#endless summer imperfect

[cutehoons02]

Summer of desires

*pairing: pervy library student Heeseung x popular rich Girl

*trope: grumpy x sunshine/he fall first, she fall harder

*synopsis: What would happen when the city bookseller as well as your classmate timid with sweet air but with extreme dirty thoughts about you from the first day he saw you for the first time sold you spicy books? Between summer bonfires, stolen kisses in the library, provocations and summer baths what will happen between the popular girl with no wires on her tongue and a slightly perverted nerd?

*tags: A lot of tension, Heeseung is downbad for the protagonist, obsession, fake innocent girl, needy heeseung, needy girl, tease each other, summer vibes, kisses in the private pool, fluffy, masturbation,nipples plays, fingering, touchy girl/Hee, pacifiers, virgin protagonist, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) pet names (sweetheart,baby) (hee)

14.9k (👙)

(English is not my native lanuage)

The seaside town of Jeongdongjin was famous for its crystal-clear sea and fiery sunsets, but in that small community, there was also a place many didn’t notice, except for its dusty windows and the smell of yellowed paper that mixed with the scent of the sea. The Quiet Corner, the town’s bookstore, was a peaceful spot, but it was also a refuge of sorts for Heeseung. He was the typical nerd on campus, but not in a conventional way. Yes, he loved spending time between the pages of books and in front of the console, but he wasn’t just the solitary guy that no one noticed. Heeseung, with his glasses and always pensive expression, was also the type of guy who knew how to flirt with girls, but never really committed. He was an ambivert, so sometimes he seemed distant, at other times perplexing, and sometimes even charming, especially with girls. And with Y/n, he had a very different interest: he was obsessed with her innocence. Y/n, the perfect girl on campus, seemed to have stepped out of a dream. Long, curly hair that sparkled in the sunlight, eyes as clear as the summer sea, and skin so pale it seemed almost unreal. She was the silent queen among the girls, always elegant, flawless, and dressed like a good girl. Her innocence was almost tangible, an aura that made her irresistible to everyone. But Heeseung didn’t just see the angelic Y/n. He saw her as a target. A target to conquer, yes, but not in the way the other guys would. For him, the allure was in stripping away that aura of purity. He knew Y/n was a virgin, and in some way, he found that incredibly exciting. He wanted to see how she would react, wanted to uncover her darker side, the one no one knew. He wanted to ruin her. Heeseung’s thoughts were often fueled by less-than-innocent fantasies. He imagined her, saw her in his mind, stripped of her virginal calmness, shaken, like a butterfly caught in his net. Yet, despite his desire to break her, he always did it from a distance. He watched her from afar, observing every movement, every smile Y/n gave to the world, while he noticed the imperfections no one else could see. He had never really approached her. They had only spoken twice—once at a bonfire party when she had asked him where the bathroom was, and another time when they had bumped into each other in the corridor on campus. Nothing much. Yet, for him, every single exchange had been like an electric shock. Almost enough to send him into a frenzy. It was a late summer afternoon, and the heat outside seemed endless. The cicadas sang, emitting a constant sound that almost seemed to scream, "even hotter." Heeseung was behind the counter, focused on the computer while checking the shipments. The bookstore, now empty, didn’t see many customers, especially since people had started to prefer online shopping. It was one of the few places still holding live readings on the terrace overlooking the ocean, but those events only attracted a handful of enthusiasts. It was the usual boring afternoon when the sound of the door opening interrupted the monotony. A soft, familiar voice, almost blending with the wind, made him look up. And there she was, standing in front of him.

Y/n. Her light dress, a white sundress, fluttered just above her body, revealing the swimsuit underneath. The sun illuminated her, creating a sort of halo around her. Her tanned skin seemed to shine under the afternoon rays. The strap of her dress was slightly slipping down, exposing part of her swimsuit, and Heeseung couldn’t help but notice. A shiver of desire ran down his spine. "It's ridiculously hot outside," said, smiling. Your voice was cool, like the sound of a sea breeze. "I'm tired of being at the beach, so I thought I'd come grab a book. My roommates are dying to get away from university and read a few books under the sun, and they told me to buy some books that are going viral on TikTok." Heeseung snapped out of his daze and, trying to stay calm, responded, "Of course, no problem. What books did you order?" His tone tried to sound natural, but he couldn’t hide the unease that was growing inside him. His gaze once again fell on her dress, the strap slowly slipping off her shoulder, as if it wanted to reveal even more. His mind was immediately overtaken by mischievous images and desires he couldn’t suppress. You pulled out your phone and looked at the titles of the books spotted on her FYP. "So… let's see… A Touch of Darkness by Scarlett St. Clair, The Deal by Elle Kennedy, and Twisted Love by Ana Huang," you said, smiling innocently, but Heeseung immediately sensed the spark those romantic and “spicy” books evoked. He raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the playful tone, but a small mischievous smile crept across his face. "I didn’t think the perfect, innocent girl on campus would be reading books like that," he said, almost challenging you. There was something in the way you looked at him that made him feel more uneasy, but at the same time, it also made him feel closer to her.

You, of course, blushed immediately. Your cheeks turned bright red as you looked down. "Well," you said with a nervous laugh, "everyone, even people older than me, has stumbled upon spicy romance. It's not that strange, right?" You tried to downplay it, but your face betrayed your insecurity. Heeseung couldn’t hold back a smile as he watched your reactions. The sweetness of Y/n always struck him, but now there was a different vibe. A vibe of complicity that he had never felt before. "A secret, huh?" he said, moving slightly closer to the counter, his smile becoming more intense. "I’m not as innocent as I seem," he added, lowering his eyes onto you with a look that was anything but innocent. His mind began to wander into darker, more sensual territories, imagining what it would feel like to touch your skin under his hands. You looked at him, your crystal-clear eyes now a bit confused, while your lips curved into a shyer, almost uncertain smile. Your sweetness, that same innocence that had always drawn Heeseung to you, made him feel conflicted. He wanted to know that side of you that no one seemed to be able to see. But his mind, growing more crowded with perverted thoughts, couldn’t stop. He could still see the strap of your dress slipping slightly, almost as if inviting him to look more closely. He wanted to pull it down even further, to discover what was underneath. You, unaware of the thoughts Heeseung was having, shifted slightly, trying to appear more at ease. "Yet, it’s not that strange," you repeated, trying not to seem too embarrassed. "After all, I’m part of Gen Z, right? We’ve got our secrets too."

Heeseung looked at you, his smile growing bolder as he observed you with amusement. "Are you sure you want to share them with me?" he asked, his voice now lower as if he were playing with you as if there were an unspoken challenge between you two. You, now almost completely red, felt torn between wanting to run away and wanting to continue that conversation. "I think it’s a secret you should keep to yourself," you replied nervously, trying to distance yourself from the moment that was becoming heavier with tension. Heeseung looked at you with more intense eyes, his smile more knowing than ever. "Maybe one day, when you’re not so… innocent anymore, I’ll reveal it," he said, as a flash of desire crossed his gaze. You, with your innocence mixed with embarrassment, could no longer keep your heart from racing. "Maybe," you replied, trying to joke, but the way Heeseung looked at you made you feel something strange in your chest. It was a tension that grew stronger, like the heat filling the summer air, as both of you felt trapped between desire and embarrassment.

"I didn’t prepare them, but you can easily find them in the BookTok and Romance section, right at the corner of the bookstore," Heeseung said with a smile that hinted at a bit of amusement. His voice was softer, almost as if he was trying to mask the little game he was playing. You smiled excitedly, your eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, like a puppy eager to run to a playground. "I can’t wait to check them out!" you exclaimed, your tone light and cheerful. "My roommates sent me tons of aesthetic TikTok videos. The fan art was amazing!" As you said that, you approached the counter with a confident step, your white dress moving delicately, revealing your tanned skin that Heeseung tried not to stare at for too long. But he couldn’t help noticing it, especially with your straps slightly slipping down, almost as if inviting him to look. Heeseung gestured for you to follow the path to the corner, where the section was hidden between shelves full of books. As you walked together, his mind filled with thoughts he tried to push away but couldn’t ignore.

"So… what are they about exactly?" he asked, trying to sound casual, although his gaze was a little more intense than before.

"Well," you replied, "in Twisted Love, there’s this incredible chemistry between the main characters. If I’m not mistaken, he’s the best friend of the protagonist's brother with a dark past, and there’s a lot of tension, and... well, let's just say calling it ‘spicy’ is an understatement," you said, laughing with a hint of mischief. "But I love these dark romance dynamics! The spiciest part is when she realizes she wants something more. And then... well, I’ll let you find out."

Heeseung stopped and looked at you, a small mischievous smile playing on his lips. "I figured," he said. "And what about The Deal by Elle Kennedy? Do you like sports? Hockey, right?"

"Hockey!" you exclaimed, a bit surprised by the question. "I don’t know much about it, to be honest. But... I’ve heard it’s one of the best in the series." Your voice was light and sincere, but you couldn’t hide a slight hesitation. "And then... the main characters have this amazing chemistry. She’s a total chatterbox, and he’s a bit grumpy at first, but then they start to discover each other. I think I’ll like it!" you added, trying to sound more confident.

Heeseung chuckled softly. "It is, and one of the spiciest too, if I may say," he said, his tone playful but with a hint of provocation. "It might surprise you." His eyes couldn’t seem to look away from you, from your crystal-clear eyes reflecting the sunset light, from your golden skin that seemed to almost invite him to do something more... intimate.

You became a bit more serious as if trying to understand better what Heeseung was trying to imply. "I think the spiciest one, though, is Twisted Love," you replied without hesitation, with a smile that carried a bit of complicity. "I don’t think you’d fully understand it. Let’s just say... it’s spicier than you think."

Heeseung looked at you with a mixture of curiosity and a hint of challenge in his eyes. "And how do you know all these things?" he asked, keeping his smile. "I didn’t picture you as so… experienced," he added lightly, with that little bit of flirtation he couldn’t hide. You laughed, but the laugh was shy, almost embarrassed. "Well, it’s another secret," you said, giving a little wave of your hand, as if trying to keep that little mystery. "Don’t tell anyone, okay?" Heeseung watched you, his hands in his pockets as he followed you along the shelves. "Another secret, huh?" he said, his smile widening a little, his eyes seeming to never want to look away from yours. Every word coming from your mouth felt like a little game between you two as if you were both trying to discover something more, bit by bit. But in the meantime, his hands were slightly sweating. The tension between you two was palpable, like the warm, dense air that filled the bookstore. Finally, Heeseung took the books you had chosen, one by one, and carefully placed them on the counter. "Here you go," he said, his voice lower now, almost a whisper. "All the books you’re looking for." You moved to pay, and while he did, Heeseung couldn’t stop watching you. His heart was pounding harder. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Your skin, the way the sundress moved delicately on your body, your straps continuing to slip down slowly… It was all so tempting. When you grabbed the bag with the books, you turned to Heeseung and smiled at him with an air of complicity. "See you around, Heeseung," you said with a smile that was as innocent as it was dangerous. Heeseung was stunned, his heart skipping a beat inside him. How did she know his name? She had called him by his name. How was that possible? His thoughts started to whirl, and soon a flood of perverse images filled his mind. "See you…" he mumbled, still confused. "Y-yeah, see you…" he said, trying to mask the whirlwind of emotions he was feeling. You walked away, leaving the bookstore, while Heeseung stayed there, watching you leave.

It had been a week since the last time he had seen you, and on the bookstore's website, you had written that you would stop by to buy more books. The sky over the coastal town had turned gray a few hours ago, and the streets had been suddenly flooded by a torrential downpour that forced everyone to seek shelter. Heeseung, however, had stayed in the bookstore, nervously staring at the clock on the wall. 5:30 PM. You had told him you’d come by, and he – in a way he wouldn’t even admit to himself – had even switched his shift to be there. He had fixed his bangs at least ten times in the reflection of the computer, carefully chosen what to wear – no glasses this time, a slightly oversized t-shirt, and dark jeans, trendy enough not to look too nerdy – but there was no sign of you. He had almost convinced himself that you weren’t coming when the sound of the bell on the door made him snap his gaze upward. And there you were, soaked, with your hoodie completely drenched on your head, the light t-shirt sticking to your body from the water, and the only piece of clothing still somewhat intact and not fully wet were your light denim shorts, hugging your legs as if they were tailor-made. The wet fabric of your shirt, however, betrayed the secret hidden underneath: the pink bikini you wore was perfectly visible, and Heeseung suddenly felt very, very hot. But then, instead of complaining like most girls would have, you burst out laughing.

"Didn’t you hear the weather forecast? The rainy season has started," Heeseung remarked, crossing his arms over his chest while desperately trying not to look at you too intensely.

You shook the water off yourself, still laughing. "I was a little busy, actually," you said cheerfully, with a bit of cheekiness. "I was studying… or maybe I was too caught up in the spicy books you recommended."

Heeseung’s breath caught for a second. He looked at you, slightly shocked but mostly amused.

"...So you read the spiciest ones?"

You smiled, tilting your head to the side as you dropped your hoodie on the nearest chair. "Of course."

Heeseung swallowed. There was something dangerous in the way you were looking at him like you were playing with him as if you were enjoying seeing how far you could make him crumble. And he wasn’t the type to be cornered easily.

He took a step closer, lowering his gaze slightly. "So tell me, then… which one was your favorite?" he asked, his voice lower, slower.

Your eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. "Mmh... hard to say," you murmured, biting your lip slightly. "But I think Twisted Love was the most... intense."

Heeseung smiled, the more dangerous side of him beginning to show. "Intense, huh?" You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest in an involuntary gesture that almost drove him insane – because the movement highlighted how the wet shirt clung to your body. He looked down, and you caught him in the act. With two fingers, you gently lifted his chin, making him look you in the eyes.

"My face is higher, Heeseung."

He held his breath, holy hell, you were provoking him,

he swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain some control. "Do you need a dry t-shirt?" "That would be nice of you," you replied with a smirk. Heeseung sighed, shaking his head as he turned toward the back door. "Come with me, I’ve got one in the locker room." You followed him into the small room behind the counter, where the shelves with the bookstore supplies and lockers for the staff were. Heeseung opened his locker, pulling out a white basketball shirt with a number printed on the back. "It’s the only one I have." You took it, looking at it for a moment before lifting your gaze to him. "It’s huge on me." Heeseung leaned his shoulder against the locker, crossing his arms. "Better that way." You raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Why?" He moistened his lips, looking at you with that intense gaze. "Because at least it covers everything." He challenged you to say something, but you just shrugged, turning your back to him to change. "Heeseung," you called softly. He turned his gaze away. "Tell me." "Don’t suppose you have any shorts, too?" He ran a hand over his face. Holy shit, he was screwed!

Heeseung looked at you for a moment, as if he were processing your request. He did indeed have a pair of basketball shorts in his locker, but giving you his clothes meant imagining you in them. Imagining you without yours, and that simple thought was enough to send him into a spiral. "I only have these basketball shorts…" he finally said, scratching the back of his neck while pulling the garment out. You reached out to take them. "They’ll be fine, I’ll just tighten them with the elastic." He hesitated, still uncertain, before handing them to you. And then, he stood there, dumbfounded. You smiled, tilting your head slightly as a mischievous spark flashed in your eyes. "Do you want me to give you a private striptease?" Heeseung’s eyes widened, and he raised his hands in surrender. "No! No, absolutely—" But the Adam's apple that trembled slightly betrayed every word of rejection. Without saying anything, without even giving him time to process what you were about to do, you moved your hands to your jeans and casually slid them down, letting them fall down your legs. Heeseung swallowed audibly and saw the pink bikini you were wearing hug your hips, accentuating your golden tan. The fabric stretched perfectly over your wet skin, tracing every curve in a way that Heeseung found unfair. His eyes were glued to your legs, to the way the water left little glowing trails on your skin. He should have looked away. He should have. But it was as if his body had suddenly disobeyed him.

Then, you reached out and took the shorts from his fingers, but in doing so, your fingers brushed against his. Without thinking, you guided his hand to your bare thigh. Heeseung felt like he was dying. Shit. He was touching you. Your skin was warm, and smooth, and the contrast with his slightly colder fingers made him shudder. You lifted your gaze to him, amused. "No guy has ever touched me so close to an intimate part." His fingers tightened imperceptibly on your skin. If only you knew the things running through his mind right now. His thoughts were dirty. Too dirty: he imagined the skin beneath his fingers burning against his palm, he imagined his hands slowly moving up— No. Stop. He swallowed again, trying to hold on to some semblance of composure. "Why me?" he asked finally, his voice a little hoarser than usual. You smiled. "Because you look at me differently." Heeseung stayed silent. Differently. Oh, if only you knew how much. His gaze had never been innocent. He had watched you from afar for too long, studying the way you moved, the way you smiled at everyone as if you were untouchable. Yet here you were, with his hand on your thigh, letting him do something no one else had ever been allowed to. He stared at you for a few seconds, then let out a small crooked smile. "Maybe it's better if you don’t know why." A jab. You caught it instantly but pretended not to notice. Or maybe you just wanted to keep playing. With agonizing slowness, you took one of his fingers and guided it along the edge of your bikini, right on your stomach. Heeseung stiffened, and you heard him quietly breathe as his finger slid over your skin, following the fabric's line to your hip. It was the final blow. He shuddered slightly, his fingers trembling as if fighting a primal instinct. But then you moved away, laughing, and slipped into his basketball shorts, tightening the elastic at your waist. Heeseung forced himself to take a step back, running a hand over his face as if to recover. The problem? You still hadn’t taken off your shirt, and he wasn’t sure he could survive the next scene. Heeseung felt the heat rise dangerously along his neck, all the way to his ears. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where to look. It had already been hell watching you take off your jeans in front of him with such casualness, feeling the heat of your skin under his fingers, as if you had intentionally decided to drive him mad. And now this? You had taken off your soaked shirt with no shame, and the pink bikini you were wearing seemed painted onto your body. Damn, perfect.

His jaw tightened as his eyes involuntarily slid down to your chest, full and soft, the light fabric of your bikini clinging too well, revealing your hardened nipples from the cold. Holy. Shit. He cleared his throat, desperately trying to maintain control, but the smirk on your lips made it clear that you had noticed. "What's wrong, Heeseung?" you asked with an overly calculated innocence. "Have you never seen a girl in a bikini?" Something changed in his eyes. You were playing. And if there was one thing Heeseung knew, it was how to change the rules of the game. He suddenly became more serious, a shadow of a smile tugging at his lips. "You're aware you're playing with fire, right?" His voice was lower, deeper. You tilted your head, biting your lip. "Really?" He took a step forward. And you didn’t back away. Another step. And your chest brushed against his. Heeseung knew he should step back, he should stop you, stop himself—but he didn’t. Without thinking, he placed a hand on your back, his warm fingers sliding down the curve of your spine until they found the thin strap of your bikini. Your breath hitched in your throat. He was taller than you, and when he leaned in slightly, his eyes found yours, locked, dark, filled with something that made your legs shake. "What if I wanted to undo it?" he whispered, his fingers dangerously playing with the knot at the back of your bikini. A shiver ran down your spine. Heeseung lowered his voice even further. "What would people think if they walked in and found you with your bare chest, hm?" You smiled faintly. "You would never." A flash of amusement passed through his gaze. "Oh no?" You moved even closer, rising just a little on the tips of your toes, your body perfectly aligned with his. Your chest pressed against his, and Heeseung held his breath. Then you smiled again, tilting your head slightly. "You would never because you want to be the only one to see me naked."

A low moan escaped from Heeseung's lips, so quiet that you almost didn’t hear it. Almost. The tension between you became unbearable, and before he could react, before he could do anything, you rose on your toes again and pulled him closer, your hands gripping the collar of his shirt as your lips found his. You kissed him.

With passion, with desire, with an intensity that Heeseung never expected. And him? He didn’t think twice before kissing you back. Your lips against his were an explosion—it was the third kiss you’d ever given in your life. But with Heeseung… it was different. It was bolder, more intense, more desperate. He was the first to surprise you, because despite his grumpy and sarcastic demeanor, he kissed with a sweetness that made your legs tremble, but at the same time, there was something fierce in the way his lips moved against yours, something necessary, as if he had desired you for too long to hold back. And you? You weren’t any different. Your hands had gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, your chest pressed against his, the heat between you becoming unbearable. You felt the taste of his breath mingling with yours, the faint swipe of his tongue against yours, which made you moan softly into his mouth. That small sound was his undoing. Heeseung grunted slightly, his hands tightening around your waist with more determination, and the kiss became more intense. Deeper. More hungry. His lips moved against yours in perfect rhythm, sometimes slow, sometimes more aggressively, as if he wanted to learn every single angle of your mouth as if he wanted to mark you. His tongue caressed yours again, and you shivered slightly, your chest rising and falling in heavy breaths as his hands slid down your back, pulling you even closer. When you pulled away, both of your breaths were uneven, your chest rising rapidly against his. Your lips were swollen, and slightly reddened, and without even thinking about it, you bit your lower lip, savoring the taste of Heeseung in your mouth. He stared at you. With those dark eyes that seemed to devour you. "Stop," he muttered, his voice low and slightly husky. You tilted your head, confused. "What?" you asked with your usual calculated innocence. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "Stop biting your lip like that, it makes me want to kiss you again. And bite you."

A dangerous smile slowly spread across your lips. With absolute nonchalance, you reached out a hand, your fingers slipping through his soft hair, gently pulling him downward until his breath mingled once again with yours. Your voice became a warm whisper against his mouth. "Then why don’t you bite me?" His pupils dilated. You lowered your chin slightly, bringing his face even closer to your body. "Maybe… here?" you suggested innocently, brushing the edge of your bikini at your chest, the fabric stretching against your skin. Heeseung swallowed. The air around you thickened. "You’re playing with fire," he whispered. You tilted your head with a golden retriever girl look, your usual sweet smile on your lips. "What if I want to burn?" Heeseung clenched his jaw. He hated you. He hated you because he knew you were playing, testing his self-control, wanting to see how far he would go. But most of all, he hated that you were winning. His hand moved slowly, caressing your warm skin as it slid along your side, reaching the thin fabric of your bikini covering your breast, and you held your breath. His eyes found yours as his fingers gently grazed the curve of your chest, almost with reverence. "No one’s ever touched you here, have they?" he asked, his voice low and slightly raspy. You shook your head. He smiled faintly, his eyes igniting with a dangerous kind of desire. "I thought so." And then, slowly, he lowered his head, his warm breath brushing your skin. His mouth barely touched the fabric of your bikini where your nipple had hardened beneath the cloth. The first thing you felt was the heat of his lips, then the slight pressure of his teeth, nibbling gently, almost testing your reaction. A shiver ran through you, and then a sound escaped your lips. A muffled moan, a moan that contained his name. "Hee…" It was his undoing. Heeseung closed his eyes, his thoughts now completely clouded by desire. He had imagined you this many times beneath him. He had imagined you with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and your warm body beneath his. He had imagined you with heavy breath, his name slipping from your lips in that sweet, innocent tone that drove him wild. But now? Now it was real. And damn, you were even more beautiful than he had imagined. Heeseung continued to lick and bite at the small bud still covered by your light bikini, and every time his mouth pushed and licked at the fabric, you arched your back, pulling his hair. You didn’t think that such a simple gesture could make you go wild and crave more, but Heeseung pulled away from your skin with one last bite on the taut bud of your breast, still covered by the bikini, and you shivered, the warmth of his breath making your skin tingle. Instinctively, your fingers tightened in his soft hair, pulling him slightly, and he fully pulled away, his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed slowly.

Then he sighed as if trying to regain control over himself.

"Raise your arms," he ordered in a tone that brooked no argument.

You looked at him with eyes still a little dreamy, your lips swollen from the kiss earlier.

"Why?"

He tilted his head, his gaze dropping for a moment to your bikini, still slightly damp. "Because if you stay like this in front of me, I might do something I shouldn’t."

Your skin heated. Despite his authoritative tone, his voice was slightly hoarse, and for a moment, you felt the urgency of his desire.

You bit your lip—which, of course, didn’t go unnoticed—and then slowly raised your arms above your head.

Heeseung slid his large shirt over you with a slow and careful gesture, as if trying not to touch you for too long. But when the fabric settled over your body, a faint smile brushed his lips.

You were beautiful.

His shirt was too big for you, the soft fabric sliding over your body, the sleeves reaching past your hands. The scent of Heeseung enveloped you instantly, a mix of light cologne and something more masculine, more his. You felt your cheeks warm slightly, suddenly shy, and he noticed, of course. Without missing a beat, he smiled sideways, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"So... today I discovered another secret," he said with a playful air.

You tilted your head, curious. "And what would that be?"

He chuckled softly, his voice low and velvety. "...that you’re not so innocent after all."

Your heart skipped a beat.

You looked at him, trying to figure out if he was joking, but in his eyes, there was only amusement—and something darker, more dangerous.

In a spontaneous gesture, you reached out and offered him your pinky.

He raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Pinky swear," you said with a sweet smile.

He stared at you for a moment as if he couldn’t believe that, after everything that had happened, you were still you, the girl who always smiled and seemed to see the bright side of everything.

Then he smiled, shaking his head slightly before intertwining his pinky with yours.

"I won’t tell anyone," he promised.

✦

After a few minutes, you left the private room, and he led you to the romance section of the bookstore.

"I want to recommend something better," he said, running his fingers along the spines of the books.

"Better than what I've read so far?" you asked with a small smile.

He shot you a challenging look. "Let's see... this one is without any spice," he said, handing you a book with a pastel-colored cover and a sweet title.

You took it, slightly surprised. "Wow, so you think I need purer reading?"

He laughed, but didn't respond.

Instead, he grabbed another book and handed it to you, this time with a dark cover and an eye-catching font.

You looked at it more closely.

"Oh my God," you whispered, recognizing the title. "This is super spicy."

He smiled to the side. "But it’s also one of the best stories. Trust me."

Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you hugged both books to your chest.

Then you turned to him with your usual bright smile.

"Well, see you, Heeseung."

✦ Later, after a warm shower, you slipped under the covers with your hair still slightly damp. The book he recommended was already in your hands, but before opening it, you grabbed your phone. You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip, and then, without thinking too much, you typed his name on Instagram. Follow. The notification popped up on his profile right away. And you couldn't help but think about how stupid you'd been for never noticing him seriously before today.

The days had passed with the same routine: mornings dedicated to studying, afternoons at the beach with friends or relaxing in the pool at your villa, with the breathtaking view of the ocean. Yet, despite everything seeming perfect, there was one constant thought in your mind. Heeseung. You were too embarrassed to go back to the bookstore after what had happened, but at the same time... you wanted to get to know him more. You’d spent more time than necessary scrolling through his Instagram profile, browsing through pictures of him with his friends, images of him playing basketball, posts about his favorite video games, his travels, and his style—always a little effortless but terribly attractive. The more you watched, the more you felt a slight shiver of anxiety because, to be honest, you had never had a real crush on anyone before now. And that scared you, but if there was one thing you were good at, it was coming up with excuses. So, nonchalantly, you wrote to him on Instagram. - “Heyy, I forgot to order three books that were recommended to me! Can you bring them to me? Pls 🥺”

And he, after a few hours, responded: - “You’ll have to pay me double for the home delivery. 😉”

You smiled like an idiot in front of the screen. And now, here you were, lying on a poolside lounger, wearing sunglasses and a new swimsuit, when the voice of your maid made you lift your head. 'There’s a cute guy at the door with a package for you.' You immediately brightened up; your plan was working. You quickly tied the sheer sarong around your waist, leaving your purple bikini with daisies peeking out.

Above, you didn’t bother to cover yourself—just the bikini, sunglasses, and the smile of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. You walked calmly to the entrance, and when you saw him, you couldn’t hold back a small amused smile. Heeseung looked like a confused puppy. His eyes were wide as he observed the entrance of the villa, hands in his pockets, the look of someone who felt slightly out of place. When he noticed you, his cheeks turned a light shade of red. You were winning, Heeseung didn’t know what to say. He’d already seen you in a swimsuit, but now the situation was completely different. Here, in your villa, under the blazing sun, with your skin still damp from the pool and your mischievous smile, you seemed like you’d just stepped out of a forbidden dream, and his thoughts immediately turned dirty. Damn, you were perfect. The daisies on your bikini seemed deliberately placed to distract him, the sheer sarong did nothing but make him even more frustrated, and your damp hair fell perfectly on your shoulders, driving him crazy. “Do you like my villa, Hee?” you teased, tilting your head with an innocent air. He cleared his throat and nodded quickly. “Yeah... yeah, it’s very nice.” He handed you the envelope with your books, but you didn’t take it immediately. “In exchange, I’ll offer you a lemonade.” Heeseung raised an eyebrow, hesitant. “I don’t want to disturb you, I need to go back to the bookstore.” You ignored his excuse and, without giving him time to protest, grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him toward the pool. It was hot, his skin burning under your fingers, and when you reached the pool’s edge, you handed him a glass of iced lemonade and gave him a fake pout. “I’d be offended if you didn’t drink it and tell me what you think.” Heeseung let out a small smile. “Oh yeah? Are you that sensitive to criticism?” “Only the ones that matter to me,” you replied, winking at him. He shook his head, amused, and brought the glass to his lips. Bad, very bad, because you casually watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed, sweat running down his collarbone, and the way the sun highlighted every line of his muscular arms. When he finished, he looked at you with a mischievous grin. “I didn’t know you were also talented at making lemonade.” You burst out laughing. “Hee, do you realize what you just said?” He thought about it for a moment, then covered his face with his hand. “Shit, I didn’t mean to—” “Too late,” you teased, stretching out on the lounger, relaxed. He, however, seemed slightly uncomfortable—awkward, out of place. “You can sit here,” you said, pointing to the lounger next to yours. “I told you I have to—” “Heeseung, it’s August 15th,” you interrupted, taking off your sunglasses and looking him straight in the eyes. “No one is going to the bookstore today. And with this heat, are you sure you want to go back there?” For a moment, you thought he’d come up with another excuse, but instead— without thinking twice, he took off his shirt, and damn, Heeseung knew exactly what game you were playing. The problem? He was also really good at playing, but at the same time, he looked at you a little shyly.

You burst out laughing. “What’s wrong, Heeseung? Are you shy to take a swim with me?” He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, but the redness on his cheeks betrayed him. “Your maid is here.” You raised an eyebrow, holding back a mischievous smile. “So?” Heeseung stiffened slightly, avoiding your gaze. That’s when you understood. “Oh my God,” you chuckled, giving his bicep a light tap. “And you’d be the innocent one, huh?” He scratched the back of his neck, biting the inside of his cheek. “I didn’t say I was innocent.” You looked at him for a moment, your smile becoming even more amused. “No, indeed. You’re not innocent at all.” Without saying another word, you untied your sarong and slowly slipped it off, knowing full well that Heeseung’s eyes were glued to you. He swallowed. Damn, you were incredible. You sat on the edge of the pool, letting your legs slide into the cool water, letting the sun kiss your skin. Heeseung didn’t move, he looked petrified. “So?” you pressed, swinging your feet in the water. You didn’t give him time to say anything else. You slid into the pool, diving in with an innate elegance. It was your element, and when you started swimming underwater, you decided to push it further, moving agilely between the bubbles, holding your breath for longer than usual, hiding among the reflections in the pool. When did you surface? You didn’t. And that’s when Heeseung started to worry. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed, and without thinking twice, he dove in. Underwater, you saw him coming towards you—fast, strong. His movements were precise, fluid, and for a second, you got distracted watching him, but then you decided to have some fun. With a sudden flick, you slipped behind his back, and before he could react, you grabbed him and pulled him backward. He opened his eyes underwater, surprised. When he resurfaced, you were there, your face lit up by a radiant smile. “Are you crazy?” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Don’t exaggerate, Hee. I was just playing,” you replied, chuckling. He shook his head, running a hand over his wet face. “How the hell do you hold your breath for so long?” You shrugged. “Like you love basketball, I love everything to do with water.” He looked at you intently, and for the first time, he seemed genuinely fascinated. Drops slid down his face, his wet fringe falling on his forehead, his lips slightly chapped from the sun, and damn—those shoulders, those muscles, everything about him seemed sculpted to perfection. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from staring too much, but it was impossible. Without thinking, you reached out and ruffled his hair, laughing. “You’re gorgeous, Heeseung.” He froze. He cleared his throat, trying to cover up the little cough that slipped out. “What?” You smiled, amused by his reaction. “You heard me perfectly.” He lowered his gaze, biting the inside of his cheek. “No girl has ever told me something like that.” You were surprised. “Really?” He nodded, shyly. “Well,” you shrugged. “I was just telling the truth.” Before he could reply, you dove again, swimming to the other side of the pool with the grace of a mermaid. When you turned around, he was still there. Motionless, staring at you. You leaned against the edge of the pool and shouted, “Are you going to stay there stuck for the rest of your life, or are you going to come closer?” It was like you had woken him up from a dream, his eyes darkened, his expression hardened, and then—he moved. He swam towards you with determination, with an intensity that made you hold your breath. When he arrived in front of you, you found yourself pressed against the pool’s edge, and him? He was so close that you could feel the warmth of his body contrasting with the cool water.

The light touch of your fingers along the contours of his face made him tense for a moment. With the tip of your index finger, you traced the line of his jaw, then moved up to his lips, barely brushing them.

"You know I like them?" you whispered, your eyes locked onto his.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain his usual aloof attitude, but the redness on his ears betrayed him. "What?"

"Your lips," you replied with a mischievous smile.

He cleared his throat, lowering his gaze for a moment. "Ah."

You bit the inside of your cheek, amused. "And do you like mine?"

Heeseung remained silent for a second, then shook his head with a smirk. "Too confident."

"Answer," you pressed, tilting your head slightly.

He stared at you for a few seconds, but instead of answering immediately, he lifted a hand and began to touch you gently.

"Your hair," he murmured, twirling a curly strand between his fingers. "I like it."

He playfully pinched the curl, making you laugh.

"Your eyes," he continued, lowering his lashes as his fingers traced the curve of yours. "Your lashes are long, almost annoyingly perfect."

His fingertip slid down the bridge of your nose. "Your little nose too," he added, tracing its shape with a light, barely perceptible touch.

And finally, he reached your lips. His thumb slowly glided along your lower lip, stopping right at the center.

"Your lips," he said, his voice slightly huskier. "I’d want to kiss them all the time."

A shiver ran down your spine, but you couldn't let him win that easily. You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be unfazed. "And?"

Heeseung smirked.

"Too much attention for just one girl, don't you think?"

You shrugged with a playful smile. "Maybe I deserve it."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, tilting his head. "Maybe."

And then—he ran a finger along the side of your neck, his touch barely there on your wet skin.

He brought his lips close to your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. "Your neck," he murmured. "Because I want to kiss it and mark you."

A shiver shot down your spine, and fuck, Heeseung noticed—but he didn’t stop. His fingers slid slowly along your collarbone, then lower, brushing over the soft curve of your breast.

He barely touched it before pressing slightly, increasing the tension.

"This," he said in a low, deep voice, his touch almost hypnotic. "I’ve already bitten and kissed it."

He lifted his gaze to you, and in his eyes, there was something dark, something possessive.

"But I want to hear you moan my name while I do it again."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Damn.

His fingers trailed lower, moving down your stomach, while his warm breath ghosted over your neck. Then, he reached the edge of your swimsuit—but stopped there. His finger played with the fabric, teasing, waiting. And you realized—he wanted to see how far you were willing to push him.

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smirk. "What's wrong, Hee? Did you freeze up?"

Heeseung lifted his gaze to meet yours, his dark eyes burning into you.

"Careful, Y/N," he murmured, his voice deep and rough. "You love playing with fire too much."

Your arms wrapped around his neck as your legs instinctively locked around his waist. His breath hitched slightly, his eyes widening—not in shock, but in intrigue. His chest rose and fell faster, as if your touch alone was testing his self-control.

Then, without giving him time to react, you tilted your head and started kissing his neck, feeling his muscles tense under your lips.

"Y/N..." he whispered, his voice a mix of warning and want—but you didn’t stop.

If anything, you leaned in closer, brushing a soft kiss near his earlobe—and that’s when you heard it.

A low, strangled groan escaped his lips as his arms instinctively tightened around your waist, fingers digging into your damp skin.

A victorious smirk played on your lips before you went back to his neck, kissing and lightly biting that one spot you knew was his weakness.

"Hee," you teased, your voice nothing but a whisper. "I like your lips too."

You felt his jaw clench, as if he was struggling to hold himself back, but his hands gripped your hips even tighter.

Then, with innocent mischief, you leaned into his ear and whispered, "Lie down."

He raised an eyebrow, studying you—but you simply took his hand and led him toward the lounge chairs near the pool entrance.

He thought you were the one who wanted to lie down—only for you to push him back gently, making him settle onto the warm chair.

Heeseung looked up at you, his chest still rising and falling unevenly.

"And what exactly do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You sat on the edge of the chair, the heat of the stone searing lightly against your skin.

"Studying," you replied with a playful smile—before lowering your head and beginning to kiss him.

First on his chest, leaving soft kisses and teasing bites as you traced his skin. Then, you moved lower, trailing kisses along his toned abs, and—damn.

For a bookworm who spent most of his time in the library, his body was surprisingly well-defined.

You looked up at him, biting your lip. "How the hell does a nerd—okay, fine, a basketball-playing nerd—have a body like this?"

He let out a low chuckle, trying to keep his composure. "Did you expect me to be some scrawny guy with glasses and a plaid shirt?"

"A little bit, yeah," you admitted, laughing.

"Library or not, I work out. I don’t spend all my time reading romance novels like you do."

You raised an eyebrow at his little jab, amused.

"Doesn’t seem like you mind," you shot back before kissing him again.

Your lips trailed further down his skin, reaching his navel—and right at that moment, Heeseung tensed up again

"Y/N, stop," he said, his voice lower now, wrapped in a veil of tension.

You stopped, lifting your gaze to meet his with a teasing smile. "Why?"

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he stared at you intensely.

"Because if you keep going, I won’t be able to stop."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, but instead of intimidating you, it only urged you to tease him more. Slowly, you lowered your hand, letting your fingers trail along the waistband of his swim trunks.

Heeseung held his breath. You looked up at him with a falsely innocent gaze.

"Like this?"

In an instant, he gently pushed you backward onto the lounge chair, making you lose balance for a second. His body hovered over yours, his hands framing your face, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

And this time, he was the one to kiss you first.

His lips pressed against yours with a softness that contrasted the firm way he had pushed you down. It was a slow kiss, but it carried something deeper—something possessive.

Heeseung wasn’t just kissing you—he was exploring, savoring, claiming every inch of your lips.

A faint moan escaped your throat as the sweet taste of lemonade mixed with his, making everything more intense, more electric. Your fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him even closer.

Heeseung felt your body press against his, your breath melding with his, and in that moment, he realized—this was better.

Better than all the filthy dreams he had about you. Better than any fantasy that had kept him awake at night, picturing you beneath him, moaning his name.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes roamed over your flushed face, your swollen lips parted slightly as you caught your breath.

"You’re beautiful," he whispered, his thumb tracing the outline of your mouth.

You lowered your gaze, a shy smile playing on your lips. "Will you say that again?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I bet you hear it every day."

You shook your head, ruffling his hair with your fingers. "It’s the first time someone has said it without jealousy or ulterior motives."

Heeseung frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

You bit your lip, trying to gather your thoughts. "Girls usually resent me for it, and guys… well, the compliments I get are always shallow. No one’s ever looked at me the way you do."

For a moment, Heeseung remained silent. Then, with a small smile, he lowered his gaze and absentmindedly traced soft patterns along your side.

"So, what you’re saying is… I’m special?" he asked, a mischievous lilt in his voice.

You scoffed, feeling warmth creep up your neck. "Don’t turn this into an ego boost."

He chuckled, but his smile turned softer. "Too late, sweetheart."

You stiffened slightly.

"Sweetheart?" you repeated, surprised.

Heeseung noticed your reaction and tilted his head in amusement. "I can’t call you that?"

You weren’t entirely sure why, but hearing that nickname from him sent a shiver down your spine. You gave him a small nod, avoiding his gaze out of embarrassment.

"Can I ask you something?" you asked, hoping your voice wouldn’t betray too much emotion.

Heeseung stared at you for a moment before nodding. "Tell me." His dark eyes studied you, and the mix of embarrassment and boldness in your expression made him realize you were about to ask something intimate.

His fingers on your waist stilled, his thumb tracing slow circles on your still-damp skin.

You lowered your gaze, biting your lip. Your hands fidgeted nervously, but there was determination in your posture. "I… I’ve never been touched there. Only by myself."

Heeseung’s pupils dilated slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

It was strange—he was usually the one who always knew what to say, the one with a teasing remark ready to throw at you. But now? Now he was completely thrown off.

"You…" he started, but then stopped, wetting his lips.

You lifted your gaze and, barely above a whisper, confessed, "I was wondering if… if you wanted to."

Silence. The only sounds were the distant crashing of waves and the frantic beating of your heart against your ribs.

Heeseung clenched his jaw, his gaze locked onto yours. For a moment, he almost looked conflicted. Then, moving slowly, he lowered his face closer to yours, his nose brushing against yours.

"Sweetheart," he whispered against your lips, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, "you do realize that if you say something like that to me… I won’t be able to hold back, right?"

Heeseung watched you from above with a mischievous grin, his dark eyes fixed on your still damp body. The costume adhered to your skin, making you feel even more exposed under his watchful gaze. He ran his tongue over his lips and leaned toward you, his fingers moving light on your thighs, barely touching you, enough to make you shudder. "Lie a little lower, pretty.” His voice was low, hoarse, an order disguised as a request. His hand gently pressed on your belly to guide you backwards. “I want to touch you better.” Nod without much thought, cheeks burning with anticipation.

He smiled, pleased. "Good girl," he whispered, sliding his finger along the edge of your bikini. "But remember that you can stop me whenever you want.” You nodded again, but you already knew that you would never do it. Her lips settled on the skin of your thighs, first with slow and soft kisses, then with small bites that made you wince.

His warm breath mingled with the cool pool air as his fingers drew invisible lines on your thighs. He caught you off guard when he looked down and whistled softly. "Cute... this is not pool water.” You opened your eyes wide, a shiver down your spine. "C-What?” Heeseung chuckled, a deep, cheeky sound, and slowly lowered the edge of your purple costume.

“Look. Are you so wet just because I touched and kissed you a little? Are you always so responsive?” You covered your face with your hands, embarrassed. “It never happened to me...”

He shook his head and with a quick movement gently took your wrists, moving your hands away from your face. His gaze became darker, more intense. “Don't hide.” His voice was more authoritarian now, deep and slow. “I want you to remember that the first one to make you feel that way was me.”

Your throat tightened, your breath trembled. His eyes did not leave your face, and you felt every inch of your skin catch fire under his gaze. He was grumpy, authoritarian and arrogant. And yet, you knew you never wanted to run away from him. Heeseung slid his fingers lower, touching your clit with slow, provocative movements. Your body reacted immediately, your hips involuntarily arched towards him, looking for more clutch.

"How cute," Heeseung muttered, looking at you with greedy eyes. "Before you were so cheeky, now what? Where did the girl he was taunting in the bookstore and the pool go?” You glanced at him, biting your lower lip. “I'm still here”

you replied, with a twinge of voice. He sneered. "Oh yes? Then show me.” And without giving you time to answer, he slid a finger into you. A groan escaped from your lips as your body adapted to the new feeling, unlike anything you had ever experienced. Your fingers had never been able to make you feel like this, and you knew it too.

“So tight, pretty, " he muttered, his voice a mixture of excitement and pure adoration. “And so wet just for me. Are you enjoying it?” He nodded frantically, unable to form words.

He chuckled. “Speak. I want to hear from you.” he whispered against your skin, adding another finger and increasing the pace. You felt like you were going to go crazy, and when his mouth drooped to graze your clit with your tongue, you screamed his name without even realizing it.

He moaned at you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. "Damn, pretty you're already losing your slimy cum and you haven't even come between my fingers and between my lips,”

the muttered before returning to work your mouth and pump more of his long fingers inside your poor shiny cunt that he divinely took. His touch, his tongue, everything was too much, too intense, he caught you off guard when he pinched your breasts still covered by the bikini, and the pleasure completely overwhelmed you. Your hands found his hair and you pulled it hard as your body trembled under his touch.

You came moaning his name, no longer ashamed. Heeseung slowly peeled off, licking his lips with a satisfied look. He looked at you as you tried to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling frantically. "Beautiful," he muttered, running a finger down your leg. “And this time I want you to remember it well.”

The end-of-summer party had been organized by the student council on the open part of the beach. From your house’s terrace, you could already see the soft glow of the bonfires, the shadows of people laughing and dancing, the sound of the waves blending with the music playing in the background. The sky, however, wasn’t completely clear—shades of pink and white intertwined with deeper tones of violet, creating an almost magical atmosphere.

You quickly checked your phone: no rain forecast. Perfect.

You slipped into your sparkly butterfly top, paired with a bralette that was both sexy and sweet—just like you. A flowy white skirt brushed against your legs, and delicate sandals adorned your feet. Your curly hair cascaded over your shoulders, with two small braids framing your face. You looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled—you felt beautiful. But maybe, just maybe, you wanted to look beautiful for someone in particular.

For Heeseung.

You arrived at the party with a confident stride, immediately welcomed by the warmth of the crowd. Friends greeted you, laughter filled the air, and the salty scent of the sea mixed with the smoky aroma of burning wood. But as you talked, your eyes wandered, unconsciously searching for someone.

Lisa, of course, noticed right away. 'Looking for someone in particular?' she asked with a teasing smile.

You shook your head a little too quickly. “N-No! Just… looking around.”

Emma crossed her arms. -Mmmh, sure. Then why do your eyes keep landing in the same spot?-

You swallowed, trying to play it cool, but then—your heart skipped a beat.

There, near the shoreline, illuminated by the warm glow of the bonfires, stood Heeseung.

He was wearing a white shirt that highlighted the slight golden hue of his skin, paired with dark jeans that fit his tall, lean frame perfectly. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run his fingers through it more than once. He was talking to Jay and Sunghoon, laughing from time to time, but… he wasn’t alone.

Next to him, a girl was clearly trying to monopolize his attention. She laughed dramatically at everything he said, touched his arm with too much familiarity, and tilted her head to the side every time she spoke.

And Heeseung?

He didn’t seem particularly interested—but he wasn’t pulling away either.

A faint sting prickled in your chest. It wasn’t jealousy… right?

You had never been jealous in your life—perhaps because you had never truly liked someone before. But now, with your eyes fixed on the scene in front of you, a faint burn crept from your stomach to your chest.

As if drawn by an invisible force, you turned to your friends. “I’m just going to say hi to someone.”

Lisa and Emma exchanged a knowing glance before nodding with amused smiles. You could hear their whispered comments behind you, but you paid them no mind. You had other things to focus on.

Walking confidently across the soft sand, you approached Heeseung’s bonfire and his group of friends. But instead of heading straight to him, you stopped nearby, pretending to be interested in something else entirely.

From there, you could hear the conversation clearly.

And just as you’d suspected, that girl was blatantly flirting with him.

“Anyway,” she licked her lips, tilting her head to the side, “I just can’t believe you’re still single, Heeseung.”

He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair, already visibly uncomfortable. “Uh… yeah, well… it’s not that—”

She laughed, cutting him off. “No, seriously, it’s crazy! I mean, look at you.” She placed a hand on his shoulder with far too much familiarity. “Tall, handsome, those dark eyes… And I heard you play basketball, so I bet there’s a nice body under that shirt, huh?”

Jay and Sunghoon exchanged amused glances as Heeseung blushed slightly, lowering his head.

“Uh… I just play for fun, nothing serious,” he murmured, trying to downplay it.

She giggled again, stepping a little closer. “Oh, sure, sure. But I bet you’re super competitive, aren’t you? Guys like you always are. Tell me, what if we played… one-on-one? If I win, you buy me a drink. If you win… well, we’ll figure something out.”

Her voice had dropped lower, turning more suggestive.

You rolled your eyes.

How much longer did you have to endure this?

Letting out a small huff, tired of the conversation, you decided to step in.

With a mischievous smile, you approached Heeseung—just like you had done at the pool.

Wrapping your arms around his back, you completely caught him off guard.

His whole body tensed for a second before he spun around, eyes wide, his face turning an instant shade of red.

“Oh,” he stammered, visibly taken aback.

And the way he was looking at you… was exactly what you wanted.

His gaze traveled over you slowly, almost as if he didn’t know where to stop. The sparkly top highlighting your shoulders, the light skirt fluttering around your legs… your skin glowing under the firelight. He swallowed dryly, running a nervous hand through his hair yet again.

“Hey, Hee,” you greeted him with a sweet smile, laced with that teasing tone you knew always made him flustered.

“H-Hey…” he replied, dropping his gaze for a brief moment before bringing it back to you.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” you tilted your head to the side, feigning innocence.

The girl next to him looked at you with an expression teetering between surprise and annoyance.

“No, no,” Heeseung quickly interjected—too quickly. “We were just… uh…”

“Yes?” you smiled again, watching the way he bit the inside of his cheek, clearly flustered.

Jay chuckled quietly beside him, while Sunghoon covered his mouth to hide his amusement.

Heeseung cleared his throat, trying to collect himself, but the blush on his cheeks wasn’t going anywhere.

You, on the other hand, simply looked at him with soft amusement. Because you knew that, shy as he was, he would never back down from the game.

And indeed, after taking a deep breath, his eyes grew a little more certain.

“You have perfect timing,” he murmured with a hint of a smile. “I was just about to ask someone to save me.”

You burst into laughter while the girl next to him crossed her arms, visibly annoyed.

“Oh, so I’m your savior now?” you shot him a playful look.

He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I could get used to it.”

When you asked if he wanted to take a walk by the shore, he didn’t hesitate for even a second.

“Of course.” Then, without giving you a chance to say anything else, he grabbed your wrist and started walking, gently pulling you along with him.

The warmth of his skin against yours made you shiver slightly, but you tried not to let it show.

The sound of the party gradually faded as you walked away, leaving only the gentle crash of the waves against the shore and the soft creaking of the wooden pier beneath your feet.

“I never thought I’d see you dressed like this,” Heeseung murmured, breaking the silence.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “And what exactly does that mean?”

He turned to look at you, with that usual mix of embarrassment and boldness in his gaze. Then, he ran a hand through his hair—a clear sign he was searching for the right words.

“It means that…” his eyes lowered slightly, scanning you carefully. “That you look beautiful.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hide your smile.

“Oh? That’s already the third or fourth time you’ve said that.”

He let out a quiet laugh, lowering his head. “So what? You want me to stop?”

You shook your head, crossing your arms. “No, but at this point, you could at least switch up the compliments.”

He leaned in ever so slightly, tilting his head to the side. “Alright. Then can I tell you that you’re driving me crazy dressed like this?”

His voice was lower now, deeper, and the way he was looking at you sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt his hand graze your waist, warm against your bare skin.

You swallowed. “Better, definitely more original.”

He barely smiled. “See? I know how to tease too.”

You bit your lip, looking at him with playful amusement. “So, do you prefer me… or the girl you were flirting with?”

Heeseung scoffed, his expression almost irritated. “Flirting? Are you serious?”

His grip on your waist tightened slightly, making you gasp.

“She was the one flirting,” he continued, lowering his voice just a little. “Not me.”

He held your gaze for a few seconds before slowly leaning down toward your ear. His breath brushed against your skin.

“I’d choose you over any other girl.”

Your stomach tightened. Then, with an even softer whisper, he added:

“I’ve had so many dirty thoughts about you that I don’t even know what’s real anymore.”

Your breath caught for a second. You tried to compose yourself, but your cheeks were burning. So, to distract yourself, you teased him about something you knew would work.

“You’re too tall,” you muttered, looking up at him.

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “And you’re too small.”

You huffed, giving him a light push on the chest.

He chuckled. “If you want, I can bend down.”

And as he said it, he slowly lowered himself until your faces were just inches apart.

“Better like this?” he whispered.

Heeseung noticed that you were trembling slightly.

Without a word, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders with a slow, almost absentminded motion.

You looked up at him, gripping the fabric between your fingers. “Well, aren’t you a gentleman.”

He shrugged, feigning indifference. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

You giggled, pulling the jacket tighter around you. “And yet, you don’t really seem like the type to worry so much.”

He was about to answer when a loud clap of thunder shattered the silence, making both of you jump.

Then, as if the sky had been waiting for the perfect moment, small raindrops began to fall, cold against your skin, still warm from the party.

You burst into laughter.

“Well, I guess it’s fate,” you exclaimed, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along with you.

Heeseung let himself be dragged without resistance, laughing softly as you ran along the beach, the rain growing heavier by the second.

“Every time we see each other, we always end up in the water!” you shouted, squeezing his hand and picking up the pace.

He shook his head, amused. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

You both laughed again, not stopping until you reached the small gazebo on your property.

Without thinking twice, he grabbed your waist and pulled you into a sudden embrace.

You felt his chest rise and fall against yours. His breathing was still uneven from the run.

Instead of pulling away, you lifted a hand and tousled his wet hair. “You’re soaked.”

He scoffed quietly. “So are you.”

Your gaze drifted down to his wet shirt, now completely see-through and clinging to his body.

You bit your lip without even realizing it.

“Okay… I have to admit,” you said, tracing a finger from his biceps down to his abs. “This shirt looks ridiculously good on you.”

Your fingers lightly brushed the skin beneath the fabric, cold and featherlight.

Heeseung shivered just slightly.

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

You looked up at him with that innocent expression he knew was anything but innocent. “Nothing.”

He knew you were playing.

But he didn’t expect what happened next.

You rose onto your tiptoes and, without hesitation, kissed him.

The kiss was sweet at first, slow and uncertain.

Your lips moved against his with an almost maddening gentleness, as if you wanted to savor him slowly, without rushing.

He gave in immediately, closing his eyes and resting his hands on your waist, gripping you lightly.

But then he felt your tongue barely graze his, a soft caress that made him let out a quiet moan against your lips—and everything changed.

The kiss deepened, becoming hungrier. His hands tightened on you, pulling you against him as his chest rose and fell unevenly.

Your body pressed perfectly against his, the soaked fabric leaving no space between you.

When you finally pulled away, he was panting slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

But then, with a smile that was both mischievous and impossibly sweet, you whispered:

“I want you.”

Heeseung froze, his eyes widening slightly, his fingers—once gently caressing your waist—now going still.

He stared at you, trying to understand if he had heard you correctly.

Okay. Okay, one thing was making up fantasies about you. One thing was touching himself in the shower while thinking about you. But now?

Now it was you—the girl everyone wanted, the sweetest girl he’d ever met—the one who teased him but also smiled at him with such innocent warmth—you were the one saying you wanted him.

And suddenly, he couldn’t think straight anymore.

Heeseung looked into your eyes, his breathing still uneven from the kiss.

“Are you messing with me?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse, that low tone making you shiver.

You shook your head, biting your lip. “No.”

You took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and pulled him inside.

You could feel him behind you, his steps slow but heavy as you climbed the stairs. When you crossed the threshold of your bedroom, you felt his gaze land on every little detail of your world.

He looked around, curious. Your books stacked on the nightstand, the small trinkets scattered across your desk, the photos taped to the wall, illuminated by the soft, warm glow of fairy lights.

Suddenly, you felt shy.

You didn’t know why, but the fact that he was here, in your most intimate space, made you feel vulnerable.

Slowly, you turned toward him, lowering your gaze.

“Do you want me too?” you asked softly, almost whispering, unable to look at him.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, you heard a quiet sigh, followed by a smile.

“All of a sudden, you’re shy?”

You felt his fingers brush against your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his gaze. His eyes were darker now, his expression serious—but amused at the same time.

“What happened to the girl who wouldn’t stop teasing me?”

You blushed even more, and he chuckled softly.

“Cute,” he murmured, lowering his face toward your ear. “I’ve dreamed about this moment for months.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

He tilted his head, his nose grazing your skin as his hands slid down to your waist.

“Every time I saw you, every time you laughed, every time you looked at me with those eyes…” His voice dropped lower as he pressed a soft kiss to your earlobe. “…I became obsessed.”

Your breath hitched.

His hands traveled back up, gripping your waist slightly. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

You turned slightly toward him, your heart pounding in your chest.

He smiled, but his eyes were dark, filled with something deeper.

“But do you know what I like the most?” he whispered, his lips just barely brushing against yours.

You swallowed, shaken by the way his body pressed against yours. “What…?”

He smirked, tilting his head.

“The fact that with me, you’ve let yourself go.”

He kissed your neck, his lips warm against your skin, still damp from the rain.

“The sweet girl that everyone loves…” His hands slid down your back, touching you with an agonizing slowness. “…but with me, she loves to tease.”

His teeth grazed your skin lightly, making you shiver.

And then, in a deeper voice, he added:

“You know something?”

You swallowed hard, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his lips trace down your jawline.

He smiled against your skin.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about you.”

Your breath caught.

“How many times I’ve touched myself thinking about you.”

Your eyes snapped open, heat surging through your body.

Heeseung pulled back just slightly, watching your reaction with an amused smirk.

“Does that embarrass you?”

You shook your head quickly. “No.”

He chuckled. “You’re adorable when you try to act tough.”

Then, with a more commanding tone, he grabbed the hem of his soaked shirt and lifted it slightly.

“If you really want me,” he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours, “then take it off.”

You took off his shirt without saying a word, your hands sliding over his warm skin as you brought your lips to his neck. You began kissing him softly, letting yourself go with small bites and gentle sucks, feeling his breath grow heavier. He chuckled amusedly and, with a provocative smile, asked:

“Where did you learn these things?”

You looked up, a flash of challenge in your eyes.

“From the books you recommended to me this summer.”

His laugh filled the room, vibrant and genuine, as he teased you in return. But you didn’t stop. You continued down, your lips grazing his collarbone, then his chest, lingering on his nipples. He bit his lip, his breath becoming shorter. You went lower, your lips tracing a slow, deliberate path down his abs, until they brushed against the sensitive skin around his belly button. A soft moan escaped him, and you saw him run a hand through his hair. By now, you had learned to recognize those small gestures: he did that when he was impatient... or shy.

Your hands held him gently at the waist as you looked up at him from below, a mischievous smile on your lips.

“I’m a little embarrassed… I’ve never done anything like this with anyone before.”

He lowered his gaze to you, his face a mix of sweetness and desire.

“You can take all the time you want with me. I want you to be sure.”

Those words warmed your chest, but a shiver ran through you when you felt the damp fabric of your top against your skin. You looked him in the eyes, biting your lip.

“Then… take it off.”

He didn’t need any more words. He didn’t even let you finish the sentence before he slid the fabric down your arms. As your top fell to the floor, he whispered, with a genuine smile and eyes full of admiration:

“You’re beautiful.”

When Heeseung saw your bralette, a playful grin tugged at his lips. His eyes lingered on the thin lace that covered your chest, and with a finger, he traced slow circles on the fabric, barely touching you.

“You’re too cute like this… so innocent, it makes me want to make you blush even more.”

The heat rose to your face, but you didn’t have time to reply, because his mouth immediately found your neck, sucking with an intensity that made you shiver. His hands moved confidently over you, and before you knew it, the bra was gone. He pulled back slightly to look at you, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

“Finally... I’ve been dying to touch them.”

The way he said it made you instinctively clench your thighs together, but he noticed and laughed, biting his lip. Then, without giving you a chance to react, he gently pushed you onto the bed and positioned himself above you. His mouth wasted no time, moving down to torment your breasts with bites and sucks, intensifying the heat inside you.

A small moan escaped you as his body slid against yours, and you clearly felt his arousal press against your sensitive center. The contact made you shiver, and without thinking too much, you murmured: "I feel ... your length..."

For a moment, Hee stopped. Then he burst out laughing, raising his head to look at you with an incredulous and amused expression. "Length?!"he repeated, amused. "Do you really call it that? Why are you always so adorably naive?" His tone was full of mischief as he lowered his voice and his pelvis barely moved against yours, making you gasp again. "

Say it right, baby." he whispered against your ear, slowly biting your lobe. "They say fuck." You bit your lip, your face on fire, but he had no intention of letting you go without hearing it from you.

Hee peppered you with kisses along the body, descending further and further down until it reached your navel. He paused for a moment, looking up at you with a mischievous smile. "Can I take off your skirt?"he asked in a hoarse voice.

A shiver ran through your back. Without hesitation, you raised your hips slightly as a sign of assent, and he, with a satisfied smile, slowly slid the fabric down your legs. He whistled quietly, but his attitude changed as soon as he saw what you were wearing underneath. His eyes darkened, his expression became more intense, almost possessive.

"A thong?" His voice dropped an octave as his fingers grazed the thin fabric. "And for whom did you put it?" You shrugged your shoulders with a sly smile, without immediately answering, but your provocation made him lose his temper. Without warning, his hand struck your thigh with a firm slap, making you wince.

"Hee!" his name eluded you in a small surprised cry. "Who did you put it for?" he repeated, the more authoritarian tone this time. You looked down, biting your lip, before whispering softly: "Just for you."

His smile returned, more smug than ever. "Mh ... and tell me, do you like it?"you added in a playful voice. "I have a dozen like that..." As soon as those words came out of your mouth, Hee snorted quietly, shaking his head with a mixture of disbelief and pure desire.

"Damn, y /n..." he laughed, but his gaze was loaded with something deeper. He teased you with a few more jokes, but his mouth wasted no time. He began to kiss you over the thong, brushing every inch of bare skin, making you arch under him. One of his hands slid under you, firmly grabbing your bottom and clasping against you. His breaths were heavy, his control almost nonexistent.

"I'll ruin you..." he muttered in a low voice, his lips touching your skin as he spoke. "I've been obsessed with you for months."

His teeth pulled the rubber band of the thong flat before sliding it off. He whistled again when he noticed how wet you were. He looked up at you, a flash of pure adoration in his eyes.

"Even wetter than that time in the pool..." he whispered with a crooked smile. You bit your lip, trying to hide the embarrassment, but with a thread of voice you told him: "Just for you, Hee." And his last crumb of control faded completely.

His hands explored every inch of your warm skin. His eyes, dark and full of desire, rested on your center now lit by his touch. He ran a finger along the still damp fabric of the thong he had just moved and smiled. "If you really want to lose your virginity to me, I have to prepare you well."His voice was low, hoarse. "But you need to relax… and most importantly trust me."

You looked at him with a defiant smile, trying to play with him as always. "Who said I was tense?" But Hee wasn't in the mood for your little games, not this time. "Don't be smart, Y/ n." he replied in an authoritarian tone, and without warning, he shoved a finger inside you. A gasp ran through you as you clutched the sheets in your hands,the breath breaking. "Be… it's beautiful…" you could say, biting your lip. He giggled quietly, his gaze full of fun. "Oh, yes? Then you could get another one, don't you think?" And without waiting for an answer, he added a second, slowly moving them inside you, making you feel every inch of their presence. The heat enveloped you, your body instinctively moved against his hand, while he laughed quietly, amused by your reaction.

"Look… you're making my fingers touch you so well. What will you do when it's my cock inside you?" His dirty words made your face burn, but the pleasure growing inside you was too strong to think of any answer. Then, in a slow and precise motion, he slid his thumb over your most sensitive point, barely pinching it. A cry escaped from your lips. "Hee—!" "Are you close?" he asked with a satisfied smile. He nodded frantically, his body trembling under his touch. But his gaze suddenly became more authoritarian as he slowed down his movements. "Don't even try." His voice was an order. "You have to be ready for me, so I'll add another one." "No—wait -" But he ignored your protest, pushing a third finger into you. A wave of pleasure swept over you, your back arched as your body adjusted to the feeling of being so wonderfully filled. You could feel the moisture sliding down his fingers, your white, slimy excitement shining on his skin. Your hands ran to his hair, pulling it hard, desperately trying to hold on to something as your body completely surrendered to him. Hee smiled against your skin, his voice a whisper full of satisfaction.

"Now you can come." And those words were enough to make you completely lose control. The pleasure exploded within you, and his name escaped you in a cry as your body trembled under his touch.

Your body was still shaking, your breath broken as the wave of pleasure slowly subsided. But Hee didn't give you a moment to recover. You felt missed when you saw him stooping between your legs, his lips touching your still sensitive skin. And then, without any hesitation, his tongue slipped on you, collecting every trace of your excitement. A groan eluded you as the warmth of his breath caressed you.

"You're so sweet..."he whispered, looking at you with bright eyes. "I'm lucky I was the first to taste you. And it will only be so, forever." You stammered something, your brain still clouded with pleasure.

"I ... you ... Hee -" but you couldn't even make a sensible sentence. He laughed softly, his gaze full of fun and desire. Without saying anything, he pulled himself up, his hands running to the edge of his pants. When he slid them down, revealing his Calvin Klein box Hee noticed your gaze fixed on him and tilted his head with a smirk.

"Oh? Are you embarrassed for so little?" Then, however, his tone changed slightly, becoming more serious.

"Y/n ... are you sure?" You met his eyes and nodded without hesitation. "Yes, I want it." He smiled contentedly and confidently took your hand, guiding it to the edges of his boxer.

"Then take them off." The heat of his order hit you right in the stomach. Your fingers shook slightly as you grabbed the rubber band and slowly lowered it. And then, as soon as the fabric slipped off, its member snapped free, revealing itself in front of you. It was really big, slightly pinkish, with a thin patina of desire that shone on the tip. Swallow, trying to dampen the tension with a shy smile.

"Well ... I definitely didn't expect it that way."

Hee laughed softly, shaking his head. "Are you kidding me now?" Then, he lowered his voice slightly. "You want to touch him?" The heat that enveloped you was almost unbearable. But, without taking your eyes off his, nodded.

"Yes…" As soon as your fingers brushed him, you felt his warm, taut skin under your touch. Hee tilted his head back, a low groan escaping from his lips.

"If you continue like this..." he muttered with a crooked smile. "I may not last as long as I want." You bit your lip, enjoying his reaction, then looked up at him.

"Then...before fucking me can you tease me a little the entrance to fit me slightly?" He looked at you for a moment, his gaze becoming even darker. "For you, anything."

His hands slid over your thighs, slowly opening them. Your heart beat faster when you felt its hot tip touch your slimy folds. Both groaned at the same time, the electrical contact, a mixture of expectation and pure desire. Hee approached your ear, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Are you ready for me?"

His cock began to slightly tease your slimy cunt and you moaned at the inward sensation of his cock teasing your entrance, Hee looked at you intently and felt that you were still slightly tight and he wanted your first time to be perfect.

"Dear, give me your hand, if you feel that it hurts too much you squeeze it and you can also tell me to stop if it's too much"

You nodded as you felt more and more of his cock sliding inside you but he wanted to hear you say it in your voice. "rispond Y/n, answer me, I want to hear that beautiful voice not a simple gesture with the head!" you took his hand and told him that you would do it if it was too much and he gave you a little kiss on the forehead and with one stroke slid its length into you slowly and you moaned together.

"God, you're so tight pretty, is everything ok?"

you looked at Heeseung above you with clumps of still damp hair falling on his forehead and he gave you comfort in having sex with him for the first time.

"Yes, yes, I have to get used to it all again," he pushed himself to escape slightly, and then I told him he could move more. Heeseung pushed for the first few times slightly softly on your poor vaginal lips that still had to adapt to his leaking cock, the room was flooded with your body odor, you could hear only the whistling of the wind and rain. with his of your kisses and your bodies rubbing together.

"Hee, more please" you said slightly embarrassed to feel the feeling of well-being of his cock getting more and more sucked by you, he took your leg and put it slightly over his shoulder. "Look at you, so pretty and good at taking my cock, I had no doubt that under that aura of a good innocent girl there was a good girl to seduce to take me well!"

his thrusts became irregular inside you, it was all too much and you shook his hand to make him understand that it was too much but at the same time you moaned madly in feeling it inside you more and more deep. "Hee, please, I'm almost there" you said with tears in your eyes coming down from pleasure, he told you he was going to make you cum and teased you with his thumb your swollen clit and little twitches ran through your body and you screamed his name as your white cum scned between your thighs and his cock that could not stop hammering your poor cunt now soaked and sensitive.

"Where, where do you want me to come, cute?" you told him inside that you had started taking the pill and after two more pushes deeper and deeper inside you felt his sperm splash inside you and groan with the feeling of your bodies still embraced and merged with each other.

After cleaning you up with a damp cloth and taking you to the bathroom to change, Heeseung wrapped you in his arms, your face hidden against his chest while your heart raced uncontrollably. Your breath was still a little uneven, but you found the courage to whisper the words you had been holding inside for a long time.

"...I love you."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, suddenly, Hee burst into laughter.

You stiffened, and with a sulky expression, you turned away, ignoring the slight discomfort in your legs. You didn’t want to look at him. If for him it was just something to brag about to his friends, then let him. But he would never have anything else from you.

You felt him stay still for a few seconds, his breath barely noticeable against your skin. Then, as if a switch had been flipped in his mind, he gently grabbed you and turned you around, making you snuggle against him again.

"Hey," he murmured, his fingers grazing your side.

You pouted. "If for you it’s just something to tell others to brag about, then go ahead… but know that I’ll erase you from my life forever."

Hee sighed and gave you a small pinch on the side, making you flinch. "Stop saying nonsense and be quiet for a moment."

You looked up at him, meeting his dark eyes.

"I love you too."

His words were direct, without hesitation. You felt your cheeks flush, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I don’t believe it..." you murmured, looking down.

Hee smiled, amused, and with two fingers, he lifted your chin to make you look into his eyes again. "I love everything about you," he whispered with an intensity that made you shiver. "I love your sweet and friendly personality, but also your shyness. I love the innocent girl who blushes for no reason and the one who knows how to tease me without any shame."

His smile widened as he kissed down your cheek, all the way to your neck. "I love the one who gets jealous when she sees me with another... and the one who chose to give me her first time."

Your face was now completely red, your heart feeling like it was about to explode. You couldn’t hold back and kissed him, holding him tightly.

When you pulled away, your eyes sparkled with emotion. "So... are you my boyfriend?" you asked, a hint of shyness in your voice.

Hee smiled, shifting above you to settle you more comfortably between his arms. "Of course," he replied possessively. "I have no intention of sharing you with anyone else."

You bit your lip, a mischievous smile breaking through the redness of your cheeks. "Neither do I, you know?"

He chuckled and pulled you even closer. "Good. Because you’re mine."

taglist: @stwrlightt @hearts4cheol @lovenha7 @in-somnias-world @heeseungxo @luvyeni @jayjw16enxp @jvngwni @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddie @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs @lovellydisaster @rikiscupid @simj4k3 @numnommz @sspidermanss @vixialuvs @smlbch @m3wkledreamy @xylatox @ikeulove @nishikio @ancnymcnzjy @sofiafromvenus @kayjiguki @annovaz @kkamismom12 @forrds @inishij @amortenha @jayjw16enxp @sunnysidesins @isagistar @schniti-is-in-the-house

Rebblog and comments are appreciated

©cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2025.

[holybibly]

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 ℭ𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔩𝔢 | Seonghwa x reader

𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: Vampire Prince Seonghwa x Mortal maid reader 𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You've heard the story since you were a little girl—a beautiful vampire prince living in an ancient Gothic castle covered in thorny roses, waiting for his true love. But you could never have imagined that you were destined to be part of this gloomy story.  𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 / 𝔄𝔲 / 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢 : Smut, Dark Romance, Mystery, Doomed lovers!AU, Vampire!AU, Gothic!AU, Soulmate!AU ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 15k

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Vampire sex, master/servant, unprotected sex, corruption kink, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, rough oral, power play, hematolagnia, body worship, bite kink, orgasm delay/denial, wax game, blood kink, blood drinking, multiple orgasms, squirting, face fucking and more.

𝔫𝔢𝔱: @cultofdionysusnet

𝔄|𝔑: And now I've finally completed it and I couldn't be happier. I guess I'm a little too in love with Seonghwa. But can I resist the temptation to give him all my attention? And the bunnies seem a little obsessed with him too, don't they? This is a gothic fairy tale, full of depravity, filth and lust. Are you ready for a prince's cold kiss?

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis

It's always been this way and always will be: people avoid the village that stands by the sinister Gothic castle in the middle of a dead rose garden, where ancient legend says a beautiful midnight somnambulist holds the guilty legacy of his bloodthirsty ancestors. Dressed in an ancient coronation robe, the magnificent prince of vampires sits all alone in his dark, vast house, under the watchful eye of his mad and terrible ancestors, who stare at him from faded portraits, each of them prolonging their dreary posthumous existence through him. He spreads the tarot cards, tirelessly forming endless constellations of indeterminate probabilities, as if a random card falling on a regal blood-red velvet tablecloth would transport him from this cold, shuttered room to a land of eternal summer and human warmth. As if it would help him to wipe away the age-old sorrow from his unbeating heart, to allow him to feel, at last, the love for which he so desperately longs—the love for someone like him, a creature who embodies life and death at the same time.

His voice is full of distant echoes of long-forgotten love poems, like an echo under the earth: "You've come to a place from which you can't return; you've come to a place from which you can't return." And he himself is like a dark, cold dungeon, filled with the reverberation of a lonely echo, a system of repetition, a vicious circle.

He is so divinely beautiful that his beauty seems unnatural; his beauty is an abnormality, a perfect flaw, for in no hypnotic feature of his face is there a hint of the touching imperfection so natural to human existence. His beauty is a sign of fatal disease, a sign of blood full of poison; his black tears are a sign of his lack of soul.

A night-born beauty who embodies both the sin and the blessing in his existence. The Prince of immortality, lord of grief, master of endless tears.

The elegant hands of the beautiful denizen of darkness skillfully guide the hand of fate. The nails on his hands are long and sharpened to a point as sharp as a dagger of steel. These nails and teeth—magnificent, glistening dangerously in the darkness like white snow under the moonlight—are visible signs of his inescapable destiny, which he desperately tries to escape by using magic and otherworldly powers. His claws and teeth have been honed by centuries of brutal wars and bloody orgies. He is the last descendant of a poisonous, barren tree that took root in a time when humans worshipped blind Gods and believed in the powers of nature. 

As soon as the sun, bleeding with golden ichor, has set, he rises from his voluptuousness bed, which rather more closely resembles a velvety coffin than a lovelorn bed, and goes to the little round table, and, sitting at this table, he plays his leisurely, mirthless game with fate, until hunger awakens in him—an insatiable, bestial, scorching his whole being—hunger.

His lips were intoxicating wine—the scarlet madness of pure seduction. His kiss was as tender as a mother's caress, as suffocating as unspoken words, and as shattering as the agony of dying love, but it was only when his alluringly sensual smile faded in the lips of his victims that they would realise that it was not wine—it was blood—and it tasted as bitter as poisonous wild strawberries and ashes. He slowly savoured each cooling drop of blood until the eyes of his lovers became pale and sombre, like lily flowers submerged in water. The glow of the moonlight that pours in through the boarded-up windows of his castle, on their waxy skin, was their burial garb. 

The Prince's realm stretches for miles and miles, encompassing all the haunted labyrinths of misty forests and mysterious abandoned dwellings, inhabited by ghosts and all manner of midnight creatures. In addition to his poisonous beauty, he has inherited the command of an army of fleshless shadows who inhabit the village at the foot of his sinister castle, which rests in a dead garden of mourning roses like a lover in her eternal sleep, waiting for the beautiful prince to one day kiss her icy lips. These macabre shadows sneak into the woods in the guise of bats and black foxes. They crawl into the corners of the ornate rooms of an abandoned house as thick, menacing spiders that entangle everything around them in the silken canopies of their webs. Their presence is manifested in the sound of sobbing in an abandoned bedroom where a cracked mirror hangs on the wall, reflecting nothing, and in the sense of unease that grips those who wander carelessly into these desolate lands. They torment all the beautiful young maidens, pure as angels from paintings, with fits of inexplicable weakness and madness, forcing them to wander about at night like somnambulists—barefoot and naked—until their frail bodies lie in the bloody sheets of their splendid lord.

But the Midnight Prince himself is indifferent to his otherworldly, immense power; instead, he longs to be an ordinary man and to meet his love—predestined and fateful—but he doesn't know if it can happen at all. The Tarot cards are always laid out for him in exactly the same way, always showing him the same painfully familiar pattern: the Magician, Death, the Tower - shattered by violet lightning—mystery, fatality, and destruction. 

In addition to the hundreds of whispering, sexless shadows that waltz through the dusky, gloomy corridors of the hereditary castle, the handsome prince has other living servants. Bleakness somnambulistic the servants in a dumb daze tend the decomposing castle, ensuring that no sunlight enters the dreary, formerly majestic halls and that their immortal master always has fresh, hot blood to satisfy his insatiable, animalistic hunger. They are eager to fulfil his every whim and desire, as vampire minions are supposed to do, and when one of these pale servants dies, turning into an immovable, translucent dried flower, another one takes his place, and the cycle begins all over again. 

They live as long as the prince wants, until he tires of their emotionless, silent presence. He mercifully shares his immortality with them, which moulds with poisonous black blood at the bottom of their exquisite porcelain tea cups. Everything about this otherworldly Prince of the Night justifies his tragic role—lord of sorrow and terror—except the fact that he himself is very reluctant to play this unpleasant role. 

On long, moonless nights, his caring, taciturn caretaker allows him to take a stroll through the garden. This rose garden is a place of extreme darkness and melancholy, lulled into the depths of a thorny maze and a beautiful, centuries-old cemetery where the remains of his cursed family lie beneath nameless marble slabs and faceless angels in empty coffins. 

The roses, once bright and alive, have now grown into a great wall of dead flowers. Behind them, he is trapped in his ancestral castle, like an intricate cage. There is no comfort for him in his ghostly existence, which is a clumsy imitation of real life. And then he returns to the lulling magic of the tarot, slowly shuffling the cards, spreading them out, trying to read them, and then, with a sigh, picking them up and shuffling them again, endlessly guessing at the inevitable fate.

Dressed in his blood-stained lace gown, he lies in his luxurious bed all day, drowning in countless pillows. When the tired, bloody sun disappears behind the vague line of the horizon, taking with it the weight of human life, he rises from his bed to take a bath filled to the brim with rose petals and virgin's blood, which stands in the middle of a room full of mirrors, and then he sits down at his little round table and plays cards until his hunger awakens again. 

It always was, and always will be, until, on one of an endless series of overcast, recurring days, the graceful, waxen fingers of a vampiric prince—as he descended from a sacred icon—turn over a card called 'Lovers'. Never, never before... never before has the prince been a forerunner of love. He shudders and trembles, his huge, hypnotic eyes close with nervously fluttering eyelids pierced by thin, bluish veins. This time, for the first time, the beautiful fortune-teller foretold yourself love—eternal as life and death at the same time.

The prince's luxurious chambers were in a high tower covered with prickly roses, and it was a part of the castle that had not yet been completely destroyed by time and sorrow, retaining some semblance of frightening grandeur. You have never been in this wing until this night, and if it were up to you, you would never want to be here again. This castle is a place of gore and death, a place from which no one has ever come back alive, but that was the last thing on your mind as you ran away into the impenetrable forest in the middle of a moonless night, fleeing further and further into the whispering darkness—to a place where your family would never find you, even if you had to pay for it with your life.

And so here you are. Waltzing through the endless labyrinths of the crumbling family castle of the beautiful lord of darkness and suffering—the midnight vampire prince Seonghwa—serving him and tending to the gloomy halls of his once glorious family legacy.

Ashes to ashes. Blood to blood.

Your pale, trembling hand floated in the air, hesitant to knock on the heavy, solid black oak door that separated the prince's velvet chambers from the rest of the castle. You had been standing there for some time, surrounded by whispering shadows and silken darkness. Their hissing, serpentine voices, coming to your ears from those dusty, darkness corners, where the dim glow of the candles did not reach:"He knows...he hears...he feels you...feels you..."

Even though it was always bone-chillingly freezing cold in the castle, your nervousness caused a clammy, obnoxious sweat to form on your skin, rolling in thick, glistening drops down your neck to the hollow of your plunging neckline, leaving a cooling, transparent trail resembling a ghostly kiss. You swallowed hard, saliva suddenly pooling in your mouth, and drew in a deep breath, mentally counting to ten, trying in vain to calm the frantic pounding of your heart against your ribs. It shouldn't be a big deal. After all, if the Prince had wanted you dead, your exsanguinated body would have been buried deep underground in his beautiful garden by now, which looked more like an exquisite burial ground than anything else.

It was utterly foolish of you to try and delay the inevitable. Seonghwa was waiting for you; he longed to see you. The prince had personally requested your presence in his chambers this evening, and he was probably well aware of how long you had been standing at the door of his bedchamber.

The prince’s velvety, almost purring voice echoed inside the room as your knuckles barely touched the dark wood of the door: "You can come in, my darling."

A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of that hypnotic, enchanting voice. Even though it was muffled by the thickness of the stone walls, you could still clearly feel its otherworldly, terrifying power lurking behind every letter he uttered. The prince's voice was like an angel's plaintive song—beautiful and terrifying at once.

You swallowed hard again and opened the massive oak door, framed in a rich wrought-iron floral design, leaning most of your weight on the hard wood. The thorns of the bronze roses, worn by time, were as sharp as the deadly fangs of a vampire prince. Your entire body shuddered as you stood frozen at the entrance to his private chambers, afraid to step over the threshold. Something ominous and terrifying hung in the air, sending shivers down your spine.

Reflections of blackened family gold caught your eye, emanating from every corner of the room as the flickering candlelight refracted and shattered against the sumptuous antique jewellery. Even more shadows grew and lurked in the corners of the bedroom, hissing and writhing where your gaze couldn't reach them. Every detail in this room spoke of its former glorious majesty.

In awkward cascades of dusty, faded fabric, heavy velvet curtains that had long since lost their rich burgundy colour hung down the walls of the room. Now the home of delicate glass spiders and dead nocturnal butterflies, they were no longer exquisite pieces of decoration. Hanging on the walls, in massive antique gold frames, were the grim, time-worn portraits of the previous owners of this eerie sanctuary of shadow and sorrow, whose veins ran with the same black blood as Seonghwa's. They were a reminder of the vampire prince's cursed legacy. As the bone-chilling wind swept through the room, you could hear the crystal pendants of the chandelier clink. It brought to your ears the whispers of the shadows in languages you had never heard before.

It seemed to you that the air in Seonghwa's private chambers was even colder than the rest of the castle, filled with a sweet, suffocating scent that made you dizzy. Yet some unknown force drew you deeper into the silken darkness of the bedroom, where the beautiful, sinister creature lived her mirthless existence.

"My darling, you've made me wait too long for you. Come here." The command in his languid, seductive voice shot through your body like a whip, leaving your skin burning. Your whole body clenched with fear, paralysed by cold and nervousness, as you hesitantly moved towards the large archway that led into the open, mirrored space of the bathroom.

The faint splash of water was almost drowned out by the sound of the blood rushing through your veins and your heart pounding against your ribs at an almost painful rate. As you paused at the edge of the podium that held a large marble bathtub filled to the brim with rose petals, the knot of anxiety that was slowly forming in your stomach only tightened. The hot steam rising from the water clung to your skin like a lover's caress, filling the air with the intoxicating scent of the flowers, mixed with something unspeakably sweet, something erotic, something animal—a scent that could only belong to Seonghwa himself.

"What can I do for you today, my prince?" You take a deep breath of the freezing air to calm your nerves a little. The faint metallic taste of blood on your tongue.

"First of all, lift your head, my love, so I can have a good look at you." His velvety, seductive voice rolled down the length of your slightly arched spine, spreading a hot, scarlet flush across your flesh as he spoke. You could already feel how the tops of your thighs were starting to get wet with excitement. You were ashamed to admit how your body reacted to him, even though you knew it was part of his vampire personality that allowed him to mesmerise his prey before delivering his deadly, icy kiss.

Every single cell in your body urges you to run as far away as possible, instinctively reacting to the presence of something so evil and dangerous around you. But you ignored your fear and slowly lifted your head to meet the dark, hypnotic gaze of Seonghwa, who leaned back on the edge of the marble bathtub with regal casualness. A grim shiver ran through your entire body at the gaze of those large, gleaming eyes—slanting and predatory like a wild cat's. Your skin tingled at the feeling of the prince's eyes sliding slowly over your body, lingering too long on the heaving ridges of your plump breasts above the deep neckline of the tight corsage. He was staring at you like a rose, tearing you apart in an effort to get to the very core of you, deliberately slow, petal by petal. 

There is a long silence between the two of you, filled only with the loud beating of your heart and the subtle splashing of the water as the prince's long fingers lazily caress the rose petals floating on the surface of the tub. The intense eye contact was unsettling, as if you were looking at a scene that you weren't meant to see, and perhaps that was exactly what it was. 

It was hard to ignore how beautiful the vampire was and how dangerous he was. The lack of any natural flaws was so glaring that it almost made your head spin from the otherworldly perfection of it all. The greatest artists, in their quest for perfect beauty, would not have been able to describe a divine portrait of his face to this earth without even a hint of the incredible reality of his appearances. The verses of the poets could not describe his eyes; the light in them decided the fate of mankind; they had life and death, sinfulness, passion, and sparkling moisture, something that you could never have in human eyes. You didn't know if Seonghwa was the light of heaven or the flames of hell, but you were sure that he was from the first or second world. Seonghwa was either an angel that had fallen from the open heavens or a demon that had risen from hell, or perhaps both at the same time. 

His long arms stretched out on either side of his lithe, slender body, bulging with silky muscles under smooth, moist skin that shimmered like pure gold in the light of burning candle flames, and you swallowed hard at this view. You felt like you'd been lured straight into the lion's den, and he was going to eat you alive. And maybe, just maybe, that was what you wanted so badly. Every night of your stay in this castle, you have had the same dream—the one where Seonghwa feeds on you while he fucks you in front of the huge antique mirror in his dark velvet chambers. Those dreams - so intense and sensual that when you awoke, you could still feel the prince's phantom cold breath on your skin, the lingering touch of his hands on your body, the aching feel of his big cock between your thighs, and the warmth of your blood running down your naked breasts in dark scarlet streams from the small puncture wounds that Songhwa's needle-sharp fangs had left on your neke. And the longer it went on, the stronger this terrible, dark need became to feel the prince's painful, deadly kiss in reality. 

Right now, there was a small part of you that was desperately hoping that Seonhwa's call to you tonight was for that very reason—to feed on you. 

As if reading your thoughts, a sinful, predatory grin formed on Seonghwa's luscious, sensuous lips, and the look in his seductive, half-closed eyes shot through you, making your blood boil with desire. 

Your excitement was so obvious to him, but in spite of this humiliating fact, the thrilling sensation that was fluttering in your lower abdomen and sending shivers of heat between your luscious thighs only intensified. The blood pulsed in your veins so furiously that you could feel its pulse on your neck, and of course Seonghwa felt that seductive throbbing of your life as well. 

"What is your name?" His voice was like a snowy day after a frozen night, smooth as crystal and sparkling like diamonds, when the prince spoke to you again. 

" Y/N." You say it quietly, looking away from the vampire with a little shyness.

" Y/N." When he speaks your name, you get the feeling that it's always belonged to him. Not to you, but to him, it is. His tongue caresses each letter, wrapping around it as if kissing it and licking each syllable as if his sensual mouth were touching the most tender spot between your legs. He fills your name with his own meaning—impossible, forbidden, sinful—a meaning known only to him. 

The soft splashing of the water was the only warning you were given before Seonghwa stood right in front of you in all of his naked glory. Up close, his appearance was even more inhumanly beautiful, devoid of any of the imperfections of nature. He shone like a celestial being bathed in holy light, water droplets dripping down his perfectly smooth golden skin, and part of you longed to lick it. Blood-red petals clung to the chiselled muscles of his chest and stomach in the most seductive way, igniting a roaring heat inside you and fastening a throb in your heart. His long, midnight-black locks seemed to float softly and beautifully on his head, and his skin shimmered with shards of light. No living being could ever be a match for him—beauty, regality, immortality—it was all woven into every bit of his cursed, dark nature. The prince slowly licked his plump, soft lips, and for a moment, one could see the sharp tips of his fangs. 

You had no idea where to look, especially since Seonghwa didn't hide his nakedness but showed it openly. Your gaze slid down the expanse of his bare chest, his sharp collarbones, and his long neck, but you didn't raise your eyes to his godlike face, instead focusing your attention on the silky scarlet rose petals that adorned his skin.

All of the stories that you had heard from the people of your village were absolutely true. Not a single living soul had been able to leave that gloomy, grief-filled Gothic castle, and you couldn't imagine anyone willingly refusing Seonghwa's cold kiss, even if it was the last thing they would ever experience in their lives. Your attraction to him was magnetic, as natural as gravity, as natural as breathing, and so achingly tangible that you could feel it in every part of your body. 

There was complete silence in the room for a moment before his hand came up to your face, and the cold, wet touch of his fingers against your cheek sent a shiver down your spine. You tried not to breathe as he gently ran the tips of his fingers down the length of your cheek. At Seonghwa's silent command, you obediently lifted your head to look straight into those hypnotic, feline eyes, framed by the velvety lace of wet lashes. Your face burned, but at the same time, his mesmerising, bottomless gaze made you want to press your lips to the back of his palm and kiss the silky tips of his long fingers. The embarrassing thought made your mouth dry and your heart beat twice as fast in your chest.

"Aren't you beautiful, my love?" Seonghwa purred in a low, seductive tone. His luscious lips curled into a devilish smile that screamed danger and didn't bode well for you. But that sensual, soft curve of his mouth filled you with a semblance of imaginary safety, as if you were in no danger at all around him. In this scene, you're just a little mouse, and he's a snake, a coiled ring snake, ready to lethal strike.

"I…my prince, you shouldn't say that…" It was hard for you to get any words out of your mouth. You felt as if you were transparent, as if there was no longer any barrier between the air and your body.

"But it is, isn't it? You are so warm, so full of life. It's just too tempting for me to resist." He runs his long, slender fingers along your lips, pressing lightly until his sharp claws dig into the soft, pliant flesh, causing small drops of blood to rise. "I could kiss you right here." He bends down so that he's level with your face and his long tongue sticking out just to lick the blood drops from your lips. As soon as he has tasted you, Seonghwa lets out a deep, fulfilled groan and looks up at you with heavy, bottomless eyes full of animal hunger. "Or here..." Now his godlike face bends down to your neck, and his perfectly sculpted lips touch the spot where he can feel your pulse beating beneath thin skin.

A muffled half-moan escapes from your chest as his sharp incisors scrape lightly against you before Seonghwa begins to suck persistently at this sensitive area. His actions are making you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to ease the warm throbbing of your pussy. The way your body reacts to his touch almost embarrasses you, but even if it weren't for his deeply sexual vampire nature that made everyone lose their mind with lust, you're not sure you'd react any differently. Vampire or not, there was no denying the temptation you felt for Seonghwa. 

"Or even here..." With light kisses, he moved down the length of your neck to the heaving ridges of your breasts above the deep neckline of your corsage. His tongue licked slowly over your skin, leaving a glistening trail of saliva in its wake. This sent a rush of pleasure through your veins and the excited heat flooded your face with a scarlet flush. "You thought about that when you came here this evening, didn't you? Did you imagine how I would drink from you, how I would fuck you?" He asks you in a voice that sounds like that of a dark angel. God, what he's doing to you makes you feel so needy and devastated. You're sure that if he asked you to get on your knees before him, you'd do it in a heartbeat. "You know, I can feel how wet you are for me, my love."

And what would you have been supposed to say to that? He was absolutely right about all of it, and you were so ashamed of this magnetic, otherworldly attraction that you felt for the prince.

"I... I don't know, my prince. I'm so sorry..." You whispered, your voice quivering with both embarrassment and excitement. Seonghwa's magnificent eyes sank into yours, and for a moment you thought you saw stars shining in them before he drew a long fingernail, a line down the column of your throat, past your collarbones, down to the centre of your chest. The vampire tilted his head thoughtfully, and you watched as a mischievous grin appeared on his plump, sensual lips.

"You're sorry, how sweet." He immerses himself fully in the water once more and then returns to his original position on the far side of the tub. "Take your clothes off. I want you to join me." 

The sudden shock of his words running through your body paralyses you for a moment, robbing you of any ability to respond to him at all. The silence between you lingers, and you swallow loudly when his eyes narrow and the mischievous expression disappears from his face, and you open your mouth to try to squeeze out words from yourself. 

"I'm not sure I can do that, my prince. Servants aren't supposed to..." Seonghwa didn't let you finish; he cut off your words with an elegant wave of his hand. 

"A servant is not allowed to disobey his master, and that is all you need to know. Now get undressed and come here; otherwise, I'll do it myself, and sweetheart, I can't guarantee that I'll be gentle with you." 

It was useless to argue with him any further, and instead you began to obediently unbutton your corsage, but every move seemed to be an extra effort, especially as Seonghwa's hypnotic, velvety gaze never left you for a second. Your hands trembled as you pulled your clothes off your warm skin, but you couldn't tell if it was from shame that Seonghwa would see you completely undressed or from the thrill of facing the most seductive predator that had ever existed. Or maybe it was from lust as dark and raw as the look in the prince's hypnotic feline eyes. 

The cool air hit your naked body as your clothes and underwear fell in an unnecessary heap at your feet, leaving you nude before him. 

"Don't make me repeat myself, my darling." Obeying his wish, you cautiously stepped over the edge of the luxurious bathtub and slowly lowered yourself into the warm water, which was full of blood-red rose petals. You pressed yourself against the cold marble behind you, trying to put as much distance between you as possible. Maybe it was the contrast in temperature, or maybe it was Seonghwa's intense gaze that gave your skin goosebumps.

The vampire sprawled out on the edge of the bathtub again, like a large wild cat. His body was curled up in the most seductive way, so that you could see every single muscle underneath his smooth, golden skin. Like everything about Seonghwa, his body was absolutely perfect—he was lean but strong, muscular but lean; every inch of his body was brought to painful perfection by something divine, something that you would never be able to understand because of your ordinariness, your humanity. 

"Come closer to me, my love." 

The rose petals swirled around you as you slowly approached him, your heart pounding in your chest at the impossibility of what was about to happen. Perhaps this was all just a dream, like hundreds of others like it—full of lewd images and lingering touches—and you could wake up any minute, cold and alone in your small bed, with a throbbing need between your legs like every other night you'd spent in this gothic castle. You still kept a small distance between you, hesitating to move any closer to him, and it was obvious that he didn't like it as he reached his clawed hand forward to grab hold of your elbow. 

"I said come closer..." Seonghwa growled in a low voice and pulled you towards him so that your back was pressed against his bare chest. His skin was as cold and smooth as marble, and you shuddered as the tips of his sharp nails ran along the length of your shoulder. 

On the opposite side of the bathtub was a huge mirror, framed in a massive gold frame and lit by a hundred or so melted candles. In the slightly hazy reflection, you could see the beautiful face of Seonghwa as he leaned over to you until his soft lips touched your ear. Your breath caught as the sharp edges of his teeth burned the delicate skin of your earlobe and his fingers slid across your collarbone. 

A soft moan slips from your pink, plush lips as you unconsciously arch up in Seonghwa's arms, pushing your large, plump breasts forward and pressing your ass against his massive, hard cock under the water. His beautiful hands cradle your boobs, squeezing them hard in the palms of his hands, and you almost gasp for breath as the prince presses his sensual mouth to your throat. 

"Look at me, my love. Don't you dare to close your eyes for even a second." You whimper at the sensation of his sharp teeth clawing at your skin, and a sharp, delicious shiver of pleasure runs between your legs. "Otherwise..." He kisses a sensitive spot on the side of your neck, just below your ear. A kiss that makes your pussy all wet and sticky. "I'm going to bite you, but it feels to me like it's exactly what you want so badly. I'm right, aren't I, sweetheart?" In the reflection of the mirror, you could see the way that his hands were slowly massaging your breasts. The light touch of his thumbs on your hard, sensitive nipples made you squirm and writhe. "You're so perfect." Seonghwa purred. "So warm and fragile, and you moan for me like a whore, even though you know that I hold your fleeting human life in the palm of my hand. I could kill you now, but considering how wet your pretty pussy is, that thought only turns you on, doesn't it?" The tone of his voice dropped to a whisper that was as eerily beautiful as the rustling of a thousand dead rose petals. 

Seonghwa's sharp teeth sink a little deeper into your neck, practically tearing the thin skin and drawing blood from it. 

Your mind tries desperately to find a coherent excuse for his words, and you unconsciously close your eyes. Your pulse speeds up as vivid images of Seonghwa drinking from you, slowly consuming your life, sip by sip as he fucks you, fill your mind, and send sparks of excitement flying across your skin. 

Seonghwa growls low, pulling you harder against him, and before you know it, his hand is around your throat, long clawed fingers clenching at the sides of your neck, cutting off the supply of oxygen to your airways. Your eyes roll back in ecstasy, the mixture of pain and pleasure threatening to send you into oblivion and some inexplicable part of you wishes he would squeeze his fingers more tighter.

"I told you to keep your eyes open for me." Seonghwa's cool breath touches your ear. "I am tired of your disobedience, my love. How dare you disobey your prince?" His fingers squeezed harder at your throat, and your eyes opened wide - big and frightened - as you began to gasp for air. Just as you felt the blackness coming to the edges of your vision and your consciousness starting to fog up, Seonghwa let go of you and let you breathe.

Trying to connect your thoughts is like wading through a swamp as the prince unclenches his fingers and pulls them away from your neck. Your eyes begin to water and your fingers clench into his hand, as if it might help you to breathe normally again. But Seonghwa doesn't seem to be finished punishing you for disobeying his orders. He grabs your swollen nipple and pinches it roughly, making you sob pitifully at the pleasantly painful sensation.

You still don't answer to him, and with each passing minute of your silence, Seonghwa's displeasure grows, and there is something dark and utterly evil in his eyes. His fingers moved slowly down the length of your thigh, leaving a trail of scalding cold in their wake, despite the fact that you were now in a warm bath. His lazy touches continued until they slid over the delicate, trembling folds of your pussy. And just like that, the pleasant heat that had been building up in your lower abdomen turned into lava that made you melt at the touch of his hand.

"Shall I forgive your disobedience, my love?" Seonghwa slides his fingers over your cunt, touching every inch of your sensitive skin, from your throbbing clit to your tight, wet entrance, spreading your essence over your folds, making them smooth and shiny. Each time they linger over your little hole, you tense reflexively in preparation for his penetration. "Or should I punish you? Should I teach you a lesson in the proper way to treat your prince?" 

"I... I... I think you should punish me, my prince." A gasping moan slips from your lips as your head rests on his shoulder, exposing most of your pale throat to him as Seonghwa slides a long finger inside you, pressing hard against the spongy front wall of your vagina. 

"You see? It's not so hard to do the right thing, dear. You could really use some discipline, you little slut." The prince pulls his finger out of your warm little pussy, and then abruptly stands up on his feet and pulls you up behind him until you are sitting in his arms. He carefully steps out of the tub, pulling you tightly against his wet, hard chest, and steps down from the podium where the marble bathtub stands. 

Seonghwa walks over to a large, time-worn chair that looks like a throne, lowers himself into it, and turns you over. You find yourself face down in his lap, your arse held up. As his fingers slide down your thighs, leaving red marks from his sharp claws, you let out a treacherous half-moan. 

"You look so good, all flushed, my love." Seonghwa's hands cupped your buttocks and squeezed them a few times before spreading them apart, exposing your glistening wet pussy to his gaze. The feel of the cold air on your delicate folds caused your hole to clench involuntarily.

Watching your juices flowing from your pussy, Seonghwa can't help but imagine how you would taste on his tongue and how it would feel to have your pretty pink cunt smothering him as you rock on his face while he eats your sweet dripping pussy juices. Seonghwa can't help but think what you would taste like when he sank his fangs into your little mound and mixed the rich, intoxicating taste of your blood with the essence of you. These thoughts cause him to let out a deep, velvety moan as he digs his fingers deeper into the plump flesh of your buttocks.

"Look at you love, you're absolutely wet, your pussy is literally flowing for me. Are you so excited to be punished? So desperate want to be an obedient, beautiful servant for me?"

"My prince…" The lust flowing through your veins is too strong for your brain to formulate the right words. When you feel Seonghwa's cold breath on your pussy, your pulse accelerates to the point where you almost feel dizzy. He blows lightly on your sticky, soft folds, making you twitch a little.

Nothing could have prepared you for the scalding sensation of his palm coming down hard on your bottom. You scream at the top of your lungs at the throbbing pain, but still more fluid flows from your pussy. Three more slaps land on your bottom, each one leaving a delicious ache. You savoured every second of this bliss that was supposed to be your punishment, although you were terribly ashamed to admit it. He continued to spank you until your screams turned into loud, pitiful sobs and your body began to shake. 

"You are shivering, my love. Are you cold?" Seonghwa let out a grim chuckle, knowing exactly what was making you shiver and squirm. "Then let me keep you warm, my love."

As you unconsciously braced yourself for another slap, a loud scream escaped your trembling lips, as instead of the scalding cold of his palm, you felt small drops of hot wax on your bottom. Each drop that fell on your skin left a throbbing pain in its wake, mixed with a strong sense of pleasure that made you sob and wriggle in his lap. The liquid wax was almost too hot for you. Almost. But if you wanted Seonghwa to drink from you, let alone fuck you, you had to get used to the pleasure of pain. 

"You have to see yourself now, my love. You are so submissive, so warm, and so wet, you excited little slut that you are. Was this what you wanted? You wanted me to punish you, my little darling. To make this slutty pussy all swollen and wet? Look at yourself." Suddenly, Seonghwa lifts you up and turns you around so that your back is pressed against his chest again. He runs his fingers lightly down your thighs before digging into the soft flesh and spreading your legs as wide as he can so that your wet folds are beautifully exposed and you can see your dripping cunt fully reflected in the mirror. 

He reaches down with one hand and slips two fingers into your hole while using the fingers of his other hand to massage your aching clit, making deliciously tight circles that make your hips buck unconsciously in an attempt to get more of that amazing feeling. 

"I have never been able to understand why you mortals take such pleasure in being treated like toys. Why you have such a craving for it..." Seonghwa purred in your ear and curled his fingers inside you, finding the point where you began to see stars and applying the perfect amount of pressure. Silenced by the soft whispers of shadows swirling in the darkness, the moan you let out echoed through the lord's chambers. "But seeing how desperate and pathetic you look now, how needy, I'm beginning to understand. You want someone to take control of you—someone powerful to rule you at will. And my love, you are so lucky that I can bring anyone I want to their knees. And you are no exception." He abruptly pulls his fingers out of you with an embarrassingly loud, wet sound, and you involuntarily let out a cry of loss. In the reflection of the mirror, you can see long, clear strands of your own slime dripping down his fingers. 

He brings the wet fingers to his sensual lips before his long tongue slips out of his mouth and wraps around them, licking up your juices. As he begins to taste you, Seonghwa lets out a deep moan of pleasure. 

"Now show me how beautiful you look on your knees before me, my little slut."

"At your command, my prince." You obediently obey Seonghwa's command and let yourself slip from Seonghwa's lap onto the cold stone floor. From your new position, the aching throbbing between your thighs becomes even more pronounced. As did the burning sensation on your inflamed buttocks.

Slowly, your eyes slid up the length of his delicious thighs before coming to rest on the massive, velvety length of his cock. Of course, his cock was as magnificent as the prince himself—large, wiry, and glistening with the abundant pre-cum that flowed from the dark pink, swollen head. You had had a few lovers before your escape from the village, but none of them had been anything like Seonghwa. Although you weren't a virgin and you knew how to treat a man and how to give him pleasure, you weren't sure if your meagre knowledge would be enough to please the gorgeous vampire prince.

You looked up at him with your big, shining eyes, and unconsciously, you licked your plump lips. You wanted to lick his cock. You wanted to take it in your warm mouth until you were choking on it. You wanted to make him proud of you, to want you to be that one who warmed his cold, solitary bed. But most of all, you wanted to be the source of his life, the immortal vessel that he would drink your life from like precious wine. All of these desires and feelings you had for the prince were humiliatingly embarrassing, and if it hadn't been for the way he looked at you—like a predator catching the tantalising scent of the prey he was about to hunt down—you would have burned with shame. But you were wrong about one thing: Seonghwa didn't look like a predator; he was a predator and the most dangerous and seductive one that ever existed. 

"My sweet little lady, you look so desperate right now." Seonghwa purred, one hand digging into the softness of your hair to pull your face even closer to his cock. "You can have a taste if you want it so badly."

You lean forward and gently stroke the wet and flushed head of his cock with your tongue, teasing it with light, cat-like licks. His chiselled chest, covered in glistening water droplets and soft rose petals, rises and falls with deep breaths. The textured muscles of his abdomen tense as you run your tongue along the silky length of his cock, outlining the seductively swollen vein with the tip of your tongue.

"You look so beautiful like this, kneeling in front of me with your soft lips wrapped around my cock." Seonghwa whispers in a voice so dark and deep that it hits you right in your cunt. It's precious—a sweet jewel of praise from the beautiful vampire prince, which you will wear like a good servant. But in spite of the sweet praise, you hear his direct command: "Take my cock in your mouth.".

It's unlikely you'll be able to get his thick cock all the way down your throat, but you wanted to try. Your lips open and the head of his cock slides easily into your mouth and for a second your tongue rests against his slit and you taste the thick, sweet taste of his cum. Seonghwa moans softly as the head of his cock is completely enveloped in the soft flesh of your lips. A seductive sound runs through your body like a thousand scalding kisses and you raise your eyes to look up at Seonghwa.

He is watching you, looking utterly wicked and like a god himself, wrapped in the thin skin of a man. The flames of the candle danced on the perfect features of his face, shining like a full moon in a world of endless night. His eyes were stars of otherworldly shadow - a depth of infinity that could crush the souls of those far more resilient than you. But it was his lips that most attracted you. They were unjustly obscene, swollen and sinfully scarlet. Temptation and lust are one, and you crave to taste it.

These thoughts make you swallow and unconsciously let his cock slide deeper into the silkiness of your mouth and the tightness of your throat. The nasty gagging sound that you make is so sexy that Seonghwa can't get enough of it. You look absolutely sinful, and it makes him want to possess every part of you. He wants to taste you in every sense, bind you to him, sink his sharp teeth into you, make you his immortal likeness, and then rape you to the deepest depths of time, making you scream like a whore—his whore.

"Come on, darling, take it deeper. Don't worry, every fluid in a vampire's body acts as an aphrodisiac. You'll be able to take my cock all the way down your pretty little throat. Now open your mouth wide for your prince. Seonghwa said and an evil gleam flashed in his eyes.

You could feel the velvety softness of his cock on your tongue, surrounded by the warmth of your mouth as you relaxed your jaw and let his cock slide deeper into your mouth. You take him halfway before you start to choke. Tears burn in your eyes as your lips stretch beautifully around his thick girth. Seonghwa's cock is so damn big for you. It's so heavy, pulsating in the melted, wet juices of your mouth. You wrap your hand around his balls, gently massaging and sometimes touching the base of the dick with your nails. You suck diligently on the head, occasionally letting your flexible tongue run along the slit where the pre-cum oozes out.

"That feels so damn good." The words fell from Seonghwa's plush lips as he threw his head back and rocked his hips a little. The long, midnight-coloured strands of his hair shone like a halo around the top of his head. "You're doing so well, my love. Just... just take my cock like a good maiden." His grip on your hair tightened, and you looked up at him with big, watery eyes, your cunt clenching at how dark the tone of his voice had become. 

"I'll do anything for you..." You moan loudly, drinking in every reaction Seonghwa gives you. Your desire to please him grows and grows.

You so desperately want to touch yourself between your legs, a small, shiny puddle of your mucus forming on the stone floor beneath you. You want to climb back onto his lap and let him fill you with his big, thick cock. You want to feel him in your belly, in your heart, and in your blood. 

You take him deeper, relaxing your throat and bending your head down until your nose touches the smooth skin of his pubic bone. Reflexively, you swallow around him, eliciting deep moans of pleasure from his sensual lips.

"Bloody hell... Mmm. You are such a good little slut." Hwa purrs as he begins to thrust his hips into your mouth. 

His cock plunges down your throat again and again, leaking copious amounts of pre-cum mixed with your drool, filling your mouth with intoxicating sweetness each time he pulls his cock out, until only the silky hot head is left in your mouth and your tongue rests against his slit. As his cock sank fully back into your throat, his hand slid down to massage your distended throat, feeling the bulging hardness of his own cock through the delicate wall of your neke.

Whatever restraint he had before was broken by the feeling of the warm walls of your throat contracting around him and the pleasurable pressure of his hand on your neck. Seonghwa begins to thrust his cock down your throat fast and hard, a flood of praise from his lips that makes you glow with pleasure.

"You have such a perfect mouth for me, my love. It is perfect for me to fuck. Make me come, my love. I want to fill your mouth with my cum." The combination of his gorgeous body above you, glistening from the water and decorated with rose petals, the sensual praise—full of dirty, lewd words—and the way he uses your throat make you even wetter. You feel a new load of mucus pouring out of your pussy. " Look at how your throat is swelling from my cock and how the saliva is dripping from your mouth. You're enjoying this too much, aren't you? You have made such a mess on the floor; do you want me to force you to lick it up with your tongue?

You moo in response to his words. The contraction of your throat around his cock almost makes you gasp as the tender walls fit tightly around the thick, velvety length, clenching incredibly hard around it. His hips twitch, his cock pulsates, and the grip on your hair becomes brutal, but it only elicits more moans from you, vibrating along the length of his cock in the most amazing way. 

Seonghwa pushed his dick into your mouth once more before he came. It was a mesmerising sight, almost hypnotic: the thrusts of his hips were interrupted, his soft, obscenely sensual, swollen lips parted in a deep, ecstatic moan, and his body shook as his orgasm overwhelmed him. A thick, sweet cum shot down your throat, and you began to swallow the copious stream of his pleasure. His sperm was nothing like the salty, almost bitter taste of human sperm, and you marvelled again at how everything about vampires was designed to lure and intoxicate their victims in every way possible. 

As he pulled away, his sperm began to spill out of your mouth, running down your chin and dripping onto the floor, where the puddle of your slime grew larger. Seonghwa reached his hand up to your face and ran his fingers over your swollen lips. He gathered the thick, pearly liquid on his fingertips, then pushed it into your open, pliable mouth.

"Such a good girl." Seonghwa murmured as your tongue wrapped around his fingers and cleaned them. 

When he pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a slight 'pop', you lifted your watery eyes back to his. Long trails of tears shone like diamonds across the puffy, flushed cheeks of your face. 

"My prince, I beg you. I need to come so badly. Please let me come, my prince, please. My pussy so needs it." You begged, almost whimpering, as you lay at his feet. In the bliss that followed his orgasm, he gently cupped your cheek, even stroking your hair lightly with his other hand, and looked lovingly at you with his bottomless dark eyes. His long, fluffy lashes fluttered like a dying sun in the purple twilight, glittering in all the colours of the spectrum in the dim light of the bath.

"Oh, my little lady, let your prince make you feel better." Seonghwa cooed. His voice was a velvety purr wrapped in darkness.

Seonghwa rises up from his chair in an elegant manner and holds out a graceful hand for you to help you to your feet. Your fingers tremble as you take his hand and slowly rise, almost stumbling on your wobbly, shaky legs, but Seonghwa's firm grip prevents you from falling. The prince's tall, naked body towers over you like an ancient, dark deity, making you feel small and vulnerable under the weight of his bottomless, black gaze. He wraps his long, cold fingers around your chin and lifts your face up so that you're looking straight at him. 

At that moment, the room seems to shrink, and the air is filled with something sensual, hot, and dark. Something that almost makes your skin tingle with a sharp, glass-like arousal. The otherworldly presence of the prince was undeniable—a dangerous dance between living and dying. A loud sob escaped from your lips, which were still covered in the remnants of semen, as Seonghwa leaned closer to you, his beautiful, plump lips hovering just a few inches away from yours. 

"Now it's my turn to have a taste of you, my love." The first touch of his plush lips against yours sent a dizzying rush of excitement up and down your spine. You let out a loud moan into his beautiful, soft mouth as Seonghwa's long tongue pushed your lips apart and immediately took hold of your mouth. His kiss is all-consuming and devouring, as if he wants to devour your very soul and take you over the edge of life with him. He ravages your soft lips with an intensity that borders on sadistic pleasure, and you are so intoxicated by the kiss that you almost don't notice when his sharp teeth sink into your innocent lower lip and your mouth fills with thick blood.

When too much of the viscous, saturated liquid gathers in your mouth, you reflexively swallow, feeling a lingering metallic taste on your tongue, which disappears almost immediately, licked away by Seonghwa's long, flexible tongue, which wraps around your tongue like a snake. One of his hands is tangled in your hair, long fingers tugging painfully at the soft strands, causing a palpable burning sensation on the delicate skin of your head. With his other hand, he wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to his cold, hard body, using this rough grip to restrict your movements. 

You give a little moan against his lips, almost relishing the pain you're feeling—the hot excitement in your stomach twisted into a knot—too tight and painful to ignore. The insides of your thighs are uncomfortably sticky and wet, and you have to squeeze your legs together to ease the throbbing in your needy cunt. 

Your blood tastes of black roses, forgotten poems, confessions of love—it burns all of Seonghwa's senses, and you feel rather than hear him purr softly with pleasure—a velvety, decadent, almost animal sound coming from deep inside his chest. He continues to greedily lap up the blood from your mouth, sliding his tongue over your palate, your gums, and the inside of your cheek. Seonghwa roughly pulls your wounded lower lip into his vicious mouth, only to bite down on it with his sharp teeth, causing more of your blood to drip onto his tongue. 

The kiss seems endless, and your mind begins to drift; you feel like you're delirious from the feeling of the cold heat of his beautiful, sensual mouth. The spiral of lust inside you tightens; the pressure builds until it becomes too much for you to bear, and for a long, eternal moment, it seems to you that Seonghwa wants to keep you at that height forever. You barely notice when his hand releases your waist and slips between your bodies, and you squeal loudly, pulling yourself away from his incredibly seductive lips as his cold fingers suddenly pinch your sensitive clit. 

"Oh, my God. That's so... Too m-m-much...' You stammer out your words, unable to form sentences; the pain and the pleasure mix together, and you feel completely intoxicated. 'My prince, please...' As his fingers rub relentlessly against your clit, you can't stop yourself from moaning loudly. The pressure inside you increases as you rise higher and higher, but the lack of any particular rhythm makes it difficult for you to come to the edge, and the intensity of his touch becomes almost overwhelming for you.

"What's the matter, my darling? Does your sweet pussy still hurt? Don't I make it easier for you? Or are you just a greedy little bitch that has a craving for more?" The deep purr of his voice vibrates through your body as his fingers begin to roughly squeeze your clit. 

You let out a helpless moan in response to his words; the sound you make is full of both need and desire. All you can think of now is that Seonghwa is using you, that he is destroying you so thoroughly and so brutally that his mark will be imprinted on your body and your soul forever. 

"Oh, I can see it now. You're just like all the thousands of other people—a pathetic, ungrateful whore." Seonghwa suddenly lets go of your hair, and your head falls back like a doll's. And God, in all of his eternity, Seonghwa has never seen anyone more beautiful than you, especially when you have crystal tears rolling down your soft, flushed cheeks. You remind him of a broken porcelain doll, fragile and delicate, which he can glue back together in any way he likes.

"Please forgive me... Forgive me, my  prince." In the midst of this chaos of sensations, you catch a glimpse of his eyes. The Prince's black velvet eyes, heavy and clouded, his sensual lips, swollen and smeared with your blood, and his magnificent face have taken on a kind of waxy appearance—features smoothed to a painful perfection that could never exist among the living, like the face of a saint descended from an icon. It's almost frightening, but at the same time, it makes you want to beg him all the more desperately. Please let me cum, my prince. I need to cum so badly...'

"Oh, my love...' Seonghwa purrs indulgently, admiring the hot tears that are rolling down your face as his cold fingers continue to circle around your swollen clit. Your legs are trembling from his touch, and you have the feeling you could faint at any moment. As his two long fingers, wet with your own slime, slide into your quivering hole, you catch your breath and gasp for air. You're so sensitive to the slightest touch, and Seonghwa takes advantage of that, pressing his fingers against the silky walls of your pussy, causing you to arch your hips towards him in the hope of more stimulation. "Just look at you, my little darling. You're crying so sweetly for me. Begging so sweetly for your prince charming to have his way with your pretty pussy." The tone of his voice is like velvet wrapped in the darkness of the night, and his feline eyes glow with a kind of otherworldly evil that can barely be contained in the black, unfathomable depths of his irises. 

The heavy fog of lust completely envelops your mind, and you barely register his words. The prince's fingers dig deep into the tightness of your plush, plump cunt, and Seonghwa draws the cold, velvety pads of his fingers to press and rub the sweet, sticky spot in your pussy. He does it roughly and sharply, and he doesn't stop stimulating the over-excited, spongy walls of your cunt until your mucus begins to flow into the palm of his hand.

"It's too much... It's too much, my prince. I can't take it anymore. I can't. Ah, please, please! Seonghwa."

"But am I not merciful to you, my dear? Does not the touch of my hand soothe the pain, my love?" With his other hand, he cups your breast, squeezing and twisting the tender nipple between his fingers as he goes. "Do you want me to stop?" He asks as he relentlessly inserts a third finger into your squelching pussy, and the stretching of your little hole becomes both agonising and pleasurable at the same time.

'No!' You cry out, shaking your head desperately, the walls of your cunt clinging to his fingers, clenching and throbbing around the long appendages that are adorned with massive rings of precious stones, as the wave of pleasure slowly begins to roll over you. "No. Don't stop... Please don't stop, my prince. I want you to keep going... I'm too close."

Seonghwa laughs darkly as she leans down to your neck and lightly bites down on the spot where your pulse beats with her sharp teeth, almost feeling your orgasm on her tongue. 

"Will you cum for me? Cum on the fingers of your prince?" You feel like you're soaring, higher and higher, and just when you have the feeling you're about to reach your peak, the pleasure evaporates and you plummet. The loss of your orgasm makes you give a pathetic whimper.

"No, I beg you. Please, my prince...' You sob as Seonghwa pulls his fingers out of you completely, leaving your greedy, needy hole clutching at nothing, desperately trying to hold on to the melting remains of your orgasm. You collapse next to him, becoming like a beautiful, broken thing in his hands, looking up at him with your beautiful, crying eyes, begging for his mercy. 'Sonhawa...' His name tastes of violence, of the Middle Ages, holiness, and sex, and it leaves a stigma on your lips the moment you utter it. 

'Oh, my poor little girl.' A fake sense of pity fills his voice as he ignores the way your wounded lower lip quivers at the loss of relief and the way more tears flow from your eyes. A devilish smile blossoms on his gorgeous, plump lips before his hand returns to your wet clit and begins to rub the super-sensitive bundle of nerves in slow, hard, figure-eight motions. "I'm so sorry, my love, but it's not up to you whether you can have an orgasm or not. You should be grateful for what I am giving you." The vampire purrs, running his tongue along the sweet spots of your neck before sinking his teeth into the soft skin. Under the pressure of fangs as sharp as broken glass, the skin tears like paper. You squeal at the pain that ripples through your veins, but the sensation fades quickly as his fingers sink back into the silky warmth of your tight cunt. 

Seonghwa pushes his thumb down to press it against your slippery clit and rubs it roughly. And you instinctively squeeze your legs together, squeezing the plump flesh around his forearm as if that will stop the relentless stimulation of his fingers on your G-spot and his thumb on your swollen, throbbing clit. He lets out a deep, dark moan into your skin, kisses your neck, and licks the protruding drops of blood from you.

You're such a mess; your cum is dripping down the inside of your thighs, dripping onto the floor, and the sound your cunt makes every time his fingers go in and out of you is disgustingly wet, squelching, and utterly sinful. 

The prince watches you go dumb and twitchy under his touch. He plunges his long fingers even deeper into the wet, velvety walls of your cunt and bends them so that the pads of his fingers press perfectly against your golden spot, causing your sticky, wet fluid to squirt profusely all around you. He laughs as you squeal and squirm.

"That's right, my love, make me dirty. Fill this room with the divine fragrance of your excitement." He rubs your cunt randomly, and it makes your legs shake. You gasp at the sobs and moans that echo through his bathtub, echoing with such a loud, deafening echo that you're sure the sound is reverberating throughout the castle. Your brain is clouded in a haze, and all you can feel is Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa....

As if he hadn't just ripped the most intense orgasm out of you, the prince pushes his fingers back into your plump cunt, and you shudder, your pussy clenching and a pearly, slippery drop dripping from your wounded hole. 

"I can't take it anymore... don't need to...' He ignores you, preferring to sink his fingers deeper into your plush walls, your tongue flicking out of your mouth as you breathe heavily.

"Wasn't that what you wanted, dear? This is exactly what you asked me so desperately for, isn't it? I'm just giving it to you. You will cum again. And you will do this until I decide you've had enough." Seonghwa tells you and does not give you a chance to disobey his order. His fingers are thrusting faster and faster into the sloppy mess of your cunt, and your eyes are closing in a euphoria of pleasure, and you are arching your whole body to him. The beautiful veins on his forearms are surging up as he touches your cunt. "Come on, my love, behave yourself, and submit to your prince." Seonghwa twists his wrist, his fingers sliding up and down until they come to rest on your G-spot, and you squeal in exhaustion as you squirt your cum all over his gorgeous body, soiling it. The slime pools on his palm and drips onto the inside of your thigh, and he leans down to touch his lips to your open mouth as he pulls his fingers out of your used, burning pussy. He softly massages your thighs and licks your lips soothingly in a strange imitation of a kiss.

You groan as the last waves of your orgasm begin to subside, but even so, you're still a long way from the satisfaction you crave. The distant thought of the aphrodisiac in his seed floats to the edge of your consciousness, but it disappears instantly, replaced by a burning need to be filled by his cock and a feeling that you may die if he doesn't satisfy that need.

'Please. I want you, I need you, and I want to feel you inside my body. There is nothing else that matters to me, my prince." There is pure desperation in the sound of your voice. 

Seonghwa pulls away from you and watches as you gasp for breath and shiver as you look up at him through your thick, wet lashes.

"You really are nothing but a greedy little slut. Seonghwa whispers as he digs his fingers into your thighs and lifts your body up as if you weighed nothing, manoeuvring you so that your legs are wrapped around his thin, perfect waist. The head of his hard cock touches the entrance of your vagina between your slick, swollen folds. "You're so lucky your blood isn't the only thing that draws me, my love." He begins to walk slowly along the length of the tub, carrying you in his arms as if you were a fragile doll. 

There is darkness in his bedroom; the thick, icy cold fills the room and tingles on your heated skin like a hundred needles. As Seonghwa gently lays you down on his royal bed, wrapped in silken sheets, you freeze, waiting for him to touch you. He leans over you like a dark angel that has descended from the heavens to destroy you, and you open your lips to catch his ghostly breath in your mouth as he speaks.

"From the moment you entered my chambers, I could feel the sweetness of your cunt on my tongue; you're aroused; you need me so obviously." His teeth graze the skin of your throat as he speaks. 'I can feel it in your blood...' For half a second, you feel the sharp pressure of his fangs as they press against the pre-existing wounds from his previous bite. It makes every muscle in your body tingle with the anticipation of pleasure. "It is tempting and seductive, but I have a taste for you in so many more ways, my love." There was a heavy pause between you as his gaze slid down the length of your body and stopped at your glistening pussy. 'And I'm really spoilt to choose. But are you up to it, my little servant? Can you, can you satisfy my insatiable hunger?'.

His words make your toes clench, and the pleasure in your belly grows once again, turning into a real flame that lies in your veins, and you let out a long moan, filled with longing and desperation. 

"I will do whatever you want me to do, my prince. I will be anything you need me to be...'

Seonghwa doesn't answer you but instead begins to kiss your neck, slowly moving his kisses down to your heaving, plump breasts. He raises his hypnotic eyes towards you, and his lashes flutter as the vampire teases your swollen pink nipple with the tip of his sharp tongue. Your body arches up over the bed, your breath catching in your throat as he sucks the sensitive bud into the silkiness of his warm mouth. His tongue splashes and swirls around your nipple as he sucks on your breast before he releases it from his mouth with a wet sound.

"The human body has always been such a fascination to me—so soft, so delicate, so responsive to every fleeting touch." He whispers as he continues to slowly kiss your body. Seonghwa runs his tongue over your navel and licks the skin of your belly. He takes his time; he has an eternity of time, and this knowledge is driving you crazy. You shudder as his elegant palms come to rest on your thighs and as he spreads your legs wide so that your cunt is completely exposed to his gaze. With his supernatural eyesight, you knew that he would be able to see every detail of you in the half-light of the bedroom. Your heart began to beat faster and faster in anticipation of what you knew was going to happen next. The lingering feeling of your previous orgasm was once again tingling you from the inside. 

Seonghwa sits down between your legs, and you let out a stifled cry as he brings his godlike face close to your pussy and runs his tongue between the sticky folds. 

He immediately lifts his eyes to you, the flames of the candle reflected in his dark irises, the black abyss of them pulling you down into an endless, lustful wasteland. His hands are wrapped around your hips, pulling you closer to him. The pleasure wraps itself tightly around the base of your spine. Seonghwa's tongue licks your clit hard, the exquisite taste of you tingling it, tingling it under the marble-gold skin where the black vampire blood splashes hotly in veins. 

Your juices ooze out onto his tongue and onto his lips, dripping down to where the insides of your thighs are reddened by his sharp claws. He drags his tongue along your folds in slow, teasing licks, savouring the taste of you as he feasts on your cunt, so wet and sweet, so juicy and plump under his tongue. Your hips arch forward, and Seonghwa allows you to be pressed even closer to his beautiful face. The palms of his hands slide down your thighs, and you feel how his thumbs push your labia apart, just so that he can slide his tongue deep into your wet hole. A series of high-pitched moans escape from your mouth as you run your fingers through his long black hair, your nails digging into the skin of his scalp as you do so. 

"It tastes so damn sweet; you're like a wine that has been aged for centuries, intoxicating and scorching. I've never tasted anything like it before." The vampire purrs into your sensitive cunt, burying his face even deeper between your legs, his skilful tongue and his sharp nose rubbing against your clit, giving you heavenly pleasure in all the right places.

His mouth continues to move along your overly sensitive nerves, and he smiles as you begin to twitch and shake. The sensation is overwhelming, and you begin to sob openly again. 

"My prince, that feels so good... ahh!" A particularly loud moan comes out of you as his tongue curls round and touches your g-spot.

With the pad of his thumb, Seonghwa begins to run circles over your clit, and you begin to thrash around on the silk sheet, trying to get away from the abusive touch on your painfully throbbing clit. Seonghwa growls and slaps you viciously on your thigh, which manages to calm you down, before he hides his face between your legs once more and continues to tease your essence. Pain and pleasure merge together, and you can't tell where dreaming ends and reality begins. So many nights you've spent in vivid fantasy dreams, full of images that would get you burned at the stake if the people of your village ever found out. And here you are, lying in your prince's luxurious bed while he eats you as if his life depended on it.

Feeling his tongue between your velvety walls and his thumb circling your clit, occasionally scratching it with his sharp fingernail, the sensation of your orgasm has crept up on you. With his heightened senses, he knows you're close, and he's balancing on the edge of coming. One more stroke of his tongue, one more rub of his fingers over your clit, and your walls begin to clench together in the spasms of an overwhelming orgasm.   The edges of your vision go black, your sight fading as you fly off the cliff and fall into an abyss of pleasure. Your head is thrown back, and your spine is arched in a perfect arc of sin and bliss. 

An approving purr escapes Seonghwa's devilishly beautiful lips as your cunt twitches and clings to his tongue as he continues to splash in the copious slime that pours out of you, lapping up your release, insatiable and deaf to your pleas as you begin to squirm. Any attempt to wriggle away from him is crushed by the rough grip of his hand on your thigh. The nails dig into the plump flesh, drawing out your blood. Rivers of scarlet, like divine tears, flow down your scarred skin and drip down onto the bed. 

'Seonghwa...' His name rings out on your lips as his own lips continue to press passionately and relentlessly against your pussy, sucking and licking, greedily swallowing up all the liquid that flows from you. His jaw moves smoothly and somehow lazily as your body almost rises to meet another orgasm. Your fingers clench tightly in his hair, your moans and squeals blend together in a symphony of pure bliss, and you come again on his tongue, even harder than before. 

Your body is shaking in never-ending ecstasy. Ecstasy burns your body and turns it to ashes. Tears flow from the corners of your eyes as he licks you thoroughly and gently, until your body is completely boneless and soft to the touch. 

After a few agonisingly long moments, he pulls away from your cunt and blows lightly on the inflamed, abused folds after his caresses, and you shiver as his cold, ghostly breath touches your flesh. Seonghwa's chin is wet with the viscous slime of you and his own saliva. He stares at you, enjoying the sight of your helplessness and vulnerability, all of you at his mercy. The vampire can see the sheen of your juices spreading down the inside of your thighs and dripping from your swollen, reddened centre. 

You've slowly come down from your high, still swimming in a lustful haze, and even though you've had several orgasms, you're still not satisfied. You need more. Much more. Seonghwa was absolutely right—you're nothing but a greedy human whore. 

"Please... You barely squeezed out. Please fuck me... " You desperately wanted to feel him inside you. You wanted him to writhe with the pleasure of your blood and body, as you did with his favour. 

"Do you want more? Greedy, insatiable whore." Seonghwa purred, his black eyes glowing with an almost otherworldly radiance in the darkness of the bedroom. "What are you going to give me in return, my love? Shouldn't you be thanking your prince?"

You turn your head faintly to expose your neck and hear a dark, velvety laughter licking your skin before his chubby lips find a tender spot on your throat. Weightless kisses that turn to nibbles, and you whimper under his care. He hasn't hurt your skin yet; he is playing skillfully with you, and a slight feeling of unease grips you. The lack of control over your body, over where and when he would bite you, or over how rough he would be with you, was a big part of your nervousness. 

Too quickly for you to notice, one of his hands cupped your chin to hold you in place, and then the sharp pain of his fangs pierced your throat. As he began to drink, a muffled moan escaped your mouth. The shock of his cold bite passed through your body like an icy wave. Seonghwa's hypnotic eyes closed as your thick, precious blood ran over his tongue. The sensation was a temporary respite from the incessant hunger that plagued him, dulling the cravings and soothing his stomach. His plump lips curled into a smile as he pressed harder against your skin. 

He let go of your chin and placed his hand on your chest instead, gently squeezing the plump flesh. The possessive, intimate touch of his hand contrasted sharply with the sting of his fangs. It soothed you strangely, and the tension in your body eased. You could also feel the hardness of his big, thick cock against your thigh. 

Seonghwa could feel your pulse fluttering beneath his lips; his pace was fast and weakened by the rapid loss of blood. He should have stopped, unless he wants to completely exhaust your body now. The lord pulls away from you as he feels the saturation of your blood—your life flowing through his veins—the blood thickening and becoming viscous, turning a shade of deep night darkness. A sweet moment when your life becomes his. 

You try to focus your blurry gaze on him as Seonghwa pulls away from you. He smears the blood running down his chin with his fingers and licks the residue off his pads. 

"You're perfect. The most delicious food I've tasted in centuries of my life. There's something special in your blood...' Seonghwa whispers, caressing your cheek, brushing the dishevelled hair from your flushed face, and wiping away the tears that remain on your lashes. "I don't think I could ever get enough of you."

You had absolutely no energy to answer him and just lay there, melting under his touch. He continues to touch you lightly until Seonghwa leans down to suck on your nipple, his tongue swirling over it in slow, deliberate movements. Your back arched, and your lips parted in a soft moan. For a few minutes, he just enjoys the feel of your soft nipple in his mouth. He slowly sucks your breasts, and the next moment he lifts your legs and wraps them around his slender waist. 

Seonghwa wraps his hand around his cock and runs the thick, wet head of it over your trembling, sensitive folds a couple of times before she pushes it into you. The feel of his cock stretching your walls is almost immediately the trigger for another orgasm. You moaned loudly at the long-awaited feeling of being filled. Seonghwa has stretched you out so beautifully and pressed himself perfectly against your silky, smooth walls, which are covered with your juices. 

He slowly enters you with his whole massive length; you are so sensitive that you can feel every inch of him and every vein on your walls so clearly that it's almost painful. You press your hips against his, desperate for friction. Seonghwa grins as he begins to move, dragging his cock along your quivering walls and letting out a deep moan every time the delicate edges of your hole cling to the head of his cock. 

His beautiful eyes focus on your face as he moves, narrowing with his sly smile as he finds the perfect angle to make your eyes roll with pleasure.

"Look at me, my love." Seonghwa ordered. "I want to have a look into your eyes while I fuck you into oblivion."

You force yourself to meet his gaze, and the prince purrs in endorsements as he begins to thrust in and out of you at a rapid pace, thrusting so hard into your tight, squirming pussy that you can almost feel his cock in the back of your throat. Your mind goes completely blank as his cock comes all the way out of you before he plunges back into your inviting warmth all the way down to the base of his dick. The rhythm is rough and brutal, but it feels almost like heaven to you.

"You're such a good girl. Look how well you're taking it. You know, vampires can go into a frenzy when they fuck. But you're not afraid of that, are you?" The way you're tensed up and the way you're trembling underneath him almost brings him to the brink of madness, but Seonghwa holds back his animal urges and slows down his pace instead. 

You let out a wordless cry, completely lost in nothing but the obscene sound of your copulation—the sticky slap of skin against skin. 

"I am going to fill you with so much of my cum that it will drip from you for days, my love." Seonghwa wants to mark you in every possible way; he wants to tie you up; he wants to bite you; he wants to breed you. He wants you to belong only to him—to his world, to his darkness, to his blood, and to his own kind. "Everyone will have the knowledge that you are mine, for they will have the smell of my blood and my seed on you." He breathes into your ear as his pace picks up, and he sets an agonising rhythm, each movement of his cock hitting that special place inside of you.

'Seonghwa!' Your walls squeeze against him even harder than before as another orgasm begins to creep closer to you.  The prince presses his fingers against your clit, and then presses his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. As his mouth slides so passionately over your lips, as his thumb strokes in circles around your quivering clit, and as his thick cock slides in and out of you, the heat that is building up inside of you becomes almost unbearable. 

"Mmm, you feel so good." He tells you, running his tongue over your trembling lower lip. "You will belong to me forever.".

The thought that Seonghwa could turn you into a vampire and spend the rest of eternity with you was enough to bring you to orgasm. Uncontrollable pleasure engulfed your entire body. Seonghwa moaned velvetily, resting his face against your neck as you began to come. Your silky walls squeezed his cock as your climax plunged your consciousness into complete darkness. The pace of his thrusts quickened, and before long, he was muffling your cries of pleasure with his mouth, devouring every lewd sound that managed to escape from you.

"My prince... Seonghwa...' You managed to breathe out against the lips of his mouth. 'I want to be with you forever... I want you to be inside me...'

Your words filled him with a lust that was far greater than his thirst for blood, and soon he was inside of you as deep as he could go, his cock twitching as he found his own orgasm. He came in your pussy, filling you with his thick, viscous cum as he called out your name in a hoarse voice. 

After a few moments, Seonghwa came out of you and gave you a chance to catch your breath. The mixture of his cum and your own juices slowly poured out of your used pussy and started to drip down onto the sheets. 

"And you will, my love. You certainly will.'

Dressed in an ancient coronation robe, the gorgeous vampire prince circles the precious crystal coffin, his fingertips lightly stroking the cold, smooth crystal. The sneaky light of the somnambulistic stars falls on your face like the veil of a bride. He had arranged you here in all luxury: your hair was covered with diamond powder, glittering in the lace of the moonlight; he had painted your lips a delicate scarlet, the same colour as the cheeks of the radiant seraphim in church frescoes; and under your tongue he had placed petals of black violets, soaked in his midnight blood. Your body was wrapped in the most luxurious antique lace, embroidered with mother-of-pearl tears of dragons and pearls from the bottom of the sea. 

You were so beautiful... seductive, like a deadly flower that lures prey before swallowing it whole.

As he arranged hundreds of black velvet roses around your fragile body, a shy softness tinted his godlike face. Thorny rose bushes bloomed around the coffin as the castle of fairytales turned into a tomb with only one living soul. 

"You're in no danger now." Seonghwa whispered, stroking your beautiful hair. "Nothing can harm you now, and you will always be my love. Always and forever..."

Seonghwa is seated at a small round table and is playing his leisurely game with the fates. The elegant hands of the beautiful Dweller of Darkness skillfully guide the Hand of Fate. He spreads the tarot cards, tirelessly constructing endless constellations of indeterminate probabilities. One by one, Seonghwa turns over the ancient, worn cards, the corners of his devilishly sensual lips curving slightly as he sees the familiar layout: Lovers, Death, Empress, Love, Eternity, Beloved. The gaze of his fathomless, hypnotic eyes turns to you—his majestic bride, awaiting her awakening.

It's always been this way and always will be: people avoid the village that stands by the ominous Gothic castle in the middle of a dead rose garden, where, according to ancient legend, the beautiful Midnight Prince and his gorgeous bride keep the guilty legacy of their bloodthirsty ancestors. 

[whimsicaldoxy]

𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 - 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

pairing: fred weasley x reader

summary: you give fred a cassette player for his (belated) birthday—and george gets a gift, too.

notes: muggleborn!reader, no use of y/n, established friendship, fluff, you and fred listen to bowie together, george likes to show up at the wrong time, this might be my fav one from my drafts

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

It was a warm afternoon when you found yourself standing on the doorstep of the Burrow, a small package clutched in your hands. The brown paper was crinkled from being wrapped hastily, but the excitement in your chest made up for the imperfect wrapping.

Everyone was gathering at the Burrow for the summer—Harry, Hermione, and of course, you.

You had been waiting for this moment since April. Fred and George’s birthdays had come and gone during the school year, and you’d had to hold off on giving Fred his gift. It was something that didn’t quite fit in the wizarding world, something Muggle-made that you knew would make him raise an eyebrow and ask questions.

You had thought about getting him something magical, of course, but that seemed too predictable. Fred, with his mischievous grin and endless energy, deserved something that was completely unexpected.

You took a deep breath and knocked on the door, listening to the sound of scurrying feet from within.

“Oi, who’s at the door?” came George’s voice from the other side.

Before you could even answer, the door swung open to reveal George standing in the doorway, a smirk on his face. “Ah, it’s you. What’s the surprise, then? Come to pull some prank on us?”

You couldn’t help but grin at George’s teasing. “No prank this time, promise,” you said, holding up the small wrapped package. “I come baring gifts.”

“Oh, a present, is it? Hope there’s something for me.” George’s eyes lit up with interest, but he quickly stepped aside, pulling the door open wider.

“There might be,” You laughed as you stepped inside, walking through the warm and winding rooms of the Burrow. The Weasley family was as lively as ever, and you loved every moment of it. You could hear Fred’s voice floating from the kitchen, his loud laugh echoing as he bantered.

“Frederick!” You called out as you entered the room.

Fred turned around, his mischievous grin spreading across his face when he saw you. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favourite birthday-present-delaying friend,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with the usual prankster gleam. “What took you so long, eh?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I had to wait until summer. I couldn’t give you this at school,” you said, holding out the small package. “It’s… a bit of a Muggle thing.”

Fred raised an eyebrow and eagerly took the gift. “A Muggle thing?” he repeated, clearly intrigued. “Wait, it’s not going to explode is it?”

You laughed. “No, nothing like that. But you’ll see.”

Fred carefully unwrapped the gift, his eyes narrowing as he uncovered the small, sleek device inside. “What in Merlin’s name is this?” he asked, turning Muggle contraption over in his hands. He looked at it with obvious confusion, but also a bit of fascination.

“It’s a portable cassette player,” you explained, a grin tugging at your lips as you tried not to laugh.

Fred blinked, staring at it now with complete confusion. “A what now?”

You laughed, taking the player from him. “It’s a Muggle device. You can play music on it anywhere.”

Fred’s eyes widened as he took the cassette player back from you, turning it over in his hands. “Wait, wait, wait. So, this plays music? Like, magically? How does it work?”

“No magic involved, actually,” you said, smiling at his bewilderment. “It’s all Muggle technology. You put in the cassette, press play, and voilà��instant music.”

Fred started pressing buttons on the player as though it might suddenly spring to life in front of him. “So… how do you get the music onto these, then? Do I have to cast some kind of spell or—”

“No spells required,” you said with a laugh. “You just record music onto the cassettes. I made you a mixtape to start you off.”

Fred paused and looked up at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “A mixtape, huh? What’s on it?”

You handed him the cassette with a smile. “A little something I thought you’d enjoy. You’ll see.”

You turned to George, who had been watching the exchange with interest.

“So,” George began, raising an eyebrow, “I take it my turn’s next?”

You grinned, having anticipated this exact reaction. “Couldn’t leave you out, could I?” you said, reaching into your tote bag.

George’s eyes lit up with mock anticipation. “Excellent. What Muggle contraption have you brought to boggle my mind and win my undying affection?”

With a flourish, you pulled out a round package from your tote bag, handing it to George. He opened the paper swiftly, revealing a smooth black sphere with a little window on one side. He held it up for all to see, furrowing his brow as he inspected it.

“Ta-da! A Magic 8-Ball!” you said.

“A Magic 8-Ball?” George repeated, his tone dripping with skepticism. “Looks more like a shiny Quaffle to me. What’s it do? Explode? Curse you with bad luck if you throw it at someone?”

“Nothing like that,” you said, holding back a laugh. “It’s a Muggle… uh, fortune-telling device. You ask it a question, shake it, and it gives you an answer.”

George stared at you, blinking. Then he threw his head back and laughed. “Wait, wait—this thing’s supposed to tell the future? Without magic?”

“Exactly,” you said, smiling wildly. “Here, give it a go.”

You handed the Magic 8-Ball to George, who turned it over in his hands, squinting at the little window on the bottom. “Right,” he said, his tone still dripping with mock seriousness. “Let’s see if this Muggle marvel can outwit a Weasley. O’ wise and mysterious ball,” he intoned, holding it up dramatically, “will my brother Fred ever stop being a complete prat?”

He shook the ball vigorously, and the little triangular answer floated into view: ‘Don’t count on it.’

Fred, who had been half-listening, looked up from his cassette player with a mock-offended gasp. “Oi! What’s that supposed to mean?”

George grinned, holding up the ball. “See? It knows you already.”

─── 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ───

The evening at the Burrow had mellowed into a warm, cozy hum. Dinner had been a chaotic affair as usual, with Mrs Weasley fussing over everyone’s plates, Mr Weasley excitedly asking you questions about the cassette player, and the twins making an endless stream of jokes. Harry and Ron had been enthralled in an intense game of Wizard’s Chess, with Hermione and Ginny supervising closely. Now, most of the family had drifted off to their own corners of the house. The living room was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth, and you and Fred were sat in front of the well-worn sofa, on comfy cushions scattered on the floor.

Fred had been inspecting the cassette player all day, pressing buttons and turning it over like he expected it to sprout wings and fly. Now, he was finally ready to give your mixtape a proper listen.

“All right,” Fred said, pulling the player onto his lap and looking over at you with a mischievous grin. “Let’s see what kind of musical wizardry you’ve conjured up for me.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Just press play, and let the magic—well, the Muggle magic—do the rest.”

Fred flipped your gifted cassette over, examining the words written in your neat, tidy handwriting.

For Fred ♡

1. STUCK IN THE MIDDLE WITH YOU - STEALERS WHEEL

2. BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY - QUEEN

3. REBEL REBEL - DAVID BOWIE

4. GO YOUR OWN WAY - FLEETWOOD MAC

5. ALL THE YOUNG DUDES - MOTT THE HOOPLE

6. RIGHT DOWN THE LINE - GERRY RAFFERTY

7. PIANO MAN - BILLY JOEL

8. HEROES - DAVID BOWIE

“They’re songs that I grew up listening to,” you said, watching Fred as he read the track list. “My Dad’s favourites, and also mine.”

Fred inserted the tape, the satisfying click of it locking into place sounding louder in the quiet room. He pressed the play button, and for a moment, there was only silence, followed by the scratchy hiss of the tape starting up.

You sit and listen to each song, taking in the lyrics, feeling the rhythm.

And as the final song began to play, Fred turned to you, his eyes locking with yours.

I, I will be king

And you, you will be queen

Without a word, he stood up, extending his hand towards you. “Come on,” he said, his voice playful. “We’ve got to dance to this one, don’t you think?”

“Dance?” You blinked, unsure if you were hearing him correctly.

He nodded, still holding out his hand, a look in his eyes that made your stomach flutter. “Yeah, why not? How can you not dance to something like this?”

You laughed, a bit hesitant but swept up in the moment. “I’m not much of a dancer,” you teased, but there was something in Fred’s gaze that made you want to join him.

“Neither am I,” Fred shot back with a wink. “But I’m sure we can manage.”

With a soft chuckle, you placed your hand in his, and he pulled you up from the cushions, and before you knew it, he had twirled you around, your laughter filling the room.

You stumbled a bit but caught yourself, Fred steadying you with a chuckle of his own. “See? We’re practically pros already,” he teased, his voice warm with amusement. “Let’s see how well you really dance.”

He pulled you in again, this time swaying slightly to the rhythm, still laughing as the song played on, the music dancing between you both. Fred moved effortlessly, his carefree nature taking over, but there was something else in the way he looked at you—a softness, a warmth. The way his eyes lingered on yours, the way he smiled as if he were seeing you in a completely new light. It wasn’t like the teasing, mischievous glances you were used to. This was… different. Nice.

And I, I’ll drink all the time

Cause we’re lovers, and that is a fact

For a moment, the world seemed to fade away. There was just you, Fred, and the music, swirling around you both like the most natural thing in the world. You felt your heart beat faster, the connection between you deepening in a way that made everything else feel distant and unimportant.

Yes, we’re lovers, and that is that

Though nothing, will keep us together

Fred leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping, suddenly more serious than before. “You know,” he began, his breath brushing against your ear, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to—”

But before he could finish, there was a loud crash from the kitchen, followed by a loud shout of, “Oi! Who broke my broomstick?” George’s voice rang through the house, cutting through the moment like a knife.

Fred groaned, pulling away and looking toward the noise with an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” he muttered, clearly annoyed at the interruption. He shot you an apologetic look.

But before you could compose yourself, in walked George, his eyes scanning the scene with a mischievous glint. “What’s going on here then?” he asked, his tone full of curiosity, his gaze flicking between you and Fred.

You immediately felt a bit flustered, fumbling for words. “Uh, nothing. We were just—well, just listening to music,” you said, your voice betraying a slight nervousness.

George raised an eyebrow, grinning knowingly. “Right, music. You sure about that? Looks like you two were dancing to me.”

You could feel your cheeks redden, but Fred jumped in before you could say anything more. “It’s nothing, George. Just messing about,” he said, his voice light but with an edge of annoyance at the interruption.

George leaned against the doorframe, still grinning. “Messing about, huh? It looked more like you two were about to start practicing for a Ball.”

Fred rolled his eyes, though there was a slight flush to his cheeks. “We weren’t doing anything like that,” he said, a little too quickly. “We were just… you know, dancing a bit. No big deal.”

George’s grin only grew wider, clearly enjoying the teasing. “No big deal, huh? Sure, sure. You two looked like you were in your own little world there. Was it a slow dance, or—?”

Fred groaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Merlin, George! You’ve got the worst timing. We were about to—” He stopped himself suddenly, realizing he’d almost said more than he’d intended.

You could see Fred trying to recover, but George was already on the case. “You were about to what?” George asked, his voice dripping with teasing curiosity. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging. What’s all this about dancing and moments?”

Fred let out a frustrated sigh, but the corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile. “You’re a real pain, you know that?”

George looked as if he was enjoying every second of it. “Oh, I know. Just don’t mind me. You two go ahead and finish whatever moment you were having before I showed up.”

Fred gave George a playful shove toward the kitchen. “Right, get out of here. Go break something or prank Percy or something, would you?”

George put his hands up in mock surrender, though the grin on his face remained. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you two alone. But don’t forget—I saw everything.”

With that, George turned and disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving you and Fred alone again. You both stood there for a moment, the awkwardness lingering in the air.

Fred rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes avoiding yours for a second before he looked up with that familiar grin. “Well, that went well, didn’t it?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a smile. “Oh, absolutely. Nothing says ‘good time’ like being interrupted by your twin brother in the middle of a perfectly fine dance.”

Fred’s grin grew wider, though there was a hint of something else behind it. He looked almost… a bit sheepish. “Yeah, I was this close to telling you something,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, his eyes flicking over to you for a split second before he looked away.

You blinked, trying to hide the sudden flutter in your chest. “What were you going to say?”

Fred chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Oh, you know… nothing important.” But even as he said it, you could tell there was more to it. The way he shifted his weight and avoided your gaze said otherwise.

You frowned a little, stepping closer to him. “Fred, come on. You can’t just leave me hanging like that.”

He laughed softly, clearly torn between his usual playful nature and the moment’s strange vulnerability. “I wasn’t going to say anything, really. Just that… well, it’s nothing. Forget about it.”

You studied him, trying to read the subtle way he was acting—like he was holding something back. Something he wanted to say but couldn’t quite get out.

You had hoped, just for a moment, that Fred might finally say the thing that had been on your mind for so long—that he felt the same way you did. But now, with the silence stretching between you, you weren’t so sure.

“Fred,” you said again, this time your tone gentler. “You don’t have to pretend. If you were going to say something, I want to hear it.”

Fred hesitated for a moment, clearly conflicted.

Finally, he looked back at you, his expression softening. “It’s just…” He paused again, then sighed. “I was just going to say that… I’m glad you’re here. You know, hanging out with us. I mean, it’s not like I don’t appreciate everyone else, but…” He trailed off, looking for the right words.

You tilted your head, a soft smile forming on your lips. “But?”

Fred looked at you for a moment, the playful spark in his eyes returning. “But it’s nice having you around. I’ve always liked hanging out with you.” He paused and, as if he realized how simple that sounded, added quickly, “In case you didn’t know.”

You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I know, Fred,” you said, your heart swelling just a bit. “I’ve always liked hanging out with you, too.”

There was a brief silence between you both, one that seemed to stretch just long enough to feel like something more. Fred seemed to realize something, his eyes widening for a moment as though he’d said more than he intended. Then the tape clicked, indicating the end of the mix.

“Right, well,” he said, rubbing his neck again, his tone a little sheepish. “Guess that’s it then. I just wanted to say thanks… for everything. For the mixtape, for the dance, for being, well… you.”

You blinked, feeling your chest tighten. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Fred,” you said softly.

“Well, I guess that’s enough sentimentality for one night,” Fred said with a wink, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “Before George gets any more ideas about ‘moments,’ right?”

You laughed lightly, but a small part of you still wondered if he meant to say something more, the slightest hint of disappointment hidden behind your smile. “Right—yeah. Can’t have George getting the wrong idea, can we?”

Fred’s smile faltered for just a fraction of a second, though you almost missed it. It was gone so quickly, replaced by the same easygoing grin he always wore. “Yeah,” he said, his voice light.

You felt the unspoken words hanging between you, your chest tight with the quiet yearning. But Fred was already moving toward the kitchen, shrugging off any possibility of lingering conversation. “I’ll just go make sure he doesn’t turn the kitchen upside down,” he called over his shoulder as he left.

You’d hoped for more, for him to say the one thing that had been circling your thoughts for so long. But in that quiet moment between you two, Fred had danced around it—just as he always did.

[mysteli]

i just finished re-reading this entire series and oh my god. kinda sad that i never finished it because i had some good ideas/concepts. there's a lot of bad writing in here though and i clearly barely proofread these chapters but i see why i loved writing it so much <3

Endless Summer Imperfect Masterlist

Hey! So here’s my masterlist for my ES series: Imperfect. Updated regularly and I just thought I’d make it easier. 💗

Chapter 1 - A Broken Heaven

Chapter 2 - Fragments Of A Memory

Chapter 3 - Princess

Chapter 4 - Sickness

Chapter 5 - Secrets

Chapter 6 - Runaway

Chapter 7 - Abused

Chapter 8 - Just Believe

Chapter 9 - The One To Blame

Chapter 10 - Dear Darlin’

Chapter 11 - Ember Of Hope

Chapter 12 - Juvenile 

Chapter 13 - Void I Can’t Fill

Chapter 14 - The Law Is The Law

Chapter 15 - When in Hell

Chapter 16 - Wrapped In Chains

Chapter 17 - My Calling

Chapter 18 - Silent But Deadly

Chapter 19 - Empty Space

Chapter 20 - Saviour

Chapter 21 - Life After Love

Chapter 22 - Lost Time

[dark-dawn]

rites for a dying planet // caleb | xia yizhou

you wake up in a body that isn’t yours, in a world that shouldn’t exist. you’re not sure if it’s a dream, a punishment, or some cosmic joke—but you’re definitely alive, and unfortunately, very aware of it.

✭ pairing: caleb x mc | reader

✭ contains: isekai and transmigration, worldbuilding, politics, dubious science, handwaving: the fanfic, unreliable narrator, mental health issues, exploring the horrifying logistics of canon, angst, canon-typical violence, slow burn, found family, caleb is his own warning, eventual romance, moral ambiguity, only canon-compliant if you squint and lie, read too many naruto self-insert fics in 2013 and it shows.

✭ word count: 5.5k | part one ✭ a/n: listen. I barely understand this game. I went down one (1) reddit rabbit hole hoping for answers and emerged with more questions, three contradictory timelines, and a headache. So—like any reasonable person—I wrote fanfiction. [ read on ao3 ]

You always thought death would be cruel. A tearing, or a rending—something final. You imagined pain, or perhaps light, or the sudden silence of being extinguished like a flame, and you thought there would be meaning in it, some last, flickering clarity before the dark. But it wasn’t like that. It was quiet. Not kind, but not unkind either. Just indifferent, the way the sea is indifferent to the drowning, the way fire never pauses to consider what it consumes.

And then—smallness. Small hands, small feet, the shape of the world too big to hold. A room washed in yellow light. Your mother’s voice—new and warm and unfamiliar in a way that felt right anyway. Your father’s hands lifting you too easily, like you weighed nothing at all. None of it should have made sense, but it did. Not in the way memory is supposed to make sense, neat and linear, but the way dreams do: loose, flickering, stitched together by feeling more than fact.

Some would call it a blessing, to be born twice. To start again. But you’ve learned it’s not a clean slate, not really. It’s more like a palimpsest. Something overwritten, but never entirely erased.

Your childhood was happy, all things considered. There were warm meals and scraped knees, paper kites and sunburnt shoulders, the easy rhythm of routine, of growing older without noticing. You learned to read with your back pressed against your mother’s arm, mouthing words out loud while her fingers traced letters in the air; you learned to run across fields that smelled of dry grass and river clay, to fall and laugh and cry and keep going. You had friends, or something close to them, and the kind of endless summer days that blur together into one long, golden memory. You were loved, and it was enough.

The dissonance came slowly. At first, it was only a feeling, like stepping into a room where the furniture has been rearranged: everything familiar, and yet not. You looked for signs without knowing you were searching—hoped someone would mention a name you used to know, or a song, or a brand of cereal, something small and anchoring—but no one ever did. You started noticing the strangeness of the machines, how they didn’t hum or buzz the way they should, how the screens were too clean, too thin, too quiet. The interfaces responded before you touched them. The trains never broke down. Everything worked too well, moved too quickly, skipped past the imperfections you’d learned to live with before.

You knew what was happening before you really let yourself believe it. It crept in at the corners—quiet, certain—the unfamiliar holidays marked on the calendar, the children’s books with their strange alphabets and kingdoms you’d never heard of, names of countries that didn’t exist.

And yet, they did.

You lived in Linkon City. It said so on your school ID, your library card, the crumpled paper wrappers from the bakery on the corner. You could draw its subway map from memory. You knew which districts smelled like engine oil and which ones flooded in the spring.

Where else would you live?

(Your mother had never heard of London.)

But it was the sky that solidified things, in the end. The stars were all wrong. No North Star. No Orion’s Belt. Just a sweep of unfamiliar constellations, bright and sharp and wholly indifferent. A completely different sky, a new part of the universe, one where the rules had shifted in ways you couldn’t quite name. And standing beneath it, you felt something loosen in you—some last thread to the world you’d once known pulling taut, then snapping clean through.

This was a new world. This was a new life.

Maybe you were supposed to do something with it—this second chance. Maybe there was some grand purpose you missed, some fate you were meant to fulfil, some cosmic checklist you failed to tick off before the universe got bored and filed you under miscellaneous. You were reborn, weren’t you? Isn’t that supposed to mean something? You should have come out special. Glowing, chosen, blessed. A prodigy with ancient wisdom tucked behind your teeth. A voice in your head whispering secrets. Powers. Insight. Anything.

Instead, you got mild seasonal allergies and a lopsided birthmark on your hip.

In your worst moments, you wonder if this life is some sort of punishment. Not a dramatic punishment, of course. Not fire and brimstone. Something quieter. Smaller. A life that just goes on, day after day, full of minor joys and minor failures. No grand battles. No tragic fate. Just the constant, lingering what if?

Because if it were awful, you could rage. If it were perfect, you could surrender. But this—this not-quite, this maybe, this waiting-for-a-sign-that-never-comes—is unbearable in a way that’s hard to name.

And still. You wake up. You brush your teeth. You go to school. You come home. You eat dinner. You laugh when people expect you to. You go to sleep. And some nights, you dream of vending machines and broken streetlights and a world that was uglier, slower, louder—and yours.

And then things go to hell. Because of course they do.

Your parents die when you turn seven, and for a moment, you think—this is it. This is the turning point, the part where the strangeness cracks wide open, where your destiny finally limps onto the stage, late but dramatic. You wait for the letter with the wax seal. The sudden inheritance. The shadowy stranger who knows your true name.

But no. There’s just grief.

Not the cinematic kind, either. No thunderstorm, no funeral in the rain. Just soft voices and drawn curtains. Empty rooms and a suitcase you didn’t pack. Their shoes still by the door because no one’s been brave enough to move them. People say they’re sorry and mean it, but that doesn’t help when the silence is so loud you start talking to yourself just to fill it.

And still—still—some part of you watches from a distance, thinking, Is this it? Is this the moment I transform?

But you don’t transform. You just survive. Messily, gracelessly. You go back to school with red-rimmed eyes. You forget homework. You stare too long at strangers, hoping one of them will look back and say, Ah. There you are. We’ve been looking for you.

They don’t.

And after a while, you stop expecting them to.

The memories of this time are a little hazy. You chalk it up to grief, at first—the way your brain fogs over to protect you, how people say trauma softens the edges of things. You tell yourself that’s normal. That forgetting whole days is just part of the process. That it’s nothing to worry about when you wake up with bruises you don’t remember earning, or when you find notebooks with pages torn out, or when someone from school says, “We talked about this yesterday,” and you nod like you remember.

Sometimes, you do. Probably.

Sometimes you dream about white light and metal walls and voices just out of reach. You wake with your heart racing, certain something was done to you—is being done to you—but then the thought slips away, too smooth to hold. It’s always just out of focus. Like trying to stare straight at a shadow.

You’ve always had an overactive imagination, your teachers say. You read too many books. Spent too much time alone. You once tried to keep a journal, to track the days that slipped when you weren’t looking—but whole weeks were missing, and the entries stopped making sense. Dates out of order. Gaps you couldn’t explain.

Still, you survive. Or you pretend well enough that it passes for the same thing.

And most of the time, that’s enough. Most of the time, you can almost forget there’s something missing. That you’re walking around the hollow shape of a person with gaps in the middle. That sometimes you catch your reflection and for a split second, you swear it moves wrong.

Caleb makes things easier, but Caleb always makes things easier.

He was there in the early years, the scraped-knee summers and playground bruises, when everything felt half-formed and full of promise. He knew how to fill in the silences, how to make you laugh when your chest felt too tight, how to say “You’re fine,” in a way that almost made it true.

He doesn’t ask questions you can’t answer. Doesn’t press when your memory skips or when you forget entire conversations. When you say, “I think I lost some time,” he just shrugs and says, “Happens to the best of us.” Like it’s normal. Like it’s fine. Maybe it is, when he says it.

Sometimes you wonder if he knows more than he lets on. If he’s ever noticed the blank spaces and decided not to speak. If maybe he remembers the things you’ve forgotten.

But you don’t ask, and he doesn’t say, and the silence between you has always been a comfortable one.

And anyway, Caleb is steady. Caleb is real. When the world feels too sharp at the edges, too bright, too fast—he’s the one thing that doesn’t blur.

It makes living with Grandma easier, having him with you.

She’s a kind lady, the sort who smells like lavender and keeps biscuits in a tin shaped like a cat. Her knees crack when she walks, and she sings old songs to herself while folding laundry, soft and tuneless. She doesn’t ask too many questions, which helps. You get the sense she’s known loss too, though she never talks about it—not directly. Sometimes you catch her looking at you like she’s trying to remember someone else’s child in your face, but then she smiles and pats your head and tells you there’s more soup on the stove.

Your room is small, but it’s yours. Slanted ceiling, pale yellow walls, a window that fogs up in winter and lets in birdsong in spring. There’s a bookshelf with mismatched titles, a desk that creaks when you lean on it, and a bed pushed up against the wall with too many pillows and a blanket that smells faintly of mothballs and safety. You’ve tacked up drawings and pressed flowers and book pages, little things that make the space feel more like home. It helps.

Caleb’s room is next door. You can hear him through the wall sometimes—shuffling around, tapping out rhythms on the floor, singing under his breath when he thinks no one’s listening. Some nights, when everything feels too loud inside your head, you knock once on the shared wall and wait. There’s always an answer: three knocks back. Then a pause. Then the soft creak of his door opening. He doesn’t say much when he sits at the edge of your bed—just offers you a hug or a joke or a leftover biscuit from the tin. Sometimes that’s all you need.

Other times, you just fall asleep knowing he’s close, and that’s enough to keep the shadows from rearranging themselves while you dream.

~

You’re ten years old when you see a Wanderer for the first time.

It happens in the middle of an ordinary afternoon—clouds low, air heavy with the threat of rain, the street humming with delivery drones and kids on bikes and vending carts rolling over cobblestone. You’re walking home from the market with Caleb, arms full of groceries and stupidly arguing about which of you could win in a sword fight, when the world tilts.

The sky doesn’t split—not exactly—but it fractures. Like something huge and hidden behind it finally pressed too hard.

You don’t know the name for it then—don’t know it’s part of something bigger, something called the Chronorift Catastrophe, don’t know this is only the beginning. That somewhere, deep in the government’s hands, they opened something called the Deepspace Tunnel. A corridor through time, they said. Or space. Or both. A marvel of science. A new frontier.

Instead, it became a wound.

The first one you see is enormous. Bone-white and many-limbed, with a head shaped like a ram’s skull and eyes like dying stars. It moves like something remembering how to move, awkward and predatory and far too real. People scream. The sky dims. Caleb grabs your hand so hard it hurts, and still, you can’t look away.

It feels mythological. Beasts from storybooks made monstrous, folklore made flesh and invited in through a door no one should’ve opened. You don’t even know how long you stand there—how long you stare—before the soldiers arrive. Sirens. Gunfire. A blur of motion and commands you don’t understand.

And for the first time in your life, you feel very small, and very real, and very awake.

This changes things.

The world doesn’t end, but it forgets how to be ordinary. There are checkpoints now. Curfews. Emergency drills at school. The news cycles between denial and panic. The grown-ups talk about “rebuilding efforts” and “containment zones” like that means anything, like anyone understands what’s really happening. The military presence increases. The sky hums differently.

And you—well.

You used to lie awake imagining some ancient power would call your name from the dark and everything would click—your past life would make sense, your strange instincts would sharpen into something useful, and you’d finally, finally become what you were meant to be: great, magical, extraordinary.

But that was before you saw a Wanderer tear through a street like paper. Before you saw what “chosen” looks like when it’s screaming for help and no one comes. Before the sky split open and something vast and ancient and wrong looked back at you.

The Wanderers cured you of destiny.

You realise you don’t want to be brave. You don’t want to be the one who runs toward the monster. You just want to stay alive. You want to go home. You want Caleb to keep singing in the room next door, and your window to keep fogging up in winter, and the universe to completely forget you exist.

(It doesn’t.)

So you start running laps in the school gym, even when no one tells you to. You time yourself when no one’s watching. You start noticing exits in every room, counting steps between doors, between windows. You learn which alleys to avoid after curfew and how to move without being seen. You don’t tell Caleb. You don’t tell anyone.

They haven’t started recruiting yet, and maybe they won’t. You’re a civilian, technically. A child, legally. But rules bend in a crisis. Expectations shift. And you suspect this world will ask more of you than you want to give.

You get faster. Quieter. Meaner, when you have to be. You learn to say the right things so the teachers stop looking at you with too much concern. You learn how to pass unnoticed in a crowd. You learn what fear looks like in other people’s eyes, and how to keep yours steady.

Then you turn eleven.

And suddenly, you’re not strange anymore—you’re gifted. The adults stop whispering about trauma and start talking about potential. They say you’re quick. Observant. Strategically minded. Someone prints your name on a school leaderboard you didn’t know existed. You don’t ask what it’s for.

At first, it unsettles you. You weren’t doing anything special, just surviving. But then you realise: no one cares why you’re quick, just that you are. No one asks why your test scores jump from average to perfect, why you watch the news with too much intensity and flinch when the sirens start before they reach your street. They think you’re bright. Promising. The kind of child the city can be proud of. Something salvageable from the wreckage.

You let them believe it. You nod when praised. You smile when necessary. You answer questions with just enough personality to be liked, but not enough to be known.

They see discipline. They see talent.

They don’t see the Wanderer in your dreams. Or the bruises you don’t remember getting. Or the fact that some days, you still don’t recognise the handwriting in your own notebook.

But Caleb notices.

Of course he does. He always has.

He doesn’t say it outright—he never does—but you catch the way his eyes linger on you a little too long when you’re quiet. The way he notices when you skip a meal or disappear into your room before sunset. He starts sitting a little closer at the dinner table. Walks you to school even when he doesn’t have to.

One evening, after you get back a perfect score on an exam you barely remember taking, he knocks on your door and asks if you want help studying.

You blink at him, surprised. “I don’t need help.”

He shrugs, casually, like it doesn’t matter. “I do.”

And maybe that’s true. Maybe he’s really just trying to keep up—he’s a few years ahead of you, but lately you’ve caught up in ways neither of you expected. He’s still taller, still stronger, still better at most things, but it’s starting to narrow. The difference between age and ability. The space between you, closing inch by inch.

And maybe that’s why he starts pushing himself, too.

He studies harder. Trains longer. You catch him at the park running sprints alone, long after everyone else has gone home. He starts carrying extra textbooks and scribbling formulas on his arms in ballpoint pen. He says he’s just trying to set a good example, but you know better. Caleb’s always been the calm in the storm, the one who grounds instead of rises—but now, there’s something sharper in him. Like he’s decided that if the world is going to fall apart, then the least he can do is not let you face it alone.

~

It’s around this time that you first meet Zayne.

He’s older—by three years, maybe four—and already something of a legend in the upper school halls. Top of every class. Reads textbooks for fun. The kind of student teachers smile at like he’s their personal success story. You hear his name before you ever see him, always in the same breath as ranking reports and advanced placement. The kind of name that makes other students grit their teeth.

You meet because someone decides you belong in the same orbit.

A teacher pulls you aside after class, gently enthusiastic. “We’ve arranged for you to sit in on the upper-level track for now,” they say, like it’s a reward and not further proof that the universe hates you.

Grandma is thrilled. You’re just tired.

They bundle the exceptional students together now—streamlined education, post-Rift efficiency, all that—and suddenly you’re sitting in a small seminar room that smells like old whiteboard markers and overconfidence. You’re the youngest by far, and Zayne is at the front of it all, spine straight, handwriting neat, correcting instructors without a hint of arrogance. Just certainty.

You sit in silence through most of the session, only half-listening. The room is full of numbers and diagrams that should feel complicated, but your brain catches onto them too easily. It’s not that you’re smarter than the others. It’s that the answers are already half-formed in your head, just waiting to be remembered.

You don’t feel brilliant. You feel like a fraud with a head full of loose wires and secondhand thoughts.

Zayne answers every question without hesitation. The kind of sharp, assured intelligence that feels clean and earned. He doesn’t stumble or second-guess. You catch yourself watching him more than the lesson.

And then you realise he’s noticed you, too. He sees the way you finish your work too quickly, the way your fingers twitch when the material is too easy, the way you seem at once too young and too knowing. You can feel his gaze like a pressure behind your ear.

He approaches you after the second week.

“You missed the extrapolation in problem seven,” he says, flipping your worksheet around without asking. “It’s subtle, but it throws off your entire hypothesis.”

You glance at the page. He’s right, obviously. You were sloppy.

(You were thinking about white light and metal walls and the wrongness humming beneath your ribs.)

“Oh,” you say, because you don’t trust yourself to say anything smarter. “Right.”

Zayne doesn’t smile. He just nods, like he’s confirming a hypothesis.

“Are you autodidactic?” he asks.

You blink. “Am I what?”

“Taught yourself,” he says, still watching. “You learn unusually fast.”

You shrug. “I guess.”

It’s not a lie. But it’s not the truth, either.

Zayne doesn’t press, which somehow makes it worse.

After that, it’s like you’ve been filed under Interesting. He starts sitting closer. Starts asking you questions in that quiet, clinical way of his. Why you skipped a step in the solution but still landed on the right answer. How you saw the pattern in the data set before it was introduced. Whether you reverse-engineered the formula or intuited it.

“You don’t think like the others,” he says once, matter-of-fact. “You solve backwards. That’s interesting.”

It’s not meant to be flattering, but it lands that way.

You tell yourself not to let it matter. That he’s just another student. But something about the way he speaks to you—measured, never condescending—makes your brain light up in places most people don’t reach. Zayne doesn’t talk down. He talks across. As if you’re already fluent in whatever strange mental language he’s operating in.

Caleb hates him immediately.

Caleb, who has always been good at most things but never the best, who has worked hard and stayed steady and smiled through every project where Zayne outscored him without trying. Caleb, who mutters “robot” under his breath when Zayne walks past, and loudly announces that “real people don’t talk like that” after one too many overheard comments about theoretical models.

(You’ve never seen him act so petty. You almost find it endearing.)

“He thinks he’s better than everyone,” Caleb says one day, slumped beside you at lunch. “Bet he doesn’t even have friends. Just facts and spreadsheets and whatever’s shoved up his—”

“Caleb,” you interrupt, without looking up. “He’s not that bad.”

That’s the first time you realise you’ve started defending Zayne. You’re not sure you like that. But it’s true. He’s not kind, exactly, but he’s precise, and there’s something in that precision that feels familiar. Comforting.

Caleb doesn’t say anything after that. Just peels the label off his water bottle and refuses to meet your eye.

And you get it.

It takes a moment—longer than it should—but you do. Because this isn’t about Zayne. Not really. It’s about you. It’s about the way your world has always had two people in it: you and Caleb. The way he’s always been there—beside you, ahead of you, behind you, whatever the moment needed. And now you’re in rooms he doesn’t enter. Speaking in shorthand he doesn’t know. Drifting.

And for the first time, you think: he’s afraid.

Not of Zayne. Not of being outscored or overlooked. He’s afraid of being left behind.

It’s not an easy thing to spot—Caleb doesn’t do open vulnerability. He isn’t the sort of person who makes a scene. He just folds into himself, grows sharper at the edges. Throws out a few more barbed jokes than usual. Hovers over your shoulder and bears his teeth.

He’s always been a protector. That’s how he exists in the world: guarding things. Guarding you. Even when you didn’t ask for it. Especially when you didn’t ask for it. He walks on the street side of the pavement. He memorises your schedule without meaning to. He’s the one who knocks back when you tap the wall at night.

Even now, with Zayne in the picture and things shifting underfoot, he doesn’t push you away or accuse you of changing. He just circles a little tighter, stands a little closer, like he’s trying to remind the world you’re already spoken for.

And maybe that’s what makes it worse—the way he never demands anything. Never asks you to choose.

He just braces himself to be left behind and pretends he isn’t afraid.

It pisses you off.

Because Caleb is home. Caleb is the first face you learned to trust. Your first friend. You don’t know where he ends and you begin. That if the universe cracked open tomorrow and you had to choose someone to stand beside you in the ruins, it would be him.

But he’s a stupid teenage boy, and completely oblivious to any of your emotions. So he just sulks a little more than usual. He takes longer to respond to your texts. He avoids eye contact when you catch him looking. He kicks pebbles into storm drains, and gets into fights at school.

You think maybe he wants you to ask what’s wrong—just so he can say nothing in the most unconvincing tone humanly possible. But you don’t ask. You don’t push. You just walk beside him like always, your backpacks bumping slightly as you fall into step, the silence stretching long and uneven between you.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, head ducked like the pavement’s suddenly fascinating. Every so often, he mutters half-hearted complaints—about school, the weather, how Zayne probably practices blinking in a mirror and still hasn’t nailed it.

You let him talk. You let him not talk. You let him exist in that strange space between anger and sadness where Caleb lives when things get too complicated to name.

At the corner near your street, he finally says, “You don’t even like him that much, right?” Not looking at you. Not quite managing to make it sound like a joke.

You glance over. He’s staring straight ahead, jaw tight, like he’s already bracing for an answer he won’t like.

“I don’t not like him,” you say, and immediately regret it. Because it’s not the kind of answer that softens things. It just makes him shrug too hard, like he’s trying to shake something off.

“Right,” he says. “Cool. Yeah.”

He kicks another pebble, harder this time. It hits the curb and skitters into the gutter with a sound that feels unnecessarily final.

You sigh. “Caleb. I’m not going anywhere.”

He doesn’t answer. But he walks a little slower after that.

And when you reach your street, he hooks his pinky around yours, like he used to when you were smaller and scared of thunderstorms and neither of you knew what to say.

No deal is spoken. No vow is made. But it feels like one anyway.

~

You’re fourteen when you start realising that the feeling of wrongness you’ve been carrying around with you might mean something.

It’s not just dreams anymore. Not just phantom bruises and flickering gaps in your memory. It’s more insistent. Closer. A low-frequency hum beneath your ribs that no one else seems to hear. Sometimes it feels like your heart is stuttering—like something inside you is trying to move in a rhythm that doesn’t match the rest of you.

You try to ignore it. You try to pretend it’s nothing, just growing pains, just too much caffeine, just you being dramatic. But the world is changing, and pretending is starting to feel harder.

Because around this time, you start hearing more about Evolvers.

They’re no longer background noise on the news or a quiet topic for academic panels. They’re everywhere now—featured in public service announcements and splashed across front-page headlines, on billboards with stylised codenames and blurred-out faces. Hunters being praised, feared, marketed. Children in your year whisper about Evol Classes like they’re houses in a fantasy novel—Psychic, Elemental, Simulation. Everyone wants to know which one they’ll be. If they’ll be anything at all.

The school nurse starts carrying Evol detection kits. Guidance counsellors begin holding “talent assessments.” There’s a quiet kind of hysteria underneath it all, dressed up like opportunity. Like evolution is the next academic stream. Just another test to pass.

You try to play along. You listen. You nod. But none of it feels real.

(Because this world is still strange. Deeply, fundamentally strange. You doubt you’ll ever fully acclimatise.)

Zayne starts talking about it more. He has theories, of course. About Class distributions and gene expression, about combat bias in Hunter selection and the ethics of private-sector augmentation. His Evol is public knowledge now—ice, sharp and efficient, just like him. Elemental Class. A perfect fit.

Caleb pretends not to care, but he always has a way of being exactly what people want to see. Top marks, captain of the basketball team, the kind of smile that makes teachers trust him and classmates fall a little bit in love with him.

But you know him better than that. You’ve seen the way he stiffens, just barely, when the subject of Evols comes up. The way he makes a joke and changes the subject whenever someone mentions Class registration. The way he keeps his hands in his pockets when he’s angry.

He’s not careless. He’s careful.

You haven’t seen anything float. Nothing dramatic. But sometimes you feel the air going still around him, the weight of a moment stretching thin, like the world holds its breath when he’s near.

He hasn’t told you. You’re not sure why he hasn’t, but you trust him.

Caleb doesn’t lie—not to you, anyway—but he withholds. He gives you everything and nothing in the same breath, and you’ve long since stopped expecting clean answers from him.

Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s that he guards what matters most. And if this is something he’s keeping quiet, then it must matter.

So you trust him. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.

And you—well, you have nothing.

No classification. No listed Level. No registered Evol.

Just that feeling. That quiet, insistent hum.

You start reading late into the night. Medical journals, declassified reports, scraps of data buried deep online. You learn about Levelless Evolvers. About fluctuations. About undocumented Classes. You learn the word Anhausen—a strange, archaic thing buried in a footnote, a misrecorded Class, maybe even a mistranslation.

But something about it sticks.

To raise. To heighten. To make someone better.

You don’t feel better. You don’t feel anything good at all. Just the weight of something you can’t name curled around your heart like a second pulse.

No one else seems concerned.

Grandma pats your shoulder and says you’re probably just a late bloomer. The school nurse shrugs at your clean scan results. The guidance counsellor smiles too much. No one questions the blankness in your file.

And so the silence settles in. Official, approved, unremarkable.

Caleb is pleased. He says as much, that first evening after school when the topic comes up and you shrug, trying to look unbothered.

“Good.” he says, without hesitation. “That’s what I was hoping for.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-expecting the usual teasing—but no. He means it. He’s genuinely relieved.

“No limelight,” he adds, tossing a chip into his mouth. “No agencies tracking you. No recruiters with pamphlets. No creepy uncle-types offering you custom weapons in alleyways.”

You snort. “No one is offering me things in alleyways, you dork.”

He leans back on your bed, arms crossed behind his head like this is the best news he’s heard all week. “You’re safe. You get to be normal. That’s a win.”

You nod. You say, yeah, sure, because it’s easier than explaining the thrum under your skin. The way your hands sometimes shake for no reason, or how your vision flickers when you stand too close to certain people.

You don’t want to worry him. You’re not even sure if your research is right, or if what you’re feeling is just some leftover residue from the Rift—something your body never learned to process.

It could be anything, really. Aftershocks. Nerve damage. Ghost data from a life you’re not supposed to remember. You’ve tried to explain it to yourself a dozen different ways—hormones, trauma, something metaphysical that hasn’t been named yet. Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it. There are so many things wrong with you that trying to name just one feels almost pointless. Like picking one crack in the glass and pretending it caused the whole shatter.

So you nod. You smile. You let Caleb be relieved.

And you keep digging.

~

That night, you fall down another research hole and stumble across a name: Lumiere. No Class, no Level, no face. Just grainy footage buried in a decade-old crisis report.

You swear you recognise him.

This changes things.

[vultursvolans]

— ☆ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: although it wasn’t in the way that he planned, zhongli finally proposes to you ♡

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Zhongli x F!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k | masterlist | byf/dni

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: fluff, toothrotting fluff, established relationship, he calls you ‘my love’, ‘dearest’, you’re aware of him being the former archon, set at that floating island in the sky, you guys are so so in love lalalala

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

this piece is part of a flufftober event by spookuna ♡

For a moment, Zhongli couldn’t believe the words that left his lips. It had slipped out so naturally, so casually, as if he were merely asking about the weather. The question always lingered within him, much like the ring that waited patiently in his pocket whenever he decided the time wasn’t quite right.

Zhongli, a man of tradition, had always envisioned asking you at an appointed hour, at an appointed place, where the occasion would be nothing short of extraordinary.

Yet, here it was, out in the open, spoken with such casualness that betrayed its significance.

A gentle breeze swept across the landscape, nudging the summer clouds into a lazy drift. It was a cozy day for Liyue and as the sun made its descent below the horizon, the sky transformed into a fiery shade of orange.

High above Teyvat, hidden amidst the clouds, two pairs of legs dangled over a small floating island. They belonged to you and the former Archon, who often sought refuge in this corner of Liyue. Your fingers were intertwined with his as you gazed over the endless expanse. Finally free of prying eyes and the demands of everyday life, you sighed.

“Isn’t Liyue extra beautiful today, Zhongli?”

“It is, indeed,” he hummed, yet his eyes were not on the fading day. His gaze was fixed solely on you who sat beside him so calm and content, that he almost felt a pang of loss when you let go of his hand to rest your chin in your palm.

A small smile formed at the corners of your lips when his response reached your ears but your attention remained at the world below.

“I think you would appreciate its beauty more if you actually looked, you fool,” you replied, chuckling as you turned his face toward the dotted treetops and silhouettes of tiny homes.

Zhongli feigned a tired sigh, “No, I’m very aware of Liyue’s grace. I just prefer what’s in front of me, my love.”

You nudged him playfully, your legs swinging carelessly in the air. If there was a part of you that was afraid of heights, it vanished entirely in his presence.

“I’m serious,” He said, sliding an arm around your waist as a subtle invitation for you to relax your head on his shoulders.

He was serious though.

Being immortal— he had learned— was both a gift and a curse. It granted him both solitude and loneliness. He watched Liyue grow through centuries as if it were his very child and only two years ago, you had marched into his life like a reminder that love had not forgotten him. Beyond even the gift of immortality, you gave him a reason to cherish the present. So yes, he was utterly serious about choosing you above all else.

Unaware of his contemplation, you decided to tease him. “So you’re telling me you’re growing tired of Liyue?” You knew he wasn’t but what was the point of being tough and impenetrable if you couldn’t poke a bit of fun?

“How could I?” he shook his head. “Liyue is forever new and beautiful. You, however, are just a terrible distraction.”

You both laughed but there was weight to his words. Selfishly, he was thankful for not being the Archon anymore because, by Celestia above, you would have distracted him more than he dared to admit from his duties.

Then you remembered something.

“Oh, right!” You sat up and a soft smile played on your lips when you began taking out a book from your travel bag. The stiff cover and imperfect stitching suggested to him that you had made it yourself.

“I have something to show you.” You opened to the first page and there was a photo of you two from one of your travels. “Remember this?”

He chuckled, the memory still vivid in his head, “Do you know who you’re speaking to?” Zhongli took the book from you, studying it before flipping to the next page and then the next.

“I can see that you’ve put the photos in order… How thoughtful.”

You nodded.

Then he stopped at a certain picture, “Ah, our first Lantern Rite together— that was a pleasant night. You were so enchanted by those noodles from that vendor, that you insisted on having them for dinner all week.”

“And for some reason, my hunger has not yet been quelled, Zhongli,” you teased with another nudge.

“Soon, soon. I promise,” he replied with a sly grin only reserved for you.

“You know,” you began, “I’d like to travel beyond Liyue someday.”

“Where would you go?” he raised a brow at the sudden statement.

You hummed, thinking for a moment and then you pointed at the patch of emerald forestry barely visible through the billowing clouds, “Sumeru— the jungles there are supposed to be incredible. Or perhaps Inazuma. The cherry blossoms there are breathtaking,” turning more to the south as you said the latter.

As always, Zhongli listened while you rambled on about your future adventures.

“...We could go anywhere, do anything,” You suggested at the end of your little spiel.

“We can plan something,” he agreed.

“Oh, it’d be magical,” your heart swelled at the idea, “Maybe we could even reach Fontaine and have a picnic by their waters.”

You nearly gasped at how remarkable your idea was, “Oh my, Zhongli. Can you imagine sitting under the sun? With a book? My bones are getting all relaxed just thinking about—”

“Dearest?” Zhongli gently interrupted.

“Yes?” You replied, slightly worried about talking too much.

“Do you suppose we could keep doing this?”

“This?” You looked around the floating island, admittedly a little bewildered, “As in, coming here? Why would we ever stop?”

“No, no. I’m referring to us, just being together wherever we go. It doesn’t matter to me where we are.”

“Zhongli…”

“Do you think we could continue this… journey together?”

The question hung in the air, simple yet profound.

At this point, you turned fully to him, gaze softening as you met his amber eyes. They were wise and longing and wonderfully human.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Any form of hesitation died in his throat as he fiddled with his pocket and presented a ring to you. The world faded into a soft blur as he did.

“Then do you suppose you could marry me?”

Nothing but your breath escaped your lips. You were momentarily speechless. Sure, Zhongli had been oddly quiet but today was meant to be just another day. Now, your reality as you knew it became a distant memory.

He swallowed hard as he held the ring. It looked ancient but well-preserved, like a piece of fine craftsmanship. The gold band had delicate carvings unfamiliar to you and the stone was cut in such a way that it caught and refracted the last rays of sunlight as if it were alive. Maybe it was the remnants of divinity residing in him, but it radiated a soothing warmth in his hand. How would anyone believe that a humble consultant at the Wangsheng funeral parlour proposed to you with this?

Your chest began to bubble with emotion and you wanted to scream.

“Y-You want to marry me?” Your voice caught in your throat.

You could feel yourself getting hot, the reality of him wanting to be with you forever slowly crept up on you.

“Yes, I simply want to enjoy life with you. But if it takes a contract to call you my wife then of all the contracts I’ve ever woven, this one will remain my final and most sacred.”

He looked at you with a reverent smile.

“So what do you say?”

You pulled him into a tight embrace, feeling his words settle over you. In front of you wasn’t just the God of Contracts; he was the man who captured your heart. For every lingering kiss, every fulfilled promise, every time he opened you up to a new world of knowledge even when you thought you saw it all, and for every time he lent an ear and believed in your dreams— you knew what your answer would be.

“Yes. Yes!” The second time sounded louder than the last. Your voice was full of so much tenderness and conviction. You couldn’t stop saying it. “Yes, a thousand times, yes.” If you told the version of yourself from many years ago that you would be this important to someone, you would laugh.

“Thank you,” he said in the most sincere voice you’ve ever heard. “You have made me the happiest I’ve felt in a long time.”

Zhongli slid the ring onto your finger before cupping your face. You could feel the trail of kisses he was leaving on your forehead, then down your cheeks, and finally they found home between the plush of your lips— his kisses were so warm and gentle that it was hard to believe this was the same God people described as having a heart of stone.

Everything around you seemed to pause. The sun had almost fully set and the sky was now painted with the first hint of evening stars. With you in his arms, he wondered if this sense of peace came from being on this island or from the fact that he could now soon call you his wife.

Wife… he repeated in his head. His wife… it sounded just right.

A crisp breeze had settled between the two of you, perhaps for the better, to calm your burning hearts. After finally breaking away from him, you were the first to speak.

“So, what do we do now?”

Zhongli chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hair, “We continue, just as we always have… However, I hope you don’t mind me being a little more permanent to you now.”

“Permanent, huh?” You smiled, feeling a warmth coursing through you that had nothing to do with the summer air. “I like the sound of that.”

Eventually, Zhongli rose, helping you to your feet. He offered you his arm with a familiar gentlemanly gesture, “It’s getting a little dark. Shall we head back, my love”

“Mmm,” You slipped into his grasp, “Let’s go home.”

Home. The meaning was always tied to Liyue, by the earth and stone he had shaped for thousands of years. But now that's changed.

No matter where the world took him, as long as he faced it side-by-side with you, he knew that home would be wherever you were. Seeing you was like returning to a place he never truly left. Lost in thought, his thumb brushed gently over the ring he had just placed on your finger.

Home.

Zhongli liked the sound of that.

For the first time in his long life, the word felt complete.

a/n: i actually wrote this for an oc a while back, but i’m so glad i get to share this with people because i was so smitten at the time of writing it and reading this brings back all those feelings

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

all dividers are from @/chachachannah

[gretavangroupie]

Recommendations

After countless asks in our inbox, Jules and I have put together a list of some of our favorite fics - the ones we find ourselves reading time and time again. Hopefully there will be a few on here that you haven't read yet and will fall in love with too!

Jake:

Green Eyed Monster - @builtbybrokenbells

Covet - @jakeyt

Le Morte d'Arthur - @joshym

Until This Is Over - @abeautylives

Cream & Sugar - @sacredthefran

Melodic Memories - @builtbybrokenbells

Come Over - @milkgemini

Valence - @gretavanfleetposts

Imperfect Moments - @abeautylives

Disgrace - @gretavanfleetposts

Lost Boys - @tlexx

The Vanishing - @fleet-of-fiction

Amongst The Wildflowers - @jakeysfallingsky

The Lovers - @age-of-greta

Behind Closed Doors - @anthemofgvf

Decorum and Refinement - @gretavanlace

Rotten Apple - @builtbybrokenbells

Pictures of Time - @farfromthehomelands

Capital Vices - @builtbybrokenbells

Anything for You - @themoreyou-love

What Is and What Should Never Be - @devilat-thedoor

Bound - @gvfgal

Best Laid Plans - @writingcold

Josh:

It's Never Over - @builtbybrokenbells

Eternal - @readyforthegarden

Honey - @caravelmp3

Endless Summer - @anthemofgvf

Troubled Mind - @britney-gvf

Trip Around the Sun - @abeautylives

The Sex Scene - @fleet-of-fiction

Sam:

Picasso - @builtbybrokenbells

The Moon - @age-of-greta

Karma Sutra - @obetrolncocktails

Pink Lemonade - @garbagevanfleet

Daniel:

Belladonna - @builtbybrokenbells

Emerald Green - @hearts-hunger

Too Late to Go Back - @stardustndreamsofsilver

Four Weddings and A Funeral - @hearts-hunger

Guilty Pleasures - @builtbybrokenbells

Illicit Affairs - @aflame4goinghome

Forbidden Twins:

Cruel Summer - @sacredstarcatcher

Gold Dust Woman - @builtbybrokenbells

[joshybearhuggies]

Meet my Darlibg Son ✨Squash✨

This wonderful lil man is a sculpt I picked up at this years past Resin Rose BJD Expo. Sculpted by the lovely Logan of “Logan Dolls”. Sculpt name is “Jack-O-Leery.

✨Squash✨ has been an absolute joy bringing to life from the moment I purchased him. I believe he’s suppose to have been on a MSD (45cm-ish) body, the proportions definitely lend themselves. I popped this head on a Unoa boy body while at the con and almost had to tear myself away from the look. It was so gooooood! LOOKIT!

Ugh! So good right? The moment he fell into my world I just knew he HAD to be named ✨Squash✨ it just stuck. . .

I originally felt this style would stick as well… until I got home and plopped the head on a blind box BJD body by the name of ”Dividing Lines”. I was planning on selling this particular doll as I wasn’t bonding with them as hard as another of the same make. The sell didn’t happen because after this boy sat on it I WAS SOLD! 😂🥰❤️

Something about him being this short really fits the energy he embodies for me. I had old hands leftover from selling a “Summer Bird BJD Viola” a while back, this doll would also be of the MSD size so the hands aren’t exactly proportional for this smaller body. PERFECT! 🤩 I full on yelped from how excited and pleasing this was and the fact the hands don’t match the body is exactly the kind of mix matched ideal a doll named ✨Squash✨ would need.

After sorting his body, I took a random Sunday afternoon and gave him this fun, also mix matched, faceup. My intention here was to make him warm feeling, cozy. I also wanted him to be a doll I could have fun with, even if he sustains scratches later in life he’ll still be himself. Pumpkins have imperfections all the time so painting him felt so freeing. The possibilities are so endless, in a few years he might not even look like this and this makes me feel like he could grow with me 🥰❤️

The photo ideas I have for fall is just so endless, he looks so good even as just a head so I’m tempted to take him pumpkin picking and plopping him down with his brethren and taking a million pics 😂❤️

[accio-victuuri]

yibo-official weibo update

Hello, 27-year-old Yibo~

Time seems to pass faster and faster. Before you can turn the pages of the past year, you have ushered in the 27th summer of your life.

This year, I know you a little better. Just like the ripples caused by a stone falling into the water, you can always bring some fresh surprises to people. You mark the shining moments in the music, and look back at your sincerity and passion in the role, witnessing your resilience and concentration. Although there is always a time difference between people, fortunately, the morning and evening and day and night you have recorded will eventually be passed to the eyes of the next person, giving waves and excitement.

This year, you know the world a little more. Although the itinerary is as complicated and busy as ever, you have long adapted to the way of coexisting with time and moving towards the state of mind. The world is unpredictable, and you can calmly accept every sudden rainstorm, just like appreciating every nameless flower blooming along the way, accept imperfection, allow regrets, the mountains are high and the seas are vast, and please move forward boldly.

The experiences and meanings of growth, the wet mud, the wind with gravel, and the rising and setting of the sun and moon outside the window will tell you. Whether it is standing and swinging, or charging and swinging, the ball comes, just hit it, and so is life.

to 27-year-old @UNIQ-王一博!

💚Today is great, yesterday was also good, and tomorrow will definitely be better. The journey of the heart is endless, I wish you continue to travel between mountains and rivers, and may you grow freely!

[ravenwind-75]

The boy who became Indigo

Word count: about 1468 idk

Characters: Sebastian Sallow

Warnings: Angst

a/n: No beta (wrote late at night) and unedited. You can thank all the tiktok edits of Sebastian to this song lately. And @heylorrain who introduced me to this song.

tagging @butternutt613 who wanted to see this.

—————————————

There used to be a boy who shone so brightly. A boy full of curiosity and joy. Laughing and frolicking with his sister on summer days, his best friend with a beaming grin beside him. Days at school spent pulling elaborate pranks, studying together long into the night. All Sebastian wanted to do was live, to live as fully as he could. To learn, explore, to see the world in its fullest. Sebastian had dark days, but that was before magic came into his life. He was too young to help his parents, too young to learn something that could have saved them. His uncle was old. He only knew the old ways. Sebastian was sure that there was something that he missed. His parents had always told him that books held the answers. And his uncle didn’t read.

When magic came into his life the world opened up so much more to him. He could create things at the flick of his fingertips. He could do the impossible. There were endless possibilities and he wanted to do them all. He loved the thrill that came with dueling, with controlling an element as powerful as fire with a thrilling whoosh of a simple piece of wood infused with magic. Magic that came from inside of him. His mother had called him her golden boy. And the magic he felt inside him, the magic others saw, was just as warm. Ominis had told him that one time.

“You’re like the sun, Sebastian. You’re warm and gentle, but fiery and explosive at times. But it compliments you. It fits you. You just have this essence, that’s pure, positive, and dependable. Bright. And you’re valuable to me, my most prized, only friendship. You have a heart of gold.”

Sebastian had ruffled his hair, and laughed it off, not knowing what to do with the praise. “You’re one to talk Mr. Golden hair himself. You’re more perfect than me. My uncle seems to think so.”

“You’re blinding, that's why. If I was any metal I’d be silver. Cold, pure, and reflective. Of you.”

~~

The first scratch, the first flaw to cut into that heart of gold was a large one. A long big chunk out of the middle. The piece that belonged to his sister. When she was cursed so was he, each scream scraping along that heart of gold and chipping away. But even flawed gold can shine. It can shine in a flashing grin when it sees something brighter than itself. Something that sparkles with brilliance. The girl who knocked him down.

Sebastian was always there for her. First to jump in to take her to Hogsmeade, fight beside her in crossed wands, carry her books between classes, and help her find a lost book.

Ominis noticed that Sebastian shone again for her.

The gold had been fading away as he pined for his sister, little impurities sneaking in and there, impacting his quality of life as he spent many nights poring over magic of all types, selling himself for answers, filling the holes with everything else.

As the sun shone brighter again, it cast rainbows through the diamond, which reflected on the silver. All was well...

Yes, they ignored how the laser-like curse cut through Sebastian with the guilt he felt. How when the relic made one fade it made the other who reflected fade too. And how when the diamond dimmed in the shadows, she never lost her clarity of it all. Of what he was becoming.

Oh, the golden-hearted boy- how he faded. He was barely gold anymore. He was imperfect and flawed. He lacked depth and was cold and detached. He was prone to fully breaking. He was a purple gold now, fragile, hard, and brittle. Subject to crack at sudden impact.

~~

Sebastian’s heart was fracturing, the cracks spreading wide enough to slowly change him. Growing larger every day. Sebastian had been cold for a while now- cold with the guilt, the absence of his sister's once radiant presence.

The boy who once lived fully, loved fiercely, shining like the sun now looked at the world through a dull reflective sheen like aluminum. A distorted image of himself and others. His magic, once pure and warm, felt as hollow as his dark eyes. The heart of gold was becoming something- it had become something less. Less brilliant, less luminous, a mere shadow of itself-himself.

When he was alone he felt it the most. That all that was left of him was a ghost, his former self gasping for air as it faded every day, away forever. Each piece fell away as he cracked. Mostly it was his uncle. The man who had never believed in him, never even his childhood dreams. The man who told him to give up on saving all he had left of his family. He never saw past the old traditions, he was convinced it was futile. “It’s impossible”! He always said.

Sebastian even when he was shining wasn’t good enough. Always inadequate. Every time he looked at him with disdain, dismissed him, and crushed his hopes in front of Sebastian’s eyes, the cracks got deeper. The pressure built. The weight of his failure, his guilt, the fear of losing Anne - became unbearable.

His diamond girl, her sharp true words cut through him the most, cutting deep into his melancholy purple-gold soul. Even pure gold can be cut by one. And he was even more fragile than that.

The breaking point came- the final snap.

When his uncle stood before him, lecturing him about dark magic and threatening his diamond girl. When he snatched all Sebastian had poured himself into out of his hand and destroyed his hopes once and for all. Taking the hope of being with Anne again away forever.

At last the cracks split through.

The words echoed in his mind, “You are not enough."

In a flash, in a flare of hot rage and despair, he uttered the words summoned from the darkest depths of his soul. A curse he had never dared use. One he didn’t even know would work but the hatred, the suppressed emotions all exploded from him in a violent surge of green crackling energy.

He watched with horror as his uncle fell to the cold floor, the light going from his eyes as he was wrapped in death’s embrace. Sebastian stood frozen and numb as his wand tumbled from his hand with a small echoing clatter.

~~

The next few hours passed in a blurry haze of numbing tears. Anne no longer wanted to see him. Ominis wanted to turn him in and she was bruised by her conflicted feelings. He knew it was his fault- that he had gone too far. He had murdered his family. He was fully and completely broken, irreversibly.

“The thing is I think I’ve lost my sister, my twin. Forever. She refuses to even see me. I can’t blame her. I couldn’t really blame any of you if you gave up on me entirely.”

Sebastian’s tears mixed with the girl he loved, the weight hanging over him still even as she pulled him closer. He realized he was no longer the boy she fell in love with, the boy anyone loved. He was no longer that golden boy with a heart that shone brighter than the sun. Sebastian was now broken and darkened, full of regret and guilt. His soul was now a mixture of something still faintly, tragically beautiful that only she could see. The red mixed with the blue of his sorrow, indigo. A beautiful melancholy color of quiet aching for healing.

He however only saw destruction. Not a single good thing left in him. There was no trace of the light from before. No sense of beauty.

He saw his hands stained with his own blood, the boy he had been. The boy who lived with hope and light. All that was left was a cold, broken reflection of someone who tried to fix something, not his to fix. Something already fractured beyond repair. The golden boy was gone, he’d also murdered himself.

~~

In the cold silence of Azkaban's cell, he hoped she would forgive him for turning himself in. That she would understand the one thing that he did, that everyone else did. His heart would never be gold again. He had shattered that part of himself forever. He’d completely lost himself.

Impure gold loses its value, its purity. And its color dims.

No one wants something that is less.

No one would want him.

Sebastian closed his eyes as they came for him. Knowing they would drain away every happy moment of his existence.

But it was okay.

He was dead anyway.

~~

“And I used to shine bright like gold,

Now I’m all indigo.

My colors are darker and cold.

I think it’s time that I went home.

And I don’t understand why I always feel

Dead and alone….”

[aengell]

Suddenly you’re 25

At a friends wedding

You’d always say, that they‘d be the first of your friend group to marry

You’re eating lemon merengue and cherry cakepops with white chocolate

You’re wearing a long white summer dress

The bride wanted an all white wedding

It’s the beginning of May, and the April snow feels like a thing of the past already

It’s like the warm embrace of spring, and its abundant green and yellow fields had cast a spell on everyone

April amnesia

They’re playing that one song by The Cranberries

You remember being 21 and sitting on the train back to your shared Berlin flat

Not wearing any makeup, your hair a faded shade of pink

Planning what your next Sunday bake project is gonna be,

What you’re gonna do next week on your free days,

Wondering when they stopped putting shoe sizes on the sole of the shoes,

What your next tattoo is gonna be

And what flowers you‘ll have at your wedding

You’re dreaming of a brick house with lemon trees in the backyard

Of a husband who’s tall enough to reach and pick the fruits by hand

Of making lemonade with just enough honey and maybe some elderflower sirup

Dreaming of raising a child, returning to your hometown, letting go, an endless spring, listening to The Cranberries with your mother and feeling at ease with April snow and imperfect banana bread

[milunalupin]

— yesterday, you were here

remus lupin x reader ★ 702 words

a/n: 🕊️

Remus sighs, staring somberly into the mason jar sitting stagnant on the windowsill. He'll need coffee first, he decides, shuffling into the small kitchen of your creaky flat. His toes curl inside of his slippers, the oncoming autumn weather making this morning just a little chillier than yesterday.

He goes for instant coffee today, grimacing as the metal spoon clinks against the ceramic mug. The one you had made for him at one of your summer pottery classes, an imperfect heart with the letter 'R' carved into one side.

You'd been busy this summer. From multi-media art classes, to puppy yoga. You've even started a fantasy novel he knows you'll never really get around to. But the one constant was catching fireflies. The two of you had a flat on the outskirts of town, when a little pond sat just beyond your patio.

Your mission had been to catch a firefly, just one if you could be so lucky. As adorable as it was watching you jump around and attempt to cup your hands around the little insects, he couldn't help but coo pitifully when you would walk face first into his chest, a little pout on your lips. Your hand to eye coordination was terrible. Not one firefly had been caught all summer, until last night. Unfortunately you had been so caught up in your excitement that you failed to remember what happens to fireflies when you catch them the way you did.

Remus sat at the kitchen table, just two feet from your little friend. He looked over into your shared bedroom, where he could make out your body stirring under the warm covers.

"Morning, Rem."

"Hey lovie, good dreams?"

You nodded sleepily, taking the seat next to him and laying your head on his shoulder as your eyelids fell once again. He put a hand over your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle circles into your soft pajama pants.

"Want me to make you breakfast?"

When you didn't answer, he looked down to see that your eyes were not just open again, but tearing up.

"Oh, baby." He removes his hand from your thigh to wrap his arm around your shoulder, lightly squeezing your arm.

You sniffle, watery eyes locked on your little friend in the mason jar. Finally, after endless nights of running around the grass trying to catch one, you'd managed to get a firefly in your jar, painting little strands of grass around the border to make him feel at home. You'd put plenty of local flora inside as well as some fresh fruit, which Remus had to watch over you while you took the pairing knife and carefully cut little cubes of the sweet produce. You don't understand.

"I poked holes in the top so he could breathe."

"I'm sure he could breathe perfectly well."

"I gave him fruit to eat."

"It may just have been old age, lovie. I swear I saw him using a blade of grass as a cane."

That managed to get a twitch of a smile out of you, but your frown returned. "You think it was of natural causes?"

"It was his time to go. I'm sure he lived a long wonderful life. He's probably blinked his little light all over the world. It's about time he rests, don't you think?"

You nodded slowly, letting out a long breath through your nose. Remus turned to press his soft kisses to your head, his free hand bringing the coffee mug to your mouth.

You flinched back and glared at him, wiping any drops of coffee that might've ended up on your lips with the sleeve of your shirt. "Ew."

"You're 'ew', you've got dried up drool on your face." your boyfriend teased, poking a finger into your cheek.

He chuckled as you moved your head away from his hand with a pouty whine. A silence fell over the two of you, both of your gazes drifting back to your firefly.

"He deserves a proper burial, doesn't he?"

Remus hums in agreement, reaching over to lace his fingers with yours.

"Would it be okay if we went to the park to pick some flowers for him?"

"I think he'd love that."

[holybibly]

Bunnies, I'm in a good mood today, so I'm going to give you a little teaser of my upcoming work with Hwa. I'm going to raise the bar for fanfic writing by creating the most gothic and decadent universe possible. It's a vicious mix of Interview with the Vampire and Dracula, so if you don't like bloody luxury, I feel so sorry for you.

It has always been like this, and it will always be like this—people avoid the village that stands beside the sinister Gothic castle where, according to legend, a beautiful midnight somnambulist holds the guilty legacy of his bloodthirsty ancestors. Dressed in an ancient coronation robe, the magnificent prince of vampires sits alone in his dark, vast house, under the watchful eye of his mad and terrible ancestors, who stare at him from faded portraits, each of them prolonging their dreary posthumous existence through him. He spreads the tarot cards, tirelessly constructing endless constellations of indeterminate possibilities, as if a chance fall of cards on a regal, bloody velvet tablecloth could take him out of this cold, shuttered room and into a land of eternal summer and human warmth, erasing his heart's ancient sadness and allowing him to feel the love for the one who embodies both life and death simultaneously.

His voice is full of the distant echoes of long-forgotten love poems, like an echo that has resounded beneath the layers of the earth: "You have traveled to a place from which there is no return; you have traveled to a place from which there is no return. And he himself is like a dark dungeon filled with lonely echoes—a system of repetition, a closed circle. He is so handsome that his beauty appears unnatural; his beauty is an anomaly, a perfect defect, for in none of his hypnotic features is there even a suggestion of the poignant imperfection manifested in the imperfection of human existence. His beauty is the sign of a fatal disease; his blood is full of poison; and his black tears are the sign of the absence of a soul in him. 

The elegant hands of the beautiful denizens of darkness are the guides of the hand of fate. The nails on his hands are long and sharpened like steel daggers. These nails and teeth—beautiful, glistening in the darkness like snow under the light of the moon—are visible signs of his inescapable fate, which he so desperately tries to escape with magical powers. His claws and teeth have been honed by centuries of brutal wars and bloody orgies; he is the last descendant of a poisonous, barren tree that took root in a time when men worshipped blind gods and the forces of nature. 

As soon as the flaming sun sets, he rises from his luxurious bed and goes to the table, and sitting at that table, he plays his patient game until hunger awakens in him—an insatiable, scorching hunger that burns his whole being. 

[rainbowsky]

Hello, 27-year-old YiBo~

Time seems to be passing faster and faster. Before you can turn the pages of the past year, you have ushered in the 27th summer of your life.

This year, I know you better. Just like the waves caused by a stone falling into the water, you can always bring some fresh surprises to people. You mark the shining moments in the music, and look back at your sincerity and passion in the role, witnessing your resilience and concentration. Although there is always a time difference between people, fortunately, the morning and evening and day and night you have recorded will eventually be passed to the next person's eyes, giving waves and excitement.

This year, you know the world better. Although the itinerary is as complicated and busy as ever, you have long adapted to the way of coexisting with time and moving towards the state of mind. The world is unpredictable, and you can also calmly accept every sudden rainstorm, just like appreciating every nameless flower blooming along the way, accepting imperfections, allowing regrets, the mountains are high and the seas are vast, please move forward boldly.

The experiences and meanings of growing up, the wet mud, the wind with gravel and the rising and setting of the sun and moon outside the window will tell you. Whether you swing from a standing position or a power swing, when the ball comes, just hit it, and so does life.

Happy birthday to 27-year-old Wang Yibo! 💚

Today is great, yesterday was also good, and tomorrow will definitely be better. The journey of the heart is endless, I wish you continue to travel between mountains and rivers, and I wish you to grow freely!

[whalesforhands]

digest your feelings pt.10

previous masterlist next

warnings: fluff, a bit angsty

Years have gone by. Years that pass, that float, that run, that leave you behind. Years in which everyone has grown, for the better or for worse, changed and yet you remained the same. Seemingly stuck in an endless cycle, never knowing when you can break your curse.

Left behind.

Each day, each hour, each second trapped in there made your heart grow heavier and heavier, slowly burning, fizzling your last hopes out. Transparent regret wafts through the air as whirling teardrops get accustomed to the blaring sound of the growing wind.

Abandoned.

You died believing you were unremembered. A blotted out name in the minds of which you adored the most. Gone, and never to be recalled, never to be dragged out from the confines of this swirling darkness.

You can’t hate it, can’t cry out. Only continue to breathe.

It was that little boy who made you believe in— Whatever there was left of you.

So lonely, so discontent with the world around him, so quick to shut himself off before anyone gets too close. So bruised and battered from the scuffles he gets himself into despite your disapproval and disappointment.

Yet, still clawing so desperately at glimmers of hope to be saved all this time. There was a belief in chance, in the glitters of having a saviour who would take the pain away.

Perhaps that’s why your soul was so attracted to his in the first place, always so drawn towards those who needed help, so self-sacrificing in search of a kinder world.

Your naivety needs to be popped.

Kind— Soft, weak, fragile, inadequate, substandard, imperfect and overall lacking. All that you could ever see in yourself, all that you ever knew about your own.

Would you ever amount to more?

If you could change yourself, you would. Forget the true shape of your soul, reform yourself entirely. Be less dull, show less gaps in that facade of trying to be strong.

How much time will pass until you reach those inner dreams? If— If you move slower until you stop, would that be okay?

Acknowledging yourself, doubting yourself. You wanted it, wanted to be better just to be able to muster enough courage for it. You— Wanted to be there too.

You want to live.

Two flowers that bloomed in spring fell in love, balmy, ambrosial and stretching, reaching towards the sunlight together.

A lone summer bud looks towards them, from the shrouding darkness, stretches towards the light in which they bathed in, unblossomed and the smell of gunpowder.

Never reaching, never touching.

——

The spear has been long ripped out of you, Suguru’s jacket tied tight around the wound, a hand pressing down to constantly apply pressure as the other was under your legs, doing his utmost best to keep the blood flow to your heart and brain.

You need to live.

Even as your body rots, crumbles from your fading consciousness. The decomposition of your skin starting to show once more as your soul starts to fade away for real this time.

It’s his fault. Geto Suguru wants to die, to choke himself and suffer and give his everything to you.

“I don’t blame you.”

Of course you don’t. Of course you never will.

Even as the cold, unforgiving rain pelts down onto your icy skin, you will never find it in your heart to make him the antagonist, the villain.

For once, Geto Suguru realizes how stupid your mentality is.

——

Your eyes blink open at the scent of cigarette smoke and pomegranate sweetness, mixed with the mild, yet overwhelming stench of sour formaldehyde.

Familiar, yet so foreign. Your body aches as you shift about on the mortuary lifter, eyes heavy and tired, arms akin to dumbbells that were filled with sand and burdens, your joints popping as you start to sit up, your skin brushing against the slightly scratchy material of the hospital gown, feeling over the thin fabric to feel jagged, bumped up skin, your back healed and scarred over.

You live. And you only have one person to thank for that.

“Shoko…” Your eyes avert momentarily as the nostalgia floods in, the colour of her go-to brand of cigarettes having rebranded. You say it out of old, die-hard habit.

“Smoking’s bad for you.” It’s with that sentence that causes her to freeze in place, the lit cigarette in her mouth falling to the floor, hitting against tiled floor of the morgue.

(Isn’t it funny that her dead friend says that the moment that they reunite?)

She’s holding her head as she starts to laugh, minuscule tears building in the corner of her eyes as she starts to smile, to allow the exhale of joy overtake her face.

you you you you you you you

“I missed you.” A beat passes, your eyes turning upward at the sight of her. Beautiful, pretty, gorgeous Shoko.

“It’s nice to be missed—“ By you. By your precious friend. She’s older, dons a rogue of sultriness and elegance on her lips in contrast to the graceful and daintier pink of her youth.

“I love you.” It’s awkward, for you to suddenly say something like this out of the blue. Yet, it feels like it fits right as your eyes trail her from top to bottom, the clack of her heels approaching you as you laid there, bandaged galore and sore and it is just… Too much to move.

She produces a pack of cigarettes from her doctor’s coat, and another and another. The plastic packaging of the unopened boxes crinkle in her hands, newer, perhaps just bought. She holds them out in front of you, making a show of letting you see that she’s emptied her pockets.

Before she crushes them, hurling them all towards the trash. “You don’t like it when I do it, right?” Breathy, unrefined and unprepared. “I’ll stop.” Stop as long as you’re here again. As long as you keep looking at her with that sparkle of happiness, of proud innocence and tender fondness.

“So… Could you—” She takes in yet another breath. “Could you say it again?” Her eyes shift towards the fabric of your hospital gown, before they meet your shiny gaze, nearly bursting with the devotion you have in your eyes as she gets lost in the warmth, in the comfort of you.

She just wants to hear it again, to punch herself into this reality. This reality that she’s always wanted.

“I love you.” Of course you do. You always did.

“Thank you.” A pause. “I love you too.” She doesn’t part from you, shifting closer and squeezing your hand in hers as she delays herself from letting go. Does not want to let go. “We all do.”

Ieiri Shoko feels whole. In your company, from basking in utterly you.

“Welcome back.”

——

“You know,” The shifting of the fabric beneath his hand culminates in your ears in this silence, having carted you to your old bedroom that Shoko left you in to better rest. “Satoru—“ He breathes, tries to choke back the hesitance for a moment or two. “Says that I’m not a bad person. That I never will be.”

How can he even face you right now? He’s so shameless, so absurd and absolutely disgusting.

“Suguru,” Your voice is more soothing, softer than his mind had ever managed to imagine. Mellow, tolerant and so humane. “You are the kindest person I know.”

He wants to throw up.

No. He’s not. You are. You, the paragon of forgiveness and goodwill, of kaleidoscopic rays of gentle light, of the breeze that billows the dandelion seeds into the blue of spring days, of seafoam that floats, drifts even in the rage of the waves.

Of white noise that blocks out the screams of the voices.

You, whose cursed energy tastes of balsamic clouds and tainted jasmine, the taste sour, tangy on his tongue.

He would’ve recognized this taste anywhere, he would’ve known your presence blind if he hadn’t been so— Impetuous. So emotional.

(He doesn’t deserve you.)

His lip trembles, grip on your sheets so tight that his knuckles turn white, pale. You don’t want him to feel bad, don’t want to see him in this state, a bandaged hand reaches forth, before it’s so selfishly, so desperately snatched up in both of his, the size of his hands dwarfing yours, calloused palms pulling your hand forth and pressing it against his beating heart.

“I love you.” His stunning bronze-amethyst meet your own lovely eyes, his gaze full of dread and hopeless tears, full of cowering anxiety, and yet, it’s nothing but Suguru in its entirety. It’s just him.

I love you love you love you love you loveyouloveyouloveyo—

“I— I love you too…” It really is you, with how swiftly you responded, how easily it spills out as if it were instinct, a second nature. How your voice traces over every single one of those sacred words so carefully, so unforgivingly you.

Don’t you get it? No. No. You don’t get it. You don’t get it at all. Yet, you still cause a stutter in his heart, a flying, torrid wind in his stomach that refuses to settle.

Geto Suguru can see it in your eyes, even after all these years where you were ripped apart from him, from them, the hidden pain of your bubbling feelings, the way you try so hard to keep your love contained. The way your fingers tremble against his slowly increasing heart, feeling the race, the pressure that comes with.

It’s frustrating. He can’t take it.

“No— Not in that way.” He loves you so much he wants to die, he wants to strangle it out of himself and shove it down into your throat for you to finally feel, to finally understand.

You’re confused. Why? Why? Why? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy—!

“Can I kiss you?” It’s quiet, unassuming and yet, absolutely livid with a fire that has been stoked for too long.

(What?)

“N-no.” You’re shaking your head and trying to pull your hand back, salty tears and hot confusion forming in your eyes as you try to avoid his gaze, avoid this before you become a homewrecker.

He feels like he’s going to break.

“W-whatever you feel for me— Satoru—!” You’re crying, starting to sob with the utter heartbreak.

You want to. But you’d hurt him, you’d hurt Satoru, you’d hurt their family—

“Satoru loves you— Loves us.” His grip unwittingly tightens, yet so gentle and soft and accommodating to you so that you won’t be hurt anymore. How can he make you see?

How can he get this point— This fact across more obvious than ever without more miscommunication?

His hand, making sure to keep your own in place, so that you won’t pull away, won’t leave. The other reaches into his pockets, as if frantically in search of something before a small, velvet box is pulled out.

W-what in the world—?

Beautiful. The ring inside is absolutely gorgeous.

There’s no way.

“It’s yours.” He’s hurriedly reaching into his shirt, pulling out his necklace to show off the matching third. “This— Satoru has the same one too.”

Their marital exchange rings. Your eyes tremble as you stare at it, at him, at the shine of the metal within the soft velvet.

“So, please.” He moves forth, his forehead pressed against your own as he whispers into the cold night, “Don’t misunderstand, don’t cry, don’t be sad anymore.” The ring is plucked off from its confines, and slipped onto your finger as you stare in shocked silence.

You— Don’t know what to feel. Love? It’s what you always feel for them.

He says it again as you begin to cry harder. “I-I’m sorry— I just— Adore you.”

I’m sorry for loving you. For making you this sad. For making you cry. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you

“I love you.” It lacks all restraint, raw in its entirety as the words tumble towards you once again. You cry, your tears soaking into the bandaids upon your face as you feel his own start to drip onto your cheeks, mixing with your own.

——

It’s been— 24 minutes. There’s a standoff between Suguru and Shoko.

“I—home.”

“She’s— my patient— hasn’t hea—.”

“She lo—s— fine.”

“Are yo—doctor?”

“—cheating—is—“

The door is opened as they both walk in side by side. “Someone like you is lacking in shame.”

“Aha? Do I now?” Suguru has made his way past you, flashing you a sweet smile as he opens your windows wide.

Shoko crosses her arms, staring at him with a look of exasperated calm that preceded all her initial anger and worry for you.

“Try gaining a little more class—“

“Then I’ll be taking her~” He’s cutting her off as you’re practically scooped up into his arms as your helpless, confused eyes meet Shoko’s, a raised hand waving at you as she unwraps another lollipop.

“Hopeless.”

——

“Suguru.”

“Satoru.” An eye is exposed.

There’s a bit of a tense silence in the air where Gojo Satoru has halted the both of you from just above a residential area.

It’s cold.

Though, Suguru had thrown a now clean jacket over your head prior to your flight, your body being completely swallowed by the fabric.

“You look cute like that. Keep it on.”

(He knows you’ll complain about him being cold.)

The wing flaps of Suguru’s bird curse continues, as you before it disappears. Alas, you don’t expect to fall.

You’re floating midair.

(Geto is using cursed energy to lift you both up.)

“Suguruuuuuuu!!! Where’s my kiss?!” Complaints are thrown out the window when you’re suddenly pressed forward and leaning onto the— You now noticed— Much taller man, much harder bodies squishing you as Suguru’s lips meet Satoru’s own, long arms wrapping around the both of you.

“S-stop— Licking me.” Geto is smiling, red blush dusted across his cheeks as he tries to pull back from the wet embrace. Laughing as he doesn’t even wipe at the remnants of spit.

His half-blindfolded gaze holds your own.

(You don’t think he’s ever taken his attention off of you for even a second.)

“Now your turn~” His lips are puckering up and comically smushed up as they lean down towards your own.

Oh my god. Is this— Needed? Oh god you don’t feel ready— Suguru isn’t helping. Why are his eyes all upturned with that stupidly cute smirk on his face! Ahh, they’re both so dumb— Don’t put you in this position!!! Wife?! Your heart is going so fast, you can’t breathe— Is it just the air pressure up here? Gosh, just close your eyes and pucker up—

You feel a flick on your forehead instead. An arm going around your waist to pull you in closer to him as Geto lets go from behind you.

“Joking~” Your forehead throbs. “Not gonna do anything if you’re uncomfortable.” He laughs again as he gives a noncommittal shrug, letting you float there momentarily by using his cursed energy to hold you up, before your hands, fingers are intertwined with his own.

(He needs to touch you more.)

Even after all these years, it’s still him. Silly, adorable Satoru. He was never good with words, always letting his actions speak for themselves as he flies a circle around you, checking on you from head to toe before plopping his head onto your shoulder from behind.

“Papa~, I left the kids at home. Twins are sleeping!”

“Oh, did you sign Megumi’s parental slip? Tsumiki needs a bento tomorrow too. Did you get dinner ready?” Suguru’s pulled out his phone, floating midair and checking through some texts.

“Uhh—“ There’s a breath in as he takes in the smell of you over the various responsibilities his husband had just listed to him. “Does the microwave count?”

“Satoru…” Suguru’s sighing before he leans down toward you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. As if to ease stress. “Gonna go solve a crisis. See you both for dinner okay?” He leaves with a small bonk to Satoru’s arm, hand— Touching. Infinity is off. It always has been.

“Idiot.”

“I heard that!”

“You were supposed to.” A playful stick out of his tongue and he’s gone, touch lingering on your skin. “Dinner will be ready soon!”

You’re gently pulled, your bare feet now atop Gojo’s shoes as he settles himself behind you.

You’re alone with Gojo Satoru.

“Hey.” It’s soft, as if it was a cool summer breeze flowing through your ear. “How much do you trust me?”

And it feels like the memories are coming back all over again.

“…I can’t jump off if you’re holding me so tight.”

He’s laughing, hands daringly trailing over your body as you just stare down at the sheer height you’re at.

“Did you…” You feel a pounding at your chest. “Know what Suguru said?” His hold on you is intimate, close.

His heart is beating so fast.

“I’ve tried telling you before, you know?” He has. Even tried to show you from the beginning, to the festival. You just never got it, no matter what.

“I’m—“ Sorry? Does that even answer for all those years you’ve left him? You don’t know what to say.

Silence ensues.

“You have—“ He sighs again as his nose is pressed into your neck. “A scary hold on me.” A shackle that holds him down, that makes him want to worship the very ground you walk on, that makes him want to keep you inside forever—

“Just…” You feel your insecurities creep upon you as you interrupt his train of thought. “Why me?”

He’s huffing as he walks you through a cloud, your back against his chest as his hands hold yours from his position behind you. “Liking you doesn’t require reasons.” He pauses to turn you around to face him, leaning down. “But you’re too slow to realize that, huh?”

That line slightly irritates you, yet you laugh all the same.

(He stays silent to let that melody play longer.)

“You know, I don’t regret most things.” He has no reason to. After all, “I’m the great Gojo Satoru.”

You keep quiet, feeling his finger circling your ring. Your fingers pushing into the plushness of his cheeks as you fight to overcome his sheer adorableness.

“My hwusband ish the hwottest man awlive, and he’s married to me—“ He tilts his head down slightly when he feels you kiss his jaw, closing his eyes when he feels the light pecks just under his blindfold. “The prettiest, most perfect, me.”

“I’m supposed to have no regrets.” There’s a tug, and his blindfold is gone, leaving just his pretty eyes curtained by his pretty hair.

“But you,” Hands come up to cup your face, an entire galaxy that rivalled the skies reflected him in your eyes. “Were my only one.”

(“I should’ve noticed sooner.”)

“And I don’t like having stains on my perfect record.”

The promises and visions made, the days that passed so cruelly yet so softly without you by his, by their side, the despairs and utter feeble perturbation that haunted his mind. Another chain that he never regretted tying himself to, all fades away with the rains and dark clouds that never seemed to vanish.

Like tranquility after a storm, the pale light of the sun enfolds them all. The wounds that still ache, the thirst that was never quenched. It doesn’t matter anymore.

You are back.

——

“I’m back!!!” Satoru’s kicking the balcony door open as he holds you in a bridal carry, your hands over your face in embarrassment as you try to hide away from their— Your children.

“Nuh uh. You aren’t walking with those out and about.” His cheek is rubbing vigorously against yours as he cuddles you. “Let’s put all those pretty clothes I bought you to use when we get home, okay?”

This is not okay. You’re not okay as your feet gently touch the wooden floor of the family home. There’s excited squealing, a rustle of fabric as Suguru carries a pile of clothing in his hands as the girls help him.

There’s also a sudden presence tugging at you.

He stares up at you, nose scrunched up and eyes narrowed as he grips your hand, squeezing, nails lightly sinking into your flesh. As if to confirm your presence.

“Hello,” You almost miss the way your tongue lolls his name out. “Megumi.”

You kneel down, getting onto his level as you stare into his eyes. “It’s been a while.”

previous masterlist next

Notes:

“I want Mama to sleep in my room tonight!” Nanako.

“Ehhh? No! Daddy wants her more!”

“Daddy is right, Mama has injuries and should stay with the grownups.”

“Tsumiki is a grown up!” Mimiko.

“I’m old enough to take care of her!” The said girl is immediately raising her hand up as her feet kick about excitedly on her chair.

“Papa and I are stronger and can protect her from monsters!”

“Mama shouldn’t sleep with boys! Didn’t Papa teach us to not touch the other kids at all?!”

“Darlings, that’s different—“

You feel a tug at your clothes. Megumi.

“Sleep in mine.”

nvy’s aftertalk:

originally i wanted stsg to be shirtless at one point + sexy scene in this cause i was thirsty but then i got shy

i can’t believe dyf is coming to an end soon hahah also i lied abt finishing epilogue and this at the same time i would go insane. pt.11 with more family fluff or should i focus on epilogue guys

[lifeofpriya]

The Marks of Love - Jack Draper

[gif credit goes to @pyotrkochetkov]

a/n: this fic was inspired by yet another one of my conversations with @pyotrkochetkov 🤭

summary: your obsession with his moles freckles leads to a series of tender moments filled with love and admiration...

"Jack?"

"Yes, love?"

Jack's voice is a warm embrace, the kind that wraps around you like a soft blanket on a rainy afternoon. You lean into it, your eyes tracing the constellation of moles and freckles scattered across his face. You've always had a peculiar fondness for them—those little imperfections that make them so perfectly them.

You reach up, the tips of your fingers grazing the stubble along his jaw, and whisper, "have you ever heard of this saying about how the moles on your body are said to be marks of where your soulmate kissed you the most in your past life?"

Jack chuckles, a sound that makes your heart flutter. "Can't say I have," he replies, tilting his head to the side, exposing the mole under his jaw.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to the spot. It's a silent declaration of love, a promise of more to come. His skin tastes faintly of the mint toothpaste he uses before bed, and you can feel his pulse quicken under your touch.

Jack's hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, fingers weaving through your hair as he pulls you closer. "I like that," he murmurs against your lips. "I like that a lot."

You smile, your nose brushing against his as you gaze into his eyes, which sparkle with a hint of mischief. "Good," you say, your voice barely a whisper. "Because I plan on making sure every single one of those moles gets plenty of attention in this life."

"Even the ones on my lower back?" Jack asks, raising an eyebrow as he grins.

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within you. "Especially the ones on your lower back," you reply, playfully poking his side. His skin jumps at the touch, and he laughs, pulling you closer so that your foreheads rest against each other.

The room is bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting a warm, golden light across the bed you're both sitting on. The curtains are drawn, but the light sneaks in around the edges, painting stripes on the wooden floor. The scent of Jack's cologne lingers in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of the takeout dinner you both enjoyed earlier.

You look into Jack's eyes, and it's like staring into an endless sea of possibility. You love the way his freckles seem to dance when he smiles, like tiny stars caught in an eternal twilight. His hair is a messy array of chocolate waves, and you can't resist running your fingers through them, feeling the softness and the gentle pull of gravity as they fall back into place.

"Every mole, every freckle," you promise, your voice a gentle caress. "They're all part of you, and I want to cherish every bit."

Jack's smile widens, and he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that feels like home. His hand moves from your head to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin with the same tenderness you show his moles and freckles. The kiss is slow and sweet, filled with the promise of a future filled with laughter and love.

When you pull away, you notice the way the light plays with the colors in his eyes, making them seem like a kaleidoscope of emotions. You place your hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beating beneath your palm. It's a comforting sound, a reminder that you're both alive and in this moment together.

Jack's hand slides down to yours, lacing your fingers together. "You know," he says, his voice a gentle rumble, "you're pretty perfect yourself."

You blush, the color rising to your cheeks like a summer sunset. "Jack, you're the one who's perfect," you reply, your voice filled with genuine admiration.

Jack's smile turns into a grin, showing off the dimple in his cheek. "No, you are," he insists, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. "Every little part of you."

You giggle, feeling the warmth spread through your body. The air between you feels electric, charged with the love and affection you share. You lean back slightly, pulling Jack with you, until you're both lying on the bed. The mattress dips under your combined weight, and the pillows mold around you like clouds.

You trace the outline of a freckle just on the base of Jack's left collarbone with the pad of your thumb. It's like a tiny chocolate chip in a sea of cream, and you can't resist the urge to kiss it. He hums contentedly, his eyes drifting closed. The room is quiet except for the occasional rustle of the curtains in the breeze, the distant sound of a car passing by, and the symphony of your hearts beating in unison.

You run your hand along his torso, feeling the heat emanating from his skin and the faint outline of his abs beneath the thin t-shirt he wears. You're in awe of the way the light plays with the fabric, creating intricate patterns that dance as he breathes. You trace the hem of the shirt with your fingertips, feeling the smoothness of the cotton and the roughness of the hem.

Jack's eyes open slightly, watching you with an affectionate gaze. He reaches over and places his hand over yours, stilling your movements for a moment before giving it a gentle squeeze. "What are you thinking?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble that resonates within you.

You look up at him, the warmth in his eyes mirroring the warmth in your heart. "I'm just… I'm just thinking how much I love you," you admit, your voice soft and vulnerable. "And how every little part of you, even the bits you might not think are special, are like a treasure map to me, telling the story of who you are."

Jack's smile broadens, and he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles one by one. "And I love you," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "All of you, even the parts you think no one else could possibly love."

You feel a surge of emotion, and your eyes glisten with unshed tears. "I know you do," you murmur, your heart swelling with affection. You lean in to kiss him again, feeling his warmth and love envelop you like a blanket. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as if he's afraid to let you go.

The sun dips lower in the sky, and the light in the room shifts, painting the walls in a soft, rosy hue. The shadows grow longer, reaching out to caress the floorboards like tentative fingers. The room feels alive with the energy of your shared love, the air thick with unspoken words and silent promises.

Jack rolls over onto his side, propping himself up with one elbow as he gazes down at you. His free hand traces the line of your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone. "Tell me more about this mole theory," he says, his voice filled with curiosity.

You giggle, feeling a bit self-conscious but also incredibly loved. "Well," you begin, "it's just a romantic notion, really. Some say that the moles on your body are like little love letters from your soulmate in a past life. Each one marks a spot where they kissed you most fervently, leaving a small, indelible sign of their affection."

Jack's eyes light up with curiosity. "And you believe in that?"

You shrug, your smile never wavering. "I don't know if it's true, but it's a sweet idea, isn't it?" You trace the line of a freckle on his neck with your fingertip.

Jack's eyes follow the movement of your hand, a look of wonder etched into his features. "It is," he agrees, his voice barely a murmur. "Very sweet."

You both lie there in the soft embrace of the fading light, the quiet moments between you filled with a comfort that's more profound than any words could express. You can hear the gentle hum of the world outside, the distant chatter of people going about their lives, but in here, in this little cocoon you've created, there's only the two of you.

Jack's hand rests on your waist, his thumb idly drawing circles on the soft fabric of your shirt. You're lost in thought, tracing the pattern of moles and freckles on his chest with the tip of your nose, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. It's a moment that seems to stretch on forever, filled with a warmth that has nothing to do with the setting sun and everything to do with the connection you share.

You look up to find Jack studying you, his eyes a soft hazel that seem to hold the secrets of the universe. You smile, feeling your heart flutter at the affection in his gaze. "What?" you ask, self-consciously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Nothing," he murmurs, brushing a kiss against your forehead. "I just love watching you."

The room is a symphony of quiet, the only sound the soft sigh of the breeze as it whispers through the slightly ajar window. The curtains flutter, and the golden light paints your intertwined forms with a soft, ethereal glow. You shift, your movements languid and filled with contentment as you snuggle closer to Jack, feeling the comforting weight of his arm around you.

Jack's chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, his breaths deep and even, the perfect lullaby to soothe your racing thoughts. You trace the line of his collarbone with a gentle fingertip, pausing to kiss the freckle there.

"I could spend forever doing this," you murmur, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your lips.

Jack's eyes sparkle with affection. "Forever sounds about right," he whispers back, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer for another kiss. This one is deeper, more urgent, as if he's trying to convey all the love he feels in a single touch.

You melt into him, your body fitting against his like a puzzle piece finding its match. His arms tighten around you, holding you as if he never wants to let you go.

As the sun sinks lower, the room darkens, and the only light comes from the glow of the moon peeking through the gaps in the curtains. The shadows on the walls seem to dance, telling the silent story of the love blossoming between you.

Jack rolls onto his back, taking you with him so you're both lying side by side, his hand still resting on your waist. The moonlight casts a silver glow over his face, highlighting the constellation of moles and freckles that you find so fascinating.

"You know, I never knew how much I liked having these until you came along," he says, his voice a gentle rumble that resonates through the stillness. "They've always been just… there."

You smile, looking up at him. "They're part of what makes you unique," you reply. "They're like your own little solar system, and I get to explore it every day."

Jack chuckles, his chest vibrating against yours. "A solar system, huh?"

"Mm-hmm," you affirm, your fingertip tracing the path of a particularly noticeable mole. "A universe of wonder, right here."

Jack's cheeks color slightly, but his smile is unmistakable. He brings your hand to his lips, kissing your fingertips one by one. "And here I thought they were just pesky spots."

You laugh, the sound a soft melody that fills the room. "They're your map to the stars, Jack," you say, your voice a gentle whisper in the quiet.

Jack's smile broadens, his eyes shining with happiness. "I like that," he murmurs, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "I never thought of it that way."

You lean closer, pressing your cheek against his chest, listening to the comforting thump of his heart. "They're like a secret treasure that only I get to find," you say, your voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

Jack's hand moves to the back of your head, his fingers combing through your hair in a soothing motion. "And what do you plan on doing with this treasure?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that you feel more than hear.

You tip your head back to look at him, your eyes meeting his in the moonlit room. "I'm going to keep exploring," you whisper, "until I know every inch of this map by heart."

Jack's smile turns into a soft chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That could take a while," he teases. "I've got a whole galaxy here."

You grin back, feeling your heart swell with love. "I've got all the time in the world," you reply, your voice filled with determination.

Jack's hand moves from your waist to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking the line of your jaw. "And I've got all the moles and freckles you could ever want," he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes playfully, but your heart swells at his sweetness. You love how he's grown to appreciate these little quirks of his appearance, thanks to your affectionate attention. You lean into his touch, savoring the feel of his skin against yours. "I know you do," you murmur, "and I'll never get tired of discovering new ones."

Jack's hand moves down to the nape of your neck, his grip gentle but firm. He pulls you closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispers, "I love you."

You gaze into his eyes, the words echoing through you like a sweet melody. "I love you too," you reply, your voice a soft caress.

Jack leans in, his minty breath tickling your nose. His lips meet yours in a kiss that's tender and filled with promise. It's the kind of kiss that speaks of forever, of a love that's steadfast and true. You melt into the warmth of his embrace, feeling the gentle pressure of his hand on the small of your back.

You break the kiss and look up at him, the moonlight casting a soft, silver glow on his features. "You know, you're pretty perfect too," you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

Jack's eyes search yours, a hint of surprise in them. "How so?"

You lean in closer, your nose grazing the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose. "For letting me love every part of you," you whisper, "even the parts you think are just spots."

Jack's smile turns into a gentle chuckle. "They're not just spots to me anymore," he admits, his thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone. "They're like… little love notes that only you understand."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Exactly," you murmur, your breath warm against his neck as you press a soft kiss to the mole just above his collarbone. "Every time I kiss one, it's like you're telling me how much you love me without saying a word."

Jack's eyes close briefly, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "I never knew they could say so much," he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You trace the path of his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. "They're like a secret language," you say, "one that only we know."

Jack opens his eyes, his gaze locking onto yours. "A love language," he corrects, his voice filled with a warmth that matches the glow of the moon outside.

You nod, feeling a flutter in your stomach. "Yes, a love language," you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jack rolls onto his side, propping his head on his hand as he looks at you. "And what does this love language say?"

You blush, feeling the weight of his gaze. "It says… it says that no matter where life takes us, we'll always find our way back to each other," you reply, your voice a little shaky.

Jack's smile turns into a gentle nod, his eyes never leaving yours. "And what about when we're apart?" he asks, his voice a soft rumble.

You think for a moment, the moon casting a serene glow over the room. "When we're apart," you say, "these little constellations are like a map that leads me back to you."