soon, but to his surprise, your body had other plans. Your lips were soft against his, your hands gently roamed along his body as you pulled him on top of you. You smiled at the way his hair tickled your forehead. The sun was just barely creeping through your curtains, grazing your face as he slid into you, highlighting the pleasure that had taken over your features. It was all so hazy and comfortable. Your room filled with heady mid-morning noises while his body thrusted generously into yours. There was something so intimate about it that it nearly brought you to tears. You felt full in every sense of the word. When you were both good and spent, the two of you laid in the middle of your bed with your head nestled into his chest. He played with your hair, watching you fall asleep in his arms. He'd never felt more human than he did in that moment. His eyes closed, his mind turning off for what felt like the first time in years as he drifted off with you.

ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ

‎♡‧₊˚ here's chuuya's version if you're new here ‎♡‧₊˚

#rem writes #bsd dazai #dazai smut #dazai x fem reader #dazai osamu #soukoku #bsd smut #osamu x reader #dazai x reader #dazai headcanons #bsd headcanons #dazai fluff

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ham-st4r · 1 year ago

Text

Cyber sex - L.HS

Pairing: heeseung + female reader!

Warnings: heeseung is 32, smut, anal sex, unprotected sex, protected sex, phone sex, cam sex, oral both receiving, fingering, sexting, cum eating, ear licking, spitting, dirty talk, use of tinder, skype instagram and FaceTime, mutual masturbation, cursing, use of sex toys and lube, heeseung is cringey and clingy and awkward but it’s cute, angst, crying, fluff, heeseung says stop once but he doesn’t really want you to.

Genre: smut, long distance relationship, slightly inspired by cyber sex from doja cat.

Summary: after heeseung comes home from a long day at the office, he quickly gets bored and finds himself scrolling through the Tinder app that he made an account on a few days prior, and much to his surprise, he had gotten a notification that he had found a match.

Wordcount: 19,546k

All I can say is sorry for the long wait. I hope everyone will enjoy!

This is complete fiction by no means can you go on tinder and find yourself a hee so please stay away from that app (I mean it)

After a hard day's work, all heeseung wanted to do was take a shower and relax on his comfy king sized bed in his house, and that's exactly what he did once he got home.

He quickly made his way to the bathroom, stripping off his suit and tie before stepping into the warm stream of water, he sighs in relief as the water cascaded down his tired, aching muscles. Despite what most people may think, sitting down at a desk all day definitely takes its toll on one’s body.

He grabbed his favorite shampoo, lathering his hair with it and washing away all the stress from the day, the faint smell of mint clearing his sinuses as he massaged the sudsy liquid through his wet hair.

A few minutes later, he rinsed his hair out and lathered his body with matching body wash, covering himself in the fragranced gel. He then grabbed his body scrubber, washing himself thoroughly before turning off the water and stepping out of the shower.

He towel-dried his hair and body before walking to his bedroom and grabbing a clean white shirt and a pair of boxers from his drawer.

Once he was completely dry, he put his clothes on and hopped into bed, peeling back his covers and tucking himself in, reaching for the TV remote and clicking the power button, watching the first show that piqued his interest.

After an hour, he started to feel bored, which wasn’t unusual. He lived in his big house all alone and didn’t have any friends after graduating college. He just didn’t have time to hang out and party the way he used to. Not to say he really missed it though, back then he was a young adult, but now that he’s a grown man, he realized there was so much more to life than drinking and women.

On top of everything else, after 8-10 hour work days, he just didn’t have the energy to attend any social gatherings to meet new people, so needless to say, he was a homebody.

But living this kind of life every day after landing his dream job was starting to get old. Don’t get him wrong, he’d never go back to his wild college days, but thoughts of settling down and having a wife and a child or two or more definitely had been crossing his mind as he was reaching his mid-thirties.

He sighed and slumped further down in his bed, grabbing his phone once the TV show had ended.

Just then, a notification from Tinder popped up on the top of his screen.

What can he say? He was lonely and maybe even a little bit desperate at this point.

He clicked on the notification and, saw that he had a match, and nervously started a chat.

He debated on what to say as he chewed on his bottom lip in thought. Gosh, he hasn’t realized just how out of touch he was with everything.

Before he could leave a message, another alert on his phone went off,slightly startling him.

You: Hi handsome 💕

You nervously typed on your phone, waiting for the guy that swiped on you to respond. You were surprised someone that looked like him was even on Tinder. He was tall, good, looking a co-CEO, and a decent age, which was appealing cause you were tired of dealing with little boys that called themselves men, and to top it all off, he didn’t live that far away.

He made a sound similar to a mouse when he read the message, and he felt his face heat up at your blunt text. The last time he’s been called handsome was by his grandmom last Thanksgiving. “Relax,” he rolled his eyes at himself for acting like a preteen. It was just a simple text, and he was already getting flustered for no reason. You were just a girl that he met online.

A very, very pretty girl he met online.

Heeseung: Hey

He only realized just how boring and bland that sounded once he had hit send. “Ugh,” he buried his head into his pillows.

You happily looked at the notification on your phone, and you can’t lie how excited you got when he replied so quickly, but your excitement soon deflated when you saw his reply. Maybe you were already reading too much into it, but he didn’t seem to reciprocate your same excitement.

You: How are you?💕

You sent back, kinda unsure of how to approach him after his seemingly uninterested reply.

Heeseung: Good, how about you?👀

He sighed. If he wanted to keep you interested, he definitely needed to up his texting game.

You: Good

you reply simply.

“What happened to the little hearts?” He frowned slightly at your reply that wasn’t accompanied by emojis like the first few texts were, and now he was getting nervous because he didn’t know what to say next to keep you on the line.

He scrolled through your bio again, looking for something to strike up a conversation.

The first thing he saw was that you liked animals, so he quickly decided on that topic so he wouldn’t keep you waiting for a reply.

Heeseung: So you like animals?

You just blinked at your screen when you saw his message and no wonder he was single. If his conversation was this bad in real life, you wouldn’t be surprised if he died single.

You: Yeah hbu?

You reply back just as dryly.

Heeseung: Yes, I’m quite the animal myself😏

He attempted to flirt, but it came out sounding entirely wrong.

You read his reply over and over again, and you couldn’t reply with anything but.

You: ??????

If he could go back in time, he definitely would cause he was going to die of embarrassment any moment now.

Heeseung: I meant in bed…..

You: Oohhhhhhhhh

You replied in between a fit of laughter that was probably the lamest thing you have ever read, but you couldn’t deny it made you laugh, and somehow it was even kinda endearing in an odd way, not to mention the smirking face emoji he sent along with it was amusing, to say the least.

He face-palmed himself before texting you again.

Heeseung: You know what? I’m sorry, just forget about that.

Heeseung: Or better yet, I’ll just leave you alone.

Heeseung: Nice meeting you.

He stuffed his phone under his pillow, burying his face in his covers. “And that’s why you’re single,” he mutters to himself. He didn’t realize just how much he actually sucked at talking to women. It was a lot easier in high school, or maybe it was easier cause he looked better in high school, and the girls didn’t care that he had no game. Who knows? All he knows is that he just blew his chance with a beautiful girl who showed interest in him.

But it wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe someone else would swipe right on him, and he could learn from this god awful experience on this god awful app.

After your small fit of laughter died down, you texted him back.

You: I don’t think I’ll ever forget that one. I might even have to use it one day🤔😂

Heeseung was brought back to reality when his phone buzzed with another notification from you. He didn’t even want to read it, but he did anyway, and he cringed at himself even more.

Heeseung: Please don’t. Wouldn��t want you to willingly embarrass yourself like that,

He texted and didn’t even realize there was a small smile on his face. At least he made you laugh, though.

You: So, do you always refer to yourself as an animal when you talk to girls?

You chuckled slightly and got more comfortable on your bed now that the conversation was interesting.

Heeseung: Only pretty ones, was that better?👀

He asks you jokingly.

You: Maybe just a little bit

You smile, and you can’t believe he’s making you all giggly with his cheesy pickup lines.

Heeseung: I’ll try harder next time😂

You: Next time?

Heeseung: I mean, only if you want to talk again. If you don’t, I completely understand 😅 Haha,

He can’t lie the idea of messing up his shot with you wasn’t sitting all too well with him. You were exactly his type. You were both looking for the same thing, and he had to go and ruin it by saying something stupid.

You: If there’s a chance I can get some flirting tips, then I’d definitely like to talk again🤭

Heeseung: I can assure you there’s plenty more, but as you know you have to work for a tip so….

You: I’ve never been scared of a little work😉

Heeseung: I like that 😌

You: What else do you like?

Heeseung: Hmm… girls who like animals

You: You’re getting better already.

Heeseung: What can I say? I’m a fast learner.

You: What should I do with that information? 😝

Heeseung: That’s up to you, beautiful 😉

You: *Blushing*

Heeseung: And I’m not even trying hard.

You: Oh, is that so? Maybe you should🤭

Heeseung: Yeah? Want me to go harder, beautiful?

You’re not sure when the conversation steered in this direction, but you can’t say you weren’t enjoying it.

You: Go your hardest

you taunted.

Heeseung: I don’t think you’re sure of what you’re asking, doll face.

He had no idea where this newfound confidence was coming from, but he liked it.

You: Well, maybe you can show me sometime? Just so I can be sure.

He bit his lip at just the thought he’d definitely be down for that after getting to know you better.

Heeseung: I’d love to show you sometime.

The rest of heeseung’s night was spent talking and flirting with you. You both agreed to share Instagrams after hours of talking to each other and getting to know one another.

Luckily, he had redeemed himself along the way and was able to hold a smooth conversation without being too awkward.

You: It’s late. You should probably get some rest now since you have work in the morning.

You say to him.

Heeseung: Trying to get rid of me already? And here I am, thinking that we’re bonding :(

You: Noooooooo 🥺 It’s just you need to rest so your face can be even more handsome in the morning.

Heeseung: That was supposed to be my line😞

You: Well, you can use it on me tomorrow night

You reply, hoping that he will message you tomorrow cause you had a lot of fun talking to him.

Heeseung: I definitely will. Well, I guess you’re right. Make sure you get some rest, too, okay? I’ll try to message you before work if I don’t sleep in too late😂

You: Okay! Talk to you Tomorrow. Goodnight, heeseung sweet dreams💕

Heeseung: I can’t wait to talk to you again goodnight y/n 🩵

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t kicking his feet like a schoolgirl before bed.

➜ ➜ ➜

Heeseung: Morning, beautiful🩵

Heeseung texted you as soon as he opened his eyes. It was really early in the morning, so he wasn’t expecting you to reply so quickly, but he wasn’t complaining either.

You smile at the conversation from last night and his latest text.

You: Morning, handsome💕

He smiled and got out of bed, running the shower while he texted you back.

Heeseung: I’m headed off to work now, but I’ll message you again when I get off if you’re free later?👀

You: Me too. I get out at three, so anytime after then is fine if that’s fine with you?

Heeseung: That’s perfect for me! ☺️

You: Great! ttyl enjoy your shift💕

Heeseung: You too, pretty girl😉

You hearted the message he sent and scrambled to get ready for work with a smile on your face.

With your fast-paced life, it was hard to get out of the house truthfully, too many meetings stacked on business trips and extra hours during hectic weeks.

You felt like you never got a breather. You had gone about this same routine for years, and though you absolutely loved your job, even you had to admit you didn’t have a life outside of work.

And your friends made sure to remind you of that every girl's night out, always talking about what guy they fucked and if he was good in bed or not, and while you knew they were just having fun, it sucked not to have any steamy stories of your own so you could be apart of that conversation.

You hadn’t had any in ages, and the last time was so disappointing cause right when you were about to do the deed, he passed out from drinking too much.

And that wasn’t much of a story to tell.

You wanted some action but didn’t have the time for it, not just so you could be a part of the girl talk, but you really just wanted some interaction with the opposite gender, and after seeing one too many Tinder ads pop up in your face, it was like even the internet was telling you that you were single and pathetic and you needed help to find someone.

So, deciding to download the god-awful app after pondering on it for a while turned out to be not so god-awful, at least not yet. Anyways, you matched with a ton of guys, not to toot your own horn, but so far, only one caught your interest. His name was heeseung, and he was exactly your ideal type, so you matched with him. and you know It’s only been a day, but so far, so good.

You just hoped it stayed that way.

Heeseung: Hi! I’m on break. I hope your shift is going well so far.

He hit send, before he could even shut off his phone, you replied, making him smile instantly.

You: Hey, it’s going well, thanks for asking. What about you?

You smiled as you sent the text, feeling happy that he kept his word and texted you back like he said he would.

You: btw I’m on break too👀

You sent a follow-up message.

Heeseung: Oh nice, maybe we could talk for a bit if you’re okay with it?

You: Sure, I’m bored out of my mind🙄

Heeseung: Same. I’m always bored, and the food in the break room leaves a lot to be desired 😒

You: Sounds like we work at the same place 🤭

Heeseung: I wish. I wanna meet you 👀

One of your co-workers approached you before you could read his message. “Only two more hours,” he grumbled while making some coffee to get him through the rest of the day.

“We’ll make it. We always do,” you chuckled as he sighed and rested his hands on his head while his coffee was brewing.

Heeseung: I’m sorry, that was probably too soon

He sends back when he sees that you stopped responding even though his message was clearly left on seen.

Heeseung: I swear I’m not a creep or anything like that

He sighed after realizing that made him sound creepier.

Heeseung: Never mind that last message and the one before that 😬

He triple texted cause he was overthinking things. He didn’t think that maybe you might have gotten busy with something, and that’s why you didn’t reply immediately.

You looked back down to your screen, reading the three messages he sent. Your heart rate increased as you read the first message he actually wanted to meet you? You definitely weren’t expecting that, but like he said, it was a bit too soon to meet. Plus, he lives four hours away from you, and you’re not sure when you could get time off to see him.

You: you’re so cute💕

He was literally apologizing for no reason. Besides, isn’t it like normal to want to meet someone you met online? Honestly, it wasn’t creepy at all, just a little soon and a bit sudden.

Heeseung: 😳

His initial panic disappeared as soon as he read your last text. Thank god you didn’t think he was a weirdo or some kind of creeper.

You: I wanna meet you too, but maybe let’s get to know each other a little better first

Heeseung: Of course! Maybe if you want, we could call each other when you get off work?

You smiled at the thought of hearing what he sounded like. You wondered if his voice would match his angelic face while in your daydream. He started to overthink yet again when you didn’t reply to him immediately.

Heeseung: Only if you’re like comfortable with it. If not, I completely understand. I just wouldn’t want to make you feel weird or anything like that.

Before he sent a whole other thread of text, he willed himself to stop typing and going completely overboard.

You: My break is up, ttyl cutie. I can’t wait to hear your voice 😉

Heeseung: You got it!

You giggled at the odd reply, but still, it was undoubtedly cute.

“Is that a yes? I think that’s a yes.” he smiled and looked at his watch, showing him the time and that he had gone a minute over his break. “Shit,” he mutters, clocking in and hoping he wouldn’t get dinged for it.

➜➜➜

You both arrived home and took showers before plopping into bed, completely tired and exhausted minds riddled with meetings and reports upon a slew of other things.

Heeseung was waiting for the clock to strike three while you sat in bed waiting for your phone screen to light up with his call.

Five minutes past two, he called you, and much to your enjoyment, his voice sounded as heavenly as he looked. You and heeseung started chatting over Skype after exchanging phone numbers prior in the evening.

You both talked about your day and the problems you faced at work and soon transitioned into a new topic to learn more about each other.

“So, what else do you like other than animals?” He chuckles on the other end of the call, thinking about your first encounter with him. He felt lucky that you even stuck around after that foolishness.

“Mmm, well, a friend of mine named y/n met this guy the other night. His name is heeseung, and she likes him a lot, but she doesn’t know if he likes her.” You giggle, pretending that you’re not talking about yourself.

“Is that so?” He hums and plays your little game. “Crazy enough, I know this guy named heeseung that just so happens to like a girl named Y/n. In fact, he said he’s head over heels for her.” You can tell he was smiling just by the sound of his voice.

“She’s such a lucky girl,” you say seductively, half intentional, half unintentional.

“You think so?” He immediately matches your playful flirtatious tone.

“Yes,” you whisper the tiniest hint of a moan at the end.

“And why’s that beautiful?” He bites his lips softly.

“Hmm,” you pretend to hum in thought, but anyone with ears could clearly hear you were moaning. “Cause he’s handsome, tall with a pretty voice and even prettier eyes.” You don’t know what exactly came over you so suddenly, but you blamed it on not having any interaction with men for so long and left it at that.

“I guess she is lucky, huh?” He chuckles, trying to mask how flustered he was by your words. “He’s lucky too, you know?”

“How?” You reply quickly, desperate to find out exactly what he thinks about you.

“She’s beautiful, has all the same interests as him, unintentionally cute, and not to mention she has the perfect body.” his heart wasn’t the only one racing after saying something so straightforward on the second day of knowing you.

“How perfect?” Your throat feels dry as you whisper the words into your speaker.

“So perfect,” he breathed out, contemplating if he should continue this, but you started the flirty conversation, so he assumed it would be okay with you. “The type of body that I fantasize about.”

“What do you fantasize about? Tell me what you’d do to me?” You finally break your character, and you clearly hear his breath hitch on the other end.

“I’d lay you out on my bed, admire every inch of your perfectly sculpted body, then I’d undress you slowly, one piece of clothing at a time, kissing, sucking, and licking every single inch of you, whispering sweet nothings before eating your precious little pussy and savoring every last drop” he curses to himself lowly the image of you like that now swirling around in his brain. “And that’s just the start, beautiful.”

Embarrassingly enough, you could feel a slight tingle down there just from his voice alone, and he’d be lying if he said something wasn’t stirring below his waistband. “Tell me more.” You feel so easy and desperate after just knowing him for two days you’re practically throwing yourself at him, but you just can’t help it, and you also can’t help the way your hand slipped inside your underwear. “Please,” you whisper, and he audibly gulps from the way your tone has completely changed since the call started.

“Then I’d make you cum on my fingers, on my tongue, and lastly, my cock. You’d like that right feeling my cock stroking deep in your pretty pussy” There’s no denying that he’s hard, especially with the way you’re practically moaning while he talks to you, and it only dawned on him what was actually going on when your moans increased in volume, and your breathing had quickened. “Wait, are you?” he says, completely shocked. If you were doing what he was ninety-nine point nine percent sure you were doing, he was going to lose his mind. “Are you touching yourself?”

Your hand comes to a complete stop when you hear him say that. You quickly take your hand out of your underwear and clamp your legs shut as guilt and shame washes over you. “S-sorry,” you quickly apologize for your behavior. You felt terrible cause he wasn’t even aware of what you were doing while he was on the other end. You could only imagine what he was thinking about you after that shameful act you just committed.

Except he was thinking, what the fuck exactly were you apologizing for? He felt like he was on cloud nine. The fact he was able to turn you on to the point that you wanted to touch yourself was beyond huge for him. He had no idea anyone would even find his dirty talk attractive, let alone to the point of masturbating to it. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. Just tell me about it next time so I can do it with you.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, embarrassed, not knowing what to say next, but Heeseung knew exactly what to say.

“Now pretty, tell me, are you wet?” He moves his blankets back to slowly palm himself over his boxers.

“Yes,” a shaky breath could be heard from him after your response.

“Fuck keep touching yourself pretty wouldn’t want you waiting too long to make yourself feel good. Can I touch myself, too?” He asks you for permission.

The thought of him wanting to touch himself for you was making your head spin already. “Yes, heeseung, please touch your cock for me” You hear him almost whimper, and it makes you throb so hard down there as you continue fondling yourself to his voice.

“Okay.” He hastily reached into his drawer, pulling out a good size bottle of lube, flicking the cap open before pulling down his boxers, holding the bottle above his tip, and squeezing a nice amount onto his shaft before he spreads it around, covering his entire length. “Anything in particular you’d like me to do?” He hisses as he slowly works his cock up and down. He feels so shameless for doing this, but he can’t even care anymore. His mind is too clouded with lust, and your voice sounded too good for him to stop.

“Rub the tip.” You bit your lip as you buck your hips into your palm.

“Fuck” he whines and does as you say. “It feels so good.” he slowly cups his palm over his sensitive tip, rubbing the head like you asked him to. “Are you fingering yourself?” He breathes out, eyes falling shut from the pleasure his right hand gives him.

“N-no, just rubbing.” he twitches in his palm at that, imagining how pretty you must look while pleasing yourself.

“Play with your little hole, stick your fingers inside, and pretend that it’s me fucking you open” Your eyes rolled back immediately as you stuffed your fingers deep inside you, thinking about his cock instead.

“Heeseung,” the moan of his name nearly makes him cum on the spot.

“Does my cock feel good?” He grunts out.

“Mmm, yes, so good, so fucking big and thick” The moan you let out was absolutely obscene, but he loved every last second of it.

“Yeah? You like my big cock stretching you out, pretty?”

“Yes,” you whine, feeling your legs shaking as you got close.

“Me too” he grips his cock tightly, trying to mimic the way you’d feel around him. “Love splitting your tight cunt open with my cock feels so fucking good” he jerks himself faster, and you can hear the wet slippery sounds of his hand moving up and down on his dick.

“Want your cum” you beg shamelessly as your walls tighten around your fingers, too far gone to even try to stop the filth coming from your mouth.

“Cum on my cock, and I’ll give you my cum, pretty,” he says, knowing he’s right on the edge. Even though you weren’t physically together, he still wanted to make you cum first.

“Cumming!” You sped up the pace of your fingers and finally reached your end as the pleasure filtered through your body in waves.

“Gonna take this cum?” He groans.

“Yes, heeseung,” you whine, and not a second later, his cum is spilling all over his chest in long hot ropes.

“Take it pretty. Take it all like a good girl.” he rubs out every single drop, moaning and panting in exhaustion mixed with pleasure.

You can’t help but moan with him as you caress your clit till you're satisfied.

Once your guy's moans fade out into silence and your minds clear, there’s a hint of awkwardness.

The silence continues cause you’re both deep in thought about what just transpired.

He hopes you don’t think he’s just someone who’s nasty and has phone sex with random girls after just meeting them because he doesn’t. You were his first and probably would be his only. There was just something about you that he couldn’t say no to. He wanted to blame it on his nonexistent love life, but that just wasn’t the case.

You, on the other hand, were freaking out because what if he thought you were just some slut that went around having phone sex and flirting with guys you just met on Tinder? You really hoped he didn’t get the wrong idea about you despite literally having phone sex with a guy you just met, but heeseung somehow felt different. How could you not touch yourself to a voice as seductive as his? It’s not your fault that he was literally the epitome of perfection.

“I’ve never done that before,” he finally says something, knocking you out of your intrusive thoughts.

“Me neither,” you tell him, and the relief you both feel is enough to wipe away any awkwardness or apprehension about each other that was once there.

“I liked it,” he chuckles bashfully as a smile climbs up your lips.

“Me too,” you reply with the same shyness as him.

“That’s good to know,” he smiled, and that was all he needed to hear.

➜➜➜

“Fuck baby, I’m so fucking close,” heeseung moans, and you’re not far off either.

You had just gotten off of work, and since the first time you both had phone sex, you’d been doing it every time when you got off work, and it was better and better each time, especially when you found out about the toy collection you both owned.

Heeseung was currently balls deep in his clear flesh light, restlessly pounding into the toy pretending it was your pretty pussy instead.

Much like him, you had a huge clear dildo buried to the hilt inside you while you played with your clit. “Mmm,” you moaned, biting on your lip when a risky idea popped into your head. “I wanna see you,” you say without even thinking twice about it.

Heeseung halts his movements, thinking he heard you wrong, but he knows he didn’t. “Me too, baby,” when he responds, your heart beats frantically in your chest. Not being able to hold your excitement, you prop yourself up, making sure your surroundings are presentable before requesting to FaceTime him.

He scrambles to quickly find a good angle, not expecting you to request a video call, so soon he connects the call, and you’re met with a view of his neck, and downwards you hold your phone, giving him a clear view of the toy slowly sliding in and out of you.

You do your best to focus on fucking yourself, but it’s hard when you’re eyeing his body up and down. He looked so much fucking better than what you imagined, and so did his cock. He was literally huge.

His deep voice brings you somewhat back to reality. “Wish you were here right now” he sat on his knees, covering his cock with the clear flashlight, slowly fucking it until his red-hued tip poked through, leaving your mouth watering and your pussy creaming. “I’d fuck that creamy little pussy so good” he easily matched the pace of your dildo, trying to make it feel as real as possible. “Look at your thirsty little pussy sucking that cock right in, taking it real nice and deep, yeah?”

“Fuck heeseung” You did your best to keep your camera in focus, but it was hard to when your body was shaking with so much pleasure.

“Pull it all the way out and fuck it back in pretty. Show me how hard you like it.” Your back arched as you slithered the toy out of your hole only to shove it back in, and you gasped out a loud moan when you stuffed yourself full.

He mimics your rough pace. “Faster,” he commands while he snaps his hips into the fleshlight.

“Oh! H-heeseung,” you babble out his name, going faster and harder just the way he wanted you to, and none of your late-night sessions alone in your room ever felt as good as this.

“F-faster,” he whines, pushing the toy further into his mattress as his body starts to feel sore, but he needs to see your pussy coming around that toy before he can cum.

Tears well in your eyes from the pleasure. You barely feel coherent, and you’re not even sure if your camera is still on. All you know is that you’re seconds away from coming.

“Fuck me, heeseung,” your voice vibrates in your throat, and you come hard around the dildo, squeezing it tightly as your orgasm takes control of your body.

“Fuck y/n fuck” his own voice sounds strained, and you can hear that he’s close from all the moaning and heavy breathing. He quickly pulls out and grabs his camera. You catch a faint image of his face before he flips his phone showing his cum shot to you. “Wanna cum in you so bad,” he whines and grips his base jerking out the rest of his milky release for your eyes to see, and you wish it was inside of you instead.

He falls on his bed, avoiding his cum soaked sheets holding his phone normally so you can see his bottom half as his cock starts going soft between his pretty legs.

He nearly moans when he sees you pulling the dildo out of your hole. It’s soaked in your cum, and he swears he’s never wanted to be anything more than that stupid toy right now.

Your hole continues to pulse as more white dribbles out. “Such a pretty hole,” he says, and it makes you feel shy knowing that he’s seeing you up so close and personal. “That was so hot,” he comments. Once you turn off your camera and go to clean yourself, he can’t even see you, yet you’re brushing like crazy.

“You are too,” you say shyly, and he’s happy you turned off your camera because now he’s a blushing mess.

“I’ve never been so jealous of an inanimate object,” he sighs, folding his sheets and tossing them in the laundry bin in the corner of his room. “I need you soaking my cock like that baby, not some stupid toy,” he whines, and you laugh.

“Hee, stop it.” You make your way to the bathroom cause after that, you definitely needed a shower and sheet change.

“Okay, okay, anyways, do you wanna shower with me?” You’re not even sure why he’s asking. Of course, you wanted to. It’s been your little routine for the past couple of weeks after you both agreed cause it made you feel like you were actually with each other.

“Of course, hee,” he swears. His heart melts every time he hears you say that little nickname you gave him.

He props his phone in the window seal, requesting to FaceTime you again.

You nervously bite your lip. You never face timed in the shower before.

After three rings, he grows a little nervous, thinking he once again overstepped his boundaries. He should have asked before just FaceTiming you. He frowns after a few more rings, knowing you’re not going to pick up. He doesn’t know why you’re not answering him, though, it’s not like you haven’t seen each other naked before, but maybe you’re just into him for cyber sex, and maybe he’s way more into you than you are into him, those thoughts make him overthink, but luckily you answer him before he could doubt everything you guys have done up to this point. “Hi, pretty,” he said excitedly and waved at you like a little kid.

“Hey, cutie,” he steps out of frame doing a little happy dance, but what he didn’t know is that you can see him in the reflection of the mirrors in his bathroom.

You couldn’t help but laugh. He just kept getting cuter by the day.

You both silently wait for each other to get into the shower, and when you do, he’s asking you a question that, In his mind, was long overdue. “So,” he starts and lathers his hair with shampoo. “It’s been a while since we have known each other correct?”

“Correct,” you smile, already knowing exactly where this is headed.

“And we’ve learned more about each other.” he plays with the suds from his hair, making a goofy face into the camera that makes you laugh.

“A lot more,” you reply, working the conditioner through your hair.

“Yes,” he chuckles at the double meaning of your words. “So we should meet, what do you say? Nothing too extreme, but I was thinking something nice. You and me have the weekend off, so I thought now is the perfect time.”

“Sure,” you chirp, and you both share warm smiles before chatting about random things here and there.

Once you’re all done showering, you both climb into bed, nearly running on empty batteries on your phones.

Neither of you wanted to hang up, but the sleepiness was taking over fast. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay baby?”

“Okay, goodnight, hee.” His eyelids droop even further, and he’s just able to make out your reply before he passes out.

“Night night, pretty.” You’re not even sure if you hung up or if he did, but before you could think about it, you were already drifting off to sleep.

➜➜➜

Heeseung: Morning, pretty.

You smile at your phone when you hear the alert, already knowing who it was this early in the morning. Another sound chimes before you can look at the first message.

Heeseung: Missing you

He sent along with three attachments, and he nearly gave you a heart attack because someone could have easily looked over your shoulder and seen him in all his glory.

You quickly turn down the brightness after analyzing those photos in far too much detail.

You: You can’t send me stuff like that at work😐

Your reaction wasn’t exactly what he was expecting, but he should have known better than to send that to you at your workplace. You could have gotten in trouble.

Heeseung: Sorry baby☹️ just thought you might like it. I won’t do it again

Why was he so adorable? You nearly squealed from his cuteness.

You: Hee baby, I did like it, but maybe next time, send it while I’m on break. Someone could have seen you, and I don’t want anyone seeing you.

He felt warm from your reply. It was cute to him that you wanted him all for yourself, and he felt the same way about you.

Heeseung: Don’t worry, I’m all yours, pretty.

You: Good.

You answer him quickly, taking one last look at the photos he sent you. The cam didn’t do him much justice cause his cock looked even prettier in those photos.

You: I’ll let you get back to work.

He hides his phone under his desk before he gets scolded for not paying attention to the meeting he is currently in.

Not even five minutes later, the dampness in your panties was unbearable, so you went to the bathroom to take them off.

You: Hee, I can’t focus 😩

You sent him. When he felt the buzz on his thigh, he couldn’t help but unlock his phone and check your message.

He smirks at the text.

Heeseung: You liked it that much, huh, baby?😉

You: Of course🥺 I can’t even wear my underwear 'cause they’re so wet

You whined in frustration. You needed him so badly right now.

He flicked his eyes across the room, making sure no one noticed him.

Heeseung: You’re wet?”

He loosened his tie and began impatiently bouncing his leg up and down.

You couldn’t believe him. What the hell did he expect after sending you not one, not two, but three whole pictures of himself?

You: Hee.. I need you.

Heeseung: Baby…

He responds, and maybe this wasn’t as cute of an idea as he once thought cause he now had a boner in the middle of his meeting.

You: Please, heeseung, I’m so 💦

You sent, knowing that would get him riled up, but it’s only payback, though.

Heeseung: Fuck baby, don’t do that. I’m in a meeting. I’ll talk to you later.

He quietly puts his phone away.

You frowned. Of course, he’d start something he couldn’t finish. Looks like you were just going to have to do the rest of your shift with a puddle between your legs.

➜➜➜

Heeseung: Baby, I just got home. What are you up to?

He sat down on his bed, undressing himself, not bothering to shut off his phone cause he knew you’d respond right away.

After a few minutes with no reply from you, he squints at his phone, finding it odd you haven’t replied yet.

Heeseung: Baby~👀?

Heeseung: are you there?👀

You saw his messages, but you weren’t going to read them as payback for what he did to you earlier.

Heeseung: Did you go to sleep? If so, sweet dreams, baby talk to you later tonight😘

It was hard not to reply to him, but you weren’t going to keep it going for much longer. You just wanted to tease him a little.

After two hours, heeseung was having a hard time not hearing from you. It’s not like he couldn’t go without talking to you, but he was accustomed to it, and now he was missing it.

Heeseung: I hope you’re sleeping well, baby. Wake up soon, though, cause I miss you already 🥺❤️

Why did he have to make this so hard? Ugh, him calling you baby was your ultimate weakness. So you gave up and just messaged him back.

You: I miss you too, hee🩵

He nearly dove on his bed when he heard the alert go off.

He didn’t bother texting you. Instead, he called you, wanting to hear your sweet, sweet voice. “Hi,” he nearly keels over at the sound that he’s grown to love so much. Your voice was so so pretty.

“Hey baby,” he sighs dreamily, closing his eyes softly, listening to your soothing voice until it wasn’t so soothing, and his eyes shot wide open in panic.

“I’m mad at you,” you tell him, and he sits up straight.

“Baby? Why? What did I do?” He starts panicking right away, and you can’t help but laugh. “Why are you laughing? If I hurt you, it’s not funny,” he pouts.

“Hee, I’m kidding. Calm down. I was trying to pretend that I was mad at you and ignore you this whole time because of what you did to me this morning,” you groan and throw yourself on the bed.

“You did? So you weren’t asleep? Baby, you’re mean,” he fake cries.

“Me?! Hee, you’re mean, you left me wet all day.” Kicking your feet, you whine loudly, making him chuckle. “And you’re laughing at me?!”

“Sorry baby,” you can still hear him laughing. “I didn’t make you wet, though.” You wanted to jump through the speaker and smack him for trying to play innocent. “You chose to get wet.”

“So when I send pics tomorrow while you’re at work, just remember it’s you choosing to get hard.” You hung up the phone without giving him a chance to respond.

“What! Baby, no, I’m sorry I didn’t me-“ he looks down at his phone, seeing the call had disconnected. “Uh oh”

➜➜➜

Heeseung’s hands were literally sweating. He was so nervous if you did indeed send him pics, he didn’t know what he was going to do. It didn’t take much to get him going, and he’s sure just a simple pic of your panty line could make him hard. It’s not like he was that easy. It’s just you were that fucking sexy to him.

The morning went by smoothly. You had already texted each other your good mornings, and he figured you had forgotten about what you said last night.

Until the last hour of his shift, he gulped. Hearing the alert on his phone, he contemplated not even picking it up, but what if you needed something and it was important?

With a heavy sigh, he hides his phone screen and opens up your message. “Fuck” he moans quietly and looks left and right, making sure that no one heard him. He left his chair and immediately went to the men’s room. “Fuck fuck fuck” he curses, locking himself in the bathroom, and that’s what he gets for teasing you like that the day before.

Heeseung: Guess who’s in the bathroom as hard as a rock😐🪨

You giggle at your screen, texting him back.

You: No? Who?”

You felt like the devil for doing that to him, but he could take a little payback.

Heeseung: Not funny, y/n😔

You: Aww, my poor little bunny,🩵

He grins at the new nickname, but he’s still semi-upset with you.

Heeseung: Come help your little bunny👀🥵

You laugh. There’s no way you could leave work and drive hours for him even though you really, really wanted to.

You: No way, hee, just accept your demise.

You hide your phone, making sure no one sees you.

Heeseung: Fine, but baby, why are you so wet in those pictures? You didn’t get off without me, did you?🤨

If you did, he so wasn’t going to let you get away with that.

You: I might have looked at the pics you sent👀

Shit, he wished he never even asked because the idea of you looking at his pics and getting wet made his cock twitch.

Heeseung: You’re so naughty😏

The throbbing between his legs was becoming unbearable for him, but he knew he couldn’t do anything without you.

You: I get it from you😉 Now, bunny. I have a meeting to attend ttyl.

Heeseung: Baby… don’t leave me like this 😩🫠 at least call me when you get home so we can get freaky on camera.

You laugh, reading his last message, and left him on seen, leaving him to find out a way to get his boner to go down all by himself.

➜➜➜

You asked to get off earlier than usual, and luckily, your boss let you go. You wanted to have a little extra time before heeseung got home cause you were going to surprise him.

Except you were nervous as heck because you weren’t sure if you were doing too much, but you guess you’d find out about that soon.

When heeseung called you after he got off work, the last thing on his mind was to see your ass up, barely anything on and a clear diamond plug inside your tight hole and a dildo in the other though it was unexpected, but, it most definitely wasn’t unappreciated. “Oh my god, baby,” he trailed off at a complete loss for words.

You looked so fucking perfect.

“You like?” You say, looking back at the camera as you bite your lip and slowly bounce up and down on the dildo.

He nearly choked on air while he tried to answer. He rushed to his bedroom, quickly yanking off his jacket and undoing his belt. You laugh when you find out that he liked it, a feeling of relief washing over you. “Yes baby, you look so pretty.” he looks at you with what you could only describe as heart eyes. “I'm already so hard.” You hear him unzip his slacks, but you quickly stop him.

“Ah ah, no touching,” you chuckle softly at his expression.

“Please don’t do this to me” he throws his head back against the headboard feeling like he was going to explode if he didn’t cum soon.

“Hmm, fine, I suppose I’ll let you off this time. Go ahead, hee, get yourself off, cutie,” you moan when you come down on the dildo.

“Thank you” he smiled faintly and quickly pulled down his pants and underwear in one go turning the camera around so he could show you his hard leaking cock.

“Hee,” you whimper at the sight of his cock. No matter what, you knew nothing would feel as good as him inside you.

“Ride it,” he spits in his palm and wraps it around his thick cock, slow stroking it.

You lift yourself off the dildo, hearing him groan as you clench down on the tip. “So fucking creamy, baby” he tilts his head slightly and bites on his lip, mesmerized by the thick strings of arousal that coat the silicone toy.

“Just for you,” you purse your lips, unable to keep yourself from bouncing faster. He hated how that toy got to feel you, and he didn’t.

“God, I can’t wait to see you in person gonna fuck you so much better than that stupid toy” he picks up the pace with you gradually so you can both cum together.

“I know you will,” you whisper now, desperately fucking yourself onto the dildo.

“Shit,” he couldn’t take his eyes off the clear stud that was nestled deep inside you, shining every time you bouched and the light hit it just right, and now he had not one but two toys to be jealous of. “Your ass is so pretty” his eyes roll back into his head as he feels the heat pooling in his abdomen. He knows what that’s a sign of, but he doesn’t want to cum so soon. “I bet you’d like it if I fingered that tight little hole while I fucked you hard and deep, yeah?”

“Mmm yes hee would you fuck my ass too?” You rubbed over the plug, gasping as you pushed it inside you further.

He growls when he hears your naughty request. He’s never tried anal before, but he’d love to try it with you first. The idea sounded so sexy to him. “I would. Fuck, wanna feel both your holes around me so fucking bad, baby” he could barely contain himself watching the way you swallowed up that toy and how well it stretched you out, but he knew he’d stretch you out so much more that you’d need an even bigger toy by the time he was done with you. “You’re gonna make me cum” he whispers, moaning while pumping his dick faster.

“Want your cum on my ass,” you cry out, legs shaking and sore as you reach the point of no return, and that knot inside you is seconds away from breaking.

“Oh- fuck” he pants heavily, and you gasp as his cum shoots out, some of it splashing onto his camera lens, but that makes it so much hotter.

“Hee,” you breathe out. Just imagining him cumming on you makes you unravel, and your orgasm washes over you in tingling waves of pleasure. “Oh yes,” you moan, falling forward to give your legs a break as you roll your hips and ride out your high.

“Keep going,” he grunts while the last beads of cum bubble out of his sensitive tip. “Mmm fuck” he hisses, body shuddering from the intensity.

You whine into your pillow, trying to catch your breath, the butt plug definitely highlighting the pleasure as you rock back and forth until you can’t anymore, and the exhaustion finally takes over.

You got off the toy and laid flat on your bed, panting and sweaty. “I loved the surprise, baby.” heeseung flips his camera so you can make out his sweet features as he stares at you with a lazy smile and half open lids.

“I’m glad.” You smile tiredly, but it drops when you see him frown. “What’s wrong hee?” You whisper softly.

Even with his blankets pulled up and hugging his pillow, it still feels cold and empty without you there. “I wanna cuddle with you so bad. You’re gonna make me drive hours to hold you in my arms, baby,” you giggle, and he pouts. “I’m serious.”

“I know, bunny, just two more days, though, okay?”

“Okay,” he grumbles. “I want to take a shower with you, and I want to stay on the phone till we fall asleep,” he demands in the cutest way ever.

“Whatever you want, bun” he kisses his camera lens, and that’s when you knew he really couldn’t wait to see you. “Mwah,” you kissed him back, and the smile on his face made you think that he might really be the one for you, but you wouldn’t blow things out of proportion because you still had to meet him first and see how things go cause you didn’t want to take things too fast.

Once you both got into bed, you came up with a brilliant idea. “We shouldn’t talk to each other till we meet.”

“What? No, no, no, I don’t wanna do that.” he shakes his head back and forth like a child.

“Bun, think about it. It’ll be like not looking at the groom before the wedding,” you say, ecstatic about your idea.

“We’re not getting married,” he deadpanned.

“Fine,” you mumble.

“Wait, baby, we can do that if you want. It would make seeing you even more exciting if that’s possible.”

“See!” You flop down and get into bed.

“Yeah, I see your point,” he sighs, just staring at your beautiful face on his phone screen.

“I can’t wait till the weekend,” he smiles, happy that you’re just as excited as him. He could really see you two working out. Same hobbies, same interests, and a decent bond after just two months, not to mention how comfortable with each other you both already were, sure things were going a bit fast but it didn’t feel wrong and everything was going great and the fact you even liked him back was a miracle in his eyes.

“Me neither, baby, but for right now, close those little eyes and get some sleep, okay, pretty.”

“Okay,” your eyes flutter shut softly.

He makes kissy noises, and despite you feeling embarrassed by his behavior, you do it back, which makes his heart beat for you just a little bit faster. “Goodnight, pretty.”

“Nighty night, bun.” Only time would tell how things would go between you two, but it looked very promising.

➜➜➜

Like you both agreed, neither of you faced time or called each other for the rest of the week. It was hard, but you both knew it’d be worth it in the end.

Heeseung had already packed the night prior and was on his way to see you first thing in the morning. He was so excited he literally couldn’t wait, and neither could you. Every minute felt like an hour waiting for his arrival.

But soon, the clock struck seven, the time he said he’d arrive, and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest when you saw his black Mercedes’ pull up to your driveway. You smoothed out your black dress, taking a long, deep breath as he knocked softly on your door.

He nervously played with the petals on the flowers he bought you while waiting for you to answer.

When you answered, he felt like the breath got sucked out of him. He was literally in awe of seeing you in person for the first time. “Hi, pretty,” he smiles widely, greeting you like he normally would over the phone. And it wasn’t awkward at all seeing you, but it was definitely exciting.

“Hey, hee.” You take in his features, and he looked just the same in person, if not better, and you think not talking to him for those few days really did make meeting him all the better, and he’d have to agree with you on that.

“Baby, you look so beautiful in person,” he says softly.

“So do you.” You complement him shyly. He looked amazing in his all-black suit. You could barely contain yourself from jumping on him.

“Thanks.” He looks down, playing with the flowers once more. “I bought you these. I hope you’re not allergic.” he extends them out to you.

You shake your head back and forth lightly. “Thank you. Come in,” he steps in, taking a short look around.

“I like your place. It’s nice.” You place the flowers in a vase on your table, smiling fondly at them.

“Thank you.” You turn to him and walk over to where he is standing as he looks at you up and down. “So where to?”

“You’ll see.” he grabs your hand, leading you outside your house. Opening the car door for you like a true gentleman, and that was already a green flag.

Once he gets in the driver's side, he sets the navigation to the destination of a small but fancy restaurant. It was outdoors, and he thought it would be more romantic for your first meeting than dining inside around a bunch of people.

At dinner, you both talked like normal nothing was weird or awkward. Everything seemed like you two had known each other for years. It was so casual, and a big plus was you weren’t overdressed like you had worried about when you were getting ready.

And since you were so comfortable around him, you felt bold enough to pull your next move, something you only thought of a few hours before he arrived at your place. “Open your hand,” you said to him after you two had finished eating dinner and dessert, and now you were having a few drinks before heading back home.

“What do you have for me?” he smiles and opens his hand for you to place the tiny controller in.

“Look and see.” his expression was priceless as he looked up at you, not expecting this at all.

“Baby…” his words get swooped away in the wind, and he can’t even begin to comprehend what’s happening, but it all becomes clear when he presses the power button, setting off soft vibrations inside you that make you gasp and shift in your chair slightly.

He turns up the speed higher, and your mouth gapes open, eyes nearly turning completely white as you throw your head back in pleasure, and the pulsations in both your holes begin to make your legs shake. “Fuck, we have to go now” he stands up, offering you his hand to lead you out of the restaurant before he loses himself. “Wait, is it okay with you?” He stares at you, big, round eyes showing nothing but care and you nod your head shyly, feeling beyond lucky to have found someone like him.

After opening his car door for you, he scrambles to the driver's side impatiently, gripping and struggling to put on his seat belt. You giggle softly as he presses the start button with shaky hands. He paused for a moment and took a deep breath before pulling out of the parking lot and heading straight for your place. “I can’t wait to have you baby. You have no idea.” he placed his hand on your thigh, trailing it up your skirt and leaning over the console to place a kiss on your cheek when he reached a red light.

“I think I have an idea.” You smirk and grip his wrist, placing his warm hand up your skirt and between your legs. He gasps when he feels the river flowing out of you, and he can’t help but rub you while he’s driving. “Hee,” you whisper, and he takes his eyes off the road occasionally to watch your expressions while he thumbs at your clit.

“Patience baby, gotta take it slow” he removed his hand from under your skirt, and you whined from the loss of touch, but you knew it was better this way, even if you did feel like cumming on the spot when he smirked at you and sucked your wetness off his fingers.

He turned the vibration up to full speed without warning, and your back arched off the seat, mouth parting in a lewd gasp. “Fuck” You turned to him, eyes already lidded and filled with lust as you looked between his legs seeing his thick bulge poke out from his dress pants, and you couldn’t help but take him in your hand so you could feel just how thick he really was.

“Gonna be inside you real soon, pretty,” he groans when you squeeze him in your tiny hand. “Look at you so dirty, baby. Can’t wait for me to fuck you, huh? Already stretched and ready for my cock” you hum as a response, already feeling dumb from his words mixed with your holes being stuffed to the brim.

“Mmph yeah,” you bit your lip, stroking his cock as your mouth waters. You felt so desperate for him to fill you up. You’ve waited months for this, and just minutes away from your house, he was finally going to be all yours.

“Fuck” he curses and presses the gas. There was no one on the street anyway, and he needed to be inside you at least ten minutes ago.

Within a few more minutes, he arrives, yanking his seat belt off. He rushes over to get the door for you, and you yelp in surprise when he hooks his arm around your back and just below your knees, carrying you up to your home.

You quickly type in the password, allowing the both of you to enter. “Bedroom?” He nibbles on your ear while you kick off your heels at the door, and he does the same with his shoes.

“Upstairs,” you mumble, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck as he takes you to your bedroom. He quickly opens the door, practically slamming it shut with his foot and laying you on the bed.

You take the liberty of taking off your skirt, leaving you in just your panties while he rips open his shirt and easily strips down to nothing but his Calvin Klein boxers. “It’s so big.” Your heart thumps over and over as you take in the sight. No video call could have ever prepared you for this.

“Yeah? Like it?” He bites on his lip to contain how happy your words actually made him. You nod, eyes still heavily trained on his dick print. “Baby, you’re even more perfect in fucking person,” he moans shamelessly at the sight of your breasts, and his body is instantly drawn towards yours on the bed, remote still in hand. He lowers the vibrations, giving you a break from the intensity. “I can’t believe this is actually happening,” he whispers, just focusing on the moment while you twirl your hands in his hair.

“Me neither.” Your smile makes his heart race, and before he gets too sentimental and kills the mood, he placed his lips on yours, kissing you like you were his first kiss ever. “You’re so cute, bun.”

He hides his face in your neck, kissing your pulse. At the same time, you sigh, indulging in his soft touch as he moves his head downward, his tongue poking out, leaving snail-like trails of saliva on your perky breasts. When you wrap your legs around his waist, he balls the sheets in his fist, rutting his bulge against your core. The soft vibrations of the toy shooting through his dick automatically make him whimper, and he turns up the speed masking his loud moans by sucking on your right tit.

“Hee, I’m gonna cum” With the vibrations from the toy and his hard cock rubbing your clit you couldn’t take much more he shut off the toy entirely. There’s no way the first orgasm you experience with him would be because of a toy either you’d cum around his fingers or cock, nothing less.

He sits up, dropping his boxers around his ankles to free his cock, and you’re left speechless and clenching around nothing.

His cock twitches as he catches your line of vision. “Need you inside me, hee, please” After what felt like at least an hour of torture and teasing, you couldn’t help but desperately beg and moan for him to fuck you.

“Breathe baby, just relax.” he steps out of his underwear and hooks the waistband of your panties, eyebrows raised in anticipation to see what’s underneath. “You’re perfect,” he comments, continuing to pull your panties down your ankles. You lift your legs up slightly, aiding him in the process of removing your panties. “Gonna take it nice and slow baby, we have all night.” he lays between your legs, placing a hand on the toy and gently pulling it out, only realizing that it had been in both your holes this whole time. “Are you trying to fucking drive me crazy?” You only moan as you feel your holes being emptied and clenching down around nothing.

“Maybe,” you smile mischievously.

“Well, it’s fucking working, god baby, you’re not gonna get any sleep tonight because of me” Your stomach turns with arousal, knowing that he means every word of it, and you don’t mind one bit.

He starts out kissing your clit and exploring your vulva with his warm tongue while your hands find the hair on his head. Gripping it softly, his hands squeeze your plush thighs as he hums from the already addictive taste coming out of you. “Taste like fucking candy, baby,” he exhales a long breath diving back in for seconds, poking the tip of his tongue in your hole, swiping up the first glob of wetness that drips from your slit.

“Hee,” you bite into your lip, closing your eyes and enjoying this experience. It’s been so long that you couldn’t help but soak in every wet lick and warm flick of his tongue. “Oh my god.”

Oh my god, is right. He thinks because you taste like fucking heaven on earth so much that, he could cum from your arousal on his tongue alone.

His two fingers slip right in from the earlier prep. He curls them up and suckles on your clit, finding your spot easily like he’s had you before. You’re amazed and confused at the same time cause you’ve never felt yourself cumming this fast before. This was a record by far. “Hee”

“Baby, I know,” he whines, allowing his eyes to fall shut as your walls tighten around his fingers. The little vibrations from his voice replicate the toy from earlier, and your legs shake from the sheer intensity of your impending high. He sucks on your clit, slurping at the little nub until he takes the first orgasm out of you.

Your mouth hangs wide open, the repeated flicking of his tongue sending you into complete bliss. You rotate your hips, riding his tongue and gripping his hair tightly while you lose yourself in the feel of him. “Oh heeseung!” A loud moan travels up your throat and comes out, sounding like the sweetest song he’s ever heard.

He opened his eyes, looking up at you as you cried his name in pleasure. He pulls his slick fingers from your hole carefully and sucks off everything swallowing it down, savoring your taste until he’s content.

He licks your pretty pussy clean before hoisting himself up on the bed as you try to catch your breath, only for him to take it away when he smothers you in the wettest hungriest kisses you’ve ever felt. You whine into his mouth, writhing underneath him at the loss of breath, and you feel lightheaded, yet you chase his lips in search of more, and he delivers, sticking his tongue down your throat, devouring your mouth with one lust filled kiss at a time.

Your body shudders as you feel his warm cock rubbing over your pussy. Your legs find their way around his waist yet again, begging him to push it in. He rolls his hips, brushing his wet tip between your swollen folds. You’re both so lost in the kiss that you barely notice the increased pace of his thrusts. It’s only when his tip slips inside that the kiss ends, leaving you both gasping in each other's mouths. “Oh fuck” your moans get lost in each other’s mouths when he pushes in all the way, easily bottoming out inside you. “You’re so tight and fucking warm shit, baby,” he groans.

“Hee, you’re so big,” you squeak and rake your nails into his back as he groans again from the sting, but the pain only fuels him to buck his hips into you faster. His arousal coated balls smack against your ass. The clapping sound made everything feel so dirty but so hot at the same time.

His elbows dig into your mattress, and he cards his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp, heightening the pleasure to a new level that you didn’t even know was possible. “Hear that?” He breathes out in your ear. “Hear how wet this pussy gets for me?” You clench at his dirty words, and he smirks, knowing just how much you love his dirty talk. “Clenching so tight for this dick, you must have really been craving for me, huh? Who knew such a pretty face could be so naughty?” he dips his tongue into your ear, tracing every little crease, and you swear you go crossed eyed from all the different sensations that he makes you feel at once.

“Yes, want it so bad” Your hands grip his ass pulling his body closer so you can feel every last inch of him stuffing you full. “Feels so good. I love your cock”

“Yeah?” He withdrew from you to admire the look on your face. The sight of you under him, sweating, panting, and moaning just for him, nearly made him cum. “If you keep talking to me like that baby, I’m gonna cum” he rested his forehead against yours, and you took the opportunity to capture his lips for another short kiss.

“Cum in my hee,” you say, not entirely in your right mind.

“Baby…” he slows his pace down. Just the idea of cumming in you was enough to make him feel like emptying his load in you, and that wouldn’t be very responsible of him.

Your head was somewhere else. Despite his warning, you still wanted to feel his cum in you. You used the last ounce of sanity to say something you never expected to say to him, at least not on the first night. “Then fuck my ass, hee cum in me please need to feel you so bad,” you beg.

“Shit,” he pulled out right away. The thought of filling up your ass was the only thing on his mind. He knew you could take it too, after all the dirty little surprises on cam that you did for him, and finally, he could be in the place of your little toy collection.

He hoisted you up slightly, legs still around his waist, as he swiped up your arousal with his shaft, using it as lube to coat your twitching little hole. He stuck his thumb in testing the waters, and he easily sank in. “Gonna fuck your tight little ass so good, pretty girl” he pulled out his thumb once he made sure you were ready and pushed his cock head in your hole. The wetness on his cock made entering you nice and smooth as he slowly buried his cock inside you squeezing your thighs, trying to ground himself.

“Fuck yes,” you moan as you feel him enter you. Your eyes roll back as he fucks his cock deep into your ass. The pleasure was so overwhelming, but you enjoyed every single second of it.

“So tight,” he grits through his teeth the deeper he gets. When he was fully covered in your warmth, he bent down to kiss you. It’s messy, but it’s so good the drool dripping from his mouth turns you on so much that more arousal drips from your hole and dribbles down to his base. “You feel like heaven,” he choked out, leaning back to take a breather, his eyes catching sight of the leak between your legs. He gathers it on his fingers, pulling it out halfway and rubbing it on to wet his shaft to make sure the slide is still comfortable for you. “Hmm,” he grunts loudly, placing his hand on your hip and pressing down on your lower stomach with the other. “So creamy.” he locks his eyes on the white coating his shaft, and his mouth falls open. It felt so different from your pussy but still so good. It was soft and so so warm.

You propped yourself on your elbows, and his eyes flick over at you. He smirked, feeling your hole clench as you watched what he was doing to you. “You like that, huh? Watching it go In, watching me fuck your tight little ass, yeah?” He moans from the tightness around his base.

With pursed lips, you nod your head. It was absolutely filthy what he was saying to you and what he was doing to you, but you loved all of it. He was giving you everything you’ve ever fantasized about and then some.

You fell back on the mattress too fuck out to keep yourself up any longer. “Yes, heeseung, keep fucking my ass just like that,” you scream, and it sets off something in him. His nails dig into your hips as he pounds your ass ruthlessly.

“Baby,” he moans, biting on his lip. The sheen of sweat on his body makes him look so much hotter, and you swear you feel yourself getting even more wet. If that’s possible, he rests one hand beside your head and the other on your hip, using his thumb to rub on your clit.

You tremble under him, and you feel your body go completely limp, legs jelly, mind numb with nothing but the thought of his cock thrusting inside you so perfectly till you came clenching around him so tightly that he could barely even move. “Heeseung!” You writhe beneath him, a panting, moaning mess. “Cum in my ass, please” you moan, and it sends him over the edge. He stills in your tight rim as his balls tighten, and he groans, filling you up his with his creamy cum just the way you begged for it.

“Fuck!” He whimpers, feeling a chill run down his spine as he collapses on top of you to lock his lips with your whimpering into your mouth about how much he’s cumming and how good you feel around him. “Oh god,” he winced slowly, riding out his high, keeping your ass plugged with his cock as his cum settles in you. “Shit,” he huffs out, resting his forehead on yours.

You’re too fucked out to even respond, and he chuckles, lightly pecking your lips. “That was so fucking good” he leans up and pulls out of you, watching your rim twitching and pushing out his cum, and it was a lot. Your hole looked so pretty, leaking all his white semen out of it.

You moan, feeling his seed drip out of you. He immediately lays down next to you, both of you utterly exhausted. He pulls you close to his body, caressing your bare skin softly. “That was amazing, heeseung thank you.”

“Hmmm, of course, baby,” he smiles. “Been waiting so long to hold you in my arms,” he kissed your cheek, hugging you a little tighter. “You wanna shower now?” You nod against his chest, but he waits a few more minutes, so you both can catch a break after that, and soon he carries you to your restroom, getting ready to bathe you and cuddle you asleep til his heart is content.

Meeting you went even better than what he had originally planned.

➜➜➜

You hum in delight when you feel heeseung’s warmth so close to you you snuggled up to his chest, kissing his pecs until you made him stir in his sleep.

“What are you doing?” He laughs, his voice still deep with sleep as he lightly strokes your hip. “Miss me already. Hmm?” He smiled and cracked his eye open, looking at your gorgeous face in the morning. And he knows it’s far too soon to say this, but it’s an image he could definitely get used to waking up to every morning before work.

“Yes,” you scrunched up your nose, a playful grin on your face as you ducked beneath the sheets.

“Y/n, what are yo- ahh” he moans out when he feels you kissing on his tip, and he was thanking himself for going to sleep naked with you last night.

You peppered his soft cock with kisses loving his quiet little moans as you did, so you took things a step further and licked his tip. “Fuckkk,” he breathes, eyes fluttering closed while you did him under the sheets.

You smile, dipping your tongue into his slit and swallowing his sweet sticky precum. You placed your hand around his base, tugging on it gently and guiding his length into your mouth. “Baby, feels so fucking good” he runs a hand through his hair from the feeling lip caught between his teeth as he arches off the bed slightly.

His words only encourage you to fit more of him down your throat until his tip nearly gags you. You begin bobbing your head slowly and pull away with a pop. After a few good sucks, you jerk him off and trail the tip of your tongue down to his balls, taking your time suctioning each one of them into your mouth and slurping him up.

“That’s so good.” his eyes are in his skull. He’s sure of it. He’d never felt this kind of pleasure in his life ever, and needless to say, his release wasn’t far off.

You switched positions, swallowing his girth back down your throat and rubbing his sensitive sack. “I’m not gonna last.” he puffs out a breath and grips the sheets, whiny moans slipping past his lips and ringing in your ears in the early morning.

You hum, anticipation boiling in your stomach as he pulls the sheets back, finally to see you there, laying prettily between his legs. The sight of you looking up at him while his cock was shoved deep down your throat was all it took for his toes to curl and his cum to fill your throat. “Baby!” He winces and cries out as he tucks into himself, jerking slightly as you suck the high out of him. “Ugh,” he whines, balls tightening in your hand until you suck him dry. “Please s-stop,” he says but continues bucking his hips and fucking your throat. “Please, ah fuck”

You smile with your eyes, knowing that he’s loving every last second of it cause if he wanted you to stop, he could have easily pulled your mouth off his dick.

You pull away, giving him a slight breather as you let his cum mixed with your saliva, dribble down his shaft, and soak his swollen balls.

“Oh fuck!” He throws his head back, gasping for breath as his nipples harden from the sensation your mouth was so wet and sloppy, and he loved it so much that he was bound to cum again.

You use your other hand, bringing it up to his chest, tracing the lines of every muscle, and playing with his perked nipple. “Oh my fuck, y/n, please, please, please! I’m gonna cum again” his body language was enough to tell you he was close, and the twitching of his dick confirmed it. “Cumming” he moaned, and your chest fills with pride when you saw his body go limp at your touch. He throbbed on your bottom lip, giving you every last ounce of his cum, and you happily swallowed it all down, gulping everything until it was completely gone.

When you were done with him, you looked up to see his hair sticking to his forehead, body still trembling, and cock twitching ever so slightly. “Y/n,” he called to you, and you smiled as he reached out to grab you and hold you. He kissed your lips and pulled back, staring into your eyes with his completely fucked out ones.

Not only was he fucked physically, he was fucked figuratively cause he was sure after spending the night with you and waking up in your bed that he was undoubtedly in love with you, but he couldn’t say it now. He didn’t want to come off as weird, and what if you didn’t feel the same? He wasn’t ready to take that type of rejection after being so open and honest with you. He was literally giving this relationship his all cause he wanted you to be his last stop. Cause after you, He couldn’t see himself with anyone else even though it’s only been a few months, but he felt like he’d known you forever.

“What are you thinking about?” You booped his nose, doing a complete 180 to when you had just given him the best suck of his life.

“You,” he says simply, and it was true, but you didn’t have to know what about you he was thinking in particular. “Kiss.” You lean in, pecking his pouty lips softly, and he closes his eyes, burying his face into your chest, holding you as close as possible. Your body feels warm with happiness as he holds you like you are his, which you really want to be his, and you want him to be yours. You just wonder if this is a phase for you or if you're as deeply in love with him as you think, but as you lay in his arms and kiss the top of his head, your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest and you’re sure this isn’t just some phase you want lee heeseung the guy who first introduced himself as an animal in bed.

You chuckle at the memory. You’ve both come a long way since then and so have his flirting skills.

“Let me eat you out,” he says, breaking your train of thought. “Please? Or I can fuck your pretty little cunt or that tight ass” he squeezes your bottom, and you feel shy from his words despite the fact he did all those things to you just last night. “You choose, baby. Just wanna make you feel good too.” he noses your bare chest, and the once sweet moment is broken cause now arousal is stirring in the pit of your stomach. “Please let me make you feel good,” he whispers and peppers your chest with kisses as you run your fingers through his damp hair.

“Okay, hee” he smiles and springs up from his once slouched position, his eyes gleaming with joy now that you’re allowing him the honor of pleasing you.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything.”

➜➜➜

“Heeseung, please hurry,” you say as he grabs a condom out of his pants from last night. He had already made you cum on his tongue once, and you couldn’t wait any longer to have his dick inside.

He quickly hops on the bed, trying his best not to keep his baby waiting. He opens the condom and hands it to you, wanting you to put it on him instead. He smiled shyly as you rolled down the rubber. Once you finished, he got between your legs, rubbing his cock through your folds for lube. “Gonna put it in now, okay?” You nod, and a gasp rips from your throat as his tip splits you open.

“Yes.” You sigh in pleasure, placing your hands on his chest, kneading every inch you could touch as you wrap your legs around his waist.

His chest feels tight the moment he bottoms out. It’s so good that his eyes squeeze shut, and his mouth falls open. “Ahh fuck” he groans, setting a good pace right from the start. “Never gonna get used to the way you feel around me. Just so fucking good, your pussy feels so perfect” his head lulls back, leaving his neck on display. You watch his Adam's apple Bob each time he gulps, and he looks so sexy on top of you while stroking your walls.

“Hee,” you rub his toned chest, clenching around him tightly, almost too tight for him to move.

He pushed your legs up to your chest, hitting the deepest part of you, and you screamed out, the feeling made you feel dizzy. He was so so deep, and his thrusts were slow but rough and every bit of hard. “So. Fucking. Wet.” He spoke between each thrust, hitting your cervix repeatedly as you clawed at his abdomen, which was soaked in your leak. “Gonna fuck you so hard just like I promised” he leans down, kissing your forehead, and that’s the last gentle thing you felt before he was fucking into you like a wild beast grunting every time he bottomed out, his balls banging against your ass, creating loud clapping noises along with his hips colliding with your thighs.

“Oh heeseung! You cry, eyes rolling in your head as the bed begins to squeak, which only motivates him to go harder until the bed is rocking against the walls, and a mix of arousal and sweat splashes all over your bed sheets.

“Like it pounded nice and deep, yeah?” he breathes out, snapping his hips as he feels you clenching, and he immediately starts fondling your clit. “I can feel that pussy squeezing so tight for me, baby.”

You nod, lips in a pout, tears nearly in your eyes from how good he felt. Your whines make his head spin, and he swears you’re the most beautiful woman on the planet, all sprawled out just for him taking everything he has to give you. “Fuck it hard and deep heeseung, please, baby” Your meek moans make his cock impossibly hard, and he falls on top of you, stroking your cunt with all his strength as he plays with your clit and sends you over the edge, soon after he whimpers, cumming into the condom just seconds after your first harsh clench on his dick.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant endlessly and grip his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss while he chuckles and moans into your mouth, finishing inside the rubber. Oh, how he wished he was cumming inside you instead.

After your orgasms settle down a bit, you both take a little moment to breathe.

“Hmmm, keep squeezing on me like that pretty milk my cock” Your ears heat up from his words, and somehow, after everything, his dirty talk is still enough to make you blush. Despite him still being deep in you, you can’t help but feel shy.

“Hee,” you whine and hide into his chest once you both finally finish and the post orgasm clarity kicks in.

“You like it, though, right?” He smirks while trying to catch his breath and gain his bearings as you shyly agree with him. “I knew it.” he kissed your forehead and pulled out, tying off the condom and tossing it in the trash bin by your nightstand before cuddling with you again.

“You really are an animal in bed.” his go wide, and you smile. Much to his horror, he really prayed that you had forgotten about that a long time ago.

“Y/n,” he whines and hides himself under the covers, only for you to pull them back and tease him some more. He giggled when you tickled him, and you swore it was the cutest thing ever. Once your little play fight ended, you were lying in his arms yet again. “Baby, are you hungry?” He turns to you, and you melt when you see the look in his eyes. You’re not even sure what it is, but every time you make eye contact with him, you nearly melt.

“Hmm, you just fucked the life out of me, so I’d say yes.”

“Oh my gosh,” he blushed, and after that, he couldn’t make eye contact with you anymore. He literally looked everywhere in the room except at you, scratching his nape shyly like he hadn’t just said the filthiest things to you just moments ago.

“You’re so cute, you know that right bun?” You lay on his chest looking up at him, and now it’s his turn to nearly melt. You looked so freaking cute his heart could barely take it.

“Why don’t you call me that during sexy time?”

“You’re so stupid,” you cackle and hit him on his chest, which only makes him chuckle cause you weren’t using any real force. “Next time, but right now, I’m starving.”

“Me too. Let me take you out on a little breakfast date. I was looking up places to take you, and there’s a place that’s supposed to be really good, and it’s only a few blocks away.” You stare at him fondly, falling for him even more cause of his thoughtfulness, but of course, him being him, he starts to overthink your silence. “O-or not, maybe we could do something else if you like. I don’t know. I just thought you know.” his words fade out as he plays with a loose thread on your sheets. He clears his throat and looks back at you before his eyes flick back down on the blankets, and you know what? You’re actually in love with him, like deeply madly extraordinary in love with him. Every little detail about him makes your heart palpitate.

“Bun?”

“Hmm?” He looks in your direction, a nervous look in his eyes and a small pout on his lips.

“Take me on a breakfast date,” you smile, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

He doesn’t say anything. He just pulls you impossibly close and presses his lips on yours until you can barely breathe, and even then, he has a hard time pulling away.

“Let’s go on a date!”

➜➜➜

The date was lovely, nothing too extreme, but still simple and nice. He took you on a short drive after to a flower park where you held hands and got ice cream later, and of course, he was just as cute as could be during the whole date. He stops on the trail, turning to face you, and you can’t even focus on the flowers because of his handsome face. “So, did you have fun?” He mumbled, and you could barely even hear him. “Y-you know, on the date,” he smiles bashfully, unknowingly squeezing your hand out of nervousness. The last time he’s been on a breakfast date was never.

“I loved it, bun.” You kissed his cheek. “Best day I've had in a long time.” You wrap your arms around his neck as he stares down at you. “Thanks for today, and I’m not just saying that. I really mean it.” And you did, it’s been too long since you had a nice day out of the house.

“Yeah?” He rested his forehead against yours and smiled softly as he encircled your waist. “We should do it again soon,” he pauses for a moment. “But, like, only if you’re free, if you don’t have time, it’s fine, and I can completely understand you have a life outside of me.” he leans back, and his eyes go wide. “Not saying you only make time in your life if it’s for me, bu-“You just shut him up with a kiss. He was so adorable, but he had a little habit of talking too much, but you didn’t mind cause you used it as an excuse to quiet him with a kiss. “So, is that a yes?” He searches your eyes for an answer, and you swear you can hear his heartbeat.

“Hee,” you breathe softly.

“Yes, baby?” He focused back on your beautiful eyes that were boring into his own with a smile on his face.

“It’s 100% a yes, but for now, take me home so I can ride you.” You smile and bite your lip. “Bun,” you add, and you swear his eyes rolled back slightly.

“Come, come,” he grabs your hand quickly, driving you both back to your house.

➜➜➜

“Feel good, bun?” You already know the answer by how quickly he’s panting and how his mouth is gaping open as endless whines spill past his lips, but you still wanna hear him say it.

“I- ugh fuck me,” he whines and grips your hips rocking you back and forth on his long cock. “I love it. Feels so good I’m gonna cum” he buries his face in your chest, your boobs smothering his face, and he twitches from the feel of you. Everything combined makes him short circuit. “So close,” he tries pulling out cause he’s not wearing a condom, but you just move his hands away. “Y/- oh fuck!” He squeezed his eyes shut, balls throbbing as he shot his cum deep inside you painting your walls pearly white.

“Yes, bun, give me all your cum” you moan as he digs his nails into your hips, whimpering and filling you up with cum. You’re so warm and so tight around him he feels like he could pass out or maybe even cry cause that’s just how good you felt, not to mention how you called him bun just like he wanted you to. That nickname alone could make him cum on the spot. “Fuck I’m cumming, bun,” you moan, throwing your head back as he rubs your clit in fast circles sending you to the brink and creaming all over his dick as he squeezed your left breast while sucking on your perked up nipple. “Ooh fuck yes, bun” You grind back and forth on his lap, riding out your orgasms until your legs completely tire out, and even still, you roll your hips, savoring every last stroke and rub of his cock while he’s buried balls deep inside your puffy walls.

“Fuck” he hisses, watching the pool of cum drip from your hole onto his abdomen. “Give me a kiss,” he says breathlessly, and you gladly pull him in, pressing your lips on his. “You’re so perfect,” he breathes against your lips, making you smile at his compliment.

“So are you, bun.” You rubbed your nose against his, laughing softly.

“Shower with me dinner and then cuddles,” and who would you be to deny such a sweet, relaxing evening with him?

➜➜➜

“I’m so happy I’m finally here with you,” he spoons you from the back, stroking your shoulder lightly. You both had just finished showering and eating takeout. Now, you were in your pjs cuddling and watching some show that you weren’t even watching, not really, anyways.

“Me too, hee,” you sigh in contentment, scooting back into his warmth.

“Can’t believe I have to go back in the morning, though.” he hugs you tightly and sighs. You don’t even want to think about him leaving after the past two days you spent with him. “Didn’t even feel like a day,” he says disappointedly.

“Let’s not talk about that right now, bun. Let’s just enjoy each other with the time we have left.” You kiss the back of his palms, and he pulls the covers over you both, hugging you until your eyelids get heavy. And he soon follows suit, eyes closing as he settles into your comfortable body heat.

“Night, baby,” he whispers and shuts off the TV before falling asleep all cuddled up next to you.

➜➜➜

“I don’t wanna go,” he whined while you tied the knot on his tie before sending him off.

“I don’t want you to go, but you’ll be late for work, bun.” You peck his lips one last time and straighten out his suit jacket.

“Forget work, I’ll call in,” he tries to reason, even though he knew if he called in in his position, that wouldn’t look too good for him or the company.

“We’ll get some more free time together,” you tell him to lighten the gloomy mood.

“I know you’re right, but I still don’t wanna go.” he steps closer to you, hands wrapping around your waist as his lips hover over yours, his warm breath hitting your face as that little smirk etches onto his lips.

“We can’t.” Placing your hands on his chest, you push him back maybe an inch, if that.

“Why not?” He inches forward again, and you nearly cave, but somehow, you snap out of it.

“Cause your suit will get wrinkled and dirty, and you don’t have time,” you whisper, knees almost giving out from the proximity mixed with his smell.

“I’ll take it off, and so what if I’m a little late? Hmm?” When you can’t come up with any other answer, you stay silent as he smiles, leaning down to fully press his lips on yours in a very delicate kiss. “On second thought, you’re right.” he sighs and leans away from you, a little teasing smirk on his face, and you’re left speechless.

“Bun,” you whine, and he smiles.

“Can’t give out all the goods to you right away, gotta give you something to look forward to for when I visit again.” he unhands you and grabs his overnight bags, walking to the door.

Which you gladly open for him. “Bye baby, see you soon.” he tries his best to smile, knowing that soon wouldn’t be soon enough.

“Bye, bun,” you say sadly as you watch him walk down the steps. His feet feel like a million pounds, and all he wants to do is stay there with you forever, but he knows there’s a lot more that he needs to learn about you before he makes such a big step in committing.

A sigh left your lips, and you shut the door. Already feeling alone and empty, you walked over to the window, watching him loading his suitcases into the car. Without thinking, you quickly sprinted out to the car as he was backing out of the driveway.

He steps on the brakes and quickly rolls down his window when he sees you running outside. “Baby?” you don’t answer instead, you pull him in for a kiss, a kiss that felt like you were longing for him for years. You cupped his cheeks, and he let go of the steering wheel, holding your face the same exact way as he kissed you with every ounce of passion in his body that he could muster. When you ran out of oxygen, you pulled away slowly and rested your forehead on his.

“Call me when you make it back,” you say softly.

“I will,” he whispers.

“Message me after you get out of work,” you demand, and he chuckles. God, you love his laugh so much.

“Yes, mam.” his eyes fluttered closed as he nudged you softly.

“Promise me you’ll come visit again.” You rub your nose against his, making a billion butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“I swear I will if it’s the last thing on earth that I do.” he leans back, pecking your lips for the final time. “Think of it as hello and not goodbye,” he says and rubs your cheek when he sees the tears in your eyes.

“Yeah,” you smile, nodding at him. He smiles back as he rolls his window back up cause the longer he stayed, it’ll only make it worse for the both of you.

He finally pulls out of the driveway, watching you wave at him until you’re no longer in his sights. His eyes start to water much like yours, and he reminds himself that it’s just hello and not goodbye, but even still, he can’t help getting a little emotional, leaving you behind after having the best two days of his entire life.

➜➜➜

Heeseung: Baby?👀 your bun made it home safe

he sighs. It feels bittersweet texting you like this again.

You: I’m so glad you made it back safely🥰

You unintentionally swoon, smiling at your phone and watching the three little dots appear at the bottom of your screen.

Heeseung: My heart is missing you already, baby❤️🥺

Gosh, if he got any sweeter, you swear you’d die from a sugar overload.

You: So is mine, bun.🩵

Heeseung: Can you change my name to bun in your contacts? I’m gonna change yours to baby🥰

You: of course bun!💕

Bun: thank you baby💓

You couldn’t reply before he sent another text, one that was very unexpected.

Bun: My 🍆 is missing you too, baby. I swear I almost pulled over and called you on the way home🥵

You squealed and turned your phone around, laying it on your bed as you kicked your feet like a teenager.

Bun: Baby👀? Are you still there?

Baby: Bun, you can’t just say stuff like that.

Bun: Why?

When you read his text, you could literally hear him doing that cute little whine he always did.

Baby: Cause…

Bun: Cause nothing, baby. Anyways, like I was saying before you rudely interrupted me 🙄 is, I miss you, I miss your smell, I miss your face, your smile, your eyes, the way it feels to be inside you, and what I missed the most is holding you while we sleep.🩵

If you weren’t already in love with him, you would have fallen for him all over again right then and there.

And you almost typed those eight letters, but you held yourself back from doing so.

Baby: I miss you so much, too. hee, as soon as you left, everything felt empty.

After typing that, you realized how that sounded, but it didn’t feel wrong saying that to him because that’s how you felt. But if he didn’t want to take things further with you, then you would accept it. It’d be hard, but if you were going to put your feelings out on the table for anyone, he was definitely the one.

Bun: Why am I happy and sad while reading that?🥲

That was it for him for you to say something that meaningful about him. He knew that he was ready to take it to the next step even though it was just two days after meeting you and hours from leaving your house that text alone told him what he needed to do.

Bun: But don’t worry baby, I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise 🥺

Baby: You better be 🥺

Bun: Pinky swear🥹 Unfortunately, baby work is calling my name, but I’ll text you every break.

Baby: Pinky swear, okay, bye bun, I’ll miss you. Think of me💕

Bun: You know I will, baby, and Bun jr will, too😉

you rolled your eyes. Of course, he had to say something like that.

Baby: Whatever, hee🙄🩵

He hearted your message, and he was smiling from ear to ear his whole way to work.

➜➜➜

“So what’s his name?”

“Is he hot?”

“Is he tall?”

“Does he have money? More importantly, does he have a big dic-“ You cupped your hand over your friend’s mouth. It had been two months exactly since you’d hung out with them, but somehow, as soon as they saw you, they could tell you had been seeing someone. According to them, you had an “afterglow” or, in their terms, “after dick glow.”

“His name is heeseung, and yes, all of the above,” you said shyly as they squealed, delighted that you had finally got some action.

“So, is it official? Are you just fucking? Give us the deets,” Irene says.

“No, it’s not official, and yes, for right now, we’re just fucking” you whispered the last part. “I think?”

“What do you mean you think you either know or you don’t.”

“Well, okay, tell me what you guys think. I met him two months ago. He’s made time for me every day of the week, no matter the time, and doesn’t leave any of my messages on read. He always wants to FaceTime me before bed. He kisses me goodnight on the phone, and the other day, we met an-“

“What do you mean you met? What was happening before?”

“I met him on Tinder.” The loud sighs and gasps you heard were definitely warranted, but Bun was different from the rest. He was sweet and caring.

“Met him on Tinder, he swipe left on bitches, and he don’t even scroll through insta less he going through-“ she looked at Wendy, and then they both turned to you, smiling and singing the last line in unison. “My pictures”

“Guys!” You whisper shouted to gain their attention again.

They both scoffed at you for killing their vibe and told you what they thought about him. “Red flag, ditch him.”

“Yep, move on to the next. Out with the old,” Irene agreed. “Why are you even on Tinder?”

You glared at them, already judging your baby before they knew anything about him. “Well, let me finish when we met, he took me out on dates, he never tried forcing himself on me, and he even looked up places in my area where we could do things together, isn’t that sweet? Not to mention the four hour drive he took, and he never once asked me to drive to him.” You look at your group of friends, hoping that you weren’t being delusional about him, and when you heard the awe’s, the swooning, and them saying he was cute, you were relieved, to say the least, not that you ever doubted him though you just didn’t want your desperation for a relationship clouding your better judgment.

“So are you sure you’re just fucking? And things aren’t official cause, girl,” she fanned herself, and you chuckled.

“What spell did you put on him?” Wendy joked, taking another shot.

“The important question is, do you want things to be official?” Your table got a little serious at the mention of you dating someone after so long.

“I really, really want it to be,” you sighed. “But if things don’t work out this time, it’s not like I’m gonna go looking for someone new.” If things didn’t go as planned with heeseung, then there’s no way you could give someone else another shot so soon after getting comfortable and getting to know him so well it’d be hard to move on so quickly.

“Aww honey, there’s not a doubt in my mind after everything you said. I’m sure he wants the same,” Irene comforted.

You smile, thankful for their encouraging words, but of course, them being them, and with the few drinks in their system that they got from the bar, you knew something unsavory was about to be said.

“So, how was he in bed?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh my gosh,” you buried your face in your hands. There’s no way you could go into detail about everything you did with him. Even if you had ten shots, they couldn’t get that information out of you. “You’re drunk,” you laugh and push her away from you after your little talk. You finished the night texting heeseung here and there, and they teased you for the nicknames you gave each other, but you knew they were just teasing, and they thought you two were cute.

➜➜➜

Heeseung wanted you to text him when you got home, and that’s exactly what you did after taking off your heels.

Baby: Bunny~💙

Bun: Baby!🥰, did you enjoy your girl's night out pretty?

Baby: I did. I would ask if you enjoyed work, but I know you probably didn’t ☹️

Bun: Actually, baby, if I’m being honest, it wasn’t all too bad.

It wasn’t bad because he got his vacation time approved just so he could see you as soon as you had time off.

Baby: Yeah? I’m glad.

You smile. At least he didn’t have a bad day on his first day back.

Bun: yeah, and baby, speaking of work, when’s your next weekend off?👀

Baby: The one after next, why do you have it off as well?

The excitement was rising at the idea of seeing him again so soon, but it died down immediately when he responded.

Bun: Unfortunately not😞

He told a little white lie cause he wanted to surprise you a few weeks from now.

Baby: Oh,

Your whole mood just completely deflated.

Baby: When are you free again, bun?

Bun: Not for a while, baby, I’m sorry😔 but Bun will call you every day and text you every day pinky swear👀

Baby: Pinky swear🩵🐇

Bun: That’s my baby.

He smiled at the little bunny emoji he loved when you called him bun it made him feel all giddy and warm inside.

After texting him for a while, you started to feel a little bit better, but even when you said goodnight to him and kissed him through the phone, that empty feeling was still in the pit of your stomach. Maybe you were being dramatic, but you really wanted him there with you.

➜➜➜

The next few weeks were the same, calling and texting heeseung, and though in the beginning, it was enough now that you actually got to feel, see, touch, and smell him, it wasn’t, no matter how many FaceTimes you did or how many times you pressed the phone to your ear to pretend he was there with you nothing could quite replicate his presence.

Bun: What would you do if I was coming over right now?

Heeseung was parked outside a few blocks from your driveway as he sneakily texted you.

You smiled at just the thought of seeing him.

Baby: I’d give you a big bear hug and never let you go again, bun.

Bun: Is that so?👀 that sounds so nice.🥰

Baby: Of course, bun.

Bun: So why don’t you do it?

He texted you, standing right outside your door now after leaving his car.

Baby: Do what?🤔

you reply confused.

Bun: Give your bun a bear hug, after all, he is waiting outside👀

Baby: Bun, stop playing around. We both know you’re at work. You already told me🤭

After sending the message, you could have sworn you heard an alert tone outside your door, but you thought it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

Bun: So, no hug?☹️ It’s kinda cold out here, and I was really looking forward to it, baby.

You toss your phone onto the couch and open your door, and low and behold, there he was, your precious little bun standing on your doorstep with a pinkish tint on his nose and that smile you couldn’t get enough of.

“Hey baby,” he laughs at your puzzled expression. He’d be shocked, too, if you did the same thing to him.

You couldn’t believe it. You stood there in shock. How was he standing there in the flesh when he was supposed to be at work?

“I heard from a little birdie that if a guy that goes by the name of Bun, he could come to this address and get a hug from his baby. Is that right?” He smiled.

“That’s right!” You finally gave him a big bear hug, just like you promised. “I missed you so much. How are you here? I thought you had work.

“Well, I may or may not have taken time off to see you.”

“You’re sneaky.” You pulled him inside, clinging onto him for dear life and never wanting to let him go.

“Maybe just a little.” he wraps his arms around you, waddling you both to the couch, where he cupped your face and pecked your lips. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” You rubbed his nose with yours, heating him up inside and out. “I missed you.” You tackled him on the sofa, kissing every square inch of his face.

“I missed you too,” he chuckled and flipped you over so he was laying on top of you and riddled your face in kisses, maybe even more than you gave to him. “I couldn’t get you off my mind, baby. I swear every day without you felt like hell.” he buried his face in your neck, sighing in relief now that he was finally in your arms.

You smiled and ran your fingers through his hair, inhaling his shampoo, that faint mint smell you couldn’t forget cause it lingered on your pillowcase days after he left.

“Would it be crazy of me to say I want to move in with you and stay here forever?” He lays on his side, stroking your cheek.

You giggle and smile. That smile could make you do a million things, and you think that now was the right time to tell him, he drove all this way to see you, so he must feel the same, and if he didn’t fuck it, it was now or never, but you weren’t going to wait another day. “Heeseung.” You sat up, and his smile dropped when you called him by his full name.

“Yeah, baby?” He sat up with you, and his heart rate was off the charts.

“We’ve only known each other for a little while.” he nods, and you take a breath, grabbing his hand in yours.

“What’s wrong?” He says when you hold his hand and, he’s never heard your voice sound the way it does now, nor has he ever seen that expression on your face.

“Nothing, bun,” you laugh slightly, but he was still feeling uneasy. Did he drive all this way just for you to say you didn’t want him anymore?

“Okay,” he whispers.

“It’s just our relationship started out very uhh fast, you know,” you hinted about how, in the beginning, you both started out things that were of the adult nature, and he seemed to understand what you meant by that. “And it’s only been a few months, but I just can’t-“

He cuts you off before you were even able to finish cause he thought you were breaking things off with him. “Well, we don’t have to continue having sex. We’ll wait as long as we want, and we can talk more, yeah, baby? Let’s just talk and take things slow, okay?” He brought your hand up to his lips and gave it a kiss, trying his best to stop himself from shaking.

“Bun, I don’t want to take things slow,” you told him softly. You were so caught up in what you were about to say that half his words fell on deaf ears.

“Please, baby,” you finally hear him when his voice cracks and his eyes begin to water. “Let’s just try to work something out,” he said with a tremble in his voice when you looked at him confused and finally understood what he was saying.

“Bun-“

“Please, I’m begging you,” he sniffles.

“Bun-“

“I want us to work so bad, baby. I’m trying so hard.” he hugs you in his arms tightly.

“Bun!” You yell and break free from the hug.

“Baby?” He says above a whisper, a look of shock on his face. Did you really not want him that much?

“What are you even talking about?” You ask calmly.

“I’m trying to make things work,” he says blankly.

“Bun, I need you to listen to me, okay?” You smile and wipe his eyes as he nods. “I was trying to say that even though we started out fast and it’s only been a few months since we met that, i-i love you, bun, and maybe it’s too soon to say it, but I do.”

“W-what?” His body reacted before his mouth did, and he cupped your face with a huge smile on his lips before he closed the distance between you both and pressed his lips onto yours. “Oh my god!” he kissed you again. “Me too, give me another kiss,” You chuckle and kissed him again. “I love you so much, baby.” You smiled into the kiss, relieved that he felt the same way as you. Finally, you could say those words to him, and it was the best feeling ever. “I’m so happy you feel the same, baby. I thought the same thing, too, but just was scared to say it, but I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my little bunny,” you pecked his nose.

“Yeah, I’m your little bunny.” he tackled you down on the sofa hovering above you. “Told you I’m an animal in bed,” he winked.

“Is it too late to take back that I love you?” You joked.

“You’re mean,” he tickled your sides, making you laugh. “But why did you make me cry?” He pouted. “I thought you were breaking up with me well, not breaking up with me, but.”

“Bun, I didn’t make you cry. You chose to cry.” You teased him, and he whined. “How could you ever think I wouldn’t love you?” You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Cause you’re like perfect, and I’m weird and insecure and a huge over-thinker,” he admits to you for the first time this whole two months he knew you it was great, but the whole long distance thing really made him feel a little unsure.

“Bun,” you say, and you noticed those little details about him, but you didn’t know that’s how he thought about himself. You just thought he was a little shy and cute. “You’re not weird, you’re cute, and it’s normal to overthink. I did so much, but look at us now,” you pecked him. “And what do you have to be insecure about? I was just telling my friends about how perfect you are.”

“Were you now?” He raised an eyebrow. “What did you say, hmm?” He teased.

“Not too much.” You played with his hair.

“Good,” he laughs. “Don’t think they’d want to know how I had their friend begging for me the whole weekend,” he leans down, nibbling on your ear gently.

“Bun,” you moan immediately, even his slightest touch could always make you react.

“Don’t get too excited, baby, gotta wine and dine you first. Our reservation is in an hour.” he stands up, offering you his hand.

“You’re really sneaky,” he smiles, seeing the excitement in your eyes and he can’t wait to spend all night with you.

“Just a little bit,” he smiled as you go up on your tippy toes to give him a kiss.

“Be right back, handsome.” You gave him that same compliment that started it all on the day you both met while smiling brightly at him, and he knew that smile was going to be even brighter when he asked you to be his girlfriend over dinner tonight.

So maybe the Tinder app wasn’t so god awful after all.

FIN.

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