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incognit0slut · 1 year ago

Text

DARK DESIRES

Last part of kinktober | main masterlist

ghostface!spencer x fem!reader; dubcon, knife play, sensory deprivation, dacryphilia, forced orgasm, rough sex

A twisted encounter with the masked killer roaming in your neighborhood had you questioning your morals because as it turned out, you were more attracted to him than you let on.

words: 6335

a/n: this fic might not be everyone's cup of tea. IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU, DO NOT ENGAGE. Anyway, thank you for the amount of love everyone has sent me through this short series. I appreciate it❤️

THE FIRST ENCOUNTER you had with the masked killer was at home. You were in your living room, absentmindedly flipping through the channels on the television until the news captured your attention. You watched with a mix of fascination and horror as the unfolding report detailed a series of gruesome murders, each committed by a mysterious figure concealed behind a chilling mask.

"The armed suspect remains at large as law enforcement intensifies efforts for apprehension," the newscaster's voice declared. "Victims have sustained multiple stab wounds, with survivors recounting a chilling detail of a mysterious call from an unknown number before each attack. Citizens are urgently requested to report any suspicious phone activity."

As you sat there engrossed, a sense of dread began to coil around you. The details of the gruesome murders had been haunting enough, but a chilling realization gripped you as the camera panned across the crime scenes. Your eyes widened as the news footage revealed a recognizable building. That was the local library a few blocks away from your house.

A shiver went down your spine, and a cold unease settled in the pit of your stomach, as you realized that one of the victims was the young teenage boy who volunteered at the town's library every weekend. It then dawned on you with chilling clarity—a serial killer was lurking in your neighborhood.

The second time you saw the masked killer, his face was plastered around town. Ghostface. That was what they called him. The once-anonymous menace had transformed into a chilling icon that echoed through hushed conversations and whispered warnings. His mask, a pale and expressionless countenance with hollow eyes, exuded an unsettling aura of anonymity. It was what you saw in every corner; materializing on posters, shop windows, and even billboards.

Beware of Ghostface!

It was ironic. For someone who was murdering people with his bare hands, your community was giving him too much attention. It wasn't until you saw a group of well-dressed people, who clearly weren't from around here, that you realized how serious this situation was.

When the FBI arrived, you knew it was no longer a local matter, but a national concern. There was reassurance in their presence, in the sense that the full force of specialized agents was now focused on apprehending the killer that haunted the streets. But despite their formidable presence, against all expectations, the masked killer continued to pursue more victims.

You couldn't help but wonder every time someone you knew was reported dead—were these people even doing their job right? What were they doing here when they couldn't arrest one person when they came in a full pack?

You never really noticed these agents, although you did sometimes see them lurking around shops and houses to ask questions. You didn't really give them much attention, until that one night when you walked back from work and saw a figure leaning casually against a sleek, black SUV adorned with government markings.

He was standing alone, arms crossed and eyes focused on you as you slowly stepped closer because the only way to your house was to pass this street. He was clad in the quintessential FBI vest over his dress shirt and tie, his sleeves rolled up along his forearms. His height commanded attention, casting a subtle shadow that seemed to stretch into the surrounding darkness.

A cascade of curly, unruly locks framed his face, falling in a chaotic dance that obscured much of his features. But even in the dark, you could tell he was handsome, and the messiness of his hair added a touch of his disheveled charm. Yet, it was his eyes that held you captive. Stark and penetrating. Instead of finding comfort in the presence of an authority, you felt an unsettling chill crawl down your spine as his stare lingered on you.

"You shouldn't walk alone at night with a killer on the loose," he stated abruptly, his voice cutting through the silence.

Caught off guard, you stammered in response, "I, uh, my house is right around the corner."

His eyes, still fixed on you, held an inscrutable intensity. You shuddered. Without thinking much, and fueled by a sudden surge of unease, you briskly left his side.

People say the third time's a charm, that the idea after two unsuccessful attempts or failures, the third attempt is more likely to be successful or fortunate. However, in your case, you didn't know what to make of it when you encountered the masked killer for the third time.

It started with a call.

At first, you didn't bother the unknown number flashing on your phone, especially when a killer was roaming around town with its known trademark of calling his victims before his attack. So you ignored it and continued to prepare your dinner. But then it rang again. Once. Twice. Three times. The fourth time it constantly rang, you realized, that whoever was on the other line wasn't going to stop until you answered.

"Hello?" you nervously greeted.

"Hello there. Took you long enough," the voice on the other line replied. It was soft, distinctly masculine, quite disoriented, yet it carried a mysterious familiarity that you couldn't put your finger on.

"Who is this?"

"A person."

You scoffed. "Charming. Goodbye."

"Wait—no! Don't hang up!"

There was a sudden nagging sense that you had heard this voice somewhere before. "No, really, who is this?"

"A secret admirer."

You raised an eyebrow. "I doubt it," you said, leaning over the kitchen counter. "No one has ever had a crush on me."

"Well, I do."

"Tell me who you are then.”

"But it won't be a secret anymore."

You paused for a moment. "You really know me?"

"Of course, I do."

"Do I know you then?"

"Maybe," he answered, a playful ambiguity threading his response. "So, you got a boyfriend?"

What an odd question.

"Why?" You laughed. "You wanna ask me out on a date?"

"Maybe," he responded again. "So do you have a boyfriend?"

"No."

"That's a pity," he sighed, his tone taking on a flirtatious note. "You look too good in that shirt without a man appreciating it."

Your heart quickened at his words. Was he... you looked around your house, your eyes traveling across the many windows adorned in your personal space.

"W- What did you say?"

"You look too good in that white shirt," he repeated. "Doesn't leave much to the imagination."

You looked down at yourself. The shirt he mentioned was actually a tanktop you decided to wear for bed, but you weren't wearing anything else under it, so true to his words, this piece of clothing didn't leave much to the imagination. The hemline hung low on your chest, leaving a perfect view of your cleavage. The cold temperature of the room managed to make your body react, which was why your nipples were pressing hard against the material.

"Hello? Are you still here?" Sensing your silence, the voice on the other line held a sudden edge of urgency. "Wait—don't you hang up on me—"

You quickly ended the call. Feeling a sudden need for privacy, you hastily closed the curtains, shutting out the view from the windows as you clutched your phone in your hand. Your heart raced, and a wave of dread engulfed you. The unsettling possibility that someone might be targeting you, and not just anyone, but the masked killer, cast a chilling shadow over your thoughts.

The phone rang again. You hesitated, a part of you urging against answering, but somehow, almost involuntarily, you found yourself pressing the phone against your ear. The adrenaline of fear seemed to override your rational instincts, even against your better judgment.

"I told you not to hang up on me," the man greeted you, but his voice lacked the soft, friendly tone it had before. Instead, it had morphed into something more sinister.

"Wh-who is this?" you asked. "What do you want?"

"To volunteer. Let me appreciate how good you look tonight."

You were desperate now. Your feet guided you to the front door, and you locked it securely before quickly running up the stairs. Panic seized you as you checked and secured all the windows, the sense of vulnerability amplifying with each lock turned.

A sudden sound of laughter filled your ear.

"What you're doing is useless," he taunted. Then, with a sinister tone that cut through the air, his next words had you stopping in your tracks.

"I'm already inside."

The air in the house thickened with dread as his words hung ominously. Panic set in, and the once-familiar surroundings now felt like a trap closing in around you. Every creak of the house, every flicker of shadow, became a sign of impending danger.

He was the one to end the call, and you looked down at your front door from the top of your stairs. You calculated how long it would take you to escape your own house as you slowly descended down. But then, the closet door by the front, the small room where you kept your coats and unused items, suddenly opened.

The creak of the door echoed through the silence, and your eyes fixated on the widening gap. Your escape route seemed to diminish and fear paralyzed you. The once-familiar confines of your home now held an intruder, and as you stared at the ominous opening, a figure emerged from the shadows.

Your eyes widened, because right in the flesh was none other than Ghostface, stepping out of your closet with a knife in his hand. The chilling reality gripped you, and time seemed to slow as the masked intruder stood before your eyes. The pale, ghostly visage stared back at you.

You moved on instinct. You turned on your heels and ran back up the stairs, even when you were aware there was no escape unless you jumped out of your window. But it was a better plan than running right into the arms of a killer, so you picked up your pace, sprinting as fast as you could down the hallway.

But he was fast, unnaturally so, and suddenly you felt a vice-like grip around your waist. His hand urged you with brutal force before slamming your back against the wall. The impact reverberated through your body, and a gasp caught in your throat as the cold surface of the wall pressed against you.

His presence loomed, the masked figure inches from your face. The hollow eyes of Ghostface bore into yours through the chilling mask, and the glint of the knife in his hand reflected the cruel intent that hung in the air.

Panic engulfed you as his other gloved hand circled around your throat. "Pl-Please.." you chocked, struggling against the force he pressed on your neck. "...don't—don’t kill me."

The air felt constricted, and the desperate plea escaped your lips in a struggled gasp. The gloved hand tightened its grip, the leather cool against your skin, as Ghostface's masked visage remained impassive.

"Kill you?" he asked, an eerie edge in his voice. "That's the last thing I want to do right now."

You desperately placed a hand on his wrist as you let your phone hit the ground.

"Don't move," he warned. But you kept on thrashing around, the primal instinct for survival overriding reason, and he tightened his grip on you. "If you keep struggling, I might have to gut you out like a damn fish."

That made you stop. Satisfied you were listening, he finally let go of your throat. The release brought a gasp of air, and you stumbled back, leaning against the wall.

"I'm not here to kill you," Ghostface declared, the chilling mask betraying no emotion. "But I do have something else in mind."

He responded by caressing your face and pinning you against the wall. The cold, gloved hand traced a chilling path across your skin, and you felt the sharp contrast between the mask and the vulnerability of your flesh. He tilted his head as he saw the fear in your eyes, tears welling at the corners.

"Aw, come on, don't look so scared," he murmured, a perverse tenderness in his voice that clashed with the situation. His sharp blade went to your throat, the cold steel sending a shiver down your spine. He forced you to stare into the hollowness of the mask.

"Let me have my fun."

You felt the blade on your skin as he dragged the weapon along your body. He smiled when he noticed you tensing, trying to avoid the sharpness of the blade from grazing your skin. Through tear-filled eyes, you looked up, struggling to catch your breath. Fear still consumed you, a chilling grip on your senses, but alongside it, an unexpected emotion stirred. Curiosity.

As you gazed at the masked killer looming over you, a strange sense of intrigue took place. It was a baffling response, the surreal proximity to the infamous Ghostface left you grappling with a mix of terror and fascination. The sheer scale of his presence seemed to stretch into the shadows, and you couldn't help but wonder—was he actually this tall?

A sudden movement caught your attention as he took a step. He moved underneath the black cloak he wore, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as he slipped a leg between yours. The confined space of the hallway seemed to shrink further as his presence pressed in on you.

And then there was silence. The air hung heavy with anticipation, and you sensed a deliberate slowness in his actions. It was as if he offered you a chance to resist, to push him away. But you didn't move. Instead, you held your breath, the rhythmic pulse of your heart echoing in the quiet.

"You've stopped struggling," he hummed to himself, trailing the knife over your shoulder. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

There wasn't time for you to reply as he hooked the blade under your top and ran it along the fabric, watching it snap under the sharp surface. The cool air hit your skin as you were suddenly exposed to him. Without warning, his other hand moved over your breasts, squeezing them roughly, earning a gasp from you. Your heart pounded with something akin to fear, or perhaps, it oddly felt like… excitement?

"Of course, you are," he muttered, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You could feel the cool touch of his gloved hand over your skin as he brushed his thumb over your sensitive bud. "Knew you were a fucking slut."

What was happening? It was wrong, morally twisted, yet you found a strange sense of anticipation as he continued to touch you. Your body was shaking, not just from fear, but from something else. While your rational side recoiled at what was happening, your body seemed to betray a darker truth.

You hated yourself. You loathed how easily you were giving in. You kept on reciting how wrong this was in your head, but when you felt the blade cut through the fabric of your shorts with ease, you didn't mind as much. Then your breath hitched when he quickly ripped your panties with his knife, and somehow you were now naked with his leg placed between your thighs.

"Would you look at that?" He taunted, his leathered hand moving over your curves. "You're dripping."

You let out a small, shaky sigh as he dragged his fingers up your thigh, stopping just before his fingers brushed over your heat. The touch was so faint it shouldn't have even had that much of an effect on you, but it did. It fucking did.

This was so unlike you, you weren't the kind of person to let someone you barely knew touch you. You even disliked the idea of a one-night stand. Yet here you were, legs wide open as you let a murderer touch you, and the messed up thing was, you wanted more.

He began carefully moving his middle and forefinger in a gentle circular motion, rubbing your clit teasingly as if to test your reaction. You bit your bottom lip, stopping yourself from moaning aloud, your eyes fluttering closed as he played with your clit skillfully.

He was far too good at this, you found yourself thinking. Your body jerked as he increased his pace and you knew he had a goal in mind—to make you fall apart. The fast pace of his fingers had your brows furrowing as you chewed your bottom lip, desperate to keep quiet despite the way your hips bucked and rolled against his hand. He let out a chilling laughter.

"Stop acting like you don't want this," he said, increasing his pressure on your clit. Your eyes screwed shut, and you focused on that touch alone, the leather sliding over your wet skin. "Let me hear your pathetic voice."

You shook your head furiously.

"No?" He mocked. "You wanna bet how fast I can make you scream?"

His fingers moved from your clit, dragging down your slit and collecting your juices, briefly stroking you, earning a muffled cry out of you. Your chest began to heave, your hips unconsciously bucking against his hand as he worked over you casually. He laughed again.

"I'm going to make you scream so loud your neighbors will know how much of a slut you are."

And then he pressed the edge of the blade on your throat at the same time he plunged two fingers inside you. Your eyes rolled back as your mouth fell open and a loud squeal left your lips, the sound distorted by the vibrations surging through your body. He hummed in satisfaction at how fast it was to earn that moan from your lips, and surprisingly, he loved the sound you made.

It didn't take long for him to force more sounds out of your pretty mouth. You felt the coolness of the wall behind your back, the pads of your fingers brushing over the concrete in a pathetic attempt to get a hold of something, anything that could keep you steady while his fingers kept pumping in and out of your throbbing cunt with a wet, squelching sound.

Adrenaline surged through your veins, saturating every cell of your trembling body. The electrifying rush heightened your senses, amplifying the surreal nature of the pleasure. You wriggled your hips under the pressure of his body that was keeping you pinned against the wall, feeling so fucking embarrassed by the wetness dripping out of you.

"Fucking filthy, letting a murderer touch you." He then dragged his fingers out of you and started to rub your clit in tight, rapid circles. You practically cried out and quickly bit your lower lip to subside another embarrassing moan. "You know how many people I've killed with this hand? The same hand touching your sweet little pussy?"

Your thighs tightened around his hand, trying desperately to push him away. He responded by sinking three of his fingers inside you and groaned at the way you were clenching around him. "Look at you taking my fingers so well."

The leather slightly burned your skin, and somehow, it only heightened your pleasure. The heel of his palm pressed against your clit hard as he continued to curl his fingers. You gasped as your eyes fluttered open, looking up at him while his fingers pushed deeper into you, touching a spot you had never been aware of. The sensation brought an unusual feeling to your senses. You looked at him in confusion, your eyes widening.

"Pl- Please, stop," you begged out of fear of the unknown. The tickling in your abdomen was becoming almost unbearable, and you clasped your thighs together and involuntarily bent your knees a little in an attempt to make his fingers slip out of your wet cunt.

With a feral growl, he suddenly threw the knife on the floor before wrapping his hand around your throat, pinning your head against the wall.

"Take it," he hissed and tightened his grip, making you jolt forward. You helplessly part your legs and whimpered as his palm brushed over your clit with every thrust, his hard cock rubbing against your thigh as he held you in place. "Fucking take it."

The sensation was overwhelming to the point tears began to trickle down your face, and you tried to desperately blink them away as they hindered your vision.

"Oh, you're crying now?" He cooed, still rocking his fingers violently inside you. "Pathetic."

Before you knew it, your hips were bucking, distraught cries escaping you. Your body shuddered as if it were under his control, forcing out your orgasm like it was effortless as his fingers curled inside you, continuing to stimulate you even after you begged him to stop.

It wasn't long before he was bringing you back up again. His pace turned into a more intense speed that, to your surprise, the familiar contracting of your pulsing walls was followed by the splurge of weird liquid coming out of you. Your mouth fell open as you writhed against him, your sensitive cunt almost numb to the sensation as he pressed you for more.

You were so numb you could no longer feel his fingers buried deep inside your convulsing walls, squeezing around his digits as you shook in the tremors of your release. When you looked at him in shock, cheeks burning crimson and chest rising and falling heavily, a pretentious laugh left him. With a vulgar squelching sound, he slipped his fingers out of your pussy.

"Squirting like a pathetic slut,” he spat, his other hand still wrapped around your neck. "Told you I'd make you scream."

Your body turned pliant as you gave in and sank against the wall. You watched him lean down through your half-lidded eyes as you tried to ground yourself, his movements deliberate and swift, grabbing your wrecked shirt from the floor. You watched in confusion as he pressed the flimsy material together before firmly shoving it over your eyes.

Panic surged through you as the sudden darkness enveloped our vision. Although you couldn't see him, you heard him very well. His muffled breathing behind the mask, the soft rustle of fabric as he adjusted the material at the back of your head. Your other senses were heightened when you were robbed of your vision that you could even smell him.

The sharp scent of sweat and a faint hint of earthiness clung to him, as though remnants of the ground followed his presence. Yet, amidst the rawness, there was a surprising note of sweetness, as if a subtle cologne lingered beneath the surface.

God, he was so close. His chest was now pressed against yours, and then suddenly, almost forcefully, you felt warm hands grip your jaw. Your mouth fell open.

He took off his gloves.

Goosebumps rose on your skin when a sudden breeze of air brushed across your face and you gasped. You could barely think clearly, and you could barely even brace yourself when harsh lips captured your mouth desperately. You couldn't believe what was happening, because holy fuck—you were kissing Ghostface.

There was nothing remotely gentle about the way he kissed you. A deep shuddering groan rippled through him as he continued to assault your lips. You were too stunned at the way he pushed his tongue inside your mouth, tasting you in a way that had your body trembling at the sheer force of intensity traveling through your veins.

And when you finally felt his bare fingers grazing along your drenched core, going up and down your swollen folds, he captured the moan falling through your lips with a groan.

"So fucking filthy," he whispered against your lips as he continued to tease you. His voice, once muffled, was now very clear. The tones were distinct, carrying an inexplicable familiarity that tugged at the edges of your memory. But before you could even try to recall where you had heard it before, he surprised you by increasing the speed of his fingers.

"You want more of this, don't you?"

You shook your head, but your body was saying otherwise. Your hand gripped his arm as he started to play with your clit again, and your knees buckled pathetically. His other hand fell on your waist to steady you while he pressed a kiss on the hollow point of your throat, traveling further up the skin till his teeth nibbled on your ear lobe.

He then grabbed onto one of your legs and hiked it around his waist as he pushed his hips into you. You could feel the outline of his hard cock behind the cloak he was wearing and you let out a whimper when he started rolling his hips.

"Is this what you want?" He rasped out at the shell of your ear. You felt strong hands grip your wrists before he pushed them above your head, pining you against the wall. "You want me to fill you up with my cock?"

You shook your head again, attempting to anchor yourself. The struggle was evident in the tension of your muscles, each fiber resisting the pull toward surrender. You should push him. You should cry for help. Yet here you were questioning your sanity as you slowly, almost desperately, grind your hips along with his, yearning for more friction.

"Dirty, dirty slut," he muttered against your lips before kissing you once again, swallowing your whimpers as his hips snapped into you. "I bet you feel so tight around me."

Desire roared fire in your veins, and you whined. He leaned over and captured one of your nipples in his wet, warm mouth, and you moaned again before he let out a satisfied hum. You could practically feel the smirk curling on his lips as he taunted, "You react so well. I might have to keep you."

Goosebumps rose along your skin. Then in a swift and forceful motion, he yanked you, abruptly pushing you to the ground. The impact was sudden and jarring, leaving you landing on your knees.

As you tried to make sense of what was happening, a hand pushed against your back, and you toppled forward, landing on the ground face-first, finding yourself on your hands and knees. A sharp smack hit your bare ass from behind and you jolted in surprise.

"Spread them wide for me," He murmured, gaze skipping over your nakedness. He marveled at the sight before him, the way you shamelessly arched your back at his command. Yet when he noticed you hesitating, he dropped his voice in a lower, sinister tone.

"Don't make me use my knife."

You quickly did as you were told, your hands traveling behind you, spreading your sticky thighs in a languorous stretch, and you shuddered under the weight of his eyes. You whined at the feeling of the cold air hitting your exposed skin and a trickle of your arousal ran down your thigh, much to your utter embarrassment. "Look how pretty you are."

Heat blossomed in your chest. Then the sound of a belt being undone had you whimpering, and you moved instinctively, arching your back even further. One of his hands landed on your ass again with a sharp smack before he gripped a firm handful of it. You could hear more rustling and a slight soft thud behind you. The lack of vision made you overly sensitive and you found yourself waiting with bated breath for his every move.

With a sharp tug, he pulled you back by your hips before one of his hands landed on the back of your neck. You felt him push down hard and you obliged, lowering your face and upper body to the floor as his other hand remained holding your hips up in the air. And then you felt him—pulsing warm right at your entrance.

A pitiful groan escaped your lips as the tip of his cock swiped back and forth along your folds. He moaned out a deep, pleasure-filled noise that reverberated around the small space at the feel of your arousal coating him. And then suddenly, without warning, he abruptly plunged inside of you. He thrust straight into that spot deep inside that stung so good a sharp cry slipped out of you. It was painful, his sheer force of girth stretching you apart, though that cry quickly became a low moan of pleasure.

The man behind you showed no mercy, thrusting his hips into you with force and purpose, so hard you felt your body inching across the hardwood floor with each stroke. Your mouth fell open when one of his hands released your neck before you felt him grabbing a fistful of your hair, just at the base of your skull, and sharply pulling. A high-pitched, breathy noise of pleasure tore out of you and he repeated the gesture, the tug on your hair even rougher.

He held himself there as he used the grip on your hair to haul you backward to him. Your back was arched, his cock still buried deep inside of you as you fell back into his chest. For a few moments, it was almost uncomfortable, but then, surprisingly, you felt even more aroused than you already were.

You pushed your ass even higher, arching your body in search of more of that delicious sensation. It felt like electricity shocked your entire body, triggering intense waves of pleasure that repeatedly spread wildly from your core as you focused on the pleasure building between your legs, the burning sensation filling you to the brim.

It was maddening. Frustrating, even. Because you didn't even care anymore, you didn't even care if you exposed for him, you didn't even care if your knees ached from the hard friction of the floor because any shreds of sanity and pride had long since been destroyed. You wanted more. You needed more.

It was so twisted. You longed to be broken by him. You longed to be ruined by him.

You had never imagined being in this position, kneeling on the floor with a murderer thrusting himself into you, yet here you were, whimpering at the sensation of doing the forbidden. Your mind turned delirious he released the hold on your hair, his hand snaking around your front to grip your throat.

You continued to meet his savage thrusts with your hips, slamming into you as your wail turned into a ragged scream. The sensation, though pleasurable, became too intense to handle. You attempted to move away from him, stealing his breath as your inner walls clenched around his cock. His firm hand gripped your hips tighter, preventing you from pulling away as he held you in position, thrusting his cock into your throbbing pussy.

A helpless sound trickled from your throat as your body jerked, and he mercilessly fucked you through it. Everything was so intense your mind was struggling to comprehend what was happening as he pounded into you roughly. You tried to breathe through the incredible pleasure surging through your body but you were too overwhelmed. "T-Too much."

"T-Too much," he mocked. A sinister laugh sliced through the darkness, sending shivers down your spine. "Fucking. Take. It."

His words were punctuated with every snap of his hips. The insistent thrust made you thrash your head as your body convulsed, dragging it out and heightening it to a point where you could only wail. Your breath came in harsh pants; his breathing was as rough as he urged you on, and you gave yourself over to the wildfire consuming your body. You whimpered, head rolling back onto his shoulder.

"That's it, taking me so perfectly," his voice, now a sinister whisper, slithered into your ears. "Knew you were special the moment I saw you."

A gasp escaped you, the weight of his words settling with an unsettling realization. Amidst the darkness, you felt the contours of his laughter.

"Don't act so surprised. I'm your secret admirer, remember?" You felt his hand leave your hips before it trailed toward your front. You knew what he was about to do and you clenched him involuntarily, already anticipating what was to come.

"Fuck," He hissed. "You feel so tight around me. I really do have to keep you now."

The coil inside you was dangerously close to snapping and he growled as your cunt clenched around his cock.

"Oh, you liked that. You like the idea of me using you? Fuck you whenever I want?" He questioned, his fingers moving to your clit as he pressed messy circles against the sensitive nub, twisting it beneath his calloused pad. You bit down on your lower lip, feeling the coil in your abdomen tightening at his sharp movements, your hands moving to his wrist as you tried to ground yourself.

You gasped when you felt him tightening the grip on your throat, the skin tingling as he repeated the motion. "Filthy little thing, aren't you?"

"I-I—" You spluttered, feeling your legs going numb. You squealed when you felt him pick up his pace on your clit, rubbing messy circles against it as your back slumped against him, mouth parting, your tongue slipping out between your lips.

It was too much. You felt like you were about to explode. Your mind went blank. Your body felt numb. There was nothing else you could do but to give into the force of pleasure consuming you as he fucked you roughly, his hips hitting you in harsh motions.

"You gonna cum now?" He grunted, pressing his mouth at the shell of your ear. You helplessly nodded, not able to make out any coherent words anymore. He groaned between thrusts, keeping a firm grip on your ass to keep you from squirming. "Go on then, cum on my cock like the filthy whore that you are."

As if on command, your body spasmed involuntarily. It started with a prickling of your skin creeping up your body, over your breasts and face, inner walls tightening around his cock, and you came hard. You squirmed uncontrollably as all that pent-up pleasure welled up in your core. Your heart was pounding erratically against your heaving chest you could even hear the pounding in your ears.

Your mind was in a drunken haze as the pleasure continued to flow through your veins, his fingertips languidly brushed against your clit. But despite the desperate spasms of your pussy, he continued to penetrate your body. Every thrust hit more intensely than the last, wetness flooded from you as reality slipped away, and all you could do was burn, vocally urging him on as he moaned darkly behind you.

You were very far from sanity from everything consuming your body. You felt him everywhere. His grinding cock, the press of his fingers as they moved to toy with your clit, and his blunt nails cut around your throat. Your cunt continued to possessively grip his cock as you wailed breathlessly.

Heat traveled through you, body quivering and going boneless, the warm ripples of release dulling the sharp edges of your mind as he drove into you and finally chased his own high. The filthy feel of him emptying inside you, your shimmering release, and his hands decorating your skin with fingerprint bruises, was all you could focus on.

Until the distinct sound of sirens echoed in the background.

Your mind went hazy as you tried to anchor yourself and you heard him chuckle in amusement. "I guess you really woke your neighbors up," he said, letting go of his grip around your throat. You let out a breathless sigh when you felt him slipping out of you, surprisingly feeling empty.

He groaned as his eyes traveled down, watching the way his release dripped down the length of your thighs. “It’s a pity I have to cut this short.” Then you felt his lips near your ear. “Until next time."

"W- What?" Your head snapped up. "You'll come back?"

"I'll be here when you least expect it." Then the unexpected happened. He surprised you with a gentle kiss on your shoulder, a stark contrast from everything that had taken place. "Keep your doors unlocked for me."

A sudden emptiness enveloped you as he withdrew from your personal space. Your mind was struggling to make sense of what happened. And now the realization that he wasn't behind you anymore prompted your hands to instinctively reach for the makeshift blindfold, swiftly slipping it off your face.

Blinking in the sudden light, your eyes adjusted to the surroundings. Your eyes caught his figure standing tall at the top of your staircase, back turned, a fleeting glimpse of brown curls disappearing beneath the mask he hastily put back on.

He abruptly turned to you. A shuddered gasp escaped your lips as he looked at you for another fleeting second, as if he was giving you a silent promise as the faint sound of sirens continued from the distance. You stared back at him, heart thrumming in your chest.

And then he was gone.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #ghostface imagine #ghostface smut

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aceyalonso · 1 month ago

Text

what's mine is mine - OSCAR PIASTRI

pairing : oscar piastri x reporter!gf!reader

summary : oscar and his jealous tendencies can lead to some... eventful consequences

warnings/notes : swearing, smut, possessive!oscar, unprotected sex (please use a condom!), creampie, fingering, hair pulling, oral (fem!receiving), breeding kink (if you squint), use of "baby"

word count : 2.0k

a/n : no hate to franco guys, I love that man with a passion

main masterlist | kinktober masterlist

Y/n stood in the paddock, her hair blowing in the wind as she interviewed the new driver, Franco. Her boyfriend, Oscar, watched from afar, his jaw clenched in jealousy as he saw Franco place a hand on Y/n's lower back.

"So Franco, how do you think this weekend will go for Williams? Especially with points being in arms reach considering last race" Y/n asked professionally, holding her microphone up to capture his response.

Franco grinned charmingly at the camera. "It seems like it'll be a pretty good weekend for the team- Hopefully we can score some points this time. I can't wait to prove myself out on the track." His eyes flicked to Y/n, a flirtatious glint in them. "And of course, having such a gorgeous reporter to interview me is just an added bonus."

Y/n laughed lightly, used to the flirtations that came with her job. "Well, let's hope your driving skills are as smooth as your lines, Franco." She smiled playfully before wrapping up the interview.

As Y/n finished up with Franco, she turned to see Oscar striding purposefully towards her, his handsome face etched with a scowl. He placed a possessive hand on the small of her back as he approached.

"Everything okay here, babe?" Oscar asked, his tone clipped. His eyes darted to Franco suspiciously.

Y/n smiled reassuringly up at her boyfriend. "Of course, he was just being friendly for the interview."

But Oscar wasn't convinced. He pulled Y/n closer to his side, his grip tightening slightly. "It seemed like more than that to me. The guy couldn't keep his eyes, or his hands, off you."

Y/n sighed, knowing Oscar could be overly protective at times. "Oscar, please, it's my job to interview the drivers."

Oscar's jaw relaxed a bit at her words, but he still looked unsettled as he watched Franco walk away. "I just don't like the way he was looking at you. Like he wanted to devour you right there in the paddock."

Y/n rolled her eyes at Oscar's possessiveness. "Come on, let's go back to your drivers' room. I'm sure you're eager to get ready for practice."

She took his hand and led him away from the paddock, leaving Franco behind. As they walked, Oscar's grip on her hand tightened, his jealousy still simmering beneath the surface.

As soon as the door to Oscar's private drivers' room closed behind them, he pushed Y/n up against the wall, his body pressing against hers. "I can't stand seeing other men flirt with you," he growled, his lips crashing into hers in a heated kiss.

Y/n gasped into his mouth, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders. She kissed him back fiercely, matching his intensity. Oscar's hands roamed her curves possessively, one sliding down to grab her ass.

He broke the kiss, panting softly. "You're mine, Y/n. I don't want anyone else even looking at you like that." His eyes burned into hers, filled with lust and a hint of anger.

Oscar's hands continued to explore Y/n's body, his touch growing more aggressive. "I bet that Franco can't even make you cum," he whispered in her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. "He probably doesn't even know how to touch a woman properly."

Y/n moaned softly as Oscar's fingers found her sensitive spots, teasing her through her clothes. "You're right," she breathed, arching into his touch. "No one can make me feel as good as you can, Oscar."

He smirked, pleased by her response. "And I don't have to be inside you to make you feel good," he said, his fingers working their magic. "I know your body better than anyone, and I can make you cum with just my hands."

Oscar's words were true, and Y/n knew it. She had never experienced pleasure quite like she did when she was with him. As his skilled fingers continued to work their magic, she felt herself getting closer to the edge, her body trembling with anticipation.

Oscar suddenly stopped his ministrations, leaving Y/n panting and desperate for more. He grabbed her hand and led her to the couch, sitting her down before kneeling in front of her. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he slowly hiked up her dress, exposing her lacy panties.

"These look so pretty on you," he purred, running his fingers along the delicate fabric. "But I think they'd look even better in my pocket."

With that, he hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled her panties down, revealing her glistening folds. Y/n gasped as the cool air hit her sensitive skin, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and arousal. Oscar took the panties and slipped them into his pocket, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"I'll keep these with me for the entire day," he said, his voice low and seductive. "That way, I can show these off Franco. I'll show that fucker who you belong to."

Y/n's heart raced at the thought of Oscar showing her panties to Franco. The idea of being claimed so boldly sent a thrill through her body. She spread her legs wider, inviting him to continue his exploration.

Oscar leaned in, his breath hot against her skin as he traced his fingers along her slick folds. "You're so wet for me already," he murmured, his fingers circling her clit. "I love how responsive you are."

Y/n moaned softly, her hips bucking against his hand. "Please, Oscar," she begged, her voice husky with desire. "I need more."

He obliged, slipping two fingers inside her, pumping them slowly at first before picking up the pace. His thumb pressed against her clit, rubbing in tight circles. Y/n's moans grew louder, her body trembling with pleasure.

"That's it, baby," Oscar encouraged, his fingers moving faster. "Let me hear you. Show me how much you love this."

Y/n's moans grew louder and more urgent as Oscar's fingers worked their magic inside her. Her back arched off the couch, her nails digging into the leather cushions. "Oh god, Oscar," she cried out, her hips rocking against his hand. "Don't stop, please don't stop,"

Oscar smirked, enjoying the way she was coming undone beneath his touch. He curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot deep inside her that made her see stars. "You like that, don't you?" he purred, his thumb pressing harder against her clit. "You love the way I make you feel."

Y/n could only nod, lost in the waves of pleasure crashing over her. Her thighs began to tremble, her body tensing as she neared her peak. "I'm so close," she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Oscar, make me cum."

Oscar could feel Y/n's body tensing, her moans growing more desperate. He knew she was close, and he wanted nothing more than to push her over the edge. He increased the speed of his fingers, his thumb working her clit relentlessly.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice low and husky. "Let go for me. Cum all over my fingers."

Y/n's body stiffened, her back arching off the couch as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. She cried out Oscar's name, her body shaking with the force of her release. Oscar continued to stroke her through her climax, drawing out her pleasure until she collapsed back onto the couch, spent and breathless.

He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean. "You taste amazing," he said, his eyes dark with desire. "I could do this all day."

Y/n lay there panting, her body still tingling from the intense orgasm. She watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Oscar moved between her legs, his face mere inches from her sensitive core. He smiled up at her, his eyes filled with hunger.

"I'm not done with you yet," he said, his voice low and seductive. "I want to taste you."

With that, he leaned in and ran his tongue along her slit, making Y/n gasp. He explored her folds with his tongue, lapping up her juices and savoring her flavor. Y/n's hands flew to his hair, gripping it tightly as he worked her over with his mouth.

Oscar's tongue was relentless, alternating between long, slow licks and quick flicks against her clit. He brought a hand up to join his mouth, two fingers sliding easily into her wet heat. Y/n's moans grew louder, her hips rocking against his face as he brought her closer to another peak.

Y/n's moans grew more desperate as Oscar's tongue and fingers worked their magic. She could feel another orgasm building, but she needed more. She needed him inside her.

"Oscar, please," she begged, her voice husky with desire. "I need you inside me. I can't take it anymore."

Oscar looked up at her, his eyes dark with lust. He could see the need in her eyes, and it only fueled his own desire. He rose to his feet, quickly unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down. His erection sprang free, hard and ready.

He positioned himself between her legs, the tip of his cock teasing her entrance. "Is this what you want, baby?" he asked, his voice low and seductive. "You want me to fill you up?"

Y/n nodded frantically, her hips lifting off the couch in anticipation. "Yes, please," she whimpered. "I need you so badly."

Oscar didn't need to be told twice. He thrust his hips forward, burying himself deep inside Y/n's wet heat. They both moaned at the sensation, their bodies fitting together perfectly. He started to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first before picking up speed.

Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, her nails digging into his back as he pounded into her. "Harder," she demanded, her voice breathy and desperate. "Fuck me harder, Oscar."

He complied, his hips snapping against hers as he drove into her with increasing force. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, mixing with their moans and cries of pleasure. Y/n could feel another orgasm building, her body tensing as she neared the edge.

"I'm so close," she gasped, her head thrown back in ecstasy. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Oscar could feel her tightening around him, and he knew she was close too. He reached down, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in tight circles. "Cum for me, baby,"

His thrusts grew more erratic as he neared his own release. "Fuck, Y/n," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "I'm going to fill you up so good, you'll be dripping for hours."

His words sent a shiver down Y/n's spine, pushing her closer to the edge. She could feel his cock twitching inside her, signaling his impending orgasm. "Yes, Oscar," she moaned, her nails raking down his back. "Fill me up. I want to feel your cum inside me."

With a final, powerful thrust, Oscar buried himself deep inside her, his cock pulsing as he released his load. Y/n cried out, her own orgasm crashing over her as she felt his hot seed filling her up. Her walls clenched around him, milking him for every last drop.

Oscar's hips jerked as he continued to empty himself inside Y/n, his cock pulsing with each spurt of his release. "Fuck, yes," he groaned, his voice ragged with pleasure. "Take it all, baby. I'm going to fill you up so good, you'll be dripping for days."

Y/n moaned, her body trembling with the intensity of her own orgasm. She could feel his hot cum flooding her insides, coating her walls. It felt so good, so right, to be claimed by him in this way.

As his orgasm subsided, Oscar collapsed on top of her, his weight pressing her into the couch. They both lay there panting, their bodies still joined intimately. Oscar nuzzled into her neck, pressing soft kisses to her sweat-dampened skin.

Oscar lifted his head to gaze down at Y/n. His eyes were soft, filled with love and possessiveness. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch gentle.

"You're mine, Y/n," he murmured, his voice low and serious. "What's mine is mine, and I need to make sure everyone knows that."

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julietsf1 · 2 months ago

Text

Irritating, But Irresistible – Franco Colapinto X Reader

Summary: Alex Albon’s sister is not happy with Logan’s new replacement who seems to be very sure of himself.

Words: 8k

Warnings: cursing, smut after ***

A/N: this is my first time writing anything, just wanted to do something w franco since there is not much out there yet :) English isn't my first language so I hope it reads okay! smut is just the last part so you can read without and it will still be a complete story *muah*

________________________________________________________

It was press conference day at Monza, one of the busiest times during a Formula 1 weekend. I walked through the paddock, juggling my internship deadlines on my phone. Even with my hectic schedule, nothing beat being around the buzz of the F1 world, where I could support my brother Alex and enjoy the company of his friends. Today, however, my thoughts were consumed by Logan’s sudden exit and his replacement.

Franco Colapinto.

I had yet to meet him, but from what Alex had shared, I already had my preconceptions: talented, confident, but most likely arrogant—a rookie straight from Formula 2 who had taken Logan’s seat.

I had been devastated by the news. Of course, Logan hadn’t been performing as well as he did in F2, but he and I had formed a special bond over the course of the past seasons. After every crash, when Logan would be back in the team garage to sit out the race, I had been there to talk with him, and we developed a deep and valuable friendship. I couldn’t help but feel frustrated by the team not sticking with him until Newey would join next season and provide a better car.

As I approached Alex and George Russell, they were already deep in conversation, Alex’s usual easygoing grin on his face as George prattled on with his distinctly old-fashioned vocabulary.

“And I dare say, Alex, it’s an absolute travesty that the press still insists on asking the same infernal questions,” George was saying, sipping from his water bottle. “There’s only so many times one can answer, ‘What’s your strategy for qualifying?’ without going mad.”

Alex chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, George, don’t act like you don’t secretly love the attention.”

George sniffed, clearly unconvinced. “Attention, yes, but repetitive inquiries? It’s rather pedestrian. Honestly, one would expect a touch more intellectual curiosity.”

I grinned, stepping into the conversation. “You should start answering in riddles, George. Give them something to think about.”

George’s eyes lit up, considering the idea seriously. “You know, that’s not half bad. I could begin each answer with a Shakespearean quote. ‘To pit or not to pit, that is the question.’”

Alex burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Please do. It’ll be the highlight of the weekend.”

Before I could join in with my own jab, a smooth voice with a slight spanish accent interrupted our banter. “You must be Alex’s sister.”

I turned, and my breath caught for a second. Standing before me was Franco Colapinto, and he was—well, to be honest, he was a lot more attractive than I had expected. His dark hair was fluffy and slightly tousled as if he had just run a hand through it, giving him a charmingly casual look. His eyes—bright, shining with a mix of mischief and curiosity—immediately met mine, and there was something about the way they sparkled that unsettled me.

Franco stood with a relaxed confidence, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he waited for my response.

“And you must be Logan’s replacement,” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended, trying to ignore the little flip in my stomach.

Franco raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that response, but his grin only grew wider, a playful glint in his bright eyes. “Franco Colapinto,” he introduced himself, extending his hand toward me.

I glanced at his hand but didn’t take it, crossing my arms instead. “Y/N.”

Franco didn’t miss a beat. He chuckled softly, undeterred by my cold reception. “Guess I’m not winning you over just yet.”

“You could say that,” I muttered under my breath, unable to stop myself from taking in his appearance again—his fluffy hair, the way the sunlight seemed to make his dark eyes even more intense.

“Give it time,” Franco said lightly, his tone soft but still laced with confidence. He shifted his gaze to Alex, giving a friendly nod. “See you up there, mate.”

As Franco walked away to the press room, I couldn’t help but stare after him, irritated by the way my heart skipped a beat. “He’s got some nerve,” I muttered.

Alex, always the peacemaker, sighed beside me. “Don’t be too hard on him, Y/N. He’s just trying to find his place.”

“Yeah, well, Logan had his place, and it was taken from him,” I shot back, folding my arms tighter across my chest.

George, ever the diplomat, chimed in with his usual formal tone. “Alas, it is the nature of this sport, Miss Albon. Drivers come and go as swiftly as the wind changes its course. It’s unfortunate, but inevitable.”

I sighed, knowing George was right but still unable to shake my irritation. I cast one last look at Franco, who was now chatting with some team members, his bright eyes still sparkling, that teasing grin still lingering on his lips.

The atmosphere that evening was electric. After a long day of press conferences and media obligations, the some of thedrivers, teams, and close friends gathered for a small party in the paddock’s private area. Music thumped through the speakers, and the energy was light despite the high-pressure weekend ahead.

I found myself by the bar, sipping a drink, trying to focus on my conversation with Lando and Oscar.

“You seriously didn’t even know how to do a basic rumba?” Lando was saying, laughing so hard he nearly spilled his drink. “Come on, Oscar. I thought Aussies were supposed to know how to dance.”

Oscar smirked, unbothered. “I’m a racing driver, not a dancer. I don’t need rhythm on the track, mate.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Rumba, Lando? That’s what you’re testing him on?”

Lando grinned, tossing his head back dramatically. “Oh, come on, Y/N. You know it’s important. It’s all about balance! Quick on your feet, suave with the moves—it’s practically the same thing as cornering at high speed.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure it’s not the same thing.”

“Well,” Lando shrugged, “when the media isn’t on your back, you’ve got to perfect something other than driving. For me, it’s dance moves. For George—” Lando leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “it’s his ancient vocabulary. I heard him use the word ‘beseech’ in an interview once. I thought we’d time-traveled.”

I burst out laughing, picturing George in full seriousness. “Oh my God, that’s so him.”

Lando wasn’t finished, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “That’s not even the best part. He used it to answer a question about tire degradation. I swear!”

Oscar finally cracked a smile, shaking his head. “George could give my grandma a run for her money.”

I was about to add another quip when I caught sight of Franco across the room, his familiar silhouette standing out as he laughed with Max and Daniel. I quickly looked back at my drink, but Lando, ever observant, wasn’t going to let it slide.

“You keep staring at him,” Lando teased, nudging me with a smirk.

“What?” I blinked, caught off guard. “I’m not staring.”

Oscar, who had been quietly sipping his drink, glanced at me. “You kind of are.”

I frowned, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. “I’m not. I just… don’t like him, that’s all.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Lando said, wiggling his eyebrows. “You’re not usually this flustered. It's kind of cute.”

“Shut up, Lando,” I shot back, though my voice lacked the sharpness I intended.

Oscar chuckled softly, glancing toward Franco. “You talk about him more than I’ve heard anyone talk about him since he joined.”

I rolled my eyes, clearly frustrated. “He’s arrogant, alright? Thinks he can just come in and—”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You don’t like him,” Lando interrupted with a grin, clearly not buying it. “But let’s be real—he’s not exactly lacking in the looks department, is he?”

I felt my face flush even more, and before I could respond, a familiar voice broke into the conversation. “What’s with the staring, cariño?”

My heart raced involuntarily, and my cheeks flushed red, but I forced a sarcastic smile. “I—I just don’t like that shirt, that’s all.”

Franco’s playful grin widened as he tilted his head slightly. “I’ll gladly take it off for you if you want me to.”

Lando burst into laughter and took a step back, clearly enjoying the tension. “Oh, I’ll leave you two to sort that out.”

Oscar, ever the quiet observer, gave a smirk and a knowing nod before following Lando, leaving me and Franco alone.

“You’re way too smug for someone who just got their seat,” I muttered, crossing my arms defensively.

Franco chuckled softly, his dark eyes still sparkling with amusement. “They brought me here for a reason, Y/N. There’s nothing wrong with being self-assured.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words caught in my throat as I found myself staring at his eyes again—the way they seemed to shimmer in the dim light. His presence unnerved me in a way that no one else ever had.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Franco said quietly, stepping closer, his voice dropping slightly, filled with both promise and challenge. He softly brushed his hand against my arm, the touch sending a shiver through me. “Just watch.”

Before I could respond, Max’s voice boomed from across the room. “Oi, Franco! Stop flirting! I got us another round of gin tonics!”

Franco glanced over his shoulder and smirked before turning back to me. “See you tomorrow,” he said, his voice soft and teasing, before walking off, leaving me standing there, heart racing for reasons I didn’t want to admit.

Friday morning’s free practice was the perfect chance for the teams to fine-tune their setups before qualifying, but for me, it was another opportunity to watch Franco. I stood in the Williams garage, my arms crossed as I kept one eye on the lap times flashing on the screen, the other on Franco’s progress on track.

“How’s he looking?” I asked Alex, trying to keep my tone neutral, but the curiosity in my voice betrayed me.

Alex, who had already come back into the garage mid-session, didn’t look away from the data in front of him. “Decent. He’s still getting used to the car, but he’s quick. He’s got potential, Y/N.”

I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Potential doesn’t win races, though.”

Alex glanced at me with a grin. “You’re tough. Give him a break. He’s still new.”

Before I could argue back, James Vowles, the Williams team principal, stepped into the conversation, his voice measured and commanding, but always reassuring. “Patience, Y/N. Drivers need time to grow, especially in this environment. Franco’s performance has been promising so far, and that’s all we can ask for at this stage.”

I smirked, shaking my head. “I’m not sure Franco’s the ‘take time to grow’ type. He’s way too sure of himself.”

James folded his arms, smiling slightly while shaking his head. “Confidence is a tool, Y/N. If used correctly, it can be an asset. And from what I’ve seen, Franco understands that balance. Let’s not underestimate him too soon.”

Alex chuckled, nudging me. “Even James is on his side. Come on, give the guy a chance.”

As if summoned by the conversation, Franco’s Williams car came flying past the garage on track, a blur of blue and white as it whipped around the corner. I watched his lap times closely—each split was faster than the last.

“Looks like he’s getting the hang of it,” Alex said, raising an eyebrow toward me.

I couldn’t help but let out a small sigh. “Fine. He’s… better than I thought. But that doesn’t mean anything yet.”

After the second practice session ended and the drivers returned to the garage, I found myself lingering near the pit wall, watching as the cars were rolled back into the garage. Franco emerged from his car, pulling off his helmet, his fluffy hair tousled and damp with sweat. He was wiping his brow with the sleeve of his race suit when his eyes caught mine.

Franco approached me with that familiar, irritating grin. “Enjoying the show?” he asked, his voice light but teasing as always.

I raised an eyebrow, trying to sound unimpressed. “It’s fine. Could be better.”

Franco chuckled softly, stopping just close enough that I could catch the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the track’s lingering heat. “You’ve got high standards, I see.”

“I am just realistic,” I shot back, finally meeting his gaze. “Not sure you’ll live up to your own expectations, Colapinto.”

For a second, Franco’s playful smile faltered, but he quickly recovered, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Y/N, I’m pretty sure I can meet—and exceed—any expectations you’ve got for me.”

I crossed my arms, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Big words for someone who hasn’t proved anything yet.”

Franco took a step closer, the teasing edge in his voice never fading. “Oh, I’ll prove it. Just keep watching.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a murmur. “You’ll be impressed soon enough.”

My pulse quickened as his words hung in the air. I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Franco winked and stepped back.

“You can tell me what you think tomorrow,” he added over his shoulder, walking away with that infuriating confidence, leaving me standing there, frustrated and flustered all at once.

Just as I tried to collect myself, Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, wandered over. Her soft, sweet demeanor was the perfect counter to the high-pressure environment.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” she asked gently, noticing the slight tension still lingering on my face.

I huffed, folding my arms across my chest. “He’s impossible.”

Lily smiled knowingly, tilting her head. “I’ve seen you two talking more and more recently. Doesn’t seem like you think he’s that impossible.”

“He is trust me,” I muttered, though my tone was less convincing now.

Lily gave me a soft, encouraging smile, her voice gentle and kind. “You know, sometimes it’s okay to let your guard down. Not everyone’s as bad as they seem at first.”

I looked at Lily, rolling my eyes but feeling the truth in her words sink in. “You really think he’s a good guy?”

Lily shrugged with a sweet grin. “Maybe. I think you’re more interested in finding that out than you want to admit.”

I shook my head, but the feeling that maybe—just maybe—Lily was right gnawed at me as I watched Franco walk away, his figure disappearing into the garage.

Saturday was always charged with anticipation—qualifying day. The pressure in the paddock was thick, and I could feel the weight of it hanging in the air as I wandered through the bustling paddock. Every team member was focused, every driver mentally preparing for the intense session ahead. I, on the other hand, was lost in my thoughts, trying to distract myself from the growing irritation I felt whenever Franco popped into my mind.

Why does he always have to be so smug? I thought, frowning to myself as I made my way toward the drivers’ rooms. Always with the teasing, always with that stupid grin.

I was looking for Alex, but my mind was still tangled in thoughts of Franco—how his words had lingered from yesterday’s exchange, how his presence had become harder and harder to ignore. Whether it was the playful sparkle in his bright eyes or the way his fluffy, tousled hair fell effortlessly, something about him unsettled me.

Absentmindedly, I pushed open a door, not thinking twice about it—until I froze.

There stood Franco, half-dressed.

He was in the middle of pulling on his race suit, shirtless, his toned torso on full display. His skin gleamed under the soft lights of the room, and his dark hair was slightly damp, falling in messy waves over his forehead. He hadn’t noticed me at first, but when he looked up, his dark eyes locked on mine, surprise flickering across his face. It didn’t last long, though—his expression quickly shifted into that familiar, teasing grin I had come to expect.

“Well, well,” he drawled, voice laced with amusement, “didn’t expect you to walk in on me like this, but I’m not complaining.”

I froze, my cheeks flushing as I struggled to recover my composure. “I wasn’t—this isn’t—I was looking for Alex!” I stammered, my voice sharper than I intended.

Franco raised an eyebrow, his grin only growing wider. “Uh-huh. Sure you were.”

My irritation flared, and I crossed my arms, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Don’t flatter yourself, Colapinto. This was clearly a mistake.”

Franco took a step closer, his tone still light, but the teasing in his eyes unmistakable. “A mistake, huh? Yet, here you are. Still standing here.”

My pulse quickened, and I cursed my body for reacting to his presence. He was too close now, and the space between us felt charged, heavy with something I didn’t want to name.

“You’re full of yourself, you know that?” I shot back, lifting my chin, refusing to be intimidated.

Franco chuckled softly, his eyes locked on mine. “Maybe. But you seem pretty caught up in me for someone who claims not to care.”

I scoffed, stepping back but finding myself backed against the door. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible?” Franco echoed, the amusement never leaving his voice. “Or just irresistible?”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “In your dreams, maybe.”

Franco’s gaze softened slightly, and for a moment, the teasing edge faded. “You keep acting like this, but I see through it.”

I frowned, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “Acting like what?”

He shrugged, taking another small step closer, his voice lower now. “Like you hate me. But every time we talk, it feels like something else is going on.”

My breath hitched, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to look away. I hated that he could read me so easily, hated the way he made me feel like I was constantly on the back foot.

“Don’t get it twisted, Franco,” I said, my voice firmer this time. “You annoy me. That’s it.”

Franco smirked again, but there was something different in his eyes now—a challenge. “If you say so. But if I annoy you so much, why do you keep ending up here? In my space?”

I didn’t have an answer. Or at least, not one I was willing to admit out loud. The truth was, every time we clashed, it felt like the air between us was crackling with more than just annoyance. But I wasn’t ready to face that yet.

“I’m here because I thought this was Alex’s room,” I said finally, the sharpness returning to my voice. “Don’t read too much into it.”

Franco laughed softly, his expression softening as he stepped back, giving me some space but still keeping that annoying smirk. “Alright. But next time you want to drop by, just knock.”

I shot him a glare, my frustration flaring again. “You wish.”

With that, I turned on my heel and reached for the door, determined to leave the awkwardness behind. But before I could open it, Franco leaned in close, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “You’ll be back.”

I whipped my head around, my eyes narrowing. “Don’t count on it.”

Franco chuckled as he watched me go, shaking his head in amusement. “See you around, Y/N.”

The door clicked shut behind me, and I leaned against the wall, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My mind was spinning, my heart racing, and the worst part? I couldn’t stop thinking about that damn smirk.

Inside the room, Franco finished pulling on his suit, a small smile still tugging at his lips. He couldn’t help it—there was something about me that made every interaction feel like a game, one he was very much enjoying.

By the time qualifying ended, Franco had placed 18th—not spectacular, but solid enough for a rookie still adjusting to the car. The Williams team seemed satisfied with the result, and after the session, I found myself lingering in the pitlane, chatting with Oscar and Lando, both of whom were waiting for their post-quali interviews.

Lando, ever the jokester, leaned against the wall with a grin. “You know,” he said, “I like that guy. He’s got that cheeky energy. A bit like me.”

I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Great, that’s exactly what we need—two Lando Norrises.”

Lando laughed, nudging me playfully. “Hey, the world would be lucky.”

Oscar, always the calm and collected one, stood with his hands in his pockets, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve got to admit,” he said casually, “Franco’s improving. He’s faster than last time.”

I shrugged, unimpressed. “Yeah, well, let’s see if that holds up. Confidence doesn’t always mean results.”

Lando grinned, nudging me with a playful elbow. “You’re only saying that because you don’t want to admit he’s growing on you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “He’s not growing on me. If anything, he’s just growing more annoying.”

Oscar smirked, glancing between me and Lando. “Annoying, huh? Funny how you keep talking about him, though.”

Before I could respond, Franco appeared, fresh from his post-session debrief. He looked as smug as ever, a towel draped over his shoulders, his hair slightly damp. He caught my eye immediately, his usual grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Franco approached, clearly enjoying the way I tensed up at his arrival. His grin grew wider, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks even before he said a word.

“What’s this? Talking about me again, Y/N?” he teased, his voice smooth as always.

I crossed my arms, determined not to let him get under my skin. “I’m pretty sure not everything’s about you, Franco.”

Lando, grinning like a Cheshire cat, leaned over to Franco, speaking just loud enough for me to hear. “Oh, mate, trust me. She’s been talking about you all day.”

Franco’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Really?”

My face flushed as I shot Lando a warning look. “Lando!”

Lando threw his hands up in mock surrender, enjoying every second of my discomfort. “I’m just saying what I see. You’ve been all eyes on Colapinto here. Don’t blame me for stating facts.”

Oscar chuckled softly, his quiet amusement adding to the playful atmosphere. “It’s true. You’ve mentioned him at least three times already.”

I glared at both of them, my irritation growing by the second. “You two are impossible.”

Franco chuckled, stepping closer to me, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Come on. I saw the way you looked at me this morning. You can admit it—you’ve been thinking about me.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, watching the exchange with quiet curiosity, while Lando stood by, grinning like he was watching his favorite sitcom unfold.

“Thinking about how you’re the most irritating person I’ve ever met? Maybe,” I shot back, refusing to back down as Franco leaned in slightly, his bright eyes sparkling with mischief.

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” Franco said smoothly, lowering his voice just enough to make my heart race.

I was about to retort when Alex joined us, clapping Franco on the back. “Good session, man. You’re getting faster.”

Franco nodded, but his eyes never left mine. “Thanks, but it seems like Y/N here has higher standards than the rest of you.”

Lando smirked, clearly loving the drama. “Oh, she does. Don’t take it personally, Franco. She’s got high standards for all of us.”

I glared at Lando, but before I could say anything, Franco leaned in slightly, his bright eyes still locked on mine. “Good thing I love a challenge.”

I scoffed, tightening my arms across my chest. “Trust me, Colapinto, you’ve got a long way to go before you meet my standards.”

Franco’s grin only widened. “Good thing I’m persistent.”

Before I could respond, Alex laughed, clearly oblivious to the tension bubbling between us. “Alright, let’s cool it before the next round of banter turns into an all-out war. Y/N, we’re having dinner with the guys tonight—join us?”

I hesitated, my gaze flicking between Alex and Franco, who was still watching me with that infuriating smirk.

“Yeah, I’ll come,” I muttered, “just need to freshen up a bit,” shooting Franco one last look before heading toward the paddock exit.

“Fun! We’ll meet you in the lobby at 8!” Alex called after me as I walked away, while the guys gathered for their post-qualifying interviews.

Dinner that evening was supposed to be a chance to unwind after the high-pressure qualifying session, but the moment I realized Franco was joining us, my mood soured. I hadn’t expected him to be part of the group, assuming it would just be me, Alex, George, Oscar, and Lando. But as soon as I saw him enter the restaurant, his easy confidence on full display, I knew the night wasn’t going to go as planned.

Of course he’s here, I thought, rolling my eyes as he slipped into the seat across from me, wearing that same infuriating smirk.

Franco greeted everyone with casual charm, clearly enjoying himself, but every glance he threw my way felt designed to provoke me. It didn’t help that Lando, seated beside me, was in a particularly mischievous mood.

Soon enough, the waiter came over to take our orders, and things started to get even more interesting.

“Alright, what’ll it be?” the waiter asked.

“I’ll take the risotto,” Alex said, glancing at the menu one last time before handing it over.

"Might I be so bold as to request the same for myself?" George added.

Oscar ordered quickly, as calm and collected as ever. “Just a steak, medium-rare, thanks.”

I scanned the menu, trying not to think about Franco sitting directly across from me. I settled on my favorite pasta dish, handing my menu to the waiter. “I’ll have the truffle ravioli.”

When the waiter turned to Franco, I braced myself for whatever cheeky comment he was about to make.

“I’ll go for the truffle ravioli,” he said, then paused, glancing at me with a smirk. “But only if it’s as good as they say it is.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s ravioli, Franco. Not a fine wine. Relax.”

Lando, who had clearly been enjoying the tension building between us, grinned as he scanned the menu. “I’ll have the spaghetti. Extra sauce.”

“Surprising,” I deadpanned, “I thought you’d go for something a bit less… messy.”

Lando leaned back, tossing his menu aside with dramatic flair. “Messy? You must not follow the gossip pages, Y/N. I love messy. Besides, I have big plans for this spaghetti.”

Alex groaned. “Please behave.”

Lando wiggled his eyebrows, already looking pleased with himself. “Oh, just wait.”

As the waiter left, the group settled into casual conversation, the mood light despite the simmering tension between Franco and me. Alex, always the big brother, couldn’t resist dragging me into an embarrassing memory.

“You should’ve seen Y/N when she decided she was going to be an inventor,” Alex began, grinning as I sighed dramatically. “She built this elaborate ‘trap’ to catch the family cat. We’re talking string, boxes, and a broomstick involved—it looked like something out of Home Alone.”

I groaned. “Oh God, here we go.”

Alex was enjoying himself too much to stop. “She spent hours perfecting it. She swore it would work. And guess what? It didn’t catch the cat—it caught Mum instead.”

Lando burst into laughter, his eyes wide with excitement. “Y/N, an engineer in the making! I would’ve paid to see that.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my grin. “Okay, it wasn’t my best idea, but it wasn’t that bad!”

Alex snorted. “Mum had to wriggle out of it while holding the groceries. To this day, she doesn’t trust any ‘surprise’ Y/N sets up.”

Franco, who had been quietly following the story, leaned forward with his signature smirk. “Sounds like I need to watch my back around you, Y/N.”

I shot him a look, my voice dry but teasing. “Trust me, I’ve improved since then. You wouldn’t see it coming.”

Franco smirked. “I’ve got my eyes on you.”

Before I could reply, the waiter returned with our food. Plates were placed in front of us, and Lando’s spaghetti arrived with an extra helping of sauce just as he’d requested.

“Oh, yes,” Lando said, rubbing his hands together like a mischievous child. “Now, let the fun begin.”

It looked like he was up to his usual antics, twirling his spaghetti with great concentration, his grin widening as he arranged the strings very carefully on his plate.

“Lando,” I said, raising an eyebrow, “what are you doing?”

Lando leaned back, arms crossed proudly as he surveyed his masterpiece. “Creating art, Y/N. Pure, unadulterated art.”

"Goodness gracious, Lando we are at a bloody restaurant!" George put on his sunglasses, trying his best to distance himself from the childlike behaviour of his friend.

I glanced down at his plate and burst out laughing. “Bunda? Seriously?”

Lando’s grin only widened. “What can I say? I’m a man of culture.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Yeah, spelling ‘BUNDA’ with spaghetti really says a lot about you. Deep.”

Lando pretended to be offended, clutching his chest dramatically. “Ouch, mate. I’m expressing myself here.”

I laughed, shaking my head at the absurdity. But despite the humor, I could still feel Franco’s eyes on me, watching every move I made.

As the evening wore on, the banter at the table continued, but the undercurrent of tension between Franco and me was impossible to ignore. Every time I looked up, I caught him watching me—his eyes glinting with amusement, like he knew exactly how much he was getting under my skin. It was maddening, yet I couldn’t deny the strange pull that kept drawing my attention back to him.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, I decided to address the elephant in the room.

“So,” I began, cutting through the chatter at the table, “Franco, how does it feel stepping into a seat that wasn’t exactly yours?”

The table went quiet almost instantly. Alex shot me a look—half warning, half pleading—but I ignored it, my eyes locked on Franco. I couldn’t hold back the resentment that had been simmering for weeks. Logan had been my friend, and I wasn’t about to let Franco think he could just waltz in and take his place without any consequences.

Franco’s smile faltered for just a second, but he recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m here because I earned it,” he replied evenly, his voice calm but with an edge. “Not my fault if others couldn’t keep up.”

I didn’t back down. “I don’t think you earned it. I think you’re just here because of the sponsors. Anyone can see there are plenty of drivers with more potential than you.”

Franco’s jaw tightened slightly, and the playful glint in his eyes dimmed. The atmosphere around the table shifted, and even Lando, who had been proudly admiring his spaghetti art, stopped mid-bite to watch the exchange.

“Y/N,” Alex said softly, trying to ease the tension, but I barely registered his voice.

Franco’s gaze didn’t waver. “I don’t need to justify my place to you.”

I leaned in, my voice cold. “You don’t have to. It’s already obvious why you’re here.”

Franco’s eyes flashed with something darker, but instead of responding with the sharp retort I expected, he stood abruptly, pushing his chair back from the table. “I think I’ll call it a night. See you tomorrow.”

Without another word, Franco walked away, leaving me sitting there, my own words hanging in the air. The weight of what I had said settled in, a knot of guilt forming in my chest. Maybe I had gone too far.

Lando let out a low whistle. “Well… that escalated quickly.”

Alex sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Y/N, that was harsh. You didn’t have to push him like that.”

Oscar, who had been quiet for most of the dinner, finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. “You’re allowed to be upset, Y/N, but that wasn’t the way to handle it.”

I didn’t respond immediately. I knew they were right—deep down, I knew—but something about Franco just set me off in ways I couldn’t control.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” Alex said, his tone softening as he looked at me, “but you need to talk it out before this gets worse.”

I glanced toward the door where Franco had disappeared, the guilt gnawing at me. Franco had a way of bringing out the worst in me, and now, I wasn’t sure how to fix it.

Later that night, I found myself sitting on the edge of my bed, staring out of the hotel window at the glowing city lights below. The confrontation with Franco during dinner replayed in my mind, each pass making me feel worse. I hated how easily he got to me, how every exchange with him seemed to spiral into something bigger than it needed to be. But what bothered me most was that deep down, it wasn’t just anger. There was something else beneath the frustration—something I didn’t want to admit.

A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. I hesitated for a moment before standing up to answer it. When I opened the door, Alex stood there, leaning casually against the frame, his expression a mix of concern and that familiar big-brother teasing.

“Mind if I come in?” he asked.

I stepped aside, letting him in without saying a word. Alex walked over to the small seating area near the window and sat down, waiting for me to join him. The silence stretched between us for a moment before he finally spoke.

“You want to talk about it?”

I sighed, closing the door and sitting across from him. “Not really.”

Alex chuckled softly. “You sure? Because I’ve been watching you two for a while now, and it’s pretty clear something’s going on.”

I ran a hand through my hair, avoiding his gaze. “He just—he gets under my skin.”

“That much is obvious,” Alex said, his tone light but not unkind. “But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

I shook my head, feeling frustration bubbling up again. “I thought I couldn’t stand him. He’s arrogant, cocky, always trying to show off… but today, I pushed too far. And I know it.”

Alex nodded, watching me closely. “Franco’s sure of himself, yeah, but did you ever think that maybe he has to be so overly confident? The media and Netflix are always after us already, let alone if you replace someone halfway through the season. He’s not a bad guy, Y/N. You’ve been pretty hard on him since he joined.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of his words settle on my shoulders. “You’re right. I just didn’t expect him to… I don’t know, get to me like this.”

Alex leaned back, giving me a thoughtful look. “Y/N, you’re used to having things figured out—people, situations. But Franco doesn’t fit into that box you tried to put him in, and it’s throwing you off.”

I frowned, feeling the truth of Alex’s words sink in. I had been so sure of what kind of person Franco was, but the more time I spent around him, the harder it became to keep him in that neat little box I had created.

“He’s different than I thought,” I admitted finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “He’s still confident, but there’s more to him than just the cocky guy I thought he was.”

Alex smiled softly. “Exactly. So maybe instead of pushing him away, you should try to figure out what’s really going on between the two of you.”

I bit my lip, my heart heavy with guilt. “Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

Alex chuckled, his voice gentle. “You won’t know until you try. Talk to him. You’ll feel better once you do.”

Unable to sleep, I tossed and turned in bed, my mind spinning with guilt and frustration. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the look on Franco’s face when I pushed him too far at dinner. I knew I had crossed a line, but admitting it was harder than I thought.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I found myself slipping out of bed, grabbing my jacket to cover my nightgown, and quietly leaving my hotel room. The hallway was dimly lit, and the quiet hum of the city outside felt distant as I made my way toward Franco’s room.

My heart pounded as I reached his door. I hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was a good idea. But before I could talk myself out of it, I knocked softly.

The door swung open, and Franco stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of surprise and something else—something unreadable. He was dressed casually in a t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair still slightly damp, as if he had just showered.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice low. “What are you doing here?”

I swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of my nerves. “I—I came to apologize.”

Franco crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe, his dark eyes watching me carefully. “For what, exactly?”

I bit my lip, trying to find the right words. “For what I said at dinner. I… I was out of line. I let my frustration get the better of me, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

For a moment, Franco didn’t say anything. He simply studied me, his expression unreadable, and the silence between us felt heavy, charged with something I couldn’t quite place.

Finally, he sighed, stepping aside and gesturing for me to come in. “You might as well come in. We shouldn’t do this in the hallway.”

I hesitated, but eventually stepped into Franco’s room, the door clicking shut behind me. The air between us was thick, the unspoken tension hanging like a storm ready to break. Franco leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he watched me carefully, his dark eyes searching my face for something I wasn’t sure I could give him.

“I didn’t expect you to apologize,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, softer but still holding that familiar edge. “You’ve been pretty set on hating me.”

I shook my head, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t hate you. I was just… frustrated. I thought you were just this arrogant guy who didn’t care about anyone but himself, but you’re not like that. You surprised me, and I guess I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Franco’s expression softened, but there was still a teasing spark in his eyes. “Surprised you, huh? So I’m not as terrible as you thought?”

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, despite the tension in the room. “Not completely terrible I guess.”

We stood there in the quiet for a moment, the weight of the apology settling between us. His eyes never left mine, and there was something in his gaze that made my heart race, something that had been there all along but that I’d refused to acknowledge.

“You didn’t have to come here,” Franco said, his voice low, a slight vulnerability in his tone that caught me off guard. “But I’m glad you did.”

My breath caught in my throat as the distance between us suddenly felt smaller, more intimate. The tension that had simmered for so long now felt like it was about to snap, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it. But I couldn’t move away, couldn’t bring myself to break the moment.

Instead, I took a step closer, my heart racing as our eyes locked. The silence between us felt heavy, full of things neither of us was willing to say, but we didn’t need words. I could feel it in the air, in the way his gaze softened, in the way my pulse quickened.

Franco reached out, his hand brushing lightly against mine. His touch was hesitant at first, almost as if he was waiting for me to pull away. But I didn’t. Instead, I took another step closer, closing the gap between us, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

When he leaned in, it wasn’t sudden—it was slow, deliberate. His lips brushed against mine softly at first, a hesitant kiss that quickly deepened as the tension between us finally broke. My hands found their way to his chest, and I felt the warmth of his skin beneath his t-shirt as his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer.

The kiss was everything we had held back, all the frustration and unspoken attraction we had been pretending didn’t exist. It was slow at first, then more urgent, as if we were both trying to make up for all the time we had wasted fighting it.

Franco’s hand moved to cup my face, his thumb gently brushing against my cheek as he kissed me, and I felt a warmth spread through me that I hadn’t expected. I didn’t want to admit how badly I had wanted this, how much I had been waiting for this moment, even though I had denied it to myself for so long.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless, our foreheads resting against each other as we caught our breath. My hands were still pressed against his chest, and his arms stayed firmly around my waist, neither of us willing to break the connection completely.

Franco was the first to speak, his voice low and filled with a soft amusement. “So, I guess that’s one way to make up.”

I laughed lightly, my heart still racing. “Maybe.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at me properly, his gaze more serious now but still holding that familiar teasing edge. “You know, I didn’t think this would happen.”

“Me either,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m not mad about it.”

Franco’s lips curved into a small smile, and he leaned in again, this time pressing a softer, lingering kiss to my forehead before pulling away entirely. He didn’t let go of me completely, though, his hands still resting on my waist as he looked at me, his eyes searching mine for something I wasn’t sure I could name.

“We don’t have to figure everything out tonight,” he said quietly, his voice gentle but filled with something deeper. “But I think we both know there’s more going on here than just… whatever this is.”

I nodded, unable to find the words to respond. He was right, of course. This was more than just the heat of the moment—it had been building for a while, even if neither of us had been willing to admit it. But now that the tension had finally broken, it felt like there was no going back.

“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice soft. “There’s definitely more.”

***

He looked me deeply into my eyes before closing the space between us again. When our lips met again, it wasn’t the tentative kiss from before—this time, it was full of fire, all the pent-up tension and frustration we had been holding onto. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer, and my hands slid up to his shoulders, fingers threading into his hair.

Everything felt heightened—the softness of his touch, the warmth of his breath, the way my body responded to every move he made. There was a sense of inevitability between us, like this moment had always been coming, but now that it was here, it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

As we stumbled backward toward the bed, the kisses deepened, more urgent now. Franco’s hands found the hem of my dress, his touch both careful and eager, as though he wanted to savor every moment spent undressing me. My heart raced in anticipation, my skin humming under his fingertips.

Franco softly pushed me onto the bed, taking a few seconds to admire the sight before him before taking off his shirt and lowering himself onto me. My breath hitched as Franco’s lips trailed down my neck, each kiss sending sparks through my body.

“Fuck you are so beautiful.” He softly mumbled, making heartbeat race even faster. What was this man doing to you?

His kisses softened around your inner thighs.

“Do you want me to keep going?”

Awakened from my trance, I opened my eyes and looked down to meet his. “Please, don’t stop.”

That same cocky grin reappeared on his face. “Are you expectations as high as they are for my driving?”

I rolled your eyes. “Stop with the jokes Franco, I need you, please!”

“I’ve been waiting to hear that all weekend”

Without hesitation he roughly pulled down my lacy black panties, inserting one finger into my core while his tongue worked my already swollen clit.

Sweet moans filled the room like music as he added another finger inside me. I could feel him smile down there.

“Can’t believe how wet you are for me. It’s so sexy.”

Soon my back started arching involuntarily. My hands, that were softly stroking through his hair as he worked me, now began gripping his dark brown locks tightly.

“Fuck Franco I’m so close.” I moaned, heart racing in my chest.

To my disappointment he pulled away. Before I had the chance to start whining, he pulled down his sweats to reveal his huge dick. With lustful eyes I looked the beautiful man standing in front of me up and down. He looked incredible, the messy hair making him even sexier.

He climbed back on top of me, softly kissing me, leaving me to taste my own excitement on his lips.

Leaning over, he gently kissed my ears. “I want to feel you finish around me.” he whispered in his low husky voice.

Before the excitement had even reached my core, he slid his dick in, leaving no time for me to adjust to his size. He started ramming into me at dangerous pace, leaving me to cry out from the mixture the pain and pleasure.

Franco’s hands roamed over my body, exploring, claiming, as though he had been craving this moment for too long. Every touch, every sound was laced with the weight of everything we had been holding back.

My breath hitched as he pulled out and flipped me over. His hands gliding over my ass while he repositioned himself in front of my entrance.

“Where do you want me to cum later?” he asked, while grabbing my hair, giving it a little tug.

“In my mouth please.” My voice was hitchy from the thrill.

I felt Franco’s dick twitch against me. He pulled me up to him by my hair and began kissing my neck more, his free hand playing with my boob.

“Is that so? And are you going to swallow it for me?”

I moaned. “Happily.”

He let go of my hair which led me to fall back on all fours on the mattress. I felt the palm of his hand smack hard against my ass, breath caught in my throat, my body trembling in response to his. He slid in and sweet sensations filled my body yet again.

As the intensity built, Franco’s voice dropped to a whisper, his breath hot against my skin. “I’ve wanted this… wanted you… for so long.”

My only response was a soft gasp, my body arching toward his. I could feel the raw need in every movement, in the way his hands gripped mine tighter, his lips tracing fire along my skin. The tension that had been crackling between the two of you for weeks finally exploded in a wave of release, leaving us both breathless.

“Franco I-“ I couldn’t finish my sentence as a wave of pleasure went through my body.

He kept going as I completely soaked him, the wet pounding and both of your moans being the only sound in the room.

When he was close, he flipped you over again to face him, stroking his long dick a couple times while I opened my mouth for him. While I looked deeply into his glistering eyes, he released into my mouth. The warm salty taste made me ecstatic, sucking him off to make sure I had every last drop to swallow.

Exhausted, we both let ourselves fall down on the bed. Heavy breathing filling the room.

“Such a good girl for me.” Franco smiled as he brushed through my hair. He pulled me closer in his muscular arms, our bodies still pressed close, the remainder of the storm we had just weathered lingering in the quiet of the room. Franco’s fingers traced light patterns along my arm, his breath still uneven as he looked at me, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of something deeper than just satisfaction.

I smiled, heart still racing but in a calmer, more settled way now. “Neither was I.”

We both didn’t need to say anything more. The silence was comfortable now, the tension replaced by a quiet understanding that whatever had just happened had changed things. As the two of us lay together, the connection that had once been full of conflict now felt like something new, something Franco and I both wanted to explore.

#formula one #franco colapinto #Franco Colapinto x reader #f1 x reader #oneshot #alex albon #george russell #lando norris #oscar piastri #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #fc43 #enemies to lovers

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theonottsbxtch · 2 days ago

Text

LOVE - LOCKED | FC43

an: this is based off of this request and i hope you like it bc i had sm fun writing a romantic slightly angsty thing i cant wait to hear what y'all thin, i also think it may be slightly rushed tho so lol ALSO LOL WE'RE GONNA PRETEND CARLOS IS YOUNGER IN THIS BC I NEEDED HER TO BE HIS OLDER SISTER

summary: carlos' sister has lived her life completely separated from him and their family name, instead she went and made a name for herself in the tennis world - she likes her life like that. that is until she meets franco colapinto

wc: 8.7k

The roar of engines, even from a distance, unsettled her.

They reminded her of the long days her father and brother spent in garages, the low rumble of motors and sharp tang of fuel in the air. Those were the hours she’d spend alone, working on her serve in the empty court across town, each hit ricocheting off the walls with a hollow, lonely echo. Her own choice, of course. She’d had no interest in the world of carbon fibre and grease, no desire to be the girl who simply tagged along, her name always in her brother’s shadow.

Now, years later, she’d become someone entirely on her own terms. A name people knew on its own — Vázquez de Castro — a name that meant something outside of her family, outside of her brother’s fame.

She slipped her phone into her bag and looked around the chaotic pit lane. Journalists, engineers, teams in matching shirts, faces alight with anticipation for the weekend's race. She knew she’d stand out here; her face might be familiar, but she was a stranger in this world.

The hum of voices around her faded as she felt his gaze. She’d been hoping to move through unnoticed, just a face in a sea of faces, but there he was: tall, familiar, unmistakably Carlos. His brow furrowed in surprise as he caught sight of her, his quick steps carrying him closer before she had a chance to dodge. She braced herself, turning to him with a calm that she didn’t quite feel.

“No aquí,” she murmured, her voice low, hoping that would be enough to keep curious ears at bay.

He paused, just a moment, his expression softening in understanding, and he tilted his head, his face somewhere between a grin and a frown. “You came.”

It wasn’t an accusation exactly — more surprise than anything. But she couldn’t miss the faint hope in his eyes, as if he thought she might be here to see him, to share a piece of his world after all this time. She let his words linger for a beat before she replied, her tone steady.

“I was invited,” she said, giving a slight shrug, “by Fernando.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the green and silver canopy, keeping her tone casual, but she saw his shoulders fall ever so slightly.

He nodded, glancing away for a moment, his jaw set. “Right. Fernando.”

There was something she wanted to say, something to soften the look in his eyes, but the pit lane was crowded, the eyes and cameras trained on every inch of the paddock sharper than she’d ever expected. They’d notice anything. And the last thing she wanted was for the papers to start spinning stories, putting her under a headline right next to him.

She touched his arm briefly. “Te hablo en el hotel. I’ll speak to you at the hotel.”

As she made her way toward the exit, ready to slip back into the background and disappear, she heard a voice calling out just over the rumble of engines and chatter.

“¡La princesa española!”

The words were unmistakable, lilting and clear, even with the crowd and machinery all around. The Spanish Princess. The nickname made her falter. It was something she sometimes heard on the tennis courts in Madrid or whispered by fans in distant cities when she played in international tournaments. But here? She scanned the area, puzzled at who would recognise her in this world of racing.

When she turned, her eyes met those of someone unfamiliar yet striking. He was tall, with an easy, disarming smile, his race suit gleaming with the bright, bold colours of his team’s livery. He looked young, not much older than she was, but he carried himself with that unmistakable energy she’d seen in rising stars before. The rookie, she realised, though she hadn’t kept up enough to know his name.

He held her gaze a moment too long, that same smile lingering as he approached, his eyes sparking with something between amusement and curiosity. She felt herself tense, almost involuntarily, her instinct telling her to slip away, to avoid whatever came next.

“Es realmente la princesa española,” he said, his tone playful yet certain.

Then it hit her.

Franco.

That was his name.

Franco’s grin widened as he closed the distance between them, his eyes bright with an almost boyish enthusiasm. “Soy un gran admirador de tu trabajo,” he said, his Argentine accent softening his words. “I’ve watched almost all your matches — I love the way you play.”

She blinked, taken aback. This wasn’t the usual kind of recognition she got, especially not here. She could count on one hand how many times she’d been recognised in public. She looked at him, trying to reconcile this confident young driver with the earnest fan in front of her.

“¿Me conoces?” The question slipped out before she could think, her voice tinged with disbelief.

He raised an eyebrow, his smile never faltering. “¿Quién no te conoce?” he replied, with a touch of humour. “La princesa española, queen of the clay court, unstoppable backhand — yeah, I know you.”

There was something genuine in his tone, something that set him apart from the usual strangers who said they knew her.

And before she could stop herself, she found herself almost smiling. She cleared her throat, searching for a response, but her mind was blank. What could she say? That she knew nothing of him, or any of these people — that she had only set foot here today by chance?

She settled for a simple, “Gracias.”

Franco’s curiosity didn’t waver. He leaned in slightly, folding his arms with an amused glint in his eyes. “So, what brings la princesa española to the F1 paddock?”

She shrugged lightly, careful not to reveal too much. “I’m here as one of Fernando Alonso’s guests. Aston Martin.” She left it at that, hoping he wouldn’t dig further. Noticing that she looked a bit like another driver on the paddock. Thankfully, he didn’t.

His grin only grew wider, and she had the feeling that her mystery intrigued him. “Well then, if you’re one of Fernando’s guests, that means you’re not tied to my team,” he said with a glint of mischief. “Come with me — I’ll give you a tour of my garage. It’ll be like… a private tour.”

She hesitated, her gaze shifting back toward the exit, where she’d planned to slip out and leave all of this behind. If she went with him, there was a chance people would recognise her, start to connect her with her brother’s world. She’d spent her whole career carefully avoiding this — the headlines, the whispers, the inevitable questions about why she’d chosen such a different path. But the look on his face, that open, boyish enthusiasm, was hard to resist.

She let out a sigh, then looked up at him with a sudden, defiant glimmer in her eye. “Screw it. ¿Por qué no?”

His whole face lit up. She could practically see the excitement radiating off him as he extended his hand, his confidence a little too easy, a little too certain. She eyed his hand for a moment before raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

“Modales,” she chided, her tone playful. “I’ve known you for five minutes. We’re not dating.”

“Yet,” he replied without missing a beat, a spark in his eyes.

Despite herself, she smiled, a real one, something she hadn’t felt since stepping into the paddock that day.

He led her through the bustling paddock with an easy confidence, weaving between crew members, equipment, and cameras as if none of it could touch him. She was impressed, though she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying so. The chaos of the pit lane, the narrow spaces and the clang of metal, all seemed to bend around him.

When they reached his team’s garage, he stopped by a young assistant stationed just outside, who looked at them with curious eyes.

“Do me a favour,” he said, barely containing his grin, “and grab a VIP lanyard for Williams’ guests, will you?”

The assistant glanced at her, his eyes widening slightly in recognition before he nodded and ducked away, returning a moment later with a crisp, team-branded lanyard. Franco took it with a pleased smile, then held out his hand for hers. She unclipped the Aston Martin lanyard from her neck and handed it over, watching with a mix of surprise and amusement as he replaced it with the one from his own team.

“There,” he said, adjusting the lanyard’s position with exaggerated care. “Now you’re officially part of the team.”

She couldn’t hold back her smirk. “You know, I don’t think lanyards change allegiances so easily.”

“Maybe not. But I do think it’s an improvement.” He winked, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “Besides, the only lanyard you should be wearing here is mine.”

She laughed, caught off guard by his unfiltered charm, as he held out his arm with an exaggerated flourish. “And now, mi princesa, a grand tour.”

He led her into the garage, his tone switching between informative and teasing as he explained the various stations. “Over here, we have the engineering bay — where the magic of data happens.” He gestured toward a row of monitors displaying endless streams of numbers. “And these guys in the corner? They’re the wizards of aerodynamics. Make a mess, they won’t let you forget it.”

As they moved through each section, he offered her a glimpse into the world of F1, his energy and excitement almost contagious. She watched him with quiet intrigue; he seemed to belong here completely, as if he thrived in the chaos and intensity of it all.

“Now, over here,” he continued, leaning a bit closer to her as they approached a sleek wall of tires and tools, “this is where I go for my pre-race pep talks. I think it helps the tires, too.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You talk to the tires?”

“Only on occasion,” he said with a mock-serious nod. “And they listen. Or at least, I hope they do.” He grinned again, that glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Besides, they never talk back.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, but there was a smile in it, one she couldn’t quite suppress. He was disarming, funny in a way that felt refreshingly different from the sharp, serious world she’d known. He noticed the hint of a smile and held her gaze, leaning in just slightly.

Before she could say anything else, Franco led her deeper into the garage, weaving through the maze of tools, car parts, and engineers, who looked up now and then with curious glances. She followed, intrigued despite herself, and finally, unable to keep silent, asked, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he said, shooting her a look over his shoulder that was both charming and infuriatingly vague.

He stopped in front of a nondescript door tucked away from the bustle of the main garage. She glanced around, realising they were in the private part of the team’s area. He opened the door to his driver room, gesturing for her to step inside. The room was small but comfortable, filled with team memorabilia, spare racing gloves, and a neat rack of team-branded clothes. Before she could take it all in, he went over to a stack of neatly folded shirts and pulled one from the pile.

He turned back to her, holding up the shirt with a proud smile. “Here,” he said, offering it to her. “Wear this tomorrow.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and the shirt with mock scepticism. “Bold of you to assume I’d wear your merch.”

His grin only widened. “I think you’d look great in it,” he said, undeterred. “Besides, it’d be an honour to have la princesa española in my colours.”

She took the shirt, running her fingers over the soft fabric, and met his gaze with a slight smirk. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me,” he replied, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. He looked like he wanted to say more, but just then, his phone buzzed on the nearby table, and he glanced at it with a slight frown before pocketing it again.

“So,” he continued, his tone shifting to something a little more casual, “what are you doing for dinner?”

The question surprised her. She hadn’t planned on lingering much longer after her brother’s race prep finished. She hadn’t planned on any of this, really. But he was watching her expectantly, and for a moment, she let herself consider it.

“Dinner?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion. “You’re not very subtle, are you?”

“Not at all,” he admitted with a grin. “What do you say? Let me take you out. I promise I’m as good at picking places to eat as I am at tours.”

She couldn’t resist a small laugh. “Alright,” she said, glancing up at him with an easy smile. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

He opened his mouth to say something more, but just then, a voice called out from down the hallway. “Franco man, we’ve been looking all around for you!” A team manager appeared in the doorway, looking equal parts exasperated and amused.

Franco sighed, flashing her an apologetic look as he straightened. “Duty calls,” he muttered with a smirk. He lingered a moment, as if reluctant to leave, then glanced back at her with a warm smile.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said, feeling a thrill she hadn’t expected. “See you tonight.”

He nodded, his grin returning full force, then turned to follow the manager out, giving her a final, backward glance that lingered just a second too long.

Back in her hotel room, she brushed a final touch of mascara over her lashes and glanced at her phone, where a text from Franco glowed on the screen.

Franco: “Ready whenever you are. No rush. See you soon :)”

She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Tonight felt surprisingly… normal. Like she was just someone getting ready for a date, no stakes attached. She straightened her dress, checked her reflection, and took a steadying breath.

A soft knock at her door snapped her from her thoughts, and she felt a small flutter of excitement, assuming it was him. But when she opened the door, her breath caught.

Her brother stood there, his expression a mixture of confusion and something she couldn’t quite read. She masked her surprise quickly, stepping aside to let him in, though her voice was firm. “I can talk for a bit, but I have plans tonight.”

“With Franco?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, caught off guard. “How did you know?”

He gave a soft, humourless laugh, crossing his arms. “I saw you two in the paddock,” he said. “And I overheard him talking about it in the garage. Apparently, he couldn’t stop telling anyone who’d listen about his ‘date with la princesa de España.’” He looked at her, and his voice softened. “So why is it you have no problem being seen with him, but not with your own brother?”

His question hung heavily in the air, the familiar tension between them settling back into place. She took a breath, struggling for the right words. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be seen with him — it was the weight of everything that came with it. The press, the fans, the inevitable comparisons. She could already see the headlines if they were spotted together, her name placed directly beside his, stripping away the hard-won independence she’d fought for.

She sighed, glancing at him. “It’s not… about you,” she said carefully. “It’s just… everything that comes with it. You know how it is.”

He shook his head, looking slightly hurt. “I don’t know, actually. I’ve always thought we were supposed to be in this together. But I feel like… I don’t know, like you’re just trying to run from anything that connects us.”

She sighed, leaning against the doorframe, her voice dropping to something softer, more serious. “It’s not that I don’t want to be seen with you,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I just don’t want to be known as Carlos’ sister everywhere I go. I’ve worked hard to build my own name, my own career, and sometimes… being around you, it overshadows that.”

Her brother studied her, his face a mix of understanding and something else, a flash of protective instinct. “You know, if you date Franco, you’ll just end up being known as his girlfriend,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “It’s just a date, Carlos. Nothing more.”

He shrugged, his mouth quirking in a small smile. “Yeah, well, with him, nothing ever stays ‘just’ anything. Just saying.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a warmth behind it. “Thanks for the concern, but I’ll be fine.”

They shared a quiet moment of understanding before she gently nudged him toward the door. “Go get some rest. And good luck tomorrow. I’ll be cheering from the sidelines.”

The evening was soft and cool, the sky painted in shades of violet and indigo as the city stretched out below them. The balcony they’d stepped onto was tucked away from the bustling noise of the hotel, private and intimate, offering only the sounds of the night breeze and the occasional far-off hum of the city.

Franco had arranged it all—quiet, serene, away from prying eyes. The dinner was simple but elegant: a few delicate dishes of fresh seafood, wine that wasn’t too heavy, just enough to let the conversation flow freely. It was just the two of them, and she realised as she stood there, her hand brushing the railing, how rare that felt.

She’d worn a dress that was understated, yet elegant—a deep midnight blue that mirrored the evening sky, the fabric light enough to catch the breeze. She hadn’t given it much thought; it wasn’t for anyone but herself. But when Franco first saw her, the look in his eyes told her that, maybe, it had been the right choice after all.

His gaze lifted from the table where he had been adjusting the wine glasses, and the moment he saw her, the words spilled out before he could even stop them.

“Dios mío, qué hermosa estás.” His voice was low, his gaze sweeping over her with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

She felt her cheeks flush, the compliment unexpected but not unwelcome. She had been nervous about the evening, unsure of what this was or what it would become. But his words, simple and sincere, relaxed something inside her.

“Gracias,” she replied with a small smile, feeling the warmth in her chest spread, her eyes meeting his.

He stood up, taking a small step toward her as if to take in the full picture, his gaze never leaving her face. “I swear,” he continued, his voice filled with genuine awe, “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even more stunning than earlier. It's like... you're glowing.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I think you’re just being kind.”

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head as he closed the distance between them. “I’m not the kind of guy to throw compliments around just to be polite. Te ves increíble, you look incredible.”

After a decent amount of eating, a stretched out silence, Franco spoke up. “So,” he began, his voice casual but warm, “what’s it like to be the la princesa española outside of tennis?”

She raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of her wine. “I don’t really think of myself as that,” she said lightly. “It’s just a nickname.”

“I don’t know,” he teased. “I think it suits you. You have a... regal air about you.” His eyes glinted with mischief as he added, “I’m sure you’d never get away with being late for anything. Everyone would just wait for the princess to show up.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “You really are persistent with those compliments, aren’t you?”

“Solo con la verdad,” he said with a grin, leaning back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself.

The evening unfolded easily after that. They spoke about everything and nothing: about their childhoods, what had brought them to this point in their careers, how it felt to always be in the spotlight. She told him stories from her tennis matches, and he shared wild tales of racing, of the constant pressure and adrenaline.

But it was the quieter moments, the small pauses between their words, that felt the most significant. When he leaned in to pass her the bottle of wine, their hands brushed, and the air seemed to thicken for a moment. His gaze lingered a bit longer than it needed to, and she noticed the subtle way his smile softened when their eyes met. She wasn’t used to this — this ease, this comfort that felt so unforced — but it was exactly what she hadn’t realised she’d been searching for.

“You know,” Franco said, his tone thoughtful, “I can’t remember the last time I had a night like this. Just—” He waved his hand toward the view, the quiet that surrounded them. “It’s nice. To not be rushing off to something. No cameras, no expectations.”

She looked out over the balcony at the skyline, the city lights twinkling in the distance. “I know what you mean. There’s always so much noise, so many people trying to pull you in different directions. It’s rare to just… be.” She turned to look at him, her voice lowering slightly. “It’s a little surreal, actually.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, there was a silence between them that felt like a shared understanding. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he looked at her, his expression genuine. “I’m glad you’re here with me tonight. I’m glad I got to spend this time with you.”

Her heart did a little flip at the sincerity in his voice. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from the evening, but this — this felt right.

“So,” he continued, his voice lightening again, “any chance I can convince you to wear my team’s shirt tomorrow?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he said with a wink, “but only because I know you’d look amazing in it.”

She rolled her eyes but could feel the warmth in her chest spread. “I’ll think about it,” she teased, mirroring his playful tone.

The conversation drifted back to lighter topics, the evening unfolding with ease as the world seemed to blur around them. As the night deepened, they shared stories, laughter, and quiet glances that spoke volumes. It wasn’t the fireworks, the grand gestures of a first date. But it was something else — something that felt like a beginning.

When the last of the wine was finished, and the candles flickered low, Franco stood, offering her a hand to help her to her feet. He didn’t say anything at first, but his eyes told her everything. His fingers brushed against hers, and she didn’t pull away.

As the night grew later, the air around them cooled, and they moved to the edge of the balcony, gazing out over the city. The quiet was comforting, the soft hum of distant traffic the only sound breaking the stillness between them.

She let out a small sigh, her mind wandering, and with it, the weight of everything that had brought her to this moment. She looked up at him, caught in the calm but uncertain about what this night might mean.

"Well, this has been lovely," she said, her voice light but tinged with something else. "But, just so you know… this is probably going to be our only date."

His eyebrows furrowed, his smile faltering for just a fraction of a second. “Why?” he asked, his tone suddenly laced with concern. “Have I done something wrong?”

She met his gaze, her chest tight for reasons she couldn’t quite place. There was no logical reason for her to feel that way — he had been nothing but kind, charming, and genuine all night. But there was still that lingering sense of hesitation, a wall she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to tear down.

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head as if to reassure him. “You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just… I don’t know if I can do this.”

He looked at her for a long moment, studying her face. The playful glint in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something softer, something quieter, as if he were trying to understand her better.

“I’m not really a person who runs from things," she said, her voice lowering slightly, unsure how to put her thoughts into words. “But there are parts of my life I’m... careful about. I can’t help but keep them to myself.”

She hesitated, feeling a strange tug in her chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, she found herself wanting to share something personal, something she had hidden away. She took a breath and let it slip out before she could second-guess herself.

“I have a brother,” she began, looking out at the city below them, trying to steady her voice. “He’s a Formula 1 driver.”

Franco froze, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Wait... what?”

She glanced at him, a slight laugh escaping her lips at the look of genuine surprise on his face. “Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “Carlos.”

He blinked, his surprise turning into a quiet sense of disbelief. “Carlos Sainz?” He repeated her brother’s name, almost as if he were trying to process it. “I had no idea…”

She looked at him, a slight sadness settling in her chest. “Most people don’t,” she said, her voice quiet now. “I never tell anyone. I’ve worked my entire life to be known for me—for what I do, not because of who I’m related to. I don’t want to live in someone’s shadow.”

Franco didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch out between them. He was thinking, she could tell. It was as though he were weighing her words, weighing the tension in her tone. Then, slowly, he spoke, his voice steady but sincere.

“With me, you wouldn't,” he said, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity that took her by surprise. “You wouldn’t be in anyone’s shadow. Not if you didn’t want to be.”

She was quiet for a long moment, his words sinking in. Part of her wanted to dismiss it, wanted to keep pushing away the idea of anyone in her life stepping into that shadow. But there was something in his eyes—something honest and unwavering—that made her hesitate. He wasn’t offering her fame or status. He was offering her something far simpler. The space to be herself.

Then, he said something that made her heart skip a beat.

“I’ll be your WAG,” he said, his voice surprisingly matter-of-fact, his smile just a little crooked.

She laughed, a quick, startled sound. “What?” she teased, shaking her head. “Are you serious? ‘WAG’—really?”

He leaned in slightly, the smile still on his face but his eyes unflinching. “En serio. I’m serious.” he added with a little more emphasis, the words flowing naturally from him.

Her laughter died down, replaced by a brief, curious silence. She was still processing his words, still trying to understand how it had escalated from a simple dinner to this.

“You’re joking,” she said softly, unsure whether to laugh or take him seriously.

“No,” he7 replied, his voice now calm, almost earnest. “I’m not. Look, I get it. The whole ‘WAG’ thing... it sounds ridiculous, I know. But the way I see it, we’d be a team. You’d have my back, and I’d have yours. No shadows, no expectations, just us. What we make of it.”

She took a step back, crossing her arms as she considered what he was saying. The idea of it felt foreign, a little intimidating, but something about it also felt right in a way she hadn’t expected. No grand gestures, no drama. Just… us, as he’d said.

“Don’t you think I’d look good in a sponsored Channel crop top?” he joked, and the thought of it made her laugh.

Before she could stop it, however, her mind flashed to her brother, to the years of keeping her life private, to the way she had fought so hard to remain in the background of her family’s legacy. And yet here was Franco, offering something different. He wasn’t asking her to be a part of his world—he was offering her a partnership, an equal footing.

For the first time that evening, she allowed herself to truly think about what that might mean. To be seen, not as someone’s sister or someone’s girlfriend, but just as herself.

“Maybe... maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” she said quietly, her voice uncertain but filled with a growing sense of possibility.

Franco looked at her, a quiet confidence in his eyes. “Entonces, we’ll figure it out together. No shadows. Just us.”

“Just us.”

“You better wear my shirt tomorrow,” he said, his voice teasing but hopeful.

She smirked, folding her arms across her chest as she looked at him. “I’ll think about it.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. “You better. I’ll be watching.”

She laughed, shaking her head at his persistence. “We’ll see.”

The next morning arrived with the usual rush, the anticipation of race day filling the air. She woke up to a sunlit room and a few messages on her phone, the familiar bustle of the paddock already beginning to take shape outside her window. As she moved around the room, preparing for the day ahead, her mind wandered back to the previous evening.

She stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair back into a sleek ponytail, glancing over her outfit choices. She’d packed a nice pair of fitted trousers and a smart blouse for the day. But then, as she opened her suitcase to grab something, she saw it—the shirt.

It was sitting on top of her suitcase, folded neatly, the soft fabric of his team’s shirt catching the light. The sight of it made her pause. She could feel a flutter of uncertainty in her chest as she stared at the shirt. It wasn’t like her to let herself be swayed by someone else’s request. But something about Franco, about the way he’d looked at her, made her reconsider.

She bit her lip, considering her options. The shirt was casual, simple, but it also felt like a statement. She could wear it for him, just this once, maybe just to see how it felt. There was no harm in that, right?

She grabbed the shirt, examining it for a moment. It was an understated design—his team’s logo in the corner, a soft fabric, nothing too flashy. It wasn’t the sort of thing she would normally wear, but for some reason, she felt drawn to it. And then it hit her—maybe it wasn’t about the shirt at all. It was about the confidence to wear it, to stand beside him and let the world see her as she was, without hesitation.

She had a moment of inspiration.

Instead of simply slipping it on with jeans like she’d imagined, she decided to give it a bit of a twist. She styled it with an oversized blazer, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the shirt underneath, and a pair of high-waisted pants. The look was effortlessly cool, edgy, but still very much her. She paired it with a pair of sleek, minimalist sneakers, and, just before she finished, added a bold red lip to complete the ensemble.

When she looked in the mirror, she felt a sense of pride. It was a simple shirt, yes, but it was her way of wearing it. And somehow, it made her feel like she was making her own mark, not hiding behind anyone else’s expectations.

She grabbed her phone, checking the time, then sent Franco a quick message.

“I thought about it. I’ll wear the shirt. But only because it goes with my outfit.”

She added a playful winking emoji before hitting send, knowing that he’d appreciate the humour in it.

The morning was just beginning to pick up its pace as she finished getting ready. The weight of the day’s events, the race, the energy of the paddock, all began to settle in. But for the first time in a while, she felt a small sense of excitement, an eagerness she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t about the race itself, but about the people she was meeting, the connections she was making, and—perhaps most unexpectedly—what might lie ahead with Franco.

She was just about to head out of her hotel room when there was a knock on the door. She knew that knock—steady and familiar. Taking a deep breath, she opened it to find her brother standing there, his usual calm exterior softened by a quiet intensity in his gaze.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes searching hers.

She nodded, stepping back to let him in. She could tell he was a bit surprised when he saw the shirt she was wearing—the shirt of a rival team. He glanced at it, one brow raised slightly, but he didn’t comment, just closed the door behind him and leaned against the wall.

He took a deep breath, as if he’d been building up to this. “Are you… thinking of seeing him again?”

There was something tentative in the way he asked, a kind of brotherly concern that she hadn’t seen in a long time. She shrugged, trying to keep her tone casual. “Maybe. I’m considering it.”

He nodded slowly, looking away for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then, almost hesitantly, he said, “Why are you okay with being seen with him, and not with me?”

The question landed heavily between them, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to answer. She looked at him, seeing the vulnerability in his expression, the unspoken hurt in his eyes. It was rare for him to open up like this, to say exactly what was on his mind. She let out a long breath, searching for the right words.

“It’s different,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Different how?” he pressed, his tone gentle but persistent.

She met his gaze, feeling a lump rise in her throat. She hadn’t realised just how much this division had affected them both, how much it lingered in moments like these. “I never felt like I was a part of your world,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “It wasn’t just about you. It was Dad, too. He… he made it clear that I wasn’t cut out to be a part of it. I wasn’t… enough. Not like you.”

He looked at her, the quiet hurt in his eyes turning into something deeper, something sadder. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

She gave him a small, sad smile. “How could you? You were busy making him proud. And you were great at it. I always saw how he looked at you, how proud he was of everything you were doing. He saw you as this… continuation of him, of his legacy. But me… I was never part of that.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he processed her words. “I never wanted it to be that way. I thought you just didn’t care about what we were doing. I thought you were happy doing your own thing.”

“I am,” she said, and she meant it. “Tennis is my world; it’s where I feel strong, where I feel like I belong. But… it didn’t come without sacrifices. I grew up watching you and Dad bond over racing, and it was like there was this door between us that was shut for good. I could watch, but I couldn’t be a part of it.”

There was a long pause, her brother absorbing her words, the weight of years of misunderstanding settling between them.

“I wish I’d known,” he said finally, his voice soft, tinged with regret. “I thought… I thought you didn’t want to be a part of it. I thought it didn’t matter to you if Dad and I had that bond. But I get it now. I see what it must’ve felt like, standing on the outside.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken years filling the space between them. And then he added, “You know, you don’t have to keep yourself hidden to be in my life, right? I get it now. But it doesn’t have to be like that.”

Her throat tightened, a wave of unexpected emotion rising within her. She’d spent so long feeling like an outsider in her own family, so sure that her brother had never noticed. But now, here he was, standing in front of her, wanting to bridge that gap.

“It’s hard to just undo it all,” she admitted. “Sometimes, it feels easier to just… stay on my own path. To keep these things separate.”

He nodded, understanding. “But if you’re thinking of seeing Franco… letting yourself be part of his world… doesn’t it mean you’re ready to be seen? To be yourself, even in places that are unfamiliar?”

She considered this, his words striking a chord deep within her. He wasn’t wrong. She’d spent so long hiding parts of herself, keeping herself separate to avoid comparison or judgement. But with Franco, she hadn’t felt the same need. For once, she had felt like she could be herself—no shadows, no expectations.

“I think… I just want to find something that’s mine,” she said finally. “A space where I’m not just ‘your sister,’ where I don’t have to carry someone else’s legacy.”

Her brother gave her a soft, understanding look. “You’ve already done that. You are more than just my sister. You’ve made a name for yourself that has nothing to do with anyone else. You’re not living in anyone’s shadow… but if you ever want to step into our world—my world—I’d like to be part of yours too. Just… let me be there for you, even if it’s only sometimes.”

She nodded, feeling a sense of warmth, a sense of connection that hadn’t been there before. Maybe there was room for both worlds, after all. For the first time, she felt like she didn’t have to choose.

“I’ll think about it,” she said softly, echoing her words from last night.

He smiled, a hint of relief in his eyes. “I hope you do.”

With that, he gave her a quick, reassuring squeeze on her shoulder, a wordless acknowledgment of the unspoken bond they shared. And as he left, she felt a sense of closure, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep running from her family’s legacy to be seen as her own person. She could walk her own path, even if it sometimes crossed into theirs.

She arrived at the paddock a little while later, weaving her way through the bustle of race day, her heart beating a little faster than usual. Wearing Franco’s shirt under her blazer felt like a small, bold choice—one that had her both excited and slightly nervous. She walked through the crowd until she reached his team’s garage, where the energy was already crackling with anticipation.

As soon as she stepped in, Franco spotted her from across the garage. His face lit up the second he saw her, and he immediately started making his way toward her. When he was close enough, he lowered his voice and said in Spanish, a playful gleam in his eyes, “Wait here for just a second. Don’t move.”

Before she could respond, he turned and jogged back toward his driver’s room, leaving her standing in the middle of the garage, a little bewildered but smiling to herself. She watched as he disappeared into the room, curious about whatever he was planning. Within a moment, he was back, holding a bouquet of flowers—a mix of deep red roses and bright sunflowers, their colours vivid against the greys and metallics of the garage.

“For you,” he said, handing them over with a grin, his accent warm and lilting. His eyes softened as he added, “To celebrate your first race day as my guest.”

She took the bouquet, feeling a rush of warmth as she held the flowers. “You know, you didn’t have to do this,” she said, trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “I’m just here as… well, just as me.”

“And I think that’s worth celebrating,” he replied smoothly, his gaze locked on hers with unmistakable admiration. “Besides, you didn’t say no to the shirt, so I think I’m allowed a little celebration, no?”

She laughed, her cheeks warming as she looked down at the bouquet. “Alright, fine. You win. Thank you—they’re beautiful.”

Franco glanced around the garage, then leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a playful murmur. “You know, you’re even more beautiful than I remember from last night. I thought maybe I was exaggerating, but… no. I wasn’t.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “Careful, or I’ll start to think you’re trying to distract me from the race.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, chuckling. Then, as if struck by a sudden idea, he looked around the garage again and spotted one of his engineers nearby. Franco gestured to the man, who quickly nodded, understanding exactly what Franco was after.

The engineer handed him a headset, and Franco turned back to her, holding it up. “Here—so you can listen in and watch from inside the garage. You’ll get the best seat here.”

She blinked, surprised by the gesture. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You’ll get to hear all the comms, see how it all works up close. Plus”—he leaned in, his voice low—“you’ll have an excuse to stay around here.”

She shook her head with a smirk, taking the headset from him. “Alright. But only because you’ve convinced me with flowers and shameless flattery.”

“Good,” he replied, his grin widening as he watched her settle the headset over her ears. “I’ll keep it coming if it means you stay.”

As the team began their pre-race preparations, Franco showed her the best spot to watch from, and he took a few moments to explain some of the technical details. She found herself captivated, not just by the race, but by the way he was so eager to share his world with her. His enthusiasm was infectious, and despite herself, she felt the thrill of race day in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

Before he had to step away to start his own warm-up routine, he gave her one last look, his gaze holding a touch of that familiar mischievous glint. “Enjoy the show, princesa. And don’t go falling in love with the cars now—they’re not as charming as I am.”

She laughed, giving him a playful shove. “No promises.”

Franco winked, backing away with a grin as he joined the other drivers and team members preparing for the race. She stayed in the garage, feeling the weight of the headset and bouquet in her hands, both of them symbols of the way her world had shifted in just a few days.

As she watched him walk away, his words echoing in her ears, she realised just how different today felt. For the first time, she wasn’t just watching as an outsider; she was here, part of the energy, sharing a moment in his world, just as he’d promised. And maybe—just maybe—she was finally ready to be a part of something new.

The race was intense, the roar of engines filling the air as she watched Franco’s car weave through the track, making his way up from P16 to P12, gaining positions one by one with determined precision. Her heart raced with every turn, every overtake. She’d never felt the thrill of Formula One from this close before, and she found herself completely absorbed, balancing her attention between the live race and the screens in the garage that tracked every driver’s progress.

And then, in the final laps, her eyes moved to another part of the screen—a familiar car that was in the lead. A red car. Her brother was out front, defending his position with expert skill, pushing with everything he had toward the finish line. She held her breath, fingers tightening around the edges of the headset as she watched the seconds count down. When he crossed the finish line in first place, a feeling she hadn’t expected washed over her—pride, pure and radiant, filled her chest. She found herself clapping, cheering, a bright smile spreading across her face.

Franco, having just finished his own race and done the mandatory weigh-in and debrief with his engineers, finally found her in the garage. He looked exhausted but happy, his face still flushed from the adrenaline of the race. When he walked over, he paused, noticing the way her eyes were glued to the screen as her brother celebrated his victory, lifting his fists in the air in triumph.

“You’re glowing,” Franco murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched her reaction.

She blinked, glancing back at him and realising how giddy she must look. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think it would feel like this. I’m just… so happy for him.” Her voice was breathless, filled with a genuine joy she couldn’t hide.

He chuckled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “Then you should go to him. He’s probably waiting for you.”

She shook her head, hesitating, her gaze flickering back to the screen. “No, I couldn’t. I don’t… I don’t belong over there, with everyone. That’s his world.”

Franco tilted his head, giving her a knowing look. “Maybe that’s true most days. But today, you belong there just as much as anyone else. He’s your brother. Go celebrate with him. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

She bit her lip, uncertainty still holding her back. “I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

“Start with congratulations,” Franco said, flashing her a gentle, reassuring grin. “Trust me, it’ll be enough.”

He gestured toward the edge of the garage, where the barriers separated the track from the paddock. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded, taking a shaky breath as he guided her forward. The crowd around them was roaring with excitement as her brother’s car was pulled into parc fermé, fans and teammates celebrating around him. She could feel her heart pounding, each step filling her with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.

At the barrier, Franco gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Go on. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

With that, he released her hand, and she took a step forward, catching sight of her brother through the haze of people and cameras. He was laughing, practically glowing as he embraced his team, still basking in the thrill of his victory. And then, as if sensing her, he turned and saw her standing there, just beyond the barrier.

His expression softened, and a smile broke across his face, one that was filled with surprise and unmistakable happiness. Without a moment’s hesitation, he made his way over, reaching out to pull her into a tight, heartfelt hug. She hugged him back, feeling the last remnants of the old distance between them dissolve as she held her brother close, finally sharing in his moment.

When they pulled apart, he looked at her, pride shining in his eyes. “You came,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet gratitude. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

She laughed softly, tears threatening to sting her eyes. “I wouldn’t have missed it. I’m so proud of you.”

He grinned, leaning in to press a quick, brotherly kiss to her forehead. “Thank you. It means a lot that you’re here. Really.”

As the team around them cheered and the cameras continued to flash, she felt the enormity of the moment—a sense of belonging, not just as a tennis player, or his sister, but as herself.

She grinned at her brother, reaching up to ruffle his hair in a rare show of sibling affection. “Te quiero mucho, hermanito,” she said, her voice filled with warmth and pride. “I’m so proud of you, you know that?”

His smile softened, and he looked at her with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “Te quiero también,” he replied, wrapping her in one last quick hug. “Thank you for being here. Really.”

The moment was brief but profound, a quiet reassurance that, despite the different worlds they had each chosen, they were still connected. He glanced back toward his team, who were waving him over for post-race celebrations and interviews.

“I have to go,” he said, releasing her. “But I’ll see you later?”

“Of course,” she replied, giving him a nod and a small wave as he returned to his crew. She watched him for a moment longer, feeling a sense of pride she hadn’t felt in years—one that was entirely unclouded by the complexities of the past. Then she turned and made her way back toward Franco’s garage, her heart still racing from the intense energy of the day.

When she found him, Franco was waiting near the garage entrance, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a proud smile lighting up his face as he saw her approach.

“You did it,” he said softly, admiration in his eyes. “You finally let yourself be a part of all this.”

As she reached Franco, he turned to face her, his expression softening with a mixture of pride and relief as he took her hands in his. Her heart pounded, the intensity of the day lingering between them like a magnetic pull. She gazed up at him, her breath catching as she saw the warmth in his eyes—the genuine care and admiration there, as if he saw every part of her that she had worked so hard to keep separate.

Without a word, she stepped closer, her hand moving up to rest gently against his cheek. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze searching hers, as if waiting for her to close the last small gap between them. Finally, she leaned up, closing her eyes as her lips met his in a slow, lingering kiss.

The world around them seemed to dissolve, the roar of the crowd and bustle of the paddock fading as the kiss deepened. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, his touch both steady and tender. She felt the warmth of him seep into her, grounding her in the moment, and she responded instinctively, fingers threading through his hair as he held her tighter. There was a gentleness in his touch, but an undeniable passion too, a desire that built slowly between them.

Time slipped away as they shared this unguarded moment, the boundaries she had set for herself crumbling with every heartbeat. She could feel the strength in his arms, the quiet reassurance he offered, and a warmth that sparked through her, as if he was silently promising that he would be there, no matter what.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing a little harder, their foreheads touching as they lingered close, unwilling to step away. Franco’s thumb traced a gentle line along her jaw as he looked into her eyes, his gaze filled with an affection so deep that it nearly overwhelmed her. “I needed that push,” she murmured against his lips.

His arms came around her, but he laughed as he pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Come on,” he said with a teasing glint, “the cameras have probably caught enough kissing for one day.”

She chuckled, letting him lead her back toward the quiet of his garage, away from the noise and eyes of the crowd. For the first time, she felt an undeniable sense of belonging—not just to the world she had worked so hard to create for herself, but to this moment, with him, with her family. She’d finally allowed herself to be part of it all, and it felt right in a way she hadn’t expected.

the end.

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elikajinnie · 21 days ago

Text

You Taste So Sweet - P.S

P: Vampire!Sunghoon X Fem!Reader (16+)

Warnings: Blood, Blood Drinking, Teasing, Slight Stalking, Suggestive Content, Fated Lovers, Ambigious Ending, Predator/Prey.

Wordcount: 16,6k

Synopsis: A camping trip turns into a nightmare when a dare leads you to a vampire's castle. Instead of death, you find an alluring vampire who desires your heart and soul. As his obsession grows, you realize escaping his grasp may be impossible because he wants you more than anything.

a/n: as a kid.. i remember having a mega crush on the 3 vampire wives from Van Helsing :D but anyways, so i got some of the vampire ability ideas from @ yjskat on TikTok :) So credits to them! i also did alot of research for these themes :)

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Ever since you were young, you were captivated by stories of mythical creatures—centaurs galloping across ancient forests, sirens luring sailors to their doom, vampires lurking in the shadows, and werewolves howling at the full moon. But as fascinating as these tales were, you never believed them. Why would they exist in the real world, especially now, in an age of science and reason?

Maybe that’s why you found yourself standing in front of a hundred-year-old castle deep in the woods. It had started innocently enough—just a weekend camping trip with some friends, far away from civilization and the distractions of the internet. After the sun had long ago dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky a blanket of darkness, you had all gathered around the campfire, pulling out flashlights to illuminate your faces in the flickering glow.

The night began with laughter and harmless stories, but somehow, things had taken a turn. One of your friends had brought up a legend—a vampire said to live in a castle not far from where you had set up camp. At first, you scoffed. Vampires? In this day and age? No way.

That’s when the dare came up. Prove it. Spend the night in the castle, and if you came back in the morning with nothing to show but a few laughs, they'd drop it. You, stubborn as always, accepted without a second thought. How bad could it be?

But now, as you stood before the towering, ancient structure, its stone walls covered in moss and shadows that seemed to shift and breathe in the moonlight, the weight of your decision settled in. The castle loomed above you, its dark, jagged spires reaching into the starless sky. For a moment, you swore the whole place was alive, like the stone itself was moving beneath your feet, pulsing with something ancient.

The wind whispered through the skeletal branches of trees surrounding the castle, and the heavy iron gates creaked eerily in front of you, almost as if they were beckoning you in. You laughed nervously, trying to brush off the unsettling feeling creeping up your spine.

“There’s nothing here,” you muttered, tugging the strap of your bag tighter across your shoulder as if it could shield you from the growing unease. The gate groaned as you squeezed through the narrow opening, and with a deep breath, you started up the path toward the castle. Each step felt heavier than the last, and you couldn’t help but glance up at the looming structure. It was completely dark inside, not a single flicker of light behind the cracked, weathered windows.

You sighed, trying to shake off the creeping dread. Of course, it’s dark. No one’s lived here for ages. You were about to convince yourself of that when a sudden rustling beside you caught your attention. Instinctively, you whipped your flashlight toward the sound, heart pounding. A black raven sat perched in a twisted tree, its beady eyes fixed on you. For a moment, neither of you moved, staring each other down in the silent night. Then, with a sharp caw, it spread its wings and soared toward the castle, disappearing into the darkness above.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” you muttered under your breath, trying to ignore the way your pulse was racing. Forcing yourself to keep moving, you continued up the path, the shadow of the castle growing larger with each step.

The gravel crunched beneath your boots as you approached the heavy oak doors of the castle. The flashlight beam trembled slightly in your hand, casting long, jagged shadows on the stone. You paused in front of the entrance, staring up at the intricately carved door. The wood was ancient, worn down by centuries of wind and rain, yet still sturdy, almost intimidating.

You hesitated. Behind you, the forest was eerily silent, save for the distant rustling of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl. It was as if the woods were holding their breath, waiting for you to make a move.

Steeling yourself, you reached out and placed your hand on the cold metal handle. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, but you ignored it, forcing yourself to push the door open with a loud creak that echoed through the empty halls inside.

The air inside was thick and musty, the scent of dust and decay hitting you as soon as you stepped over the threshold. You swept the flashlight across the entrance hall, revealing towering pillars and grand, faded tapestries hanging from the walls. Cobwebs clung to the ceiling, and the floor was littered with debris—remnants of a place long forgotten.

You sighed again, this time in a mix of relief and unease. There was no sign of anything unusual. No vampires, no strange noises, nothing that would suggest the castle was anything more than an abandoned relic. “See? Nothing to worry about,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the vast, empty space.

But just as you were about to take another step, a loud thud echoed from somewhere deep within the castle. You froze, heart leaping into your throat as the sound reverberated through the halls. Your flashlight flickered for a second, casting the shadows into an eerie dance.

“It’s fine,” you whispered again, but this time, the words felt hollow. You weren’t so sure anymore.

You exhaled slowly, trying to steady your nerves. “It’s fine,” you muttered once more, as if saying it enough times would make it true. Deciding to set up camp before your imagination got the better of you, you unrolled your sleeping bag by the entrance. The cold stone floor sent a chill through your body as you knelt down, but you forced yourself to ignore it. After making sure your bag was securely in place, you sat back for a moment, listening to the unsettling quiet.

The idea of staying right by the door for the night was reassuring—at least you could make a quick escape if anything went wrong. But despite that small comfort, your curiosity gnawed at you. The castle felt… alive, in a way. You had already come this far, and the stories your friends had told around the campfire echoed in your mind, tempting you to explore further.

Grabbing your flashlight, you stood up, feeling an odd mixture of excitement and dread. You hadn’t come here just to sleep by the entrance. If you were going to prove there was nothing lurking in the dark, you had to see the castle for yourself. Maybe then you could return to camp in the morning and laugh it off with everyone else.

The long corridor ahead of you beckoned, its darkened arches seeming to stretch into the unknown. Your footsteps echoed against the stone as you cautiously made your way deeper into the castle. The air grew colder the further you went, as if the walls themselves were closing in around you.

The place was clearly abandoned, but it felt like you weren’t alone. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching you from the shadows.

Suddenly, you heard it again. Thud.

This time, it was louder, more distinct. It sounded like something heavy had fallen, or perhaps… something had been moved. Your breath caught in your throat as you turned in the direction of the noise, the beam of your flashlight trembling slightly.

“Hello?” you called out, immediately regretting it as your voice echoed down the hall.

There was no response, but the silence that followed felt different. Heavier.

Against your better judgment, you followed the sound, each step you took feeling like it carried you further into the unknown. At the end of the hall, there was a massive door, partially ajar. You approached cautiously, your hand hovering over the handle.

With a deep breath, you pushed the door open. It creaked loudly, revealing a grand staircase that spiraled upward into darkness. You hesitated, glancing back toward the entrance where your sleeping bag was waiting for you. For a moment, you considered turning back.

But something urged you on.

With the flashlight held tightly in your hand, you started up the stairs, each step amplifying the growing sense that something was lurking just out of sight.

You ascended the staircase slowly, each creaky step echoing louder than the last in the oppressive silence. The air grew colder with each step, and the darkness seemed to press in closer. Your flashlight’s beam flickered slightly, but you shook it, willing it to hold steady. As you neared the top of the stairs, a large, ornate doorway came into view, framed by heavy wooden doors that looked far sturdier than the ones downstairs. Unlike the rest of the castle, these doors seemed well-maintained, almost as if they were still in use.

With a deep breath, you reached out and pushed one of the doors open. It groaned loudly on its hinges, revealing what lay beyond: a grand ballroom. You stepped through the doorway, your breath catching in your throat.

The room was vast, with high ceilings and enormous windows draped with thick, faded curtains. A massive chandelier, still glittering despite its age, hung from the ceiling, casting a faint, ghostly glimmer as your flashlight passed over it. The floor beneath you was a dark, polished wood, still gleaming faintly despite the passage of time. The room, though worn, was far better kept than anything you had seen downstairs.

You scanned the room, taking in the details. Dust hung in the air, swirling in the faint beam of your flashlight, but the place didn’t feel abandoned like the lower levels had. The tattered tapestries and cracked pillars of the lower halls were replaced here by careful preservation. It was as if something—or someone—had been taking care of this part of the castle, long after the rest had been forgotten.

The eerie stillness of the ballroom weighed heavy on your shoulders. The faint echo of your footsteps on the wooden floor was the only sound. You swept the light across the room again, lingering on a grand piano in the far corner, its glossy surface free of dust. It looked as though it had been played recently, the lid slightly ajar, exposing the strings inside.

Your heart pounded in your chest, every instinct telling you this was wrong. It wasn’t just that the room was better kept than the rest of the castle—it was the strange, unshakable feeling that this place was waiting for something. Or someone.

You took a step closer to the center of the ballroom, glancing around nervously. Your footsteps were soft on the polished floor, but they felt impossibly loud in the quiet space. The air here felt heavier, as though something unseen lingered just beyond your sight.

Suddenly, you froze. From the far end of the ballroom, you heard it—a soft, almost imperceptible whisper that sent chills racing down your spine.

Your heart raced as you slowly turned toward the direction of the whisper. Raising your flashlight, you shone the beam across the far end of the ballroom. The light cut through the shadows, revealing nothing but the empty space where the sound had come from. No one was there. Just the eerie silence of the room, thick and suffocating.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, and called out, “Is anyone there?”

Your voice echoed back to you, bouncing off the high ceilings and polished floors, but there was no answer—only the hollow repetition of your own words. The stillness that followed made your skin prickle with unease.

Your grip on the flashlight tightened as you glanced around, feeling more disoriented by the second. Something was off. You knew it, but the logical part of your mind still clung to the idea that this was just an old, empty castle.

Then, you noticed something—a faint swishing sound, like fabric being stirred by a gentle breeze. You aimed your flashlight upwards and saw the source: a large window on the far wall, slightly ajar. The curtains, heavy and dark, shifted ever so slightly in the draft that crept in from the outside. The wind was toying with the edges of the fabric, making them sway back and forth like the room was breathing along with you.

You exhaled in relief, telling yourself that it was just the wind. That had to be it. The strange noises, the whisper—maybe it was just your nerves getting the better of you in this unsettling place.

But as the wind swirled through the crack in the window, the cold air carried something else with it—a faint, distant melody, barely audible. It sounded like music, haunting and old, drifting through the night like a ghostly remnant of something long past.

Your heart skipped a beat.

You shook your head, trying to shake off the creeping unease that had settled in your chest. It’s just the wind, you told yourself. An old building. No need to overthink it. The ballroom was strange, yes, but it felt safer than the decaying entrance hall you had set up camp in.

With one last glance at the open window, you turned and hurried back down the winding staircase. Each step felt faster as you tried to distance yourself from the unsettling whispers and sounds that still seemed to linger in the air. When you reached the entrance hall, you wasted no time gathering your things—your sleeping bag, snacks, and whatever else you had left behind.

As you packed up, the hard, cold stone beneath you was a stark reminder of how uncomfortable the night would be if you stayed here. The ballroom, despite its eerie atmosphere, at least had a smooth, polished floor that was far more inviting than the uneven stone slabs below. You figured you’d be able to sleep easier in a room that wasn’t as decrepit.

With your belongings secured, you made your way back up to the ballroom. The staircase creaked beneath your feet, but you ignored it this time, focused on the task at hand. When you reached the top and stepped back into the vast ballroom, the cool breeze from the window greeted you again, but it was gentler now, as if the castle had grown quiet in your absence.

You unrolled your sleeping bag in the center of the room, right under the chandelier. The polished wooden floor, though still cold, was a welcome change from the rough stone. After settling everything in place, you stood for a moment, staring around the ballroom. The eerie whispers were gone, and the faint melody you thought you had heard earlier was nowhere to be found.

You exhaled a long breath, trying to let go of the tension still gripping you. “It’s fine,” you said again, your voice soft in the stillness. The ballroom’s grandeur, though worn, had a strange comfort to it now, and maybe—just maybe—you could get some sleep here.

You sat in your sleeping bag for what felt like hours, though in reality, it had only been a short while. The ballroom was eerily quiet now, with nothing but the faint rustling of the wind from the slightly open window to break the silence. The air was still cold, but the polished floor was more comfortable than the hard stone downstairs.

Your flashlight sat beside you, its beam pointed toward the ceiling, casting soft shadows that swayed gently with the breeze. You kept glancing around the room, your eyes following the flickers of light, trying to shake the lingering feeling that something was watching you. But there was nothing. Just the grand, worn-down ballroom and the sound of your own breathing.

You pulled the sleeping bag tighter around your body, trying to warm yourself as the chill of the castle seeped in. The massive chandelier above you swayed ever so slightly, but you told yourself it was just from the draft coming in through the window. Your mind wandered back to your friends, probably huddled around the campfire, laughing at the ridiculous dare they’d set for you. It felt absurd now, sitting here alone in this massive, decaying castle, waiting for morning to come.

Finally, you decided it was time to get some sleep. There was no point in staying awake any longer, especially when nothing strange had happened since you’d returned to the ballroom. You took one last look around, reassuring yourself that everything was as it should be.

Lying down, you turned onto your side, pulling the hood of your jacket over your head as you curled up inside the sleeping bag. The quiet of the castle pressed in on you, the faint sound of the wind outside barely audible now. Your eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion from the long day finally catching up with you.

Eventually, sleep claimed you. The eerie stillness of the castle, once so unnerving, faded into the background as exhaustion took over. Wrapped tightly in your sleeping bag, you drifted into a restless slumber, your mind retreating from the strange surroundings.

But even in your sleep, something felt… off.

A faint sensation brushed against your cheek, gentle and cold, like the touch of a feather or a breeze. You hummed softly, stirring in your sleep. Your brow furrowed, and you shifted, turning onto your other side as if trying to escape the odd feeling. But the sensation returned, more insistent this time. The caress was cool and deliberate, like someone was carefully tracing the curve of your cheek.

You tossed slightly, murmuring, your body reacting to the touch but your mind too deep in the fog of sleep to fully register it. The sensation lingered, delicate yet persistent, as though whoever or whatever was responsible was toying with you, watching your every reaction.

You turned again, your breathing quickening in your sleep as the cold touch remained against your skin. Unbeknownst to you, a shadow loomed over your sleeping form, standing impossibly still. Gleaming eyes observed you with an unsettling intensity, the figure’s presence unseen but undeniably there.

And still, you slept—unaware of the watcher that hovered in the darkness above you.

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You slowly woke to the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the cracks in the curtains, illuminating the dust particles dancing in the air. The gentle warmth coaxed you out of your sleep, and you blinked a few times, trying to shake off the remnants of dreams that felt oddly vivid.

For a moment, you lay still, the events of the previous night rushing back to you. You remembered the whispers, the caress against your cheek, and the feeling of being watched. But as you glanced around the grand ballroom, the memories felt more like fleeting shadows than genuine threats. Everything appeared normal—the chandelier sparkled in the morning light, and the polished floor was still eerily silent.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself up and stretched, feeling the stiffness in your muscles from sleeping on the floor. After a quick glance around, you began to pack your belongings. You rolled up your sleeping bag and made sure you hadn’t left anything behind. It felt good to have made it through the night, and you were relieved that the castle hadn’t consumed you in the darkness.

Once you were ready, you retraced your steps back down the winding staircase, the air warmer as you stepped out into the sunlight. The forest greeted you with chirping birds and rustling leaves, and you couldn’t help but smile at the beauty of the morning.

The campsite wasn’t far from the castle, and as you approached, you could see your friends gathered around, still bright and cheerful. They looked up when they saw you, a mix of curiosity and excitement on their faces.

“How was it?” Yuna called out, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

You shrugged, trying to downplay your experience. “It was easy. Just an old, empty castle.” You didn’t want to admit the odd feelings you’d had or the strange sensations from the night before.

But your nonchalance only fueled their interest. “Come on! You can’t just leave us hanging like that!” Wooyoung chimed in, leaning forward with a grin. “We all want to see it now. Let’s go explore it together!”

Your stomach dropped a little at the thought, but your friends' enthusiasm was infectious. They began to gather their things, excitedly chattering about what they might find. You hesitated, glancing back toward the castle.

Still, you couldn’t let fear dictate your day. “Alright, let’s go,” you said, forcing a smile. After all, it was just a castle—nothing you hadn’t survived the night before.

As you set off toward the castle again, your heart raced with both apprehension and excitement. Maybe exploring with your friends would be a different experience entirely. After all, safety in numbers, right?

As you and your friends entered the castle once more, the atmosphere felt different with the warmth of the morning sun streaming through the windows. The grand ballroom was just as you had left it, a stunning sight in the daylight, with dust particles dancing in the rays of light.

“Wow, this place is amazing!” Wooyoung exclaimed, stepping into the ballroom and spinning around as if he were the star of a grand performance. “Imagine having a party here!”

You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, and the others soon joined him, their excitement palpable. Ji-Sun and Jiwon began to inspect the piano in the corner, while Mackiah wandered over to the chandelier, eyeing the outlines of the crystal fixtures with wonder.

“Okay, where to next?” Wonbin asked, looking around. “We should check out that staircase.”

The grand staircase spiraled upward, and with eager agreement, the group moved toward it.

As you ascended the staircase, you noticed the details of the castle more keenly—the intricate carvings on the banisters and the faded portraits hanging on the walls, their subjects gazing down at you with expressions both regal and haunting. At the top, a balcony overlooked the ballroom, and the view was breathtaking.

“Look at this!” Jiwon exclaimed, leaning over the edge. “Can you imagine the parties they must have had here?”

“It must’ve been incredible,” you replied, peering down at the empty space below, which now felt less intimidating in the light of day.

From there, you and your friends explored the various hallways branching off from the balcony, each leading to old rooms that seemed frozen in time. The doors creaked as you pushed them open, revealing dusty bedrooms, a library filled with crumbling books, and a dining room where the remains of an old banquet still lingered in the air.

“This is wild,” Ji-Sun said as she flipped through the pages of a weathered book, its title long faded. “I can’t believe this place hasn’t collapsed yet!”

Your friends moved through the rooms, each one filled with awe and curiosity. You found yourself drawn to a small alcove with an old tapestry depicting a grand feast, the colors faded but still vibrant in their depiction of revelry. It was a stark contrast to the silence of the castle now.

But as you all continued your exploration, you were oblivious to the dark figure that had followed you. A black raven lingered just outside, its beady eyes watching your every move with an unsettling intensity. It cawed softly, as if keeping watch over the group as you wandered deeper into the castle.

“Hey, check this out!” Wooyoung called from a room at the end of the hall, his voice echoing off the walls. “I think I found a secret passage!”

You turned to see him gesturing excitedly toward a hidden door cleverly concealed by a heavy curtain. The thrill of discovery sparked a rush of adrenaline within you, pulling you closer to the group. As you approached, the raven flapped its wings, disappearing into the shadows of the castle.

“What do you think is behind it?” Mackiah asked, peering over Wooyoung’s shoulder.

“Only one way to find out!” Ji-Sun said, stepping forward with a bold grin.

The group gathered around, anticipation buzzing in the air as Wooyoung pulled back the curtain, revealing the door.

With a deep breath, Wooyoung grasped the handle of the concealed door and pulled it open. It creaked ominously, the sound reverberating through the stillness of the hallway. The group leaned in closer, peering into the dimly lit passage that lay beyond. A cool breeze wafted out, carrying with it the faint scent of must and something else—something earthy.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, glancing at your friends. The thrill of adventure coursed through you, but the shadows lurking just beyond the door felt unnervingly alive.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Ji-Sun encouraged, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Mackiah and Wonbin exchanged amused glances, clearly eager to explore. “Besides,” Wonbin added, “if it’s just a storage room or something, we can always turn back.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, you nodded, curiosity overtaking your apprehension. The group stepped forward, with Wooyoung leading the way into the passage. You followed closely behind, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

The narrow hallway was dark, with only the flickering beam of your flashlight cutting through the gloom. The walls were lined with ancient stone, and cobwebs hung from the ceiling like delicate lace. You could hear the distant sound of your friends’ footsteps echoing off the walls as they ventured further in.

“Whoa, look at this!” Ji-Sun’s voice echoed back to you, her tone a mixture of awe and disbelief. You hurried to catch up, your flashlight illuminating the space ahead.

You emerged into a larger chamber, and gasps of wonder filled the air. The room was vast, its ceiling arching high above, supported by sturdy stone columns that reached toward the dark ceiling. At the center stood a large, circular table, surrounded by mismatched chairs that looked like they hadn’t been touched in decades. Dust motes danced in the light as you stepped closer.

“This must be where they held meetings or something,” Jiwon mused, brushing her fingers along the table’s surface, revealing intricate carvings underneath the layer of dust.

“Or maybe it was a secret gathering place,” you suggested, the idea thrilling you. “Like for a hidden society or something.”

As you explored the room, you noticed an old fireplace along one wall, its mantel adorned with faded photographs in gilded frames.

“Hey, look at these!” Wonbin called from the fireplace, his voice drawing you over. “These people look kind of… creepy.”

You approached and squinted at the photographs. Indeed, the faces of those in the images seemed to have an unsettling intensity, their gazes almost following you as you moved. You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you shook it off.

“Just old pictures,” you said, attempting to sound more confident than you felt.

Suddenly, from the corner of your eye, you spotted movement. You turned, instinctively pointing your flashlight toward the shadows, but saw nothing. Your heart raced, and you glanced back at your friends, who were all engrossed in their own discoveries.

“Did anyone else see that?” you asked, your voice slightly shaky.

Your question was met with puzzled looks. “See what?” Ji-Sun replied, frowning.

“Never mind,” you said, trying to brush it off. The shadows danced just out of your flashlight's reach, but there was something about the air that felt charged, as if it held secrets waiting to be uncovered.

As the group continued to explore the room, a sudden rustle echoed from the passage you had entered. Everyone froze, their heads snapping toward the source of the sound. A cold breeze swept through the chamber, carrying the faintest whisper, barely audible, yet distinct—like a voice calling from the depths of time.

“What was that?” Jiwon whispered, her eyes wide with apprehension.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you turned your flashlight toward the entrance. The shadows shifted, and you felt an inexplicable urge to flee the room, a instinct clawing at you from deep within. But you also felt a strange compulsion to stay.

You took a deep breath, ready to voice your concerns, when suddenly, the whispering grew louder—a chorus of hushed tones that seemed to echo from all around you, sending chills racing down your spine.

You glanced at your friends, who were all looking back at you with wide eyes, clearly feeling the same unsettling energy.

“Guys… I think we should leave,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

But before anyone could respond, a loud thud resonated from the passage behind you, sending everyone jumping back. The tension in the air became palpable, and you could feel the fear rising among the group.

“What was that?!” Wooyoung exclaimed, his bravado fading.

“I don’t know, but I think we should get out of here,” you urged, your heart racing.

Just as you all turned to make your escape, a sharp hissing sound sliced through the air, causing you to freeze in your tracks. The noise reverberated in the cavernous room, echoing ominously off the stone walls.

“What was that?!” Wonbin asked, his voice laced with anxiety.

You all instinctively looked up, and the sight that met your eyes made your blood run cold. A mass of bats hung from the ceiling, their wings folded tightly against their bodies, and their yellow eyes glimmered in the dim light like tiny lanterns. They swayed slightly in the draft, their presence looming like a dark cloud overhead.

“Oh man, this is not good,” Mackiah whispered, taking a step back.

The hissing intensified, a cacophony of flutters and screeches that sent a wave of panic through the group. The bats began to stir, their wings rustling as they seemed to sense the movement below.

“Do you think they’re… friendly?” Ji-Sun ventured, though her tone was far from convincing.

You shook your head, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. “I don’t think we should stick around to find out.”

As if sensing your fear, the bats suddenly took flight, swirling around in a chaotic flurry. Their wings created a thunderous sound that filled the chamber, making it hard to think or hear. In a panic, your friends began to scatter, trying to find a way out of the room.

“Run!” you shouted, urging everyone to move.

You bolted toward the exit, your heart pounding in your chest as the bats whirled around you. The sheer force of their wings felt like a gust of wind, pushing against you. You could hear your friends behind you, their shouts mingling with the chaotic cacophony of fluttering wings.

You dashed through the doorway, stumbling slightly as you exited the large chamber, and you could feel the cool air of the hallway hitting your face. It was quieter here, but you could still hear the flapping of wings echoing behind you.

“Keep moving!” Ji-Won yelled as she caught up to you, her eyes wide with fear.

You all sprinted down the hallway, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The hissing had faded to a distant memory, but the shadows felt alive, pulsating as you dashed past them.

“Where do we go?” Jiwon panted, glancing nervously over her shoulder.

“Back to the ballroom!” you suggested, hoping it was the safest place.

You veered toward the grand ballroom, bursting through the doors, you skidded to a halt, panting heavily.

“Is everyone here?” you gasped, quickly counting heads.

“Yeah, but what was that?” Wonbin asked, trying to catch his breath.

“I don’t know, but those bats… it felt like they were warning us or something,” you replied, glancing back at the door as if expecting the creatures to follow.

“They were creepy!” Ji-Sun exclaimed, her voice shaky. “We need to get out of here before something worse happens!”

You nodded in agreement, and the group gathered together, looking around for a way to leave the castle behind. The sunlight streaming through the ballroom windows was comforting, but the thought of returning to the depths of the castle sent chills down your spine.

“Let’s head back outside,” you suggested, moving toward the grand entrance.

As you approached the massive doors, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still watching you from the shadows. You paused, glancing back toward the hallway, half-expecting to see anything, but there was nothing.

“Are we all ready?” you asked, your voice steady despite the anxiety thrumming beneath the surface.

With a series of nods, you pushed open the heavy doors, and the bright light flooded in, illuminating the worn stone path ahead. Stepping outside felt like stepping back into reality, and the cool breeze was a welcome relief.

“Let’s get back to camp and enjoy the rest of the day,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “No more creepy castles for now.”

With a collective sigh of relief, the group started to make their way back, the tension from the bats and shadows slowly fading as laughter and chatter resumed.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of lightheartedness, a stark contrast to the unsettling events of the morning. Once you all returned to camp, the tension eased with every hour spent lounging in the sun, telling jokes, and sharing snacks around the firepit. The eerie weight of the castle seemed to vanish in the daylight, and by mid-afternoon, the memory of the bats and the cold whispers in the shadows felt more like a strange dream.

Wooyoung and Mackiah led the charge in cooking a hearty dinner—grilled meat and vegetables wrapped in foil, while Ji-Sun and Jiwon worked on creating s'mores, laughing over burnt marshmallows and chocolate smeared on their faces.

Yuna sitting by you leaned back on her elbows, gazing up at the sky as it began to change hues from bright blue to shades of orange and pink.

“This is perfect,” she sighed. You only nodded in agreement.

By the time night fell, everyone was pleasantly tired. The campfire crackled as the flames danced, illuminating the circle of your friends' faces with a soft glow. You wrapped yourself in your blanket, the chill of the night air seeping in but held at bay by the fire's warmth.

“Well, I think that was enough adventure for one trip,” Wooyoung said with a yawn, stretching his arms overhead.

“Yeah, no more creepy castles for me,” Jiwon added, rubbing her arms as if she could still feel the cold draft of the castle's hallways.

As the conversation lulled, the stars appeared one by one in the clear sky above. Exhaustion from the day's excitement began to settle over everyone, and soon enough, one by one, your friends slipped off to their tents.

You watched the fire die down, the embers glowing faintly as the world around you grew quiet. The rustling of the wind in the trees and the soft chirping of distant crickets became the only sounds. After a few moments, you finally stood up, feeling the weight of sleep tugging at you as well.

“Time for bed,” you whispered to yourself, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders as you headed toward your tent.

Once inside, you unrolled your sleeping bag, the familiar scent of the forest around you somehow comforting. You glanced around, hearing the faint movements of your friends as they, too, settled in for the night.

Lying down, you shifted into a comfortable position, letting the soothing sounds of the forest wash over you. Your eyes grew heavy as you listened to the distant hooting of an owl, its call echoing through the trees. The peace of the camp surrounded you, and with a long sigh, you allowed yourself to drift into sleep.

But as you slipped further into unconsciousness, a cold breeze seemed to sweep through the tent, the kind of chill that felt familiar, like the air inside the castle. You stirred slightly, but exhaustion kept you from fully waking. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a flicker of unease crept in, as if something had followed you back from the castle—something unseen, waiting in the shadows.

Yet you didn't open your eyes.

੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

You woke with a start, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. The sensation of soft, velvet sheets beneath your fingers sent a surge of confusion through you. This wasn’t your tent. This wasn’t the camp.

Sitting up quickly, you glanced around the room, your heart pounding as you took in your surroundings. The room was grand—far too grand. The bed you sat on was enormous, draped in luxurious fabrics with dark, ornate wood framing it. Heavy curtains hung at the tall windows, blocking out all light except for a faint glow filtering through the gaps.

No. No, no, no, your mind screamed.

You were back in the castle.

“How…?” you muttered to yourself, throwing the covers off as you stood, your legs shaking slightly as they hit the cold stone floor. You tried to recall how you got here, but your memory was a blur. The last thing you remembered was falling asleep at the campsite. You had been with your friends, safe beneath the stars.

“What’s going on?” you whispered, your voice echoing in the oppressive silence.

You hurried to the door, your pulse racing as you grabbed the handle and pulled it open. The hallway beyond stretched endlessly, lit only by the faintest light from flickering wall sconces. You stepped out, the cold draft brushing past you, making you shiver.

Each step echoed in the stillness as you walked through the corridor, your footsteps hesitant but driven by a gnawing urgency to understand what was happening. The castle felt different now—more alive, more… aware. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as though you were being watched.

Then, as you rounded a corner, a sound drifted toward you—soft, haunting, and unmistakable.

A piano.

Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized the melody. It was faint, almost like a whisper carried by the wind, but it was there. A sad, melancholic tune that tugged at your soul. The same piano that stood in the ballroom.

You swallowed hard, feeling an icy chill settle over you. The ballroom. The same room where you and your friends had explored earlier, where you had seen the bats and felt the castle's lingering presence.

The sound grew louder as you followed it, your body moving almost of its own accord as you passed through familiar hallways, each one more ominous than the last, until you reached the massive double doors of the ballroom.

The haunting melody played on, drawing you closer.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open, the creak of the hinges echoing through the cavernous room. Inside, the ballroom was just as you remembered, but something was different. The light was dim, casting long shadows across the floor, and in the center of the room, sitting at the grand piano, was a figure.

They were cloaked in darkness, their form barely visible in the faint light, but their hands moved gracefully over the keys, producing the haunting melody that had lured you here.

You took a step forward, your breath catching in your throat as you spoke, your voice shaky. “Hello?”

The figure didn’t respond, continuing to play as though unaware of your presence. The melody swirled around you, tugging at something deep inside, making your chest tighten with an inexplicable sorrow.

Your feet moved on their own, carrying you closer until you stood at the edge of the ballroom floor, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows over the room. The figure finally stopped playing, their hands resting on the keys.

In the silence that followed, you felt the weight of their gaze, though you couldn’t see their face clearly.

“Why… why am I here?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, but the question hung in the air like a plea.

The figure slowly rose from the bench, the shadows clinging to them like a second skin. Then the figure turned slowly toward you, stepping fully into the faint light, and you froze in place, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his presence. He was tall, much taller than you had imagined, his long black cloak accentuating his height and flowing gracefully with his every movement. The shadows seemed to cling to him like they belonged to him.

His pale skin contrasted starkly with his dark hair, which framed his sharp, otherworldly features. His face was elegant yet unnerving, the kind of beauty that both mesmerized and unsettled. His strong, defined jawline and sharp nose gave his face an aristocratic appearance, while a few faint moles dotted his otherwise perfect complexion. His thick, dark eyebrows added a commanding intensity to his gaze, one that made it hard to look away.

But it was his eyes that held you captive—piercing and gleaming like two pools of silver, reflecting the faint light in a way that felt almost inhuman. They stared at you with an unnerving intensity, as though they could see through you, past the surface, into the deepest parts of your soul.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, slow and deliberate, as though he found some silent amusement in your reaction. His presence was overwhelming, like the very air in the room shifted to accommodate his power. You could feel it, a heavy, ancient energy that radiated from him, seeping into the space between you.

"You are not afraid," he said, his voice smooth and low, carrying an almost hypnotic quality. He took another step closer, and your pulse quickened, though your feet remained rooted in place. "Curious, perhaps… but not afraid."

His words sent a chill down your spine, but you couldn’t bring yourself to back away. His beauty was haunting, but there was something dangerous beneath it, something ancient and powerful. The way he moved, the way he looked at you—it was as if he had all the time in the world, as if he had been waiting for you specifically.

“Who are you?” you managed to ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

He didn’t answer immediately, his intense gaze never leaving yours. Instead, he reached out slowly, his pale fingers brushing against a lock of your hair, almost tenderly. His touch was cold, but the gesture felt oddly intimate.

"You will know soon enough," he whispered, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you. "But for now, consider yourself… a guest."

The way he said it made your stomach twist. A guest in this castle, or something else entirely? You weren’t sure you wanted to find out.

A sudden caw echoed through the room, piercing the tension like a knife. The raven from earlier swooped down through the open window, its wings flapping as it landed on the ledge. His attention shifted, his cold, gleaming eyes breaking away from yours for just a moment.

It was enough.

The spell that had held you frozen broke, and you gasped for breath, your body suddenly free to move. Without thinking, you turned on your heel and ran, the sound of your heartbeat roaring in your ears. Your legs moved as fast as they could, carrying you toward the ballroom doors, your only thought to escape.

But just as you were within reach of the exit, the heavy wooden doors slammed shut with a thunderous boom. The impact left the room in total darkness, as though the very light had been snuffed out by some unseen force.

A scream tore from your throat, but it barely reached your own ears over the rush of adrenaline. Panic surged through your veins as you spun around, desperate to see where he had gone. But the darkness was impenetrable, and where he had stood moments before was now just a void.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you fumbled toward the door, hoping—praying—it would open. But before you could even touch it, you were met with a pair of glowing red eyes, gleaming like embers in the blackness. They were upside down, hanging just inches from your face, and you stumbled backward, your heart nearly stopping.

“You’re not leaving so soon, are you?” His voice was smooth, with an edge of mockery, as if he were disappointed. You could almost hear the smirk in his tone as he added, “It’s impolite to leave without saying goodbye.”

His red eyes bore into you, his tone calm but menacing, and your body reacted before your mind could catch up. You turned and ran again, darting toward any exit, any escape.

"I love it when they run," you heard him say from behind you, his voice almost a purr.

Your heart raced even faster, and you sprinted through the ballroom, past the pillars, through the shadows, your every instinct screaming to get away. The castle was a maze, but you didn’t care. You had to get out, even if it meant throwing yourself blindly into the unknown corridors ahead. The echo of your footsteps was the only sound as you ran, knowing—feeling—that he was right behind you, enjoying every second of your terror.

As you ran through the dark, twisting corridors of the castle, his voice seemed to follow you, wrapping around your thoughts like a cold fog. It wasn’t loud—it was more like an echo, a taunting whisper in your ears, weaving in and out of your mind, always there no matter how far or fast you ran.

"You think you can escape?" his voice purred, teasing, as though the chase amused him. "There is no escape from me. Not here."

Your breaths came in short, desperate gasps as you darted down another hallway, your legs burning with every frantic step. His presence loomed behind you, unseen but felt, a shadow just out of reach. You could hear his low chuckle, an infuriating sound that sent chills down your spine.

"I could catch you any time I wanted," he said, the words floating around you like smoke. "But this… this is so much more entertaining."

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest, the thudding of your pulse so loud you were sure he could hear it. His voice was so close now, almost like he was whispering directly into your ear.

"I can hear it, you know. Your heart," he murmured, the satisfaction clear in his tone. "It’s beating so fast. So wild. I can feel your blood thrumming beneath your skin, calling to me. So sweet, so tempting."

The way he spoke about your heartbeat, your blood—it made your skin crawl. You turned another corner, stumbling slightly as your fear overtook you, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

"You’ll end up in my arms eventually," he continued, his voice velvet-smooth and filled with certainty. "Why fight it? You're running in circles, and we both know how this ends."

You pushed yourself harder, the overwhelming dread threatening to consume you. His voice wrapped tighter around your mind, mocking, as if he knew every thought, every fear coursing through you.

"And to think," he said, his voice dripping with amusement, "you didn’t even believe. You scoffed at the idea of my kind, so sure of yourself. So sure it was all just folklore."

He laughed then, a soft, mocking sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Now look at you—running from the very thing you denied. How ironic."

Tears stung your eyes, not from pain, but from the sheer helplessness of the situation. His presence felt suffocating, growing stronger with every passing second. You could feel him behind you, his gaze like a predator's, tracking your every move, savoring the chase.

You kept running, but in the pit of your stomach, you knew he was right. This was his game, and he was in complete control. The vampire wasn’t just toying with you; he was savoring your terror.

You suddenly skidded to a halt, your chest heaving as you stared ahead. A dead end.

Panic surged through you, your heart racing faster than before. You turned, pressing your back against the cold stone wall, eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of him. But there was nothing. The hallway behind you was empty, silent except for the faint echo of your ragged breathing. Yet, you knew he was there. Somewhere in the shadows, waiting, watching.

Your breath hitched as your fingers brushed against the stone at your back, searching for any way out, any escape from this nightmare. Just then, you felt something—a click beneath your palm. You barely had time to register what it was before the wall behind you shifted.

With a sudden jolt, the stone gave way, and you let out a small noise of surprise as you stumbled backward. The floor beneath your feet disappeared, and before you could react, you were sliding—falling into darkness as the wall sealed shut above you.

The stone passage gave way to a steep, slick tunnel, and you slid down fast, the air rushing past you as the world blurred around you. Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands grasping at the smooth, unforgiving surface as you tumbled deeper into the unknown. There was no way to stop yourself, no way to control the rapid descent.

The tunnel twisted and turned, and you had no idea where it led—or if it would ever end. All you knew was that it was taking you farther from him, away from the overwhelming presence that had haunted you. But at what cost?

After what felt like an eternity, the tunnel spit you out onto a hard, damp floor. You gasped, the impact knocking the wind from your lungs as you lay there, disoriented, the cold seeping through your clothes. The room you found yourself in was dimly lit by torches mounted on ancient stone walls, the flickering light casting long shadows. It looked like an underground chamber, far beneath the castle.

For a moment, you just lay there, catching your breath, trying to process what had just happened. You’d escaped—at least for now. But as the adrenaline began to fade, the terror settled in once more. You had no idea where you were, no idea how deep into the castle you had fallen.

And no idea if he was still following you.

You pulled yourself up onto shaky legs, looking around the chamber, your eyes catching on a doorway at the far end. It seemed to lead further into the labyrinth beneath the castle. You swallowed hard, a sense of foreboding settling in your gut. But you couldn’t stay here. You had to move, to keep going, even if it meant diving deeper into this strange, twisted place.

You glanced behind you, half-expecting to see those glowing red eyes emerge from the shadows. But for now, there was only silence.

You pushed yourself foward, your legs trembling as you forced them to move. Every step felt heavy, the fear still gripping you like a vice. The chamber stretched out ahead of you, dim and eerie, the flickering torchlight casting long, dancing shadows across the stone walls.

You hesitated at the doorway, staring into the hallway beyond, a narrow passage lined with more rooms, each one giving off an air of something long-forgotten. You swallowed hard, the silence around you oppressive, and took a tentative step forward.

The first room you passed was small, the door slightly ajar. Curiosity mixed with dread as you nudged it open further, revealing its contents. In the center of the room sat a single coffin, its lid partially cracked open, the heavy wood creaking under its own weight. Your breath hitched as you moved closer, half-expecting something to leap out from within.

But it was empty.

Just an old, decaying coffin, its insides lined with faded velvet. You backed away slowly, glancing over your shoulder as you left the room behind, hoping that whatever had been inside had long since departed.

As you moved further down the passage, you found another room. This one was larger, the door hanging loosely from its hinges. The coffin here was fully closed, the surface covered in a thick layer of dust. You stepped inside, your footsteps echoing in the stillness as you circled it, unease prickling at the back of your neck. Something about this room felt different—heavier, somehow. But when you finally gathered the nerve to push the coffin lid open, you found it empty too.

One by one, you passed through room after room, each holding a coffin at its center. Some were open, revealing nothing but darkness inside. Others were sealed tight, but there was no sign of life—or unlife—in any of them. The further you went, the more the rooms began to blur together, all holding the same macabre centerpiece. The coffins, despite their ominous presence, seemed abandoned.

But why?

You shuddered, the silence pressing in around you like a weight, each breath you took feeling like a strain. This place wasn’t just old—it was ancient, steeped in something far darker than time. You couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn’t a mere crypt. It felt like a lair.

And if these coffins were empty… where were their inhabitants now?

The question sent a chill down your spine, and you quickened your pace, moving from room to room, hoping to find an exit, an escape from this twisted place. But the longer you wandered through the labyrinth of coffins, the more you felt the walls closing in on you.

As you reached the end of the hallway, your breath shallow and your nerves on edge, you hesitated in front of the final door. The wood was polished, untouched by time or decay, standing in stark contrast to the worn stone and dilapidated coffins behind you. Something about this door felt different—almost inviting, as if it didn’t belong in the same world as the crypt-like rooms you had passed through.

Slowly, you reached for the handle and pushed the door open.

What you found on the other side left you momentarily speechless. It wasn’t the cold, dark chamber you had expected. Instead, you stepped into a room that felt strangely… warm. Cozy, even. The scent of aged wood and faint traces of smoke from long-dead fires hung in the air, and the soft glow from several lamps bathed the room in a golden light.

The room was well-kept, utterly free from the dust and decay that plagued the rest of the castle. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound tomes that looked like they had been carefully preserved over centuries. Plush couches and chairs were scattered around the room, their rich, dark fabrics pristine as if waiting for guests to arrive. Empty fireplaces dotted the walls, their mantels adorned with intricate carvings and relics. The ambiance was one of strange elegance and a sense of deep history.

But what caught your attention most were the portraits hanging on the walls. You walked closer, your eyes widening in recognition. The first painting was of the man, tall and regal, with the same otherworldly beauty as you had encountered in the ballroom. His dark hair fell in loose waves around his face, and though he appeared younger in the portrait, his eyes—the same piercing gaze you had locked eyes with earlier—remained the same. Cold. Intense.

Your breath hitched as you moved to the next painting. It was him again, this time standing beside another figure who looked similar in appearance, though this person’s features were softer, less severe. They were younger here, almost ageless, but there was a darkness in their eyes that hadn’t been captured in the earlier portraits.

You continued down the line of paintings, each depicting moments from what must have been his life—or rather, his existence. In some, he stood alone in grand ballrooms or ancient forests, always with that same commanding presence. In others, he was surrounded by people, but their faces were blurred, as if time had erased their significance.

Every painting radiated an unsettling energy, and with each new portrait, you felt the weight of his presence grow stronger. It was as though he had always been here, lurking in the shadows of the castle for centuries, waiting.

And now you were in his domain.

You took a shaky step back, your mind racing. The man you had met wasn’t just some passing phantom—he was something much older. The fact that this room looked so well-preserved while the rest of the castle crumbled around it told you that it was special, important. This was his space, and you had wandered right into it.

A creeping sense of dread settled in your chest as you glanced at the portrait once more. His eyes, even from the canvas, seemed to watch your every move, as though he was still there, lurking just out of sight.

As you continued to absorb the enchanting yet unsettling atmosphere of the cozy room, your eyes fell on the books lining the shelves. They were a mix of titles, but one caught your attention—a familiar spine adorned with elegant lettering. It was a book you had read long ago, a tale of forbidden love between a human and a vampire, steeped in tragedy and longing.

You approached the shelf, your heart racing. The book felt almost like a beacon, calling out to you. With trembling hands, you reached for it, pulling it gently from its place. As you did, a soft click echoed through the room, causing you to pause mid-motion. Your breath hitched as the shelf shifted slightly, revealing a narrow gap—a hidden door.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. A secret passageway? Without a second thought, you placed the book down on one of the couches, your heart pounding with anticipation. Slipping behind the shelf, you squeezed through the narrow opening, the air cooler as you entered the darkness of the hidden hallway.

The passage was dimly lit, the walls lined with rough stone, and you moved quickly, driven by a sense of urgency. You had no idea how long you had before the vampire would realize you were gone. The hallway twisted and turned, each step echoing in the silence, leading you deeper into the bowels of the castle.

Finally, you reached the end of the corridor, where a hatch stood ajar, the faint light of the moon spilling in through the crack. Your heart raced as you climbed up, pushing the hatch open and crawling through. As you emerged, the cool night air hit your face like a breath of fresh freedom.

You blinked against the brightness, taking in your surroundings. You were in a courtyard, the stars twinkling above like a million tiny lanterns. The space was overgrown with wildflowers and tangled vines, the stone walls of the castle looming high around you. It was eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that hinted at secrets lingering in the shadows.

You took a moment to catch your breath, relief flooding through you. You had escaped! But as you stood there, taking in the beauty of the courtyard, you couldn't shake the feeling that you weren’t entirely safe yet. The castle was alive with its own history, and you were still very much a part of it.

Then, just as you were about to make your way toward an exit, you heard it—a faint rustling behind you. Instinctively, you turned, heart pounding as you scanned the area. The shadows danced, and for a brief moment, you thought you caught a glimpse of dark hair and those hauntingly bright eyes among the foliage.

Your breath caught in your throat.

It was him.

“Where are you going?” His voice drifted through the air, smooth and inviting, yet laced with an undercurrent of danger.

You felt the urge to run again, to flee into the night, but your legs felt like lead. You were trapped in a moment where fear and curiosity collided, and there he was, stepping out from the shadows, a smirk playing on his lips, an ethereal figure framed by the moonlight.

You backed away, your heart racing as he stepped closer, closing the distance between you with an unsettling grace. The night air felt charged, and you could almost feel the heat radiating off him, drawing you in even as every instinct told you to flee.

You averted your gaze, focusing instead on the tangled vines and wildflowers at your feet, determined not to meet his intense stare. His presence was overwhelming, and you felt like a moth drawn to a flame, teetering on the edge of danger.

He chuckled softly, the sound smooth and velvety, cutting through the stillness of the courtyard. “Oh, my sweet,” he purred, his voice low and mesmerizing. “Why are you avoiding me? I can see you trying not to look into my eyes, and I must admit, I would love to see your beautiful eyes.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, a mix of fear and something else—a strange, inexplicable allure. He took another step forward, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. “I want to see all of you,” he continued, his voice almost a whisper, beckoning you to look at him.

For a fleeting moment, you felt the pull of his words, the way they wrapped around you like a silken thread. But you held strong, forcing yourself to look away. You focused on the distant trees lining the edge of the courtyard, the moonlight casting long shadows that felt like barriers between you and him.

“Come now,” he teased, his tone playful yet dripping with a seductive edge. “Don’t you want to see me too? It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

His words curled around you, tempting you to relent, to give in to that magnetic pull. But you steeled yourself, clenching your fists at your sides. “I don’t believe in vampires,” you whispered, even though the words felt hollow.

“Is that so?” His voice took on a mocking lilt, though there was an undeniable intrigue beneath it. “And yet, here you are, in my courtyard, speaking to me. Perhaps you should reconsider your beliefs.”

You took another step back, your mind racing. “I don’t want to be here,” you replied, desperation creeping into your voice. “I need to leave.”

His expression shifted, the playful demeanor slipping slightly, replaced with something darker, more serious. “You think you can just run away from me?”

The challenge hung heavy in the air. He stepped forward again, and you felt a spark of panic. But instead of fleeing, you summoned your courage and stood your ground. “I’m not afraid of you,” you declared, even as uncertainty gripped you.

“Not afraid?” he echoed, tilting his head, eyes glimmering with mischief. “Then why do you tremble? Why does your heart beat so fast, as if it's dancing to a rhythm only I can hear?”

You felt your heart racing, pulse pounding in your ears. But still, you refused to look him in the eye. “Because I know what you are,” you replied, trying to sound steady despite the tremor in your voice.

His lips curved into a slow, wicked smile, and he stepped even closer, closing the gap until you could feel the coldness radiating from him. “Then you should know that running only makes it more exciting. The chase is always the best part.”

Your heart raced faster at his words, and as you felt the pull of his gaze, you realized how dangerous this game truly was. You were caught between the urge to run and the undeniable allure of the dark figure before you, each moment stretching out like an eternity.

Before you could react, he zoomed toward you, his movements blurring in the dim light. In an instant, he grasped your waist and pulled you into a whirlwind dance, swirling you around the courtyard. The force of his embrace was intoxicating, and you found you couldn’t break free from his grip, caught in a dizzying mix of fear and exhilaration as you spun beneath the gaze of the dark figure before you.

In an instant, he wrapped his strong arms around you, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. Panic surged through you as he flew into the night sky, the wind whipping around you like a storm.

You screamed, gripping his cloak tightly, your heart racing as the ground fell away beneath you. “What are you doing?!” you yelled, your voice lost in the rush of the wind.

He only laughed, a low, melodic sound that echoed through the air. “Relax, I won’t drop you!” he teased, spinning you around in midair. His cloak unfurled behind him like dark wings, creating a mesmerizing display against the moonlit sky.

Your stomach dropped as he twirled you around, the world below a dizzying blur. Fear mingled with exhilaration, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. “You’re insane!” you shouted.

Just as you thought you might lose your nerve, he began to descend, spiraling down closer to the ground. Seizing the moment, you slipped out of his grasp, landing roughly on your feet. You stumbled but quickly regained your balance, glancing up to find surprise etched across his face. He hadn’t expected you to break free so easily.

Without a second thought, you turned and ran, bolting toward the open door of the castle. Your heart raced as adrenaline coursed through your veins, your instincts screaming at you to get away.

“Round two then…” you heard him murmur, his tone thrilled, as he followed after you. There was no rush in his movements; he glided toward you with an unsettling calmness, as if he was toying with you rather than truly trying to catch you.

You dashed back into the castle, the cool air of the interior hitting you like a wave as you ducked through the doorway. You could hear him behind you, a predator enjoying the chase. The thrill of the hunt invigorated him, and you knew he was reveling in every moment.

You sprinted down the familiar hallways, weaving in and out of rooms as you sought a place to hide or a way to escape. Your mind raced, frantically considering your options, while the echo of his laughter followed you like a shadow.

“Come now,” he called playfully, his voice echoing off the walls. “You can’t run forever.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, and you pushed yourself harder, dodging into a nearby room. You quickly glanced around, noting the furnishings and the looming shadows. It was another beautifully decorated room, but the ominous atmosphere made it feel like a trap.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you ducked behind a large armoire, the wood cool against your back. You listened intently, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the hall as he approached. The anticipation sent your heart racing again, each thud echoing louder in your ears.

“Where are you hiding?” he called out, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You can’t hide forever."

You swallowed hard, peering around the edge of the armoire. The room was dim, shadows flickering in the corners, but you couldn’t see him yet. The tension was palpable, and as you prepared to make another move, you felt the cold chill of his presence creeping closer.

“I can smell your fear,” he teased, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “It’s intoxicating.”

His voice echoed through the dim room, weaving around you like a silken thread. “Oh, come on now. You know it’s no fun if you don’t try to make it interesting,” he taunted, the amusement clear in his tone. You felt a rush of heat rise to your cheeks as your heart raced, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

You knew you had to stay focused, but something compelled you to look up. As your gaze traveled upward, your breath caught in your throat. There he was, hanging upside down from the ceiling like a bat, his striking red eyes fixed on you with a intense gleam. The sight was both mesmerizing and terrifying, and your instincts screamed at you to run.

Before you could react, he dropped down gracefully, landing silently beside you. The world spun as darkness enveloped you, and you felt yourself slipping away, consciousness fading into oblivion.

੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

When you came to, the softness of a couch enveloped you, and you blinked against the dim light filtering through the room. The walls were adorned with rich, dark fabrics, giving the space an opulent yet eerie feel. Confusion washed over you as you took in your surroundings, noting the closed black coffin positioned ominously beside the couch and the door, which appeared solid and unyielding.

You stood up groggily, the remnants of sleep still clouding your mind. Shaking off the dizziness, you staggered toward the door, hoping to escape, but it wouldn’t budge under your hands. You shoved against it with all your strength, but it remained stubbornly closed. “No, no, no…” you murmured, fear rising like bile in your throat.

Turning away from the door, you focused on the coffin, a sense of dread washing over you. It was beautifully crafted, the wood polished to a dark sheen that seemed to absorb the light. You stepped closer, your heart thudding in your chest with each cautious footfall. The atmosphere was thick with an unsettling energy, and you felt drawn to it against your better judgment.

Your fingers brushed against the cool surface of the coffin, and you hesitated, breath hitching. Should you open it? Even if every instinct told you to turn away, to flee, but curiosity gnawed at you, urging you to find out what lay within.

Taking a deep breath, you grasped the lid, feeling the smooth, cold wood beneath your fingers. With a steadying exhale, you began to lift it, the creaking hinges sounding like a whisper in the silence. As the lid opened, darkness greeted you from within, a chill creeping into the room.

Before you could fully comprehend what you were seeing, an icy hand shot out from within the coffin, wrapping around your arm with a grip like iron. You gasped and stumbled back, your heart racing as he emerged from the coffin, his face inches from yours.

He looked just as otherworldly as before, with his pale skin and sharp features accentuated in the dim light. His dark hair framed his face, and his crimson eyes locked onto yours, gleaming with a mixture of amusement and intrigue.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, a smirk playing on his lips.

You recoiled instinctively, yanking your arm away from his grip, but he only laughed softly, the sound echoing eerily in the enclosed space. “You shouldn’t be so scared,” he continued, tilting his head as if studying you.

“What do you want from me?” you demanded, trying to sound braver than you felt.

He leaned closer, his expression shifting to one of genuine curiosity. “You’re fascinating, really. So full of life, and yet you came all the way into my domain, challenging everything you thought you knew.”

“Let me go,” you pleaded, glancing nervously at the closed door. “I didn’t ask to be here!”

“Oh, but you’re exactly where you’re meant to be,” he replied, his tone dripping with an unsettling calmness.

As he climbed out of the coffin, his movements were fluid and graceful, almost predatory. You instinctively took a step back, your heart racing as he approached. The air around him felt charged, and the darkness of the room seemed to pulse with his energy.

He stepped closer, his eyes locked onto yours, a hungry glint flickering in their depths. “You smell absolutely divine,” he murmured, a fanged smile stretching across his lips. “I can only imagine how sweet your blood would taste.”

You backed away instinctively, but soon you felt the cold, unforgiving wall pressing against your back, trapping you. There was no escape, and the realization sent a wave of dread crashing over you. Before you could think of a plan, he closed the distance, pulling you tightly against him.

His grip was unyielding, and panic surged within you as you struggled against his hold. “Let me go!” you gasped, twisting in his grasp, but he only tsked, shaking his head slowly.

“Oh, but you’re mine now,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

With a swift motion, he leaned in, his lips barely grazing your neck. You could feel his cold breath against your skin, and it sent shivers down your spine. The sensation was both terrifying and strangely exhilarating. You instinctively wiggled free, but he only tightened his grip, his fingers like iron around your waist.

“I will earn my fill now that I have you,” he continued, his voice dripping with dark delight. “You’re trapped, sweet creature. You don’t stand a chance against me. I could sense you the moment you stepped foot into my castle.”

His gaze was intense, a mix of hunger and fascination, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his words. “You’ve been claimed ever since you entered my domain,” he said, his smirk growing wider. “You’re mine, and there’s no escaping that.”

The world around you felt like it was closing in, the reality of your situation dawning on you like a heavy fog. He was not just a vampire; he was a predator, and you were his prey. Your heart raced, pounding loudly in your chest, and you could almost hear it echoing in the stillness of the room.

“Please,” you breathed, trying to regain some semblance of control. “You don’t have to do this. Just let me go.”

He chuckled softly, leaning closer until his mouth hovered just above your skin. “But why would I? This is the most fun I’ve had in centuries.”

The way he said it sent a chill through you. It was a thrill for him, a game, and the realization sank deep into your bones. You could feel his cold, sharp fangs grazing your neck, teasingly close, and a rush of fear mixed with an unsettling curiosity washed over you.

He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, an intense gaze that seemed to see right through you. “Don’t be coy,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry. “I can sense what you really feel in your heart.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you stammered, pushing against him, your hands resting on his chest. The silk of his blouse felt cool against your skin, and the cold seeped through to your fingertips, but what sent a shiver down your spine was the absence of a heartbeat beneath your palms.

As he registered the shock on your face, he grinned wider, revealing his glinting fangs. “What did you expect?” he asked, his tone playful yet dark. “I’m an undead creature of the night, after all.”

His words sent another wave of fear coursing through you, yet the thrill of his presence was undeniable. You were teetering on the edge, caught between the instinct to flee and the inexplicable pull that drew you closer to him.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his voice a dark caress. “I won’t take more than you can give. For now, let’s just enjoy the moment.”

He leaned in, his lips nearly brushing against yours, the proximity igniting a fire within you that both terrified and thrilled. Just as you felt the magnetic pull to close the distance, you instinctively pulled back, breaking the tension.

He chuckled softly, a low, melodic sound that resonated in the air between you, as if he found your hesitation amusing. “Aren’t you curious?” he teased, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You felt your resolve faltering, caught between terror and the strange allure of the unknown. Your instincts screamed at you to flee, yet part of you was mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze. You were lost in a battle of wills, and as he held you there, you couldn’t help but wonder what this encounter would truly mean.

He leaned in close again, his breath cool against your skin as he teased you, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “You’re so captivating,” he murmured, his fingers dancing along your arm, caressing you with a gentleness that belied the danger he posed. “It’s almost a shame that I have to take you like this.”

As his gaze bore into you, something within began to unravel. You felt your defenses crumbling, the tension in your body slowly ebbing away under his intense scrutiny. It was terrifying to feel yourself succumbing, yet the more he spoke, the more you felt that fear dissipate. “That’s it… give in,” he whispered, his voice sultry and low, as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing your neck.

Your heart raced, anticipation mingling with dread, as he opened his mouth, revealing his elongated fangs gleaming in the dim light. The sight sent a thrill of both terror and unexpected excitement coursing through you.

Before you could protest, he bit down, sharp pain piercing through your skin but quickly melting into a rush of pleasure that took you completely by surprise. A gasp escaped your lips, followed by a soft whine as he began to suck your blood greedily, drawing it from you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

Your body slackened in his hold, your strength fading as he continued to feast. You felt a wave of warmth wash over you, a sensation so intoxicating that it rendered you breathless. Your hands barely clutched at the fabric of his black blouse, a feeble attempt to ground yourself, yet it felt as if every rational thought was slipping away with each heartbeat.

All you could hear was the soft sound of him huffing and groaning, as if he were savoring a fine delicacy. The sensation was overwhelming, a blend of pleasure and danger that left you lightheaded.

“Delicious,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. “You taste even better than I imagined.”

Every pull of his lips made you feel both exhilarated and vulnerable, the world around you fading into nothingness as he consumed you. You had crossed a threshold, stepping into a realm where fear mingled with desire, and it was intoxicating.

As the edges of your consciousness began to blur, you found yourself surrendering to the moment. You could feel him pulling more from you, but it no longer felt like a threat. Instead, it felt like a dark embrace, one that wrapped around you and pulled you deeper into his allure. The fear you once had started to dissipate, replaced by an unexpected yearning, and all you could think was how surreal it felt to be in his grasp—his captive.

When he finally pulled back, your vision swam for a moment, the world around you fading into a soft haze. The room swirled, edges blurring as you struggled to grasp what had just happened. He lingered close, his breath cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that still radiated from where he had bitten you. You caught a glimpse of his lips, stained crimson with your blood, and the sight was both horrifying and oddly mesmerizing.

“Can’t waste a single drop of your blood,” he purred, his voice a low, seductive whisper that wrapped around you like silk, each word tinged with a lingering hunger. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, drawing you into the depths of his eyes—dark pools filled with an unsettling mixture of desire and something deeper.

As he leaned in closer, you noticed his long fangs retracting slowly, almost reluctantly, until they returned to their normal size. It was a strange sight, watching the sharpness dissolve into a more human form, yet the danger remained palpable. His smile, revealing just enough of those once-fearsome fangs, only added to the allure, a reminder of what he was capable of.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” he asked, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine. “The way your blood flows, so rich and warm. You can’t deny the connection we share, can you?” He moved even closer, brushing a cold finger along your jawline, his touch electric against your skin.

You watched his eyes, captivated by the way they shimmered with something that felt almost tender. “You’re special,” he continued, his voice a soft caress.

As he neared, you could feel the subtle pull of his presence, an intoxicating mix of danger and allure. He tilted his head slightly, his dark hair brushing against your cheek, and his gaze flickered down to the bite mark on your neck. The anticipation made your breath hitch as he moved with a deliberate slowness, almost savoring the moment.

Then, with a soft, teasing smile, he leaned in, his lips hovering just above your skin. You could feel the chill radiating from him, mingling with the warmth of your own blood. He extended his tongue, the tip just barely brushing against the puncture wound, and a gasp escaped your lips.

“Such a sweet taste,” he murmured, his voice a husky caress. He began to lick the remnants of your blood from your neck, his tongue gliding smoothly over your skin, each stroke sending shivers racing down your spine. The sensation was electric, a mix of pleasure and fear that left you breathless.

“You did so well,” he complimented, his voice a gentle caress. “You’re absolutely delicious.” The warmth in his tone made your heart race, a mixture of exhilaration and vulnerability flooding your senses.

He wore a soft smile, an expression that contrasted sharply with the predatory nature he had just displayed. “Now, you should sleep,” he said, his words wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Before you could respond, you felt an overwhelming wave of drowsiness crash over you, your eyelids growing heavy. The world around you blurred again, the shadows of the room fading as you succumbed to the enveloping darkness.

Just as you slipped into the depths of sleep, you heard him whisper one last thing: “Rest, my sweet.”

The last remnants of your consciousness faded away, leaving you with the warmth of his presence lingering in your mind, a mix of fear and something akin to longing swirling within you as you drifted into a dreamless slumber.

੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

When you finally woke up, the soft light of the morning sun filtered through the fabric of your tent, casting warm patterns across your sleeping bag. You sat up slowly, a sharp jolt of pain and lingering pleasure coursing through your body, making you gasp.

Grabbing your phone from your bag, you opened the camera app and hesitated for a moment, dread settling in your stomach. With a shaky breath, you turned the camera toward your neck, revealing two distinct puncture wounds where fangs had sunk into your skin. They weren’t bleeding, at least, but they were tender and very sore, a painful reminder of the night you had just endured.

Groaning softly, you covered the marks with the collar of your hoodie, hoping to hide the evidence of your encounter. You took a moment to gather yourself, shaking off the disorienting feelings that clouded your mind. Somehow, you felt a strange urge to keep it to yourself, a compulsion that tightened your throat. You couldn’t tell them. You physically couldn’t.

Taking a deep breath, you unzipped the tent and stepped outside, greeted by the crisp morning air and the sounds of your friends bustling around the campsite. They were in high spirits, joking and laughing as they packed up their gear, blissfully unaware of the turmoil brewing inside you.

“Hey, sleepyhead! You finally up?” Ji-won called, her voice cheerful and light. You managed a smile, forcing yourself to blend in with their laughter, the normalcy of the moment clashing violently with the chaos in your mind.

“Yeah, just needed a little extra rest,” you replied, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. You helped your friends pack the car, moving through the motions mechanically, but every time someone brushed against your shoulder or joked about the trip, you felt a pang of guilt twist in your stomach.

This was it - you were leaving the forest.

You climbed into the car, the familiar sights of trees and trails began to fade into the background, replaced by the hum of the engine and the chatter of your friends.

But the beauty of the forest was lost on you now, overshadowed by the memory of the castle and the enigmatic figure that haunted your thoughts. The drive back to the city felt interminable, a blur of colors and sounds that felt distant and unreal.

As you gazed out the window, the world sped by, but inside, time stood still. You wondered what would happen next, the memory of his voice echoing in your mind.

੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

The days after returning from the forest blurred into a haze of mundane life. You went through the motions—work, meals, interactions with friends—yet your mind often drifted back to him. It was absurd, really. You didn’t even know his name. He was a vampire for Christ’s sake! He had kidnapped you, hunted you down and sucked your blood. Logic screamed that it should be over. You should be relieved, grateful even. But instead, you found yourself longing for the very presence that had terrified you.

As you watched the bite heal over the following days, the hollow feeling in your chest only deepened. It was maddening to crave someone who had brought you so much fear, but you couldn’t help it. You missed the thrill of his presence, the way he had made you feel—alive and desired in a way that was intoxicatingly dangerous.

Finally, one restless night, you’d had enough. You packed a small bag with essentials—nothing too much, just enough for a quick escape. As you walked to your car, the cool air brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You glanced up at the star-speckled sky, letting the weight of your decision settle in. This was it; you were going back to find him, to confront whatever feelings you had buried deep inside.

Just then, you heard it—the soft but unmistakable sound of flapping wings. You squinted into the darkness, and to your shock, a large bat soared toward you, silhouetted against the moonlight. Your heart raced as the creature approached, growing larger and larger until it was right above you.

In an instant, the bat transformed, wings sweeping down as if caught in an invisible breeze. The dark silhouette shifted, the outline of the creature expanding and elongating until, with a graceful flourish, the wings folded and melted into the fabric of a dark cloak. It billowed around him, framing his tall, imposing figure as he stood before you in all his otherworldly glory.

His transformation was mesmerizing, each movement fluid and enchanting, as though he were a figure drawn from the pages of an ancient tale. The bat's fur receded, revealing smooth, pale skin, and his elongated face morphed into the man—sharp features emerging from the shadows.

When he fully materialized before you, his eyes, shimmering silver and reminiscent of the moonlit night, locked onto yours with an intensity that stole your breath. Those mesmerizing orbs held a depth that beckoned you closer, promising untold secrets and dark delights.

As he stepped forward, the cloak fluttered lightly around him, accentuating his tall, imposing frame. His movements were deliberate and graceful, as though he were still part of the night air, gliding instead of walking.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, his voice a low murmur. Before you could reply, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms, his hold both possessive and comforting. “I couldn’t bear to be away from you. This desire, this need to be close to you—it snapped the moment you left.”

Your heart raced, a mixture of fear and exhilaration coursing through you as you gazed up at him. “I felt the same,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess them. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

A smile broke across his face, radiant and wicked, lighting up his features in the moonlight. “Then let’s not waste another moment.” He leaned down, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that was deep, hungry, and filled with all the longing you both had kept at bay.

As his mouth moved against yours, you melted into him, your earlier fears dissolving into a warmth that spread through your entire being. You were no longer just a scared girl standing in the dark; you were alive and desired.

You pulled back slightly from the kiss, still feeling the lingering heat of his lips against yours. “I didn’t think you would come,” you admitted, your heart racing from the intensity of the moment.

His gaze softened, and he brushed a thumb against your cheek. “You were meant for me,” he said, the certainty in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Long before we even met.”

Before you could respond, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms, and with a powerful thrust, he soared into the night sky. The wind whipped around you, and you gasped in a mix of exhilaration and fear as he held you tightly against him, his body a solid anchor. Below, the forest shrank away, and soon, the familiar silhouette of the castle emerged from the darkness.

He landed gracefully at the entrance, setting you down with a gentleness that belied his strength. You glanced around, awe washing over you as he led you inside. The castle felt alive, its ancient stones thrumming with an energy that pulsed in time with your heartbeat.

He guided you through dimly lit hallways until you reached a room at the heart of the castle. It was spacious, adorned with ornate furniture and draped fabrics that whispered tales of the past. The centerpiece of the room was an old portrait hanging on the wall, its colors faded but still striking.

You stepped closer, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the two figures locked in an embrace—lovers entwined as if frozen in time. They looked remarkably similar to you and him, their features hauntingly alike, as if you were gazing into a reflection of your own souls.

“We are destined to be together in every lifetime,” he said softly, his voice resonating with emotion. “Only in this one… you aren’t a vampire like me.”

You turned to him, searching his eyes for understanding. “But why? Why me?”

He stepped closer, cupping your face in his cold hands. “Because you’re the light to my darkness. My existence has always been shadowed, but you… you bring warmth, hope. I couldn’t let you go without fighting for you.”

As you looked into his eyes, the gravity of his words sank in, filling the space between you with an electric tension. You felt an overwhelming connection, as if the universe had conspired to bring you together across time and space.

“I want to understand this,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I want to be with you.”

His expression softened, and he leaned closer, brushing his lips against your forehead. “Then let me show you what it means to be together in this life. We have all the time in the world to explore our love, to create a new destiny.”

He leaned in again, capturing your lips with his in a passionate kiss that sent shivers down your spine. His warmth enveloped you, igniting a fire deep within. You melted into him, lost in the depths of his embrace until he pulled away, his gaze locking onto the bite mark on your neck.

His expression shifted, a mix of hunger and longing in his eyes. “Please,” he whispered, his voice laced with an almost desperate edge. “I need to taste you again. Just a little… I promise it will feel even better this time.”

You felt a rush of excitement and trepidation as he lowered his mouth toward your neck. There was a part of you that wanted to resist, to remember the fear from before, but another part—one that yearned for him—welcomed the idea. You nodded, your breath hitching in your throat as he extended his fangs.

As they grazed your skin, a wave of anticipation coursed through you. He sank his fangs into the tender flesh, and the sensation was electric. A mix of pain and pleasure surged through your body, so much more intense than the first time. You gasped, a soft moan escaping your lips as he drew your blood, his mouth moving with a grace that sent pleasure spiraling through you.

Each pull was deeper, more fervent, and you felt your heart race in response. It was intoxicating, the way he savored every drop, as if you were the sweetest nectar he had ever tasted.

“More,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. You could feel his cool breath against your neck, heightening the experience as he drank you in, and you willingly surrendered to him. Every fiber of your being hummed with pleasure, and you felt yourself growing weaker, but you didn’t care. You craved this connection, the intensity of being with him.

When he finally pulled back, he looked almost dazed, eyes glinting with satisfaction and desire. “You’re even sweeter than I remembered,” he said, his voice low and husky, stained with your blood.

Your pulse quickened as you met his gaze, the lines between fear and desire blurring with each heartbeat. You realized you were irrevocably drawn to him, a part of you now tethered to his dark world.

“Now,” he continued, brushing his thumb over the bite mark as if to savor the memory, “we are truly connected. You’ve given me a piece of yourself, and now I want to give you everything in return.”

He then licked his lips, a playful glint in his eyes. “I will show you what it means to be loved by a vampire,” he promised, his voice smooth like silk. “I will take such good care of you, and together, I will reveal my world to you.” With each word, he pressed soft kisses along your neck, trailing to your throat, and then finally capturing your lips with his.

As he hovered slightly in the air, cradling you in his arms, you felt an overwhelming sense of trust and desire blooming within you. You nodded, unable to contain the excitement that surged through your veins. “Show me,” you breathed, and he smiled against your lips before taking off toward his room.

The world blurred around you as he flew effortlessly, the castle’s dark beauty rushing by in a haze. Within moments, you found yourselves in his chamber, where an open coffin awaited, its interior lined with dark velvet. He slowly descended, sinking into the coffin with you on top of him, still locked in a fervent embrace.

As he kissed you, his lips peppering your face with soft pecks, he whispered sweet nothings against your skin, his hands gliding down your back, anchoring you to him. “I’ve craved to hold you like this," he murmured, his voice a melodic caress that wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

You melted against him, heart racing. His lips found yours again, melding together in a tender yet passionate dance that left you breathless. But amidst the blissful haze, a question that had burned in your mind resurfaced, demanding to be answered. Pulling back slightly, you gazed into his mesmerizing eyes, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive. “What’s your name?” you asked, your breath hitching slightly as you searched his face for the answer.

“Sunghoon,” he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. The sound of his name rolled off his tongue like a secret whispered in the dark, and you felt a thrill at the intimacy it promised.

Your heart raced as you whispered your name to him, and a knowing smile spread across his lips. “I know,” he said softly, his breath ghosting over your skin as he kissed your wrist with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. It was a sweet, intimate gesture that sent shivers coursing through you, awakening a desire you didn’t fully understand.

“Become my vampire bride,” he said, his gaze intense and brimming with yearning, making you feel like the only person in the world. The weight of his words hung between you like a promise, igniting a deep urge to be close to him, to belong to him entirely. But before you could find the words to respond, he leaned in, pressing his lips to a sensitive spot on your neck. A soft whine escaped your mouth, the sound betraying your excitement and vulnerability.

“Yes,” you gasped, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you. “I want to.”

Sunghoon’s eyes brightened with delight, and he captured your lips again, the kiss deepening as he pulled you closer, his warmth enveloping you. But he didn’t stop there; his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of gentle bites and teasing kisses. Each brush of his lips sent a wave of heat through your body, a rush of pleasure mixed with anticipation that left you breathless.

He nipped and sucked at your skin, his fangs grazing you just enough to send sparks dancing beneath the surface. You could feel the blood pooling just below your skin, and with each kiss, he seemed to coax it forth, drawing it into his eager mouth. The sensations built with every passing moment, the combination of his cold touch and the warmth of your blood leaving you hazy and utterly lost in the moment.

“Please, just a little more,” he groaned, his voice thick with longing as he lavished attention on your neck. The way he suckled at your skin, lapping at the small wounds he’d created, made you gasp and arch into him, your fingers tangling in his dark hair. The sound of your whines intertwined with his groans, creating a echo in the stillness of the room.

With each tender bite, he coaxed forth more of your blood, and the line between pleasure and pain blurred beautifully. You felt as though you were teetering on the edge of something profound, lost in the depths of his dark desire and your own.

੭﹕ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

Just outside the window, a raven flapped its wings, its caw slicing through the thick silence of the night. It soared into the star-speckled sky, a dark silhouette against the moonlight. In a flurry of shadowy wings, a horde of bats followed closely behind, darting after the raven toward the depths of the forest.

But inside the dimly lit room, you and Sunghoon were far too consumed in each other to notice the creatures of the night flitting past. His lips were on your skin, painting soft, fevered kisses that left your heart racing and your mind spiraling. He was a whirlwind of dark passion, and you were ensnared in his spell. Every time he pulled back to meet your gaze, his red eyes sparkled with love and hunger.

(Feel free to reblog and like! <3)

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