Gulps. R U Crazy Pegging Seob Pls Pls I Need This To Be Real Pls Pls Pls

gulps. r u crazy… pegging seob pls pls i need this to be real pls pls pls

Good Boy ☆ kjs

💜DAY 6: discipline with kim jongseob

💜wc: 2.6k

💜genre/pairings: dom!reader x sub!jongseob, bdsm, SMUT, MDNI

💜warnings: discipline, strap-on sex, bottom!jongseob, top!reader, slapping (consensual), strap-on blowjob, strap-on facefucking, spanking, mommy kink, ass eating, anal fingering, anal sex, begging, slight orgasm delay, aftercare

💜a/n: day 6 of piwontober 2024 has arrived! special thanks to @sxfterhearts and @kisseobie for hosting and organizing such a fun kinktober fanfic writing event. this fic will also be cross-posted to my ao3 account here. also, if you're interested in more of this reader x jongseob dynamic, check out my ao3 fic "Who's Your [Redacted]?" - which is still in progress on ao3 but will be cross-posted to this account once finished.

“Mommy, please… I’m sorry,” Jongseob whined, his beautiful deep brown eyes staring up at you, pleading for mercy. 

You looked down at him and took in the beautiful sight before you: the man on his knees wearing nothing but a pair of gray Calvin Klein boxer briefs, wrists bound behind his back, and tears starting to wet the corners of his eyes. 

You smirked down at him affectionately, but without mercy, as you pushed his two-tone honey blonde and brown hair out of his face so you could get a better look at him. His cheeks were flushed, decorated with subtle freckles from the time he’d spent out in the sun this summer. Now that the season was coming to a close, they’d probably go back into hiding until the following year. 

“You know what you did, sweetie,” you said with a mock in your tone.

“I know, but–”

Slap!

The sound of your open palm striking his face rang out in the otherwise quiet room. This was the one part of your dynamic that always had you on the fence, always worrying that it would be too much, that you would actually hurt him, and just like always, you had a moment of regret, seeing his face scrunch up in pain and a tear slip out of one of his eyes. 

However, looking down, you saw a conspicuous hardness beginning to strain against the thin gray fabric of his underwear, a small dark spot already appearing. And you were reminded once again, how much he loved being punished.

The reasons for his punishments were always a little vague, and although you were happy to oblige in his penchant for being disciplined, it turned you on the most to see him begin to act bratty because you knew he was trying to get on your nerves so that he’d have to pay for it later. Sometimes he’d start ignoring you, or he’d just start acting rude for no reason, anything to get you to start scolding him, and when he would be really stubborn in response for no reason, that’s when you knew. You knew he craved being put in his place. Pushed to his knees. Taught a lesson.

This time, it was because he’d been rude to you when you asked him for a favor. Next time, it would be something equally mundane. 

So that’s why, when you noted the tear slipping down his face in the same moment that you noticed his hardening cock, you knew that you needed to keep going. With your right hand, you grabbed his chin and yanked it back towards you, forcing him to look up at you again. His lips in a pout, he muttered, “I said I was sorry.” You scoffed in response.

“Prove it, then. Prove how sorry you are,” you said, and with your left hand, smacked the other side of his face with the dark purple dildo that was attached to the harness strapped to your hips. 

“O-okay, I’ll do anything,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and wincing from the force of the dildo before you brought your right hand up to his mouth and swiped your thumb over his bottom lip slowly.

You felt drunk on power, seeing the way he melted under your touch, and the fact that there was so little he wouldn’t do for you in this headspace. He looked up at you and you shared a moment of tender eye contact with him before pushing your thumb into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. Without hesitation he closed his lips around it and began to suck, his tongue soft, pliable, and impossibly wet against your skin. 

He maintained stubborn eye contact with you and you felt the blood rush to the junction between your legs. Your nipples hardened against the lining of your bra and you tried to keep it together, but he was making it more and more difficult. 

You pulled your thumb away abruptly and he leaned forward as if to chase it, letting out a quiet whine. 

You didn’t give him a chance to recover before replacing your thumb with the dildo strapped to your hips. He moaned around it, brows pressed together in effort, and sighed out of his nose as you began to thrust into his mouth. 

With one hand gripped in his hair, and the other hand on the dildo, he was completely at your mercy, and he already looked absolutely pitiful. Your relentless thrusts hitting the back of his throat had him gagging repeatedly, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks, but you could see in his eyes how fucked out he already was, could see from the expanding dark spot in his underwear how badly he was enjoying being ruined.

“Look at my good boy, taking mommy’s cock so well,” you crooned, and he closed his eyes as you brushed your fingers gently through his hair, the dildo still thrusting in and out of his mouth, a little more slowly now, his lips swollen and wet by this point.

The sounds he was making were diabolical, the noises of his shameless moaning around the strap-on making your legs weak, distracting you. You tightened your hand in his hair and yanked his head back, slipping the dildo out of his mouth. He let out a series of wet coughs, saliva coating his lips and more tears starting to slip from the corners of his eyes.

Once he’d finished coughing, you cupped the side of his face and he leaned into your touch, struggling to catch his breath, his eyes fluttering closed. 

“I think that’s been enough punishment for today. Are you ready for me to take care of you, my sweet angel?”

“Yes. Please, I promise I’ll be good,” he begged, and you couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he was.

“Stand up,” you ordered, and he obliged immediately. His nipples jutted out from the soft swell of his chest, hardening in the cool air of the room, and his tender knees were red from kneeling on the rough carpet. His hands were still bound behind him, so he was truly at your mercy.

You ran your fingers along the waistband of his underwear teasingly, eliciting a shudder from him, but otherwise he stayed quiet and still, his abs tensing lightly from the brush of your fingertips.

You pulled them down his narrow hips, letting them drop to the floor as his now full erection bounced lewdly once you’d freed it. You placed a hand on his hip and guided him towards your hips as you gently stroked his velvety length against the purple silicone cock attached to your hips, still wet with his saliva. He gasped quietly, biting down on his lip from your too-light touch. 

You did this only for a few brief moments before releasing him and ordered him onto the bed, ass up. He crawled onto the mattress obediently, hands still behind his back, and your heart softened at the way he struggled to get into position in his bound state. You grabbed the restraints on his wrists and began to undo them, causing him to turn his head and look at you, confusion coloring his features.

“I’m going to take these off, but only if you keep your hands to yourself. Do you understand?” you asked firmly, and he nodded, the side of his face pressed into the bed uncomfortably. 

Slap!

Your hand stung from how hard you’d smacked his ass, and he winced in pain but kept his arms up by his head, supporting himself on his elbows. “I’m sorry, y-yes mommy. I won’t touch myself. I promise I won’t,” he said quickly, voice strained, panting into the pillow that he’d grabbed for support.

You rubbed the red mark that had begun to bloom on his ass, soothing away the ache, before slapping it again, eliciting a muffled whimper from him. “Sorry,” you said, “I know I said your punishment was finished, but I just can’t help myself.” 

You stared at the way his tiny asshole fluttered as you brushed a finger across it gently.

“It’s okay,” he breathed, turning to look back at you for a brief moment. “I can take it.”

“Oh, I know you can,” you soothed, bending down to grab an ass cheek and press your finger more firmly against his opening. Teasing. Torturing. Until you just couldn’t help yourself anymore and leaned in to lick a hot strip of saliva against his hole, taking him off guard completely as he gasped loudly. 

This was your favorite part. You weren’t sure how balanced it was if you ‘rewarded’ him for being disciplined, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. That part was for him, and this part was for you.

You prodded at his asshole with your middle finger, massaging the soft, puckered flesh, and even though you hadn’t quite planned it to go this way, you removed your finger to begin licking against him again. He moaned shamelessly, burying his head in the pillow, and you could tell how much he had to restrain himself from pushing his ass back into your face. You spread his small cheeks as wide as they would go, your face soaking wet with saliva, and buried your face in him. You were addicted to his noises, his smell, the texture of his skin; you felt drunk, and couldn’t get enough.

Pulling away and eliciting a whine from him that had you slapping the sore spot on his ass once again – which shut him up immediately – you reached over to grab the bottle of lube from the bedside table and covered your fingers generously with the thick substance. You’d recently opted for an oil-based lubricant so you didn’t have to keep reapplying it, and it had made a world of difference. After all, Jongseob hated being interrupted when you were fucking him.

After warming it up in your hands, you massaged it against his opening, and he hummed contentedly when you pressed a finger inside him, sliding it slowly but steadily until you were past the second knuckle and could begin to slowly pump in and out of him. After a few minutes of getting him warmed up, you added a second finger, and eventually a third. By this time, his breathing was coming out ragged and he already sounded wrecked. 

He gasped at the loss of contact when you removed your fingers and began to liberally smear lube along the strap-on, coating it thoroughly before lining it up against his hole and pressing into him slowly. 

He moaned loudly into the pillow as you slid inside, pausing as you bottomed out. You wished there were no barriers between your skin and his, the straps of the harness cutting into your skin mildly, but you had to work with what your biology allowed. It wasn’t enough, but it was good enough.

“You ready, baby?” you asked, holding yourself still and rubbing the soft skin of his lower back soothingly. 

“Yes, mommy. Please fuck me. Please, I’ve been so good, I need your cock,” he begged, and you gave in to his pleas, pulling out and snapping your hips back against his ass, causing him to cry out and grip the pillow tightly. You held onto his hip with one hand and braced yourself on the bed with the other, rolling your hips into him with increasing speed. Although you wished that there was sensation in the dildo so you could feel yourself inside him, the action still made your groin throb with pleasure nonetheless.

You pulled out of him and he whimpered from the sensation as you flipped him easily onto his back and pushed him further up the bed so that you could kneel on it in front of him. You pushed his legs apart and lined up the dildo against him again, taking no time sinking back into him. You looked at his face while you did it, wanting to see the way it affected him, craving the sight of him falling apart under you, filled up and overwhelmed.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his brows furrowed together and his cute nose was slightly scrunched up. You pushed his bangs out of his face to see him more clearly and could feel the dampness in his hair, the heat radiating from his blushing skin. His wet lips were slightly parted and he opened his eyes to look at you. He looked like he could burst out crying at any moment, his petite, flushed cock swollen and bouncing against his stomach.

“Will you kiss me? Please?” he asked so politely that in that moment you’d have rather died than deny him. You pulled back and thrust back into him slowly as you leaned down to capture his lips with yours. He exhaled a warm sigh through his nose against your face and whimpered against your mouth as you began moving in and out of him again, increasing your speed gradually as his tongue entered your mouth, hot, wet, and hungry.

As you pulled away from the intense kiss, you hooked an arm under each of his legs to spread him apart even further, deepening your access to him. With each of your hands braced on the bed, you began fucking into him relentlessly, snapping your hips at an angle that had him throwing his head back, his eyes becoming wet with tears once again. 

His breathing became labored and his chest was red and splotchy, covered in a thin sheen of sweat that looked good enough to lick off of him. His breathy moans started to come out in little gasps and he opened his eyes to look up at you, expression panicky and distraught.

“Mommy, I’m–”

“Not yet. Be good for me and wait, or else,” you managed to order between breaths, your own breathing becoming labored with effort. 

“I—fuck, okay. Okay,” he whined out, and you couldn’t help smiling at his desperation. After continuing to fuck into him until he was a babbling mess, his cock leaking relentlessly, you conceded, unable to deny him any longer.

“Okay my sweet boy,” you said at long last. “Come for me.”

He let out a sigh of relief, grabbing his cock and only pumping it a few times before he made a mess all over himself, sticky white cum spurting all over his stomach and chest.

You continued thrusting but slowed to a very gradual stop, letting him ride out his orgasm but trying not to overstimulate him too much. He moaned quietly as you pulled out of him and removed the harness, rushing to the bathroom to grab a warm wet towel and a glass of water. 

When you returned to the bedroom he was limp on the bed, just an absolute mess, eyes closed, chest rising and falling dramatically, a dopey fucked-out smile on his face. You paused to take in the sight of him, smiling ear to ear and heart aching at the sight. He had a tendency to have that effect on you. 

After wiping up the mess on his stomach, you crawled into bed with him and gathered him into your arms. He buried his head in your chest and you ran your fingers through his soft hair, peppering the top of his head with gentle kisses. 

“So good for me,” you whispered repeatedly, and he hummed into your skin, tightening his arms around your body. 

You found yourself guiltily looking forward to the next time he ‘got in trouble.’ This would just never get old.

oh i fucking love sleazy keeho …. ur mind……… need him BAD. ilysm 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

🎃 piwontober : day 7 || y. keeho ; praise kink/spanking/corruption

synopsis 👻 when you're finally ready to lose your virginity, you're too embarrassed to ask Keeho. That's why you use a scary movie as a perfect excuse to take the next step. 🦇 Word Count - 1.2K 🦇

Before Keeho started dating you, he was a playboy. He could pull anyone and his goal was just to get his dick wet. He had tons of experience.

You, on the other hand, you hadn't even gotten close to even kissing a guy. This relationship had lasted longer than any of your other relationships, meaning you were actually ready for sex.

But the problem was. You had no idea how to ask him. After brainstorming, you finally got an idea.

"Hey Keeho..~" You sang, wrapping your arms around him.

"Hey babe, what's up-" Keeho said, before realizing you weren't wearing a bra and your nipples were pressing completely against his back.

"I'm bored," You groaned. You moved to the other side of the couch and sat on his lap.

Keeho was stupid at times, but he wasn't this stupid. His hands dropped to your ass, "So, babe, what do you want to do?"

"Hmm," You pretended to ponder, not-so subtlely grinding on to him. "Watch a scary movie? Halloween is soon, right?"

"Are you sure you want to watch scary movie? I mean, you don't usually like 'em, right?" Keeho responded, trying to not moan while speaking.

"Come on, Keeho, I'll be fine, promise!" You crossed your arms in a way that purposefully accentuated your breasts.

"You'll be fine? From the way it's looking right now, you want to do something else right now," Keeho's siren eyes pierced your skin from the way he was staring so intensely at you and your body, "But I'm sure I'm just overthinking. You want to watch the movie? I'll put one on." One of the hands on your ass moved to take the remote and put a movie on.

Keeho pretended to not notice your pout. This was the first time you were making these advances, he should savor it a little more, shouldn't he?

During the movie, you tried to pay attention, you really did. But you couldn't stop thinking of the hard bulge under you, grinding against your ass. You and Keeho both knew he wouldn't do anything about it.

"Kyo."

"Hm..?"

"F-" You hesitated, redirecting your gaze from the movie to him. "Fuck me..?"

"Finally," Keeho flipped you over so he was on top of you, "I was wondering how long it'd take for you to ask me." Keeho wasted no time in kissing you, tongue exploring your warm mouth.

Keeho's hands went to your breasts, the thin fabric barely practically covering how they pebbled. You were like putty in his hands.

"Keeho, touch me, please," You whined, taking one of the hands massaging your boobs and bringing it down to your core.

"You're so sweet, babe," Keehos fingers hooked your shorts and underwear, "since you said please, I'll give you exactly what you want." He fully pulled down your garments, revealing your glistening core to your boyfriend.

Keeho stared in awe; it's not the first one he's seen, but definitely the cutest one. He slowly pushed his middle and index finger inside.

"Waitwaitwaitkyoi'veneverdonethisbefore..!" You swiftly admitted before he could fit his long fingers fully inside.

"Wait... really?" You expected a look of disgust from the more experienced male, but he only looks more excited. "This is your first time?" You nod, embarrassed. "This is going to be a lot of fun, isn't it? No wonder you were so fuckin' tight when I put my fingers in."

You averted eye contact as Keeho started fucking his fingers into you, maxing out at four fingers to "get you ready for his dick". If that was what you needed to be prepared, you were a bit scared to actually see how big he was.

That was also your first orgasm, on his fingers. The realization only made Keeho harder, so he swiftly discarded his sweatpants and boxers, giving himself a few pumps before lining up his erection with your cunt.

"Hey, babe, face down ass up, promise it'll feel better," Keeho suggested, and you happily obliged, feeling a bit more jittery knowing that you couldn't fully see Keeho's lustful expression.

Keeho slowly slid his length inside your virgin cunt, hand rubbing one of your asscheeks. “You're taking me so well,” He praised. To be honest, pride swelled in him knowing he was your first time. He got to ruin you any way he wanted. 

Halfway inside, he experimentally smacked your ass. If he thought you were tight before, you were even tighter. But you were also wetter. “Kyo~ Why'd you do that?”

Keeho spanked you again. “You're complaining even though it makes you wetter? D'you notice how fuckin’ soaked you are?” Keeho rambled, pushing himself deeper.

“Hurts..!” Tears were starting to fall down your heated cheeks, the sting from both your pussy being stretched and the handprints on your butt.  

“Aww, does it now? Come on, my little girl is taking me so well, you can do it for me,” Keeho leaned closer to your ear. “You're super cute for a virgin~”

“Kee-” His name was a mantra, and you were repeating it like it was the only word you knew. The lewd, repetitive slapping of skin-on-skin filled your ears, and your moans started to get more high pitched. Keeho's fingers started rubbing your clit, the hand that once spanked you groping every part of your soft body. “Kee, feel weird~” Your stomach was starting to feel knotted.

Keeho only increased his pace, mind clouded by the thought of him being your first orgasms, him. “I'm gonna make you cum so hard baby, you’re all mine, nobody else gets to see you like this, right?” He tugged on your hair, eliciting a loud moan out of you. You couldn't respond to Keeho, you were only able to form incoherent babbles as you hit your peak, your juices coating the bedsheets. “Kyo, sorry…” You weakly apologized, brain still hazy from your orgasm and overstimulation from Keeho still pounding into you, harder than ever.

“Don't be sorry, doll,” Keeho said, “You squirted your first time, wanna see you do it again, you'd squirt again for me, for your wonderful boyfriend? Yeah?” The way Keeho talked to you was so saccharine, you would be lying if you said it didn't make you hornier.

“Gonna squirt again for Kyo~” You gripped the white sheets, legs trembling from overstimulation. 

“Yeah you are, and you're going to let me cum inside,” Keeho's pace began to get uneven. You hummed a positive response, and felt as Keeho released his hot sperm in your cunt, painting your gummy pink walls white. The feeling brought you to your orgasm, once again ruining the bedsheets.

Keeho pulled out and plopped on the bed right next to your half-conscious form. “Did that feel good?”

“Mm…” You groaned, “Don't think ‘m gonna be able to walk for a month.”

“That's great, why don't we make it a year?”

hiii piwontober readers! day 4 has been added to the masterlist so please check @kissoulie ‘s fic out 💟 and a quick disclaimer: day 5 will be posted a few days late due to circumstances we can’t control but don’t worry it’ll be posted soon <3

oh rach…. this is genuinely the most beautiful perfect jiung fic i’ve read on this app… i’m so lucky to be hosting this event with you wow… literally in tears this was so hot but so cutie at the same time.. and the bit at the end omg 🙈 ur brain is so big please i need more of this au

tainted

DAY 3: phonesex/sexting/foreplay/dystopia with choi jiung

🕸 genre/pairings: dystopia!au - lower working class, dom!jiung x upper class, sub!reader

🕸 warnings: smut nsfw (mdni) | phone sex, mutual guided masturbation, slight degradation and corruption kink (consensual), name calling, praise, forbidden relationship

🕸 word count: 2,567 words

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ☠︎︎ ༻⋆。 °⛧

“This is gonna be the last time, I swear.”

“You said that the last time we did this.” 

“Well… I just can’t help myself, especially not when you look like that. C’mon, take it off for me, sweetheart.” Jiung coaxed in a seductively low register, a smirk working its way onto his pretty face. His greedy eyes were glued to his phone screen, following your every move from behind his wispy black bangs. 

What can he say? He really couldn’t help himself. Phone in one hand, the other inching towards his crotch, the urge to rub himself in search of sweet, sweet relief was too strong to fight off. So he didn’t – Jiung simply gave in to the temptation, diving head first into his desire for you.

The past hour had been pure torture. Not only was he absolutely swamped at work with unrealistic deadlines, but he also had to force himself to stay awake for the weekly government broadcast at the assembly hall. Jiung didn’t understand why they made it compulsory viewing every Friday – the content was repeated every week: stay within your factions, don’t interact with outsiders and abide by the curfew. For all he cared, the drawling voice could’ve been speaking in an entirely different language and he wouldn’t even have noticed. 

Not when you were the sole centre of his attention; the only thought that preoccupied his mind.

It was forbidden – whatever this thing you had going on between the two of you, anyway. Neither of you had a clue what this was. Being from different factions meant the odds were never in your favour. From birth, no, from the moment you were conceived in your mothers’ wombs, you and Jiung lived completely different lives. You were from the upper class, and he was from the working class – the lowest rung of society’s ladder; the scum of the earth. You had all the riches and gold, and always dressed in pristine whites. You were the epitome of poise and purity. Jiung was always tainted in shades of dirt, murky browns and dusty greens. Everywhere he went, he carried the earthy stench of the forest, a byproduct of spending endless days chopping wood and farming land for the government – the very government your family helped to form.

He was beneath you, metaphorically and physically. Right now, you locked yourself in an abandoned bedroom, one of the many in your father’s mansion, far away from prying eyes and curious ears. Being the daughter of a high-ranking government official came in handy, especially for raunchy phone sex escapades with the most irresistible boy you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

The first time you made eye contact with Jiung was when he came to deliver wood for the fireplace in your father’s study. You felt an electric spark then – both of you did. The air was thick and heavy with tension. And let’s just say you definitely felt an unmistakable wetness pool at your nether regions from watching him lift and chop big chunks of wood like they were weightless. It made you wonder how he would manhandle you in bed too…

You threw the phone onto the four poster bed before launching yourself at the mattress, obscuring the phone camera with a view of your chest that had Jiung salivating from the other end of the line. “Do you think they’ll know?” You mused, spreading yourself out and getting comfortable.

Jiung scoffed. Of course you were stalling – you were an upper class girl with all the time in the world to enjoy life’s simplest pleasures. Him, a humble forest boy, did not have the same privileges. As they always say, time is money. And right now, while he’d love to entertain your musings, he really had to get back to work soon. The forest had to be cleared and the trees were not going to chop themselves.

Plus, he was starting to get impatient. That’s what spending one whole hour eye fucking each other across the hall did to him, he supposed – him, a mere nobody amongst the crowd, and you, standing on the assembly stage, looking down at the commoners like the charming, law-abiding bureaucrat you were raised to be. Oh, if only people knew what went on behind the (smoke)screens. “I doubt it. These phones are ancient, none of the current systems will know how to break the encryption. But we’ll never know for sure – they’re always watching, Y/N.”

You hummed in response, lips curling into a devious smile. You liked that thought. “Then let’s give them a show.”

“That’s what we always do, baby. Now hurry, I’ve waited long enough.”

“What’s the magic word, Jiung?”

Blood rushed towards his cock at the way your saccharine voice wrapped around the syllables of his name. He imagined the same lips, oh so pink and kissable, wrapping around something else of his instead. “Quick, we don’t have time! You always do this, I need to go soon.”

“Always so impatient.” You tsked in feigned disapproval, but deep down, you liked it. You liked how Jiung couldn’t get enough of you, how he needed you so desperately, like a burning desire within him that could never be satiated. Even after ending every video call with a promise to never watch each other cum ever again, he always came running back to you, begging to watch you touch yourself. To him, nothing could beat watching you get off on him and his voice.

“Your shirt, Y/N.” Jiung insisted, voice firm and hard. Almost as firm and hard as his thick cock, straining against the confines of his dirt-stained work pants. 

Your pussy pulsed in response, leaking helplessly at his harsh command. After all, as the darling daughter of the most respected upper class family, you were raised to obey orders. You were always a good girl, and always eager to please. You propped the phone up against the pillow and got on your knees for Jiung, ensuring that your upper half was within the frame. With a sultry grin, you dragged your hands up your body, shivering when your fingers came into contact with your stiff nipples.

“Y/N,” He warned dangerously, but you liked playing games. His words fell on deaf ears as you kept playing with yourself, maintaining the slow pace. “Why would you even forget your bra? You like that everyone can see your nipples, huh? Is that it? Slut.”

“Yes, Jiung. I’m your slut.” You moaned, fingers pinching your buds through the thin fabric of your collared button-down. You were a good girl, but you loved bending the rules every now and then, with and for Jiung. And Jiung loved that he tainted you, the girl who embodied innocence and purity. He loved that he stained your whiteness with his dirtiness, like how he dreamed of painting your soft, supple skin with his hot cum.

Jiung cursed under his breath, and you heard him fumbling on the other end of the line. He scrambled to get his bottoms off and sighed in relief when his heavy cock was released. “Go on, what are you waiting for? Touch yourself for me.”

A dark, twisted part of you loved being spoken to in that way. The tension that built up from having to stand still in front of everyone while Jiung undressed you with his eyes got you all worked up. Now, it already felt like a release to take off your clothes and shed the persona you were forced to put on for the rest of the world. Because you knew when Jiung called you like this, you were reduced to nothing more than his girl; his slut. 

So you did as you were told and spread your legs on either side of the phone. You wore a maxi skirt that went all the way to your ankles to remain modest, but you couldn’t imagine what others would say if they saw you exposing your skin, let alone flashing your wet panties to Jiung, of all people, on the other side of the call. 

“Shit, you’re soaking, Y/N. So wet and we haven’t even got started…” Jiung mumbled, head spinning at the wet spot on your lacy white panties. His finger thumbed over an identical stain on his boxers, teasing himself as he spread the precum around his tip.

“It’s because you always look at me like that…” You whined, hands itching to touch your centre. But you knew better than that; you knew to wait for his instructions.

“Like what?” He smirked cockily. 

“Like you want to eat me up.”

“So what if I do? Hmm?” He hummed in response. “You know I’d do anything to eat your sweet pussy, my love.”

You moaned desperately, body heating up at his choice of words. “Jiung…”

“My sweet girl… Go ahead, touch yourself over your panties.”

You obeyed, lips parting in a sigh as your fingers came in contact with your centre. You placed pressure against your hole and felt yourself clench around nothing. Oh, you would give anything and everything to have his calloused fingers inside your gummy walls instead. But alas, it would never happen.

So you settled with this instead. Having his addictive voice guide you to completion over the phone was better than not having him at all. “Push your panties aside for me, yes, that’s it. Put a finger in.” Jiung instructed. He released a breathy moan when his fingers wrapped around his length and began stroking himself.

Your middle finger slipped inside your entrance easily given how soaked you were. It was a relief – small, but a relief nonetheless. You pumped your fingers in and out, maintaining a steady pace. From the corner of your eye, you could make out Jiung’s handsome face contorting in pleasure as he stroked his cock, matching your pace.

“How does it feel? Tell me, baby.” He breathes out, always a sucker for your strained voice and soft whispers.

“Good…” You trailed off, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. “Ah, but I wish it was your fingers inside…” You whined.

Jiung grunted in reply to your whiny cries, increasing his pace. “So do I, baby. Been thinking about stuffing your tight pussy with my fingers all day. I’d get you all stretched and ready for my cock. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” You cried desperately.

“I know you would, my little slut. Everyone thinks you’re such a good girl, but look at you now. What do you think they’d say? Put another finger in for me, go on.”

You obliged willingly, breath hitching at the feeling of being stretched further. Jiung was hypnotised, his eager eyes glued to the phone screen to watch your walls stretch and accommodate an additional finger. He couldn’t help but imagine replacing your fingers with his throbbing length and thrusting deep inside, over and over and over again until you both reached your climaxes. He loved tainting you; loved ruining the perfect image that the world sees of you.

“Jiung…” Your soft voice pulled him out of his trance. “Wanna see you, please…”

He knew exactly what you were asking for. He lifted up his shirt and angled the phone upwards, giving you the most delectable view of his thick girth and the numerous tattoos littered on his skin. You watched, transfixed, core pulsating as he stroked his cock hurriedly, harsh pants leaving his parted lips.

“How’s the view?” Jiung questioned with a handsome smirk on his face. 

You hummed in approval. “You’re so hot, Jiung.” 

“Right back at you, sweetheart. One more finger, c’mon. You know you can do it.”

Your lips fell apart in choked moans when you added the third finger. It could barely fit. You felt so full.

“God, you’re taking them so well. Doing so good, baby. Are you close?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed at the wet sounds your cunt made as you pumped your fingers in and out. 

“Me too. Rub your clit, yes… Good girl, just like that.”

“Jiung! Jiung, I’m close, Jiung…” Your mind was flooded with thoughts of Jiung and Jiung only, as you chanted his name repeatedly like a sacred prayer. You were so close, rubbing quickly to chase your release. 

“Yes, Y/N, so good, you’re doing so well for me.” Jiung moaned, mirroring your actions. He was running his mouth and babbling at this point. “Want to cum in your tight pussy and fill you up. I’ll stuff you full of my cum, put your panties back on and make you keep it inside… The world needs to know who you belong to.”

“You, Jiung! I belong to you, only you!”

“Fuck!” He swore, not expecting you to say something like this. It was so intimate – you took him completely by surprise. It was like a switch flipped inside him. The next thing he knew, his orgasm hit him like a ton of bricks and he was cumming messily all over himself. 

Watching his cum leak out in hot spurts made your walls clench tightly on your fingers. The image of him reaching his climax threw you over the edge, pleasure coursing deliciously through your veins as you reached your sweet release. 

It was intense this time, more intense than any of the previous calls. Even though you weren’t in the same room, you could feel the air had shifted. 

You both took a moment to compose yourself, to steady your breaths and heartbeats. But just as you were about to break the silence, you heard footsteps approaching the room.

“Damn it, I have to go.” You stared at him, panicked, yet your expression was uncertain and conflicted, like you were experiencing a whole range of emotions in a matter of seconds. 

Jiung was staring so intently at you, waiting for you to say goodbye and end the call. But why did he feel so reluctant this time? 

“I –” He started.

But you cut him off. “Sorry. See you, Jiung.”

You ended the call. For a few seconds, you just stared at the black screen, selfishly allowing yourself to imagine what life would be like if you could be with him in person, and not just through a phone screen. 

And then you realised that today was Friday, and the maids were out looking for you to get you ready and all dolled up for dinner at the government house. Instead of returning the phone to its usual resting place under the pillow, you pocketed it for a change. You weren’t too sure why, but your gut was telling you it was the right thing to do.

You ended the call. For a long time, Jiung just stared at the black screen, selfishly allowing himself to imagine what life would be like if he could call you his, and not just through a phone screen. His lower body and tattoos were still covered in cum, and he curses into the darkness when he realises…

“I think I’m in love with you.” He whispered, his words drifting off into the endless void between the two of you.

[7:49pm] jiung: sent a photo.

[7:51pm] jiung: can’t stop thinking about you

[7:51pm] jiung: i need you so bad, please y/n…

[7:51pm] y/n: me too, i want you inside me

[7:51pm] y/n: you can use the maid’s entrance. i’ll sneak out of this dinner, meet me in 20

oh i love you so dearly :( i can’t even put into words how beautiful this was to read.. and so heartbreaking… i felt so immersed in the story i’ll admit i cried 😭 he’s so precious and so ragged in this, i feel like u really did ur big one bc this has to be one of the prettiest fics i’ve written on piwon tumblr like 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 i feel so stupid bc i can’t articulate my thoughts on this properly and sound like a rambling idiot but this was just perfect.. i’m so happy that ur a part of this event ☹️☹️☹️💟 just so good

〔 sanguine 〕

a world in which haku shota has known you longer than you have known yourself.

read the teaser here.

pairing: vampire!shota x human!reader

wc: around 6k

genre: soulmates, forbidden romance, angst, SMUT, MDNI

warnings: murder, dubcon, blindfolding, there is a lot of angst, very slight breeding/crying, perpetuation of suicidal thoughts. if you are not in the headspace to read this, please don't. also pls forgive any small spelling/grammar mistakes!! the spelling might be regional the grammar is not LOL

a/n: day 4 of piwontober is here!!!!! this fic is honestly my baby 😭 i birthed this thing over the course of almost 20 days. the specific soulmate rules this steals from are from the otome game bewitching sinners. there is some other influence in this work, some you will most definitely recognize. special thank you to @strawberry-seob for beta reading this for me extremely last minute, you're a champ, my midnight brain thanks you for dealing with all my little mistakes. 🤍

in loving memory of juyogf/348kg.

(they didn't die they just got sussed </3)

Above all to protect you.

Although you don't know it, you are being watched. The night air is crisp, a subtle breeze ruffling your hair, while smoke billows from your mouth and nose. “One of life's finest coping mechanisms,” you sigh, your blond companion nodding in agreement.

And my favorite modern amenity, Shota chuckles, arm moving to wrap around your shoulders, “Right behind Tiktok doomscrolling.”

Warmth fills you, despite the air suddenly chilling, “Thank you for walking me home, Sho.”

Shota courted you—as he called it—his infatuation steady, exhilarating, even comforting at times. You couldn't deny he seemed… almost obsessed with you. He knew everything about you without much effort on his part.

“Any time, darling. I like knowing you're home safe.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek, swiping your vape from you, “Plus, it means I get an extra half hour with the love of my life.”

If only, Shota blinks quickly, eyes narrowing at the figure just out of your view. “It's still really sweet of you, Sho. I love you.”

The weight of those words in his mind have him smiling without realizing it. Despite his touch being just slightly too rough, you're as relaxed as ever, his hands feeling familiar in ways your mind can't put its finger on. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches your follower staring him down. Right. He's been on this mission for far too long. Shota inhales deeply, “I love you too.”

Falling in love with Shota is like second nature to both of you. Over all spans of time, you fall for him harder and harder. He holds your hands in his with a tenderness familiar to you, yet new every time. His eyes are so earnest. They hold your gaze like a blanket, always observant, always full of a sadness you can't quite place. Shota resents that he's the only one who has to carry this knowledge.

“You haven't eaten in a while.” You stroke his hair. Your hands spread warmth like fire everywhere they touch. He tries his best to remain present, in the moment, but his mind strays.

“It's okay.” His eyes are so far away.

You reach out to him, your fingers entwining with his. And though you don't know why, a feeling of complete hopelessness washes over you when his red eyes gaze deeply into yours. You pick your brain for the right words to say, worried that blunt language will cause him to pull away.

“At least- have a little, it’ll clear your mind?”

He shakes his head, “I love you. I’ll be fine.”

“I love you too, Sho.”

Sometimes it isn't about the words, but about hearing them back.

Shota nuzzles his face into your neck. He inhales deeply. Your blood always smells so sweet to him. The way you relax into his touch breaks his heart. Hands find their way up your spine, across your waist, squeezing your flesh in short bursts.

“Take whatever you need from me.” You don't understand his hesitation. He's always precise with his feeding, never letting himself get past the point of a little hungry. You trust him, he trusts you. Or at the very least, you think he does.

“Are you sure?” Shota’s fangs hover above your jugular, your eyes shining in the dim lights of his apartment. This isn't the first time you have been here, and despite what he knows is about to happen, he's sure it won't be the last.

“I’m sure, I promise, please take what you need from me.” Your voice is almost needy. His nails dig into your sides, eyes squeezing shut. If only he could forget everything else but this moment. If only he could turn back the clock, and be your lifelong lover, instead of being the reason your life isn't long to begin with.

“I will, precious. I love you.”

There's an unfamiliar sting when his fangs dig into you. His eyes flutter closed, holding you to him like you might disappear. He swallows, thick with your life in his mouth.

Shota is thankful that the vampiric part of his brain turns off any part of him that views you as more than just prey. He is your hunter. Your executor. Your lifelong nemesis. He feels you begin to weakly thrash in his arms, a mere whisper of his name snapping him out of his stupor. I’m sorry, he swallows you whole.

I’m sorry.

Your body goes limp. Slowly, you become just like him: A corpse.

Love became greed and erased itself.

Shota’s eyes are closed, fist wrapped tightly around his length. In his mind's eye is your face. He hasn't had the privilege of seeing you when you cum, and that's what he imagines every time he gets off. He thinks of your eyes fluttering closed in pleasure, his name nothing more than a quiet cry, your body milking him for all he's worth.

He thinks of you in his apartment, begging him to take what he needs from you. Your eyes that shone so brightly whenever you saw him. But alas, he is home, and not in that dingy little apartment he keeps for you.

His high approaches quickly, wrist cramping with exertion, if only he knew how you would feel. If only he had you once, so he could keep the memory for all time.

“Shota, his majesty needs you!” Three sharp raps on his door signal Jongseob’s arrival.

“I’ll be there in a second!” he nearly growls, tossing the covers off and putting on some slacks. His hands flatten his hair, eyes flicking to his mirror to make sure he looks presentable. He adjusts his belt, hoping he doesn’t look freshly blue-balled, “Did he say what he wants?”

Jongseob’s face as the door swings open is all Shota needs to see. His face falls into a grimace.

“You know, you'd think after all this time whatever being does this would have mercy on her.” Jongseob has always had more empathy than his Majesty, despite being his younger brother. “I mean, being lured to slaughter in every life must take i-”

“Quiet,” Shota grumbles, pushing past his brother and swinging open the doors to the throne room. His capelet hugs his shoulders when he bows, “Your Majesty.”

“My most beloved brother, it's good to see you.” Theo sits with perfect posture, crown perched atop his auburn hair. He peers down at Shota with an air of entitlement; As if he's just a vessel, and not a faithful family member.

“Likewise, your majesty. The prince-” Theo cuts him off with a wave of his hand. His eyes are piercing in ways Shota will never understand, his power undeniable while in his presence.

“I’m sure you know what I need, Shota. Take care of it.”

“Can't we just-”, Shota clears his throat, stepping forward tentatively, “Turn her? I mean, it's been so many years, I just-”

Theo stares intently at his younger brother. His eyes are full of authority, of a disturbing finality.

“Don't be silly, brother. You will perform your duty.”

Where did that terrible curse come from?

Shota finds you with ease thanks to the bond he shares with Theo. That, and he’s been chasing your scent for so long he could recognize you anywhere. Tonight, he's trespassing at a concert he doesn't have a ticket for. He's thankful for his vampirism in this atmosphere: it makes you so easy to spot at the barricade. He snakes through the crowd, his eyes honed in on you; a true hunter stalking his prey. The opening dialogue he’s prepared for you two to have about the boy group on stage is fresh in his mind—but you turn to him, your eyes staring at him with an emotion he hasn't seen before; a rarity, for him. He opens his mouth.

Then you’re gone.

There was something on that boy's face. A certain millennium old sorrow that you shouldn't be able to recognize. It’s etched into your mind, that beautiful face of his. You remember the silliest things, like his teeth, that he's your age, his roots were grown out. Clearly, you’re just lonely. But maybe—and only maybe—there’s something about him. An old soul, perhaps. Your thoughts are infested with him. So much so, that it’s a miracle you look up from your phone long enough to spot him on your train. Was this your fated love?

Has the universe finally shown mercy on your poor, lonely self?

You cast many nervous glances at the boy, who seems disgruntled. He’s bundled up in many layers to compensate for the incoming nor’easter, the visible part of his cheeks stained pink. It’s time to be brave.

Who inflicted this cruel punishment?

Shota sits bundled up on the subway. He's all too familiar with the route you take, electing to disguise himself so perhaps… you won't walk away from him again. Ever since your last encounter, the heart he never knew he had has been hurting him. He lies awake at night, unable to rest, thinking of the look on your face when you saw him. After much pondering, he realized he knew that expression: fear. It’s been so long since you feared him.

“Can I sit here?”

He's scared it's all a dream. Your smiling face, encased by a halo of fluorescent train lights. A lesser man wouldn't think of you as an angel.

“Ah, yes, of course-” He fumbles to scoot over just a tad, so you don't have to press yourself into him to sit with him.

“You're really pretty.” Your face lights up into the smile he's missed so dearly. Even though you come back changed in every life, your smile is always the same to him. “Sorry! That’s probably weird to hear, I didn’t mean it in a bad way!”

“Thank you, um, your smile-” The flush that tints his cheeks is foreign to him. Shota feels almost… excited. What’s happening is a gift from the gods. Your puppylike tendencies bleed through the walls he’s built since he last held you. When he gets off the subway, he finds himself walking with newfound purpose. Your number is scrawled onto his palm.

The fate that I devoted my life to; How could I forget?

Empty. Is there anything in Haku Shota’s life that is fully under his control? Is there even one instance where he isn't at the beck and call of another?

It makes him mean, to be so out of his own control. To wake up every day, and only be awake to the detriment of someone else. It’s slowly rotting away at his soul.

Not that there's much left of his soul, anyway.

And maybe Jongseob was the boy who saved his life, as well as the boy he still protected with his life. But Shota finds no enjoyment in this groundhog day he's found himself in. He curls in on himself, his mind racing. Everything is so loud.

Many days, he hopes he will finally be put out of his misery. His heart is twisting, turning, writhing, a mass of muscle and taut tissue, his lungs contracting and constricting, airways tight, so small he feels like he can’t even swallow his saliva, which is so thick and heavy in his mouth — if he could just breathe.

He grits his teeth, thoughts moving so fast he doesn't remember what he’s supposed to be—just that he is. His eyes are closed, shutting out another sense to keep up with, his whole body pulled tight with emotion like a marionette at the whims of his own consciousness.

Twitching. He can feel his body twitching every few seconds, uncontrollable and minute. He is in his head. With every thought that races through, one keeps looping as if desperate to be heard and to be seen: I don’t belong, I’m not happy.

A terrible oversimplification of his current plight, the thought manages to ease the onslaught of activity, condensing his thoughts down to his emotions. Does he feel anything? Has the numbness faded, causing him to stumble?

Trials and tribulations are commonplace for any person of his age, though certain anomalies of the mind can alter even the most simplistic emotion into a monster of its own merit.

Perhaps, this life isn’t meant for him.

It has made him happy. He has been good, and loved. He is good and loved.

But it isn’t for him. He can’t feel anything at all. Most of the time, he’s apathetic, with exception to sharp bursts of emotions. This isn’t a life he wants to live.

(He wants to live for you.)

Doomed. That is how he feels. The perfect descriptor for someone as cynical and apathetic as him.

The feeling leaves his mouth bitter, a smile displaying his outermost wants. It’s alarmingly easy to fake it. His own happiness is nothing but a facade. To him or to everyone?

Much of the time, being left to his own thoughts and opinions is what coerces his most vulnerable emotions out. It discomforts him, feeling the things he tries so hard to hide bubble up to the surface in undeniable agony. His heart, once hidden, emerges from its cocoon to try and blossom again.

If only.

But life is much more complex than these feelings of inadequacy. Even if he doesn't believe it.

“Pull yourself together, Shota.” Jongseob’s voice echoes in his empty apartment. He didn’t know who else to call.

“I wish I could feel normal again,” Shota whispers into the phone. He feels white hot shame course through him, and he regrets saying anything at all.

“If you felt normal, we wouldn't still be friends.” He laughs. Shota wonders how his friend could feel so light.

“Maybe we would be, but I’d be dead.” Dead might be better than this.

A forlorn silence falls over his room after he hangs up on his best friend. He closes his eyes, all of his memories a watercolor sketch of emotions. He has to end things between you two.

Your blood is still warm when he wipes it off his chin with a handkerchief. He knows Keeho will be there at any moment to clean everything up for him, and then Theo will want to celebrate. The cold air bites at Shota’s cheeks. It's like the universe is punishing him for his act of unkindness. He stuffs his hands in his coat pockets. When did I put on a coat?

There's one orange street lamp on his block. Did I ever notice how her smile was like the sun?

A car speeds by him dangerously close, the occupants seeming to watch him. Do I love her?

His phone lights up, a cheerful ringtone startling him. They don't have to know where I’m staying tonight.

The aftermath is always the worst part.

“Sorry, my roommate has a strict no boys policy.” You laugh, praying he buys the excuse. Really, it's not that Intak won't let you spend alone time with boys; it's that he won't let you spend alone time with this boy. Something about a bad vibe.

“I miss you,” he coughs, “When we aren't together, I miss you.”

Your stomach does a little summersault. A pretty boy misses you when you aren't with him.

“I’ll.. talk to him, maybe he'll relent because we're just friends-”

“I want to be more. Than just friends, with you.” Shota gauges your reaction for 30 long and agonizing seconds. He watches the cogs turn in your brain, realization setting in. Then, there's that beautiful smile of yours. If only he could feel this warm all the time.

“Oh thank god, I thought I was just delusional!” Your fingers entwine with his, and a flash of something akin to recognition passes across your face.

Convincing Intak to let Shota over was an ordeal you were sufficiently blindsided by. Perhaps there was more to the story of why he doesn't want you with him, but if he won't tell you… it's no longer your concern.

That's what you tell yourself when you sneak the boy into your room, anyways. You feel completely safe with him. Completely at ease. So much so, that when he lays you back on your bed, dick heavy between your thighs; you relax and let him have his way with you.

“Have you ever done this before?” His voice is soft. His hands caress your body with reverence.

You shake your head. You feel his fingers slowly drag up your thigh, his body pushing your legs apart with his descent between your thighs.

“Gonna prep you, it'll feel good.” He presses a quick kiss to your clit over your panties. He takes his sweet time ridding you of them, sucking and licking at your clit. A sharp pain has your eyes snapping open.

“Sho, hurts.”

He soothes it with a kiss, murmuring ‘good girl’ into your cunt. He looks at you from beneath his lashes for approval.

“Shota, your eyes-” You gasp out, hands tugging impatiently on his hair. His tongue pokes slightly out of his mouth, chin covered in slick.

“Don't worry about it, baby,” he mumbles into your thighs, leaving a trail of wet kisses right back to where you needed him most.

“No- Sho-” You try to push him away, but his hands grab yours, “Quiet.”

He hums into your clit, pressing his fingers in to curl right up into that spot you love so much.

“Sho, stop-” The pitch of your voice is electric. The stuff of dreams, for him.

“No. You will cum for me.” His ministrations get more aggressive, more motivated. He sucks on your clit far too painfully for your liking, but it only gets you closer.

“Sho- Shota, fuck-” His eyes lock onto yours as you cum all over his face, before your head lolls back, lungs gasping for air.

He holds you close to him after, pressing gentle kisses all over your exposed chest and neck. He mumbles something you don't quite catch between the blood rush in your ears. All you can think about is how safe you feel with him. And maybe, there's a little voice in the back of your head that says you love him.

“Don't do that to me again,” you whine, clinging to him in the afterglow of your orgasm, “You really scared me for a sec.”

“Sorry, precious. I get a little mean when I’m desperate.” His voice is a pitch lower than usual, and it sends heat back between your thighs. He's still hard against you.

“Don't bite your lip at me like that,” he groans, manhandling you into his lap, “You're the one who said to stop, baby.”

His eyes are heady, dilated with lust. It's a gaze that has you stricken. The only reply you can muster comes out as a soft whine, “Just- make love to me, Sho.”

Fate is in my hands again.

You try to brush off the undeniable red you saw in your lover’s eyes a mere 3 weeks ago. He sneaks into your shared apartment far too many times, just to kiss on you and love on you. It's almost as if the sorrowful boy you met in the park all those months ago has been replaced by someone… happier.

The months fly by between the two of you, and even Intak seems to warm up to the idea of Shota sticking around. (Yes, there were many long nights of bickering when he found out you were sneaking him in.)

“Shota, I’m not so sure.” Black silk is cool against your eyelids—one of your boyfriend's many ideas to spice up your private time.

“It'll be okay, baby. Trust me.” He kisses your lips, then your cheeks, then your nose. You feel the bed dip with his weight, his eternally cold body pressing against your own.

“I trust you,” you breathe out, his lips ghosting against your own. You feel a sharp prick by your collarbone, followed by his tongue. “Soul?”

That blessed nickname you've given him. Your heart and Soul.

“I’m here, baby, I’m here.”

There's emphasis on dialogue in your sex life. At Shota’s insistence, of course. He loves listening to you whine and cry for him.

You're confused. Left completely in the dark, until you feel his dick dragging through your sticky folds. Without prep? Is the only question in your head, feeling the throb of him. You need him so badly.

“Sho-” you gasp out.

“I’ve got you.”

Right. He's got you. Always.

His hand wraps around your neck, applying light pressure just to test. Just to see where your limits are.

“N-No, Sho-” You weakly grab at him, not fussing, but still trying to pull him off of you. He feels your wrist go slack when he angles his hips up at just the right spot.

“You go so dumb for me so easily, precious.” Shota whimpers. His mouth falls open, eyes going hazy with pleasure, “Christ, I’m gonna cum.”

“Inside, please.” You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him ever deeper. You feel so good he can hardly breathe, squeezing around him like a vice. He's embarrassed by how quickly he always cums with you, but you never seem to mind. Afterwards you're always smug, teasing, almost mean.

“Okay, baby, anything for you.” He breathes out, thumbing at your clit. He tries to pick up the pace, but the grip you have on him is too tight, so he settles for grinding into your precious cunt.

“I love you, Shota, I love you.” You cry, kicking and shaking with pleasure, your whole body convulsing. He moans your name in a tone that's downright debaucherous. He's nestled so deep inside you, hand pushing your leg up further. He feels himself hit a wall within you, and you let out a sob. “Sorry, sorry, fuck.” 

I grew up in an eternity that will soon belong to you.

The ways in which Shota loves you are carnal. All this time, he's viewed the countless years upon years you've spent together as something out of his control. When really, he has all the control. All the power. Shota decides that in this life, the only way to keep you alive is to sever his proximity to you. The only way to protect you, as he so dearly desires, is for him to disappear. Watch over from afar. Maybe then, Theo won't hunt you like an animal. 

But he knows it's nothing more than a pipedream. And in disobeying his king, there's more than just a high probability that he'll never see you again. All these years spent pining after you, chasing you down, getting to know every version of you the universe has to offer; and he will finally die. He will finally get what he's always wanted, as is the price for your life.

May 25th, 1967

Feelings grow, morph, and change overtime. What was initially anxiousness at the thought of us talking has turned into anticipation. I hope we will meet again. I can prepare, but I will not remember. I can pretend to shield my emotions, but it's too late. I like you, plain and simple. I like you. I cannot wax poetic like this, I simply like you. You are a small comfort, a being I can rely on, someone I want to cherish and savor like fine wine. I think about arguments, and fierce letters, and sharp kisses and bites. I think about a confession on your lips, late nights by candlelight spent sitting too close for just enemies, just friends, just anything. I think about bringing you trinkets, books, scraps of literature I cannot admit to writing myself. I think about cooking together and laughing together. I think about how awful your cooking could be, and eating it all anyways because you made it for me. I think about reading together in silence, waking up to leaning against you, something you might never let me do. I like you. I cannot stand it. I ache for you to the point of nausea; mere words will not encompass it. I’m learning you, and tracing my fingers along the ridges of your soul again and again and again. It inspires hunger, insatiable hunger, blunt teeth tearing through threads of time and storing them in the maw, savoring them; Swirling them around, feeling each individual thread snap and break, swallowing even as the ends scratch my throat, and swallowing some more, asking for more, needing more to remember to reread to rethink to reanalyze to cherish and destroy and love and hate and hunger for more always more never less always enough never full. The hunger subdues, declines, takes its teeth out of me but not its claws, always threatening, always wanting. Wanting, wanting, wanting like it deserves to. I want to avoid, not be a moth drawn to flame, drawn to certain death, I want to allow myself to stop thinking stop being stop wanting but the need grows the want grows the anticipation and desire to connect and to be it fills and snakes and squeezes my heart and– I need to be restrained and unwanting and alone again so I cannot feel anything or anyone. So I cannot taste the breeze, the ashes, the sea, the stars. If only to feel you, and to feel you on the curve of the wind's fingers, caressing and cooling and soothing and peaceful. I wish that peace was me and I was peace but the feeling of duty, of punishment, of praise, it requires chaos, it requires not a moment of simple and singular silence. In you I feel silence, I become silence, I conform, I become too much, I feel nothing, I feel everything—I want you. And this wretched heart won't let me stop. Every time I open my eyes I'm attacked with memories of you, ghosts of love and adoration flipping through my eyes in seconds and I just feel you as my breath and my echo, the words I speak, and the air I breathe. I can feel you in my hands, in my laugh, in everything I do. You are my world, my lover, my friend, the nostalgia in my tea and the memories I have yet to make everything, everything always you. Even now I can't untangle the cord of our souls, what are the chances you remember? Very little, I'm afraid. I will never speak to you of this—I don't want to, and I'm scared, but my gods—if I would not tear down the heavens for you, then love is just a concept. I would still become destroyer of the heavens, hell's purveyor of punishment, all if it, if only for you.

Shota

October 31st, 1992

The problem is that I want to be wanted too, so what am I doing so wrong? I find it hard to form lasting connections as quickly as others, am I just not enough? What makes me so inadequate? What makes me so wrong?

Why can’t I love and be loved as others are? Why is that so hard? I’ve always struggled with connecting with people. Something about my humanness, or lack thereof. One of my favorite quotes is this: “We accept the love we think we deserve.” 

I know I don’t deserve much, but that’s… Not necessarily the problem here. How can I accept love I’m not given? How is it that people who’re supposed to have a strong bond with me, bond with other people more? Am I simply unlovable? 

What mark is there that ties me to them? If one of us leaves, our connection is simply lost to the wind. I suppose the ephemeral nature of my existence bleeds out into my relationships. I suppose that is the “wrong” within me. 

I miss you. You are in the moon that washes over me. You are in every tender morning. You are in the weeds I uproot. You are bamboo, invasive to my land. You are in everything I am.

Thank you for listening. I know you always will.

Shota 

December 25th, 2016

Everything that is "mine" has been stripped away from me.

People are

a hand

a heart

a hundred little things

slipping, just out of reach

away

Kind regards,

Shota

February 15th, 2023

My life and love have lost their luster.

and I, my gilded glow. 

My darling is made of stars.

My darling cannot see me from afar.

For what separates the stars from the Earth?

What stops them from moving ever closer, ever nearer, from loving the land below? 

Death, my dear heart.

The stars we see are dead, 

and thus

I, too, am loving a dead thing.

You wouldn't like the person I've become. And I won't blame you. I don't like who I've become either. 

Sincerely yours,

Shota

January 19th, 2024

I have much to say, yet no way to say it properly. I guess I will start with something I will never say again: I miss you.

My feelings alone are not enough to be the catalyst of a relationship, yet when I think about the few sweet words you’ve gifted to me I consider it may be enough. 

I know you. And truly, the more I think I do, the more I’m aware I don’t. I wonder what kind of person would steal your heart. Someone with gentle hands, soft words, the epitome of kindness? Yet cruel in their own way, when provoked? I am nothing like that. The jagged edges of my splintered heart are just that; jagged edges. I am not callous, but at times I find myself wanting to be what people believe me to be. That is to say, I want to become an unthinkable beast. 

Unthinkable beasts don’t cry for a lover they’ve never had though, do they. 

The thought of you arouses such anguish within me, my heart. I think you would despise this pet name. My heart, my heart, my poor, beating heart. Bitter blue, dancing flame, stormy rose. You get prettier as you age. Like a fine wine, or an expensive cologne. 

It’s not that I haven’t thought of you as a lover, but that I haven’t allowed myself to. It hurts. Worse than I believed it would. 

It hurts. It really does. I don’t even know why anymore. Is it because I am unloved by you? Is it because I’m scared of truly losing you? Am I so selfish that I want you back with no regard for your safety? I am, and I am not. I wish I could distract myself from you again. 

I want to be with you. I want to love you without doubt. I want to think of you and crave your presence without hurt. I want you, I want you, I want you, I want you.

Humans are such complex little creatures. Somehow, after reading all of Shota’s letters, you're more determined than ever to love him. His letters, his final gift of closure to you, they infuriate you.

Who is he to decide your fate?

Who is he to decide you're better off without him around?

It's a gut feeling that has you running to his apartment. Your chest aches from the cold air and exertion. Your feet only carry you faster. You've never had a soulmate. 

Across all those decades, you've never known what it's like. You were never able to understand the nauseating love others feel for someone else. You fell in love, but you never felt in love. 

Not until Shota.

You knew from the start: For you, there was only ever him. There is no soul more perfect, no heart more understanding—it is him for you. You pray to whatever god exists that he's still in Seoul.

Your hands shake while you fumble with the set of keys he gave you. The lock clicks, and you burst through, hoping to find a light on. 

But all that remains is silence. Cold and daunting.

You let out a hollow laugh to yourself. Tears prick the corners of your vision, then a scream bubbles up and into the back of your throat.

A pair of glowing red eyes stare back at you. 

Unlike your beloved’s eyes, that always adored you, these eyes are callous. They pierce through your very soul.

There's an imperceptible flinch on their end that has you stumbling back slowly. Your heart thrums violently in your ears, begging you to turn back, begging you to move or do anything to fight against your now oncoming demise. 

“He made a mistake.” It breathes in your direction, moonlight streaming through an open window. 

You take a small step back, and it takes one forward.

“I am here to fix it.” 

It lunges forward, hands snaking around your throat, smashing your head onto the tile below.

“Shota!” 

In your freshly fogged brain, all you can think of is him. 

He loves you.

He'll come. 

“Shota, help!” 

There's a deep throbbing in your chest. A fear stronger than your own grips you, your body finally listening and fighting for you. Black dots line your vision, your lungs burning in an agonizing pain you know to associate with death. 

And then the pressure is gone.

“I'm not good at this whole emotions thing.” A steady beeping sound fills the sterile room where you lay. 

“I don't even know where to begin telling you everything that's happened,” Shota swallows down his anxiety, warmth blooming in his chest. Your eyes flutter open to meet his.

“I should come clean to you.” Your voice has a rasp to it, throat completely dry from your days asleep, “I haven't been entirely honest.”

Your stare bores through him like acid. He feels your heart rate pick up before modern technology even dares.

“I… I’ve been seeing things. Myself. I don't know when it started, but shortly after I met you, she started appearing- first just occasionally, then the closer we got, the more I saw her. And then I started having these weird dreams about you… they felt like memories. I thought I was going crazy.

Shota, my whole life I’ve felt like no one would ever love me. Everyone had their soulmate, and I had no one. My parents didn't love me, I had trouble making friends, I felt no drive to ever… be anyone. And then I met you. You just got me. I finally thought: I don't need a soulmate. You never mentioned anything about a soulmate, you didn't seem interested at all—and then one day it just clicked. I felt like you were a part of me. 

That night, when I went to your apartment, it was her. Me? I’m not sure, but she has my face. I still don't…” 

You blink back tears. Shota holds your shaking hands in his. There's the boy you fell in love with. Soft hands, slow movements, love you've never felt with anyone else.

“Your soulmate is- Sorry, was, my brother. We're not related by blood, but by a familial bond forged when we were both children. I don't expect you to know anything about vampires, or what happens when they're soulmates with a human, but when a vampire is soulmates with a human they become mortal from the moment the two meet. Theo fought for many, many years to become the vampire king. He led wars, lost almost his entire family, and became the ‘monster’ he is today. I am of the opinion that he always envisioned a soulmate as powerful as him. And when he first saw you all those years ago, he didn't see the strength within you—only the vessel. I- I don't wanna get into it still, I’m not ready, but- when I was younger, I hated you. To me, you were just another obstacle in Theo’s way. He wanted you gone. My best friend was the one who would've done it if I didn't. I don't know what happened, you read the letters, I fell. I fell for you.” 

“Somewhere along the way, I think I fell for you too.” Your voice is as quiet as a pin drop. He looks at you, warmth and something else just beyond his soulful eyes. His lips curl into a beautiful smile, the first you've seen in this lifetime.

It's my fate

To dedicate myself to you.

taglist: @tkooooop, @haolovre, @jiungsdaisy, @jmclouds

me n bella tbh 👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏼