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cutehoons02 · 1 month ago

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Blood Sacrificies

Desire:Unleash Sunghoon pt Jay pt

*pairing: Hacker nerd vampire Jake x influencer Girl

*trope: he fell first (obsession) she fell harder

*synopsis: Jake has only one wish in life: to drink forever the blood he’s obsessed with—the only blood he can actually feed on. But something happens that drives him crazy: you, the only girl who doesn’t seem to notice him, are the one donating his favorite blood. You donate it because you have a rare condition—your body produces too much blood, and if you don’t donate regularly, you suffer from severe dizziness, vomiting, and could even die. But this is a secret, because you're one of the most popular girls in Korea and a social media influencer with millions of followers. When Jake finds out you're the girl behind the uncomfortable blood bags he's been drinking from, he blackmails you and forces you to let him be the only one who can “help” you—biting you once a week. But what would happen if one of you fell in love? You’re a human with dreams, and he’s a 130-year-old vampire who, on paper, is your age—but behind that, he hides a dark identity.

*tags: Jake at first wants only for blood, corruption, blackmail, fluffy, love to tease, fashion/influencer girl slightly spoiled and thinking about herself, Jake emanates dark vibes but also from golden retrievers, blood, types of blood, bites, bite description, a lot of kisses, fake innocent girl, needy Jake, masturbation (male) unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) shower sex, pet names (baby,princess) (nerd,jakey) +18, statement

17k (🦷)

The world between humans and vampires had long been established.

There were no more wars; only tense silences. The fragile balance of a hybrid civilization was tested every single day. Vampires had to feed without killing, they had to register, obey strict laws enforced by the Blood Bank regulations and the edicts of the Vampire State, and coexist with humans with the dizzying variety of blood types and the intoxicating scents that constantly surrounded them. Those who broke the rules were labeled "rebel vampires" aggressive, manipulative, and uncontrollable. To keep them in check, universities and governments had created parallel networks, teams of expert hackers- vampires, humans, even warlocks- tasked with exposing the lawbreakers.

Jake was one of the best. A full-blooded nerd, with a degree in mathematics, a PhD in quantum physics, and above all a brilliantly cursed mind when it came to systems.

Jake wasn’t like other vampires.

While 90% of them were content with any blood, Jake fed exclusively on AB Rh-negative.

The rarest, the purest, the most... yours, and he was utterly obsessed with it addicted, even. Every week, a single bag would arrive at the Blood Bank. His type and when he drank it…he felt something no vampire was ever supposed to feel: an erotic, almost spiritual pleasure.

For most vampires, Blood Bank bags were indistinguishable-practical, clinical but for Jake, Saturdays were sacred. He lived for the moment he could either walk into the Bank or receive the package at home: Those sealed blood bags, filled with your blood. Of course, he didn’t know it was yours not until that cursed day when everything changed—for you, and him.

The Blood Bank was teeming with vampires, each with their code granting access to special rooms where they could drink from blood bags or, for those who preferred it, pick up sealed packs to take home. He was sitting in the designated room, where his blood type was marked on the wall, waiting to drink. But the moment the first drops touched his tongue and slid down his throat, he knew something was wrong: the scent from the bag had changed.

Jake noticed it instantly, as the ruby liquid grazed his palate. It wasn’t the same. It no longer had that warm, deep note... the one that used to scream inside him every time his tongue touched the vial’s spout.

He drank. One sip, two... then stopped. His fangs had emerged, of course, they had, it was still blood but they hadn’t tapered the way they usually did, and his breathing grew shallow. His heart (if he could still call it that) was beating too slowly. And he didn’t feel that jolt of electricity, that erotic surge, that always came when he drank blood. Especially yourblood.

He placed the container on the lab table, staring at the red liquid trembling under the cold neon light.

“What the hell…” he muttered, pulling the sleeves of his sweatshirt tighter over his arms, too long, too thin.

The lab door opened with a hiss of sterile air.

-Oh, Jake. Still here? It’s late. Why haven’t you finished all your bags- The Blood Bank supervisor: a vampire who looked about seventy, but was probably over five hundred gave him a warm, familiar grimace. He had known Jake since the first time he’d shown up, one of the rare vampires who could only feed on one very specific type of blood.

-I’ve never seen you leave a single drop behind. What’s going on, kid-Jake shot to his feet, red eyes gleaming.

“It’s not… it’s not the same as always. This isn’t the blood I drank last week,” he said, irritation sharp in his voice from the lingering taste.

-What do you mean?- the supervisor asked, puzzled. “The AB Rh negative blood bag I get every week. This one’s different. The chemical profile is off. The iron levels are higher. The glucose composition is different. And the smell... The smell is completely wrong.”

-Jake…- “I want to know why. I want to know why you changed my donor.”The supervisor sighed. He opened an old tablet, tapped the screen a few times, and scrolled through the data. Then he stopped.

-Anonymous donor. Code ‘MF020-Z’. The last donation: was two weeks ago. The donor signed off. Chose to stop contributing. No explanation given.-

Jake went pale. His hands turned colder, as if someone was ripping away the only thing that still kept him warm kept him alive, these past five years. He’d gone through several donors, but you were his favorite. He didn’t even know who you were, but your blood was pure addiction, poison, and longing all at once.

“They… don’t want to donate anymore?” he murmured, lips tight in a pout. -It happens. Sometimes donors change their minds. Too tired, too drained… or they just stop. They can’t donate forever. What’ll you do when the person with this code dies? Jake, you need to understand humans have the right to choose. And don’t worry, there will always be someone out there with the blood type you need.-

“It can’t happen to me.”

-Jake...-

“I need that blood. I’ve been fine for five years, even with slightly lower glucose or iron levels. But my body will feel the difference.” His tone was too human, too childish and the supervisor realized just how fragile he was under all that brilliance. Jake said nothing more. He walked out.

He returned to his bunker in the university basement, where the hum of servers drowned out his thoughts. He still had a couple of your bags left in his apartment, and now more than ever, he was determined to find out who you were.

Twenty-four hours later.

The code was burned into his mind: MF020-Z

He wasn’t supposed to access the donor database. It was locked down multiple layers of protection and if anyone found out he’d violated privacy protocols, he’d be slapped with a lawsuit and a massive fine. But to discover who had kept him alive for the past five years, Jake would do anything and Jake was a hacker a desperate one; and when you put those two things together, even the gods start to tremble.

So he slid on his nerdy glasses, and his noise-canceling headphones, and started typing. Encrypting. Bouncing through firewalls. Masking his IP.

“Who are you, MF020-Z?” he whispered, fingers dancing over the keyboard as he entered the code into the Blood Bank’s account database. Then, he saw it. The file opened after nearly two hours of relentless hacking, and Jake couldn’t believe his eyes.

Your photo. But most of all your name, bolded above the blood type he’d been drinking for years. That blood had come from your body. And you were the only girl who had ever truly driven him mad from the first moment he saw you in the computer science classroom.

Name: [YOUR NAME]

Age: 22

Major: Communication and Marketing

Status: Influencer – verified profile

Last Donation: Two weeks ago

Reason for Stopping: Confidential

Jake’s breath caught. He shoved his chair back and slammed his head into the backrest, he knew you, of course, he did. Everyone at the university knew you. You were one of the most popular girls on campus, one of the hottest influencers in the state. You’d taken a basic coding class with him. Sat in the front row with your oversized Apple headphones, and designer sunglasses: Prada, Miu Miu, Céline. Hats of all kinds. Bags that cost more than his entire apartment.

A clean girl dream, styled like someone who had it all and you’d smiled at him once in a while. Maybe just to be polite. Because to you, he was the loser in the back row. The one in faded hoodies, stammered when he spoke to you, the one who watched you from afar when you ordered matcha vanilla lattes at the campus café, the one who’d had a crush on you since day one.

“It was her. It’s always been her. The blood… it was hers.” Jake buried his face in his hands. His lips trembled. He felt like crying (but his body hadn’t allowed itself that release in a long, long time.)

So instead, he collapsed onto the bed, a giant mattress with black covers that smelled of something dark and citrusy, set atop stacked server crates. He still held your half-empty blood bag in his hand, drinking from it like it was his only reason to exist and maybe it was.

After a few minutes of silent sobbing and cursing the world, Heeseung walked in his work partner, roommate, and one of his closest friends.

'Bro, where the hell have you been? You disappeared for two days.' Jake didn’t answer, his lips were stained red, he buried his longish hair into the pillow and groaned softly.

'Did you binge again?' Heeseung asked, walking closer like an older brother checking on his little one. Sometimes Jake overindulged in the rare blood he was allowed to drink and it left him a mess but Heeseung could see Jake looked physically fine.

It was the expression that was off.

“It’s not my blood,” Jake muttered, clutching the bag to his chest like a child hugging a stuffed toy. 'What? What do you mean, Jake?' Heeseung said, serious now. “My blood. The one I always drink. The one that keeps me calm, that makes me feel… alive. It’s gone the donor stopped and I’m obsessed.” 'Jake… I’m sorry. But you know donors can stop after a few years. It’s their right.'

“It’s her. The girl. It’s always been her. She’s my worst nightmare,” Jake whispered, curling up against Heeseung. 'What girl?' Jake turned to him, eyes shining.

“Her. [Your Name]. The popular one. The one everyone wants. I was drinking her blood and didn’t even know it. Every time I looked at her, I felt something and couldn’t explain it. Sure, she’s gorgeous and completely my type—but now I get it.

It’s because she was inside me. Her blood every week feeding me and now…”

'Oh… shit.' Jake nestled into Heeseung’s arms, still hugging the bag like a lifeline.

“Why did she stop, Heeseung? Why doesn’t she want to donate anymore? I didn’t do anything to her. She doesn’t even know me. I respect her, I do, but I need her. I need her blood. I need to feed… and I need to possess her.”

Heeseung crouched beside him, lost for words, Jake’s eyes welled up with blood-tinged tears.

“I want to talk to her. I want to give her everything. I just want her to let me stay close. I just… I just need to feel her inside me again. Just one more time.” and in that moment, Heeseung realized the youngest vampire in the room had crossed a line. he wasn’t just dependent anymore.

He was obsessed nd it was about to get worse.

Being the most popular girl on campus came with perks. Free notes even for exams you haven’t picked yet, frat party invites even if you’d only shown up once, for the photos and then… the brands. A storm of packages, every week: lipsticks, heels, smartwatches—even a vampire perfume that “lasts longer than the smell of human blood.”

TikTok, Instagram, a devoted community hanging on your every word but popularity had its price. Your real life—the one where you secretly donated blood every week for nearly five years, didn’t exist online. You had a rare mutation: adaptive hematic overproduction. Your body made too much blood, sometimes it gave you headaches, other times nausea, or full-on blackouts. But the Blood Bank… paid a fortune.

Your blood was AB Rh-negative, the rarest, purest kind. In a world where vampires had to feed without killing, your blood was liquid gold. You earned €2000 a week, just for donating, it wasn’t something you could just… give up but two days ago, the nurse wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“We’re sorry. Your rate’s being cut by 60%. They found another compatible donor. She has 0.3% more iron. The new protocol requires offer equality.”

You crossed your arms, pulling your Acne Studios trench tighter.

“My blood isn’t just chemistry. It’s desirable. It’s unique. And I’m not about to be paid like some random chick with a needle in her arm.”

“We don’t make the rules,” muttered the vampire secretary, scrolling your profile.

Your voice dropped to a whisper. “Then I’m not donating anymore.”and that was that or so you thought.

That afternoon, you were lounging in the library café. Legs crossed, eyes bouncing between your phone and laptop. Your matcha was lukewarm-vanilla matcha, your go-to “I didn’t sleep but I look flawless” drink.

Seated at your usual glass table, you scrolled mindlessly anew comment on your satin lingerie post, alike from someone with 32k followers, a DM from a Japanese skincare brand.

Same old routine—until your eyes widened, your bank balance had dropped and not for a Chanel bag or a Tokyo flight, you hadn’t donated in a week. And now, no money. Your pout was instant, childish even but with a razor edge, your followers loved.

“I need a new plan… or maybe I make them beg to take me back.”

And then you felt it that stare, sticky, too silent yet screaming. Your eyes lifted across the lounge: Jake Sim.

Black hoodie. Messy hair. Eyes down on his laptop, nerd glasses on, except when he looked at you and he kept looking at you. Like he knew something, it annoyed you. But it also… made your skin tingle.

Jake was weird, he knew everything about Wi-Fi networks but blushed if you bit your hair tie a loser, sure but also someone who knew way too much, specially for someone over 100 years old with those adorable little fangs that peeked out when he smiled. Jake had discovered your dirty little secret.

He felt your heartbeat, tracked the way your blood surged. He had hacked the entire donor database to find you and now, he couldn’t stop looking.

He watched you like a collector who’d found his missing masterpiece, locked behind bulletproof glass. He could still taste your blood in his throat (your blood) and it made him ache.

His fangs itched for your pale, perfect skin, he looked away and tapped on his keyboard… but when your drink neared its end?

His game began.

The chair across from you slid out. Slowly, you rolled your eyes before even looking up.

“Jake Sim,” you muttered. The vampire-nerd sitting across from you or, as you privately called him: “My personal stalker dressed like a broke Calvin Klein model.”

He’d followed you on every account, liked every post: notifications on you were sure of it, he’d like your story before Instagram even finished uploading it and he didn’t even hide it.

Not even a little, Jake tilted his glasses down and gave you a lopsided grin: Classic sexy-outcast-with-too-many-secrets expression.

His fangs peeked out slightly, he propped his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, looking calm but bold, too bold...

You folded your arms over your chest almost instinctively. As if shielding your heart. Or your blood.

“Jake, do you need something? Or are you just here to compliment my new modeling campaign?” He stretched like a smug kitten, that’s when you saw it: Beneath the oversized hoodie, a hint of pale skin and below that a perfect V-line. Sharp. Carved. Leading right down to the waistband of black Calvin Klein boxers.

Jesus Christ, you thought.

His brown eyes were lit with something wicked, his lips curled into a smirk.

“Good question,” he said, raking a hand through his hair like he was in a shampoo ad. Jake was a dangerous cocktail: Smoldering eyes, puppyish grin, big veiny hands, if he weren’t a vampire (and so weird), you might’ve flirted with him one night… after an Aperol Spritz.

“You done scanning me? Or are you checking for a serial number under my belt?” You sighed, crossing your legs a little slower this time, knee exposed, tilted your head and went in for the kill.

“Jake, just because you’ve got a V-line and the hands of a guy who knows his way around a screwdriver, doesn’t mean you’re interesting. You’re still the same stalker-nerd with dark circles from too many incognito tabs.”

His laugh was soft, sweet and dangerous. It had that tone the kind that made you feel like he was about to tell you something forbidden. Or worse: Something true.

“Not nice to tease a guy, you know?” “Oh, right. Forgot. You’re a vampire.” “Especially one who knows things... no one else does.”

You froze, just a second then sat up straighter. Controlled. Icy.

“Explain.” Jake licked his lip just slightly. You saw his fang catch the skin. He seemed to like it, then… he pulled out a neatly folded note. Laminated, placed it on the table slowly, deliberately. His gaze never left yours, nothing goofy about it now. Just pure, calculated confidence.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning boredom. “Jake, I don’t have time for your games.” “Oh no?” he whispered. “Then why are you sweating through that perfect skin of yours?” His laugh was low. Slippery and then he added, voice laced with mischief: “Come on, princess. Fake it better. You’re an influencer, right?”

It was like he’d slapped you with a velvet glove his words burned so soft, so sharp. Your gaze finally drifted down…to the paper and something in your chest shifted.

Your heart gave a jolt. You recognized that plastification, that print that had haunted you for five years now. With trembling fingers, you opened it. Your eyes betrayed you before your words could.

MF020-Z

Your code.

Your throat dried up, and your hands began to shake, but you forced yourself to wear the mask of innocence. “I don’t know what this is…” you murmured, your voice falsely neutral.

Jake looked at you calmly, but his eyes were hungry and glassy; he could hear your accelerated heartbeat, the imperceptible tremble in your wrists, and the way you were denying the obvious.

“Think carefully. You’re not stupid.” His voice was soft, but it cut like ice. He lifted his gaze from the paper and locked eyes with you.“MF020-Z” he repeated. Loudly. In the middle of the room. “How do you know that code?” you asked in a low voice. “Because… I do recognize it, okay?”

You followed the words with a grimace, trying to blur it out a bit, keep him hanging. Jake straightened, narrowing his eyes. “Why don’t you donate blood anymore?” You bit your lip and sighed. Then, finally, you snapped. “They found someone else. Almost like me. Just 0.3% more iron. And they don’t pay me like before.” You said it fast, in one breath, as if it might hurt less that way. Jake looked at you, unmoving, then rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, revealing strong forearms, with thin veins running like blue circuits under his pale skin.

“I used to drink your blood.” He said it quietly. Almost… with melancholy. You nodded, barely. Then, in a whisper, said: “I don’t donate anymore.”

“Why?” he asked, slightly gruff. “Because they don’t pay me like they used to.” You lowered your gaze, slowly admitting your secret. “I have a condition actually, a fucking blood disorder. I produce way more blood than normal. They did tests every month and paid me a lot. I needed that money…” Jake didn’t respond right away. “How much?” The question was sharp. Direct. Professional, almost.“Two, three thousand euros per donation.”

He cursed under his breath, turning to the side. “Shit. I can’t believe the Blood Bank gives that kind of money to humans. Honestly, if I were human, I’d do it too…”. “I know,” you replied, shoulders sagging. “But I needed it. Clothes, travel, stuff. But also to keep my body in balance… if I don’t remove blood regularly, I get sick. I can have dizziness, headaches or worse. And each year it gets worse if I don’t donate at all.”

Jake stared at you. Something in him cracked. It wasn’t just desire anymore—it was some brutal, primal form of protection. “So if they stop paying you, you risk getting sick. Dying, even.” You nodded, slowly. “And no one knows?” “No one. Just my parents. And now you. So I want to know, Jake, what are you going to do with that information?”

Jake studied you. The corners of his lips twisted into a crooked smile a broken laugh, sweet but sinister, like something ancient and dark, was rising in his cold veins. It was the sound of a vampire holding himself back. A laugh, just barely scratched, caught in his throat too low to be human, like his larynx was made of smoke and iron.

“I could pay you myself.” He said it in that low, calm, almost seductive tone, but cold like a blade dipped in ice. His eyes studied you with unsettling, precise attention. You immediately looked away from the code, curling your lips in irritation.

“No.” “You haven’t even heard my offer, princess.” “I don’t care. I’m not selling myself to a vampire especially not to you, Jake.” His smile sharpened. He leaned forward slightly, the veins in his hands taut against the surface of the table. “You’re already selling yourself. You just prefer to do it quietly.” An elegant stab that’s what he’d just delivered. You squinted your eyes, baring your teeth slightly.

“Are you trying to insult me, or just turn me on?” “Maybe both,” he said, looking at you like you were a five-star meal.“I’m trying to save you.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “I need money, Jake. Nothing else.” He stood, folding his arms across his chest.

“You need protection too. The rebels… they can smell you. You have no idea what they’d do for a bag of your blood or you, whole. They’d tear you apart, break you into pieces just to get a taste, and then leave you to die drained.” A chill ran down your spine. But you didn’t let it show.

“And you? You don’t risk anything, do you?” “I could die without that blood. So yes, I risk it too.” “So we’re fifty-fifty,” you said with a slightly bratty tone. “Damn… you’re too clever to be an influencer.” You smirked slightly. “I study communication. I know how to sell myself and how to read the market. And you, Jake, are a buyer way too impatient.” He clenched his jaw. That nerdy smile shattered, replaced by something more primal—a desire that wasn’t just for your blood… but for all of you.

“I’m offering a deal.” You stood still, one eyebrow raised. “I protect you. Every day, I bite you. I take your blood when the pressure gets too high, I save you from your condition. And I protect you from the rebels, my bite leaves a mark. It 'claims' you. No one will touch you.” His tone dropped, hoarse. “And I’ll pay you. I’ve got a great job, you know that. I’ve got money, I’m not desperate but I want your blood. Every drop. Especially to keep living… like I always have.”

You stared at him for a long second. Then you stood up, your hair whipping over your shoulder with a sharp movement. “I don’t want money from any vampire. I’m not desperate, Jake. I just want my freedom and for the Blood Bank to treat me as I deserve.”You turned on your heels to leave but he was faster. He caught your wrist, gently, but firmly so firmly you couldn’t ignore it and then… he brought it to his lips, closed his eyes, and inhaled slowly.

Jake had to restrain himself from biting you right there in front of everyone because if he did, they’d label him a rebel. His nostrils flared, then slowly closed as he drank in your scent. His nose brushed against your skin.

“You know… I could break you right here, right now.” His whisper was glacial, vampiric, and full of restrained hunger because even though he was feeding off that disgusting bank blood, he only truly wanted yours. Then… a fang grazed your vein. It didn’t pierce-just touched your skin, like a threat. Like a promise that someday, you’d give in.

“Jake…” Your voice broke. “Don’t.” “You’re letting yourself die,” he whispered. You yanked your wrist back and stepped away, heart racing. You didn’t even look at him but you knew he was still watching you.

You hated going to parties: the sweat, the sticky cups, the cheap alcohol, the music way too loud, and people grinding against each other like dancing necessarily meant dry-humping in clothes. You were on a different level. You would’ve much preferred a refined drink on an elegant rooftop near the Seoul Tower, surrounded by soft lights and thin glasses, sophisticated music, and not sticky bodies or boys looking for the next girl to slide their dick into before vanishing like ghosts. You were on another level, and the only reason you were there was because your best friend was part of the campus student council and had organized the party for a “good cause.” So there you were, dressed in dark jeans, an aesthetic tee from an emerging Korean brand with a matte silver logo embroidered across the chest. On your feet: platform boots. And over your shoulders: your usual black leather jacket, patched with cities you’d traveled to around the world. Whispers followed you everywhere. Some said you’d modeled for a vampire-themed perfume campaign. Others said you were dating a human CEO or that you’d been seen with a mysterious vampire in the library but you ignored them. Sure, there were cute guys around. But it had been almost two weeks since your last blood donation, and your body was starting to scream. The pressure in your temples pounded like a war drum, and you would’ve paid gold just to feel normal again. You’d taken a pill two hours before, but with the music blasting in the living room, each beat felt like a slap inside your skull. You moved toward your best friend, who was laughing with a guy who had feline eyes probably half vampire and you whispered in her ear: “I'm stepping out for some air. I just need to breathe.” She immediately turned, concerned. 'Hey, are you okay? You look pale.' “I’m fine. I’m not dying tonight, don’t worry.” You winked at her more so at the guy she was talking to, who was seriously cute and slipped outside. The yard was crowded. People drinking in the pool, others playing beer pong with glowing cups, someone making out hard under the terrace, and more bodies grinding to the beat.

You rolled your eyes you didn’t want any of that. You found a bench behind the house, partially in the shadows, and sat down with a sigh. You leaned your head back, gazing at the stars and the full moon, and thought about how beautiful it was to be alone, how maybe you should spend more time by yourself but the silence, the almost peace, didn’t last long.

Three guys approached. One with bleached blond hair, one with a regrettable mullet, and one with his shirt unbuttoned down to his navel.

-Hey there, gorgeous. All alone out here?- said the blond with a sly grin.

'You need company?' asked the one with the tragic mullet.

--You’re way too hot to be hiding,-- added the shirtless one, showing off a chest way too jacked for your taste.

“I need a miracle, not three clowns begging for attention,” you said, eyeing them as you pulled out your phone, opening the chat with your best friend so they'd see you were “busy.”

They hesitated. One coughed, and the other tried to laugh it off.

-Damn, you’re sharp. You need to relax, babe,- said the blond. “I need you to disappear. Like, right now. I want to be alone.”

They glanced at each other. One raised his hands. 'Wow, okay. Hot but bitchy. Classic. Like most girls who don’t know how to have fun!'

You rolled your eyes and let them go as they walked off grumbling, you allowed yourself a tiny smirk but the headache was still there. Pounding. You groaned softly from the pain and that’s when you smelled it.

Mint. Something citrusy. But also… something warmer. Like wet wood and fresh blood. It passed behind your neck then a cold breath.A deep, damp inhale… at your throat.

“You’re an easy target, you know that?” The voice. Jake. “You sit with your back to the house… to the pool… It’s like you’re asking to be found.” You opened your eyes slowly and tilted your chin up. He was there.,standing behind you, one hand resting on the bench, his gaze calm and sharp. His brown eyes gleamed like a liquid under the moonlight and his smile… the same as always. Half nerd, half predator in disguise.

“Jake. What a surprise. Or maybe not,” you said, touching your forehead. “I saw you the moment you stepped into the party.” He slid down to sit next to you, that spiced scent with a citrus note wrapping around you. Ripped jeans and an oversized hoodie unzipped halfway down his chest revealing pale, smooth skin. His hair was slightly longer than the last time you saw him, he looked like a disaster dressed up as a dream… or maybe your worst nightmare.

“You look terrible,” he said, smiling too softly for a vampire like him. “Thanks. You’re the first to say it so sweetly,” you replied, closing your eyes. “Blood pressure headache?” You didn’t answer. He already knew. He watched as you brought a hand to your forehead. “Let me guess: you took an aspirin. Like that could help.” “You’re not my doctor, Jake,” you said, clenching your jaw. “No. I’m worse.”

He leaned in slightly, his knee brushing yours. “You want to wait until you faint? Until your blood explodes? Until some stray picks up your scent before I do and bites without knowing what you're going through?”

When you opened your eyes and looked at him, you whispered, “I’m telling you no.” His face was a breath away from yours, his fingers grazing your side. You looked at him with hate… but also something deeper. Something more… damned. He tilted his head, studying you, hearing your blood race faster. He whispered like a child starved for candy,

“I just want to save you.” You looked up and murmured, “Or consume me?” He chuckled, raising his hands. “Maybe both.” He lowered himself slowly, inhaling the scent of your neck. He could feel the blood rushing faster in your veins. He could sense your fear of what might happen. He could feel you were about to give in.His lips touched your skin, he didn’t bite, he just… stayed there, on the edge. He could’ve sunk his fangs into that inviting skin like a moth to flame, but he didn’t. He respected you. He exhaled softly as he took in your scent for the first time fruity, like figs and something vanilla and then looked up at you again, whispering almost to himself:

“You’re a damn poison.” But you heard it and that’s when you leaned in and kissed him. Jake froze-no, went still, like time cracked. He wasn’t sure if it was a cruel trick played by his blood-starved mind. But then, his lips moved against yours an ancient, desperate instinct. Devoted. He tasted your lips: strawberry lip balm and something that tasted like summer and damnation. You caught the hint of citrus on him, mixed with a faint metallic note.

Blood. You were 99% sure it was your blood he slid a hand around your back, pulling you flush against him. Your fingers tangled in his hair you tugged lightly and thought about how soft it felt.

“Mmh..” he moaned into your lips, frustrated like a wounded pup.“You’re… too… dangerous.” But he didn’t stop kissing you, his tongue slid across your mouth, and you pulled harder on his dark strands. He devoured you like he’d waited far too long to realize you were the answer to all his vampire problems. His breath was warm but controlled, and his fangs brushed past your teeth, searching for space. The kiss grew deeper. Rougher. His.

“Take some…” you whispered against his mouth, “...of my blood.” You expected a bite on the neck or wrist something poetic, like in Twilight or The Vampire Diaries but Jake didn’t follow clichés.

He was a Gen Z vampire. One single, precise pressure almost imperceptible a fang pierced your lip. You felt the skin split just a thin layer and gasped softly. A human sound. Unintentional. One drop. Then two. The sweet iron taste mixed between your mouth and he didn’t stop kissing you, his tongue sucked gently, rotated with yours, kissing and drinking at the same time.

You felt violated and awakened as if your body no longer belonged to you as if you were finally alive.

“You’re insane…” you whispered with a broken smile, your voice barely a thread as you gently pushed him back. You saw his lips stained with your blood, his tongue licking them slowly, like trying to remember the taste he’d longed for all these years. “I know,” he said, eyes half-lidded. “But now that I’ve had you again… now that I remember what your blood tastes like—on my tongue, in my teeth, inside me, I’m not letting you go…” He kept licking your lower lip, soothing the wound with his warm, soft tongue, as if promising to heal you after breaking you. Then he pulled back a little and you saw his eyes.

They weren’t brown anymore they were tinted red, he ran his thumb beneath your lip and, with a wicked smile that promised nothing good, whispered:

“From now on… this blood is mine. You are mine.” A shiver ran down your spine. Part of you wanted to run. The other… wanted to bite him back. Even if you weren’t a vampire, you wanted to know, feel, what they felt when feeding. He looked at you again, lips still stained with your taste, and whispered in a voice both arrogant and adoring:

“You’ve gotten yourself into one beautiful mess, baby.”

Your latest videos had blown up—views were skyrocketing, and so were the comments but something about it kept you up at night. Among the emojis, the praise, and the compliments… some words felt too precise. Too… vampiric. Some users used slang only rebellious vampires would know, others talked about your blood like they'd sensed something but you had never shown a single drop.

You didn’t cut yourself, didn’t mention it and yet, they knew. Some influencers, just to win vampire approval, let themselves be bitten live for clout and cash others sold their blood and maybe you were thinking you did it too.

But you did it for a reason: your illness. Not for likes or followers, Jake had known for weeks maybe that’s why he had said: “Move in with me. You’d be safer.” He had tried to sound casual, but the hunger in his voice gave him away. He’d already decided, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, sure. And how am I supposed to pay for two rents?” “You don’t,” he said, cocky, leaning back against the hood of his car. “You’ll stay for free… and pay with your blood.” That know-it-all tone made you roll your eyes. Especially that smirk, that smirk he used to corrupt people and that way he looked at you like you were his.

His property. Without even asking. You swallowed hard. It was just about the blood you told yourself. Just like all the others, you were the girl everyone wanted for all the wrong reasons. No one had ever bothered to understand you.

No one except Mia—your best friend. She was the only one who knew your mood swings, your fainting from blood overload, your silent nights spent wondering if it was even worth existing in a world where you were a source, not a person. When you crossed the threshold into Jake’s apartment, you expected something dark, gothic, maybe full of coffins and creepy stuff.

Instead… it looked like the lair of a brilliant nerd: a bookshelf packed with manga, old vintage consoles, controllers stacked like trophies a rug with the Bloodborne logo and a life-size cardboard cutout of a Death Note character. There were blue LED lights under the ceiling, a full wall of Funko Pops...some still wrapped, lego sets you'd never seen before, amassive PC the air screamed NERD.

Jake gave you a tour of the place like an overexcited puppy, showing you every corner like it was sacred.

“This is my fridge… there’s nothing in it. I mean, before you stopped donating blood, it was covered in your packs!”

“This is the bathroom—we’ll have to share it because the other one’s Heeseung’s.

But I’ll make as much space as you want. I bet you have a ton of creams, makeup, soaps, deodorants… probably in flavors I didn’t even know existed!”

“And this is my room. I know we’ll have to share the bed, but it’s one of the biggest king-size ones I could find—and don’t touch the katana. It’s seriously sharp.”

He surprised you. He was genuinely happy to have you there not just for the blood or maybe it was also for that…but there was something else in his eyes. A childlike excitement you’d never seen in him. In fact, in no one at least, not while they were around you.

When you stepped into his room, you noticed the huge, unmade bed that smelled faintly of lavender. The desk was overflowing, two massive monitors, cables everywhere, external hard drives, and black screens filled with running code.

The air smelled of metal, plastic… and blood and that’s when you saw it. A used blood bag tucked in the corner. Vacuum-sealed and unmistakable, the label was too familiar. Your code, clear as day the one they used every time you sat down and they prepped the tubes and needles.

You stiffened.

“Seriously?” you muttered, arms crossing over your chest. “You’re an addict? A junkie? Obsessed enough to keep my blood bags like souvenirs?” He turned, caught red-handed, and tried to snatch it before you could but you were faster. You held the bag between your fingers and pointed at the label. “This is my blood code. You drank it all, huh? Did you cry when they told you I wasn’t donating anymore?” Jake ran a hand through his hair, eyes darting away. He mumbled,

“Maybe a little… but only when I was drunk and in withdrawal, okay? I’m just a vampire who needs a specific blood type to survive…” He said it with such a pout that most girls would’ve melted into his arms but the problem was there was nothing left pulsing in his chest or maybe… there still was. You let out a laugh as you tapped the empty bag.

“You’re seriously such a loser. A tech nerd, addicted to the blood of a popular girl. Do you even hear how insane that sounds?” He stepped closer, his gaze darkening. “Insane? Maybe. But I’m not the only one who wants it. You know that, don’t you? How many comments were under your last videos?How many sniff their screens hoping to catch a whiff of your blood?”

Your stomach twisted because he was right. Jake took the bag from your hands, tossed it aside, and leaned in, his voice low, nearly a whisper.

“You attract vampires. But I… I can keep them away, i can keep you here safe and maybe… now and then… a little taste.”

His eyes flashed red for just a second just long enough to make your entire body hum. You wanted to push him away. But your body…had other plans.

Jake wouldn’t admit it, but he thought it every single time he opened the fridge.

Everything had changed since you moved in, goodbye expired ramen. He hadn’t eaten plain toast in weeks because every night, you made something for both of you. The kitchen had become your favorite kingdom. Goodbye stacked blood bags, lined up like beer cans and goodbye to the bluish-purple LED lights that once made his apartment look like a post-apocalyptic cyberpunk lair.

Now...his fridge held coconut milk, avocado, dragon fruit, and vibrantly colored vegetables. Even the pasta had turned into little heart shapes and the bathroom… Christ. It looked like the set of a girly K-drama: peel-off masks, glittery bottles, a weekly rotation of fragrances and that 14-step skincare routine that both fascinated and terrified him. You’d even taken over half his closet: pleated skirts, pastel tops, oversized hoodies with phrases like “Blood Sucker? Only if he’s hot.” Sometimes Jake reached in for a hoodie and ended up grabbing one with strawberries on it, your scent still clinging to the fabric.

His drawers? Invaded by neon tank tops and a rainbow of lingerie. Where once lay his boxers, now lived strings and lacy things barely worthy of the name underwear and even if his mind screamed don’t be a perv, he couldn’t lie he was happy. Fucking confused, but happy.

That night, he took you to the bunker. The place where he worked, tracked, hacked and monitored every rogue vampire who dared creep too close to Seoul’s red zone. He didn’t say it out loud but he wanted you to see his world. To understand it. To know he wasn’t just some guy who craved your blood. He wanted you to trust him. To see more of him. The bunker was hypnotic chaos: dim lights, metal walls, each station equipped with at least three monitors, mechanical keyboards, and facial recognition systems.

The screens showed maps painted in red zones (dangerous, rebel-infested), green zones (safe, protected 24/7), and orange zones (rare sightings, occasional rebel activity).

Running code. Thermal signals. Vampire IDs. Names. Faces. You were studying visual communication for crisis management in vampire-human diplomacy. Your pink laptop glowed. Your manicured nails clicked across the keyboard and Jake couldn’t stop watching you. He brushed your arm every time he passed on purpose and you knew it.

He loved physical contact. Weird for a vampire but Jake? He was more golden retriever than Dracula... except when his eyes turned red, or his fangs lengthened when he was turned on… or pissed off. He’d give you looks that said, You’re mine and every time you stretched, lifting your shirt just a little too high, he forgot to breathe.

He was breathing you, tracking the sweetness from your warmest points: your neck (god, that neck), your wrists (where he felt your pulse every damn day).

“Jake, you’re drooling on your keyboard,” you murmured, eyes still on your screen. He grunted, rolling his eyes. “Pff, I’m tracking rebel movements in Gangnam, dumbass.” “Oh, of course,” you smirked, biting your cheek. “Rebels… or are you just obsessed with looking at me like I’m the hottest thing on Earth?” Jake shot you a look—half embarrassed, half hungry. “Anyone else coming in here?” you asked, stretching a leg under the table to brush his knee. He cleared his throat. “Hee’s taking over in an hour.” You nodded, then looked straight into his eyes with a half-innocent, half-hellish smile. “You hungry?” Jake stiffened. His eyes betrayed the desire he was trying to suppress. His fangs sharpened barely. “I thought we were ordering food…” he muttered, trying to stay cool.“We are,” you said, standing. “But that’s not what I meant.” You slowly walked around his chair, then turned it toward you.

Jake stared, jaw tense, barely breathing he ran a hand through his long hair. “What are you doing?” he whispered, already losing composure. “Shhh… stop thinking,” you murmured. You straddled him slowly, confidently. His hands instinctively found your waist and you swore you could feel his heart beating. Which was insane vampires didn’t have a heartbeat. But with you? Jake always felt… human. Almost. Your hands rested lightly on his chest. He looked at your lips, your eyes, your throat that tasted like strawberries and life and sin.

“You’re a damn poison,” he whispered, voice wrecked. You smiled, ruffling his soft hair. Then leaned to his ear. “Then bite me.” His fangs lengthened but he didn’t go for your neck, not this time. His lips met yours, slowly, deeply, hungrily. The kiss tasted like sugar and starvation and when his fang grazed your lower lip, you gasped.

The copper tang of blood, his tongue. His kiss devouring yours. You bit his lip gently. He groaned into your mouth.

“Fucking mine,” he growled, and bit again tasting every drop, your blood warm against his lips. Your hands tangled in his hair, your heart pounding in your chest and for a moment you thought, maybe… maybe I like being tasted. As long as it makes me feel alive.

When you finally pulled away to breathe, his eyes were glowing red. His lips were stained and you asked, low: “Has anyone ever bitten you?” Jake raised an eyebrow. His hands still gripped your hips. His eyes scanned your face, your curves, everything.

“I’m a vampire, baby. I bite. I don’t get bitten.” You pouted, genuinely annoyed. “Not fair.” “Life isn’t.” He pulled you closer. “I want to try.” “Try what, exactly?” His voice was both turned on and intrigued. You leaned in, chest pressed against his, voice hushed like a confession.

“I want to know what it feels like…to leave my mark. Before you leave yours.” Jake blinked, stunned. “You’re insane.” “Maybe. But at least I don’t collect blood bags!”

You smiled before he could reply, you moved against his lap. Slow. Teasing. Deliberate. His groan was low. Rough. Almost a growl. “Shit… you’re a walking temptation.” “And you’re a blood-obsessed mystery.” You leaned in your nose brushing his neck.

He smelled like mint, citrus, and something clean but ancient. You kissed his skin open-mouthed, wet, slow. Jake leaned back in the chair, fingers digging into your hoodie.

“This isn’t the time… or the place… to get me hard, sweetheart.” You giggled, lips grazing his throat. “Relax. I’m just… studying my next victim.” Each kiss left a warm trail on his pale skin. Then, as your mouth latched on gently sucking you felt him groan.

Low. Hoarse. Ferocious. “God… if your fans saw you like this. Riding a vampire. All pink and cute…” You smiled against his skin and sucked harder. Jake tensed, his grip on you tightening. And you? You didn’t stop. You bit him—lightly. Left a mark.

When you looked up, Jake’s eyes were glassy, red-tinged, fangs barely showing beneath parted lips. You were breaking him and he was one second away from snapping.

“You’re… cruel,” he hissed. “No. Just curious.” And you licked the mark you’d made. “You’re teasing me… baby, and we don’t like being teased.” “I’m not teasing you, Jake. I’m just studying your body.” Jake groaned, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “If you keep this up, I swear—if Hee walks in, I don’t care. I’ll bite you. Here. Now and I won’t hold back.”

“And what if I want that?” You said it innocently. Jake lifted his face, red-eyed, panting. Vampire vs man. And you? You sat above him. Queen of his weakness.

“Then say it,” he whispered, showing you his fangs. But instead you slid off him. Returned to your pink laptop. Typing like nothing had happened. You left him there: Hard. Hungry and ruined.

The Olive Young atrium was crowded, with warm lights, low music, the scent of Korean products, and smiles filtered through filters and live streams. You and three other influencers, including Aria, the vampire with the sculpted face and violet lips, were testing the month’s bestselling skincare and fans pressed forward with phones raised and hungry eyes, humans and vampires mixed as if the world wasn’t a dangerous place.

You were laughing, talking with two excited girls in line, and mentioning your favorite serum when Aria suddenly tensed. Not like she had seen something, but like she had smelled it.

“Everything okay?” you asked her under your breath. She shook her head and her pupils had just dilated, she gave a signal to one of the security guards but didn’t have time before a scream tore through the air from the lower floor, followed by two more, and the music stopped.

Aria grabbed your hand with a cold and strong grip.

-Follow me, now,- she ordered. Your body froze and your instinct didn’t tell you to follow her, even though she looked protective she was still a vampire, a powerful vampire who wanted to take you away, far away, and Jake told you that you could never trust vampires 100%, you could only trust him because he knew how to control himself with you and with your blood and so you turned sharply, you didn’t want to follow her and reached into your pocket and called Jake.

“Where are you?!” he answered instantly, his tone sharp.

“Second floor in the skincare section, something happened, there’s screaming and a vampire told me to follow her but I...” you didn’t finish the sentence because he said, “Shit, go down the stairs now and come down, don’t run, just go down the stairs without being afraid and without screaming, nothing will happen to you, baby.”

Your heart was pounding like a drum and you followed his instructions as soon as you saw him at the base of the stairs, dressed in black with cold and alert eyes, you thought nothing could hurt you, but on the second-to-last step, a cold and rough hand yanked you with inhuman strength and your breath caught, you were pushed against the wall and your body hit it with a dull thud. The metallic smell of blood hit you like a punch and in front of you there was a rebel vampire: not like Jake, not like Aria, not like Jake’s friends, he was deformed in the face, feral, and blood was dripping from his hands and mouth and his eyes weren’t seeing: they were craving.

<Your blood… is too precious to be among these… humans,> he growled while pulling you towards him. You didn’t know what to do and you put your arms around your face and screamed, “Jake, I’m here, please…” without knowing who you were saying it to. To him? To Jake? You felt his cold breath on your throat and the pain was coming, you knew you wouldn’t be able to live anymore but then. BOOM.

The skincare display table flew to the side and Jake grabbed it and threw it with all his strength against the rebel vampire the wood smashed into his head and his grip on you released, Jake was growling and his eyes were red, deep, terrifying, and his fangs were visible, his veins pronounced. “Run,” he ordered with a cavernous tone. You were petrified and shook your head but he repeated, “RUN NOW, Y/N!” You ran quickly out of the store and threw yourself into the first café on the ground floor, where other people had taken shelter and you collapsed behind a counter. The vampire police sirens echoed right after and ten minutes later, when you walked out of the atrium, Jake was standing. The rebel vampire was on the ground, his face bloody, his hands tied with silver chains and the guards were loading him into a special vehicle but before getting in, the vampire looked at you. A silent whisper from his torn lips: I’ll find you. Your blood calls me. Jake saw you and heard what the rebel vampire had whispered and ran toward you his hands immediately went to your cheeks and he brought his face close to yours, his eyes still fierce but full of something you had never seen: fear, fear of losing you….

“If he had bitten you, you would’ve never woken up as yourself again,” he said, holding you tightly and you whispered his name, “Jake…” He shook his head, his voice rough. “This isn’t a game anymore. You… you have to be mine, without my bite you’re not protected by anyone and the rebels could sense you even from far away.” he said with a firm look. “Are you saying it to save me or to possess me? I don’t understand anything anymore Jake, all of this is too much…” he took your face in his hands and said, “I can’t separate the two things anymore but tonight you’ll be mine, Y/N.” He kissed your forehead, the most chaste and most threatening kiss you had ever felt from him and you understood that there was nothing more to be done.

The soft glow of violet and blue LED lights hovered along the walls of the apartment—no longer just his. The scent of coconut and vanilla blended with the faint citrusy trace of blood, which Jake could sense even from across the room.

You were sitting on the bed, wearing one of his oversized hoodies—pearl gray with a faded logo from some 80s band, legs bare and crossed, scrolling through the news on your laptop. Your face was lit by the screen, a cute pout forming as dark thoughts swirled in your mind, but you weren’t ready to break down yet. Not now.

Jake shut the bathroom door, his hair still damp and messy from the shower, and walked over in silence. With one steady hand, he slowly pushed your laptop lid closed.

“No more reading, troublemaker,” he whispered, voice calm but in that low register, he used when he was being serious. His eyes were dark and deep, and they landed on you like they wanted to read straight through your skin.

“I know it hurts you, but this isn’t how you protect yourself.” You looked at him, annoyed. “A fucking rebel vampire nearly drained me dry today. Excuse me for wanting to understand what the hell is going on. Or should I just wait for someone else to tear me apart like I’m their favorite fucking snack?”

Jake bit the inside of his cheek, and a rare, nervous twitch flickered across his face.

“You’re so damn stubborn I could hate you for it… if you weren’t so fucking mine.”

You turned away from him and curled up under the covers.

“Sure. ‘Yours.’ Just because my blood keeps you alive…”

You felt the mattress shift behind you and his hand settled on your side with a gentleness that threw you off Jake was so physical, always tugging or pulling just to feel your warmth.

“You’re not mine because of the blood.” Then a sigh, because everything had started with you giving it to him.

“Or at least… not only because of that. You’re the most alive thing I’ve ever held in my hands, and I… I’m a disaster with anything alive.”

You turned slowly, a tear staining your cheek—you hadn’t even felt it fall and Jake was right there, eyes red but glassy, his chest bare beneath the unzipped hoodie he wore. He still smelled like you; he’d probably used your shower products again. But nothing beat the scent of your skin, and he never denied it was the best thing in the world.

He looked at you like he was starving, but not just for blood.

“I want to bite you, yeah,” he said quietly, leaning in,

“but I also want to wake up to you cooking weird pink stuff in the kitchen. I want to keep finding your tank tops in my closet and your hair products in my sink. I want you to keep annoying me while I’m coding and to sit in my lap while I try to stop a vampire riot.”

You burst into a laugh—part bitter, part tender.

“That sounds like a love confession… in binary code.”

“It’s the best I’ve got.”

He paused, then added more seriously,

“Will you let me try? To take you, to protect you… and to bite you—properly?”

You looked at him.

Your heart was pounding.

Was this the moment? After everything that had happened?

You looked hard at his face—your mind told you not to trust him, that he’d only break you, but your heart… your heart beat only for him.

So you nodded.

And Jake smiled—not his usual sharp, cocky vampire grin, but a small, nervous one, full of something fragile and real.

“Good girl.”

His lips met yours, first slow, as if he were afraid to break you, and your trembling hands caressed his bare shoulders, then slid into his soft, slightly damp hair, and he shivered faintly when your fingers played at the nape of his neck. His tongue sought yours, and you moaned into his mouth, a weak and sweet sound that seemed to ignite a fuse inside him. Jake chuckled against your lips. “You’re already this sensitive… just from kissing?” His hand, cold and precise, slid beneath the hoodie you wore, tracing the curve of your side. “Relax. I’d never hurt you, you know that, right?” “I know,” you whispered. “But it’s all… too new for me.” He kissed the corner of your mouth softly. “I’m not like the other vampires, and I don’t want to be like the other men.” Then the moment swelled with new electricity and he made you raise your arms and, with slowness almost reverence, he pulled the hoodie off you, and when he saw you naked under the room’s dim light, he held his breath and wondered how something so alive, so real, could stand beside someone like him. He had to treat you the way one treats rare blood, not just for its taste, but because you didn’t know it yet but you were his, and maybe, just maybe, he was yours too. “Christ…” he murmured, and his eyes shimmered red. “You’re… you’re perfect, and you don’t even see it, because sometimes you pretend to be full of confidence, but I see it when you pout about your body.” He began to cover you in kisses, slow and warm, on your neck, your shoulders, between your breasts, and his fangs brushed your skin but he held back as if he were building a ritual, not just a gesture. “Jake…” you moaned when his tongue played with your nipple and his teeth grazed it. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this,” he murmured against your skin. “I swear I’d rather die, but I’ll never hurt you.” “Don’t stop,” you gasped at the sensation of his mouth on your body, and in that moment, he realized maybe you were his sin but also his salvation. Jake was starving for you and kept biting and sucking your hardened buds like they were nectar, alternating caresses and kneading your breasts as he laughed softly, that broken, pleased laugh that made your skin tingle.

“Not there…” you whispered with a shaky breath, a restrained moan between your lips as you gripped his hips to pull him closer, Jake looked up, eyes red and hazy with desire and hunger. “Oh no? Then… where do you want me to bite you first, sweetheart?”

You barely opened your eyes, still dazed, and bit your lip in slow, deliberate motion.

“On the neck…” you murmured. He let out a low, amused laugh, almost incredulous.

“Seriously? That basic? I knew you influencers were basic, but I didn’t think this much.”

He pinched your side, teasing, but you shot him a glare that could’ve set him on fire.

“And you? Where would you have done it?” Jake looked down, suddenly darker, and smiled with a hint of shadow.

“Better you don’t know, sweetheart.”

You stared at him, brows furrowed.

“No, Jake. I want to know. Tell me where you want to bite me maybe it’ll be for another time.” That’s when he slid a cold, icy finger down the inside of your bare thigh, and your skin lit up like fire.

“Here,” he said softly. “Here the blood pulses stronger, it’s sweeter… more intimate.”

You blushed and stiffened. “Not a chance!” Jake chuckled. “For now, sweetheart… but one day...it’ll happen.”

He didn’t let you answer. He moved over you again, like a blanket of shadow and desire, and began kissing along the left side of your neck, then lower, beneath your collarbone; every kiss was a damp, warm caress.

“You have skin that speaks, you know that?” he whispered.

“It says ‘take me,’ even when your mouth says ‘wait.’”

And then you felt a small scratch on your neck, and a shiver rushed through your body one of his fangs had lengthened, sharp as a scalpel, perfect.

“W-wait…” you stammered. “Jake… is this… is this happening?”

But he didn’t answer, afraid you’d change your mind, and instead gently cupped your skin and first soothed it with his tongue—and then sank both fangs into you, right beneath your neck.

The scream burst from your throat, a mix of pain and pleasure so intense it blurred into one. The scream burst from your throat, a mix of pain and pleasure so intense it blurred into one. Your eyes rolled back, your body arched, your hands tangled in his hair, you pulled hard as tears streamed down your cheeks and you thought:

“He’s drinking from me, he’s possessing me, and I… I want it. Even if it scares me, I want it.”

Jake groaned against your skin, blood slipping past his lips.

“Christ, it’s better than I remembered. It’s warm, alive, sweet, and spicy at once. It’s mine, mine, and mine.” Your blood entered his mouth and he savored every second of your nectar on his tongue, and when he swallowed, a low growl rose from deep inside him.

He thought he’d want to feed from you every day but when he finally pulled back, his lips were slick with red, and his eyes locked on you, more human than ever. He looked at you with a hunger that wasn’t just physical there was something more, something he barely dared to admit to himself.

At first, it had all been about your blood. But for the first time in his life, his heart his dead, still heart had started to beat again. Even if faintly, it beat. And only for you.

“I missed you, you know that?” he whispered. “And you’ve gotten yourself into trouble, haven’t you, my little influencer nightmare… Because now…”

He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear.

“Now you’re my favorite meal. And I never planned on stopping.”

You had been living in Jake’s house for almost three months now, three months in which his world — nocturnal, ancient, layered, and cruel — had slowly merged with yours, full of clothes, makeup, and lights that shifted color depending on a TikTok video, trending audio, and tons of gifts sent by brands.

You still woke up to Instagram collaboration notifications, and half-written RSVP emails for events and shoots, but thetruth was… now you were sleeping in a house where the windows had leaded glass, the doors were sealed with runes, and there was a freezer full of blood with labels like O+ elite and rare A, no coagulation.

Since he had bitten you for the first time, something had changed. Not just inside you — the strange hunger you felt when you looked into his eyes, your skin sparking when he passed close to you, or the constant urge to be near him but others felt it too.

The other vampires now looked at you with suspicion, respect, or… hunger. Because now you were marked. And not just by anyone by Jake.

And Jake wasn’t “just another guy”: he was a young vampire, sure, only 130 years old, but respected, strategic, brilliant, and… dangerously charming. With you, and with every girl around him.

And you, the human influencer, had drawn the line. Because your heart beat louder every time he was near, and you didn’t want to suffer when he’d inevitably leave you like everyone else had... he could bite you, he could protect you, but you weren’t his. Your relationship had… shifted. Now, he didn’t touch you like he used to. He could sense how hard you were trying to act normal, but something was off. You didn’t tease him anymore and didn’t make those sarcastic comments about your blood. And your eyes cold, distant.

You let him bite you, yes. But without smiles. Without jokes. Without surrender. And Jake? Jake was turning into an emotional disaster… with fangs.

In the control room of the underground bunker, between electric cables, overheating servers, and monitors full of thermal maps, three vampires were witnessing the emotional collapse of their immortal friend. Jake sat with his back to them, eyes glued to a screen where he was tracking the movement of a rogue cell but anyone could see his mind was elsewhere.

Jay sighed and tossed a bag of synthetic blood onto the desk.

-Please drink something. Or I swear I’m gonna start thinking you’re dehydrating because of your crush.- Jake ignored him and rolled his eyes, and Heeseung raised an eyebrow and sat on the table right in front of him.

<Come on, bro. It’s obvious. You’ve got that abandoned golden retriever stare. Not very 130-year-old vampire of you.> Sunghoon burst out laughing, closing the laptop in front of him, probably filled with marketing graphs.

-No wait, he’s right. You know that look puppies get when their owner stops paying attention to them? Big glossy eyes, full of devotion? That’s exactly Jake.-

Jake rolled his eyes again. “You’re all ridiculous.”

Jay chuckled. -No, you’re the ridiculous one. You’ve made that girl your primary source… and your greatest weakness. Deadly combo.-

Heeseung pretended to jot something down in an invisible notebook.

'Symptoms of the Golden Retriever Vampire:

– Nocturnal irritability

– Sensitivity to physical distance from the chosen one

– Absence of playful banter from human partner = emotional breakdown

– Gentle biting paired with painfully restrained longing

– Passive-aggressive jealousy toward any male within 5 meters of her.'

Jake slammed his fists onto the table. “I’m not jealous, and she’s not my weakness. It’s just… I’m confused. And she is too.”

Sunghoon stared at him for a moment, his expression suddenly serious.

Silence fell across the room. Jay’s little daughter, Jenù, looked at Jake, the youngest of the group and offered him her tiny hand, warm compared to Jake’s because she was a half-blood. She didn’t understand the adult talk, but she wanted to be part of it too. Jake kissed her small fingers gently and wrapped his hand around hers.

Then Jay, with a smirk: -So, my friend… how do you plan to survive your only source of nourishment, when someone else is the one making her laugh?- Jake said nothing, jaw tight. Heeseung leaned forward.

'Or worse… what if one day you fail to protect her, and they take her from you? A rogue. Or time. Or even her fear of what you are.'

Jake stood up slowly. “That’s not going to happen.”

Sunghoon looked at him with ancient eyes. <Then maybe it’s time to admit it. To her or yourself.>

Jake knew it. His friends genuinely adored him and wanted the best for him. Jay, Sunghoon, and Heeseung, three vampires with centuries on their backs and a deadly sense of humor had figured it out a long time ago: Jake wasn’t falling into sin… he was falling in love.

And what better way to uncover the mystery of your feelings… than a game?

That afternoon, Jay with his CEO instinct and Cold War strategist brain asked Lira, a vampire with a never-concealed obsession for Jake, to stop by the red room in the bunker and help out.

The room where Jake worked. The same room where he was going to invite you after class. When you crossed the threshold of the bunker, with your backpack slung on your shoulders and your high ponytail swaying, you greeted a few students, two masked vampires, and even a werewolf on security duty. Then came the red door and Heeseung was there to greet you, stirring instant ramen in front of the microwave.

“Oh? You here?” he said with innocent eyes. “Jake didn’t mention anything… what a surprise.” You stared at him for a second and thought Weird. He doesn’t even tell his friends I’m coming by anymore?

He gave a half-smile. “Maybe he wanted to surprise us. It’s been a while since Korea’s most popular influencer stopped by.”

You lowered your gaze. It was true. Things with Jake had been… weird, for quite a while.

“Wanna come in with me?” he offered.

You waited for the ramen to finish heating, then followed him inside.

As the door opened, a laugh his laugh hit you like a punch to the gut. Jake. That bright, joyful laugh you had heard a thousand times… but never aimed at anyone else. The scene looked like something out of a movie. A girl, her back to you: Lira. You knew it instantly. She was laughing with him, and to your horror, she had her hands on his hoodie like she wanted to touch his heart through the fabric.

Jake turned slightly and saw you like he had sensed your presence the moment you stepped in. And for a second, his smile softened and turned… nervous. Even if he was a vampire and couldn’t blush, you swore you saw something blush-like flicker across his face.

You bit your lip and walked in.

“Hi, everyone,” you said, setting your laptop down on the table with more force than necessary a loud, deliberate thud echoed through the room, laced with passive-aggression.

Jay’s little daughter, Jenù, waved at you with her tiny hand, trying to save face and your heart you gave her a strawberry candy, her favorite. She sat happily beside you while you fought to avoid looking in Jake and Lira’s direction.

And yet… every time you lifted your eyes, there they were. Laughing. Whispering things you were dying to know and way too close for your liking.

You shoved your earbuds in and hit play, but your heart was pounding too loud. And everyone knew it.

Sunghoon, amused, winked at Jake. Jake ignored him, but for a second… he looked regretful.

And you?

You thought, Maybe I should’ve gone for someone like Jay. Stable. Mature. Not this loser who doesn’t even know if he wants me or just my blood.

Ten minutes passed. Then you saw Lira touch his hair.

And with a syrupy voice, she said, “Your hair is so soft… I could touch your little strands for hours.”

You stood up abruptly. Heeseung chuckled and you turned to Jake.

“What kind of game is this?”

Jake looked at you for a second, then shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You rolled your eyes. “Did you invite me here to study or to watch your groupie put her hands all over your hoodie the one I always wear at your place and let her touch your hair? As if that’s something you let everyone do?”

Lira turned around. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was yours.” She meant the hoodie but you understood something else.

You smiled. “It’s not. Nothing about him is.” Jake turned to you, slightly shaken by your tone but, of course, he played the vampire.

“Are you jealous?” he asked, with that damn beautiful half-smile. You stared at him like you could rip his soul in half, while his idiot friends stifled laughs.

“No. I’m just wondering why you laugh so much with her. Normally, that’s something we do.

When you’re not too busy… biting me. Or ignoring me afterward.”

The silence in the room turned thick.

Jay pretended to check thermal maps, but he turned up the volume just to hear better.

Heeseung muttered a quiet 'uh-oh.'

Sunghoon was already seated with an apple in his hand, enjoying the show like a Netflix drama, with Jenù in his lap.

Jake ran a hand through his hair, visibly awkward, then took that classic golden retriever boy step toward you.

“You’re the one who’s been weird lately. You avoid me. You barely touch me when I bite you. You won’t even look at me.”

“Oh, so now you want cuddles while you suck the life out of me? Do you want me to pet your head while you mark me? Tell you you’re doing a good job?”

You stared at him, frozen. Jake bit his lip and in that second, you understood. He missed you but he didn’t know how to say it and he hated it.

Because he wasn’t just any vampire. He was Jake. The golden retriever is straight from hell and you… you were you.

All thorns and cotton candy, all Instagram and unresolved trauma. With a rare illness and a heart that beat only for him. So you stood, sliding your chair back, and took a step toward him. He looked at you like you were about to slap him.

And in a way… you did.

You leaned toward his ear and whispered: “Go ahead and play your little scenes with Lira. But remember this, vampire…if one day I decide you’re mine, no one will even dare look at you.

Because you’ll always need me…And I might not need you.”

You turned and walked away. Heart racing. And fully aware… that you had just declared war and told him the truth to his face.

When you stepped outside, it was raining, but you didn’t care. The drops stuck to your jeans and slid slowly down your neck, but you kept walking anyway. Your backpack slung over one shoulder, your hood up, eyes locked ahead.

Not toward the apartment you shared with Jake, but toward your real home. The one that smelled like beauty products, the one with too-pink cushions and the latest LED fairy lights.

“You’re pathetic,” you muttered under your breath, not even sure who you were talking to. Him? Yourself?

Maybe you’d been wrong to trust him. Maybe you were falling for him and the thought alone made you sick. You were the one who set the rules.

You were the one who said, “You’re not mine.” And now? One laugh… one stupid vampire grazing his hoodie and you felt shut out by your damn boundaries.

“Whatever. Tomorrow I’m going back to the blood bank,” you grumbled.

“Screw the contract. I’ll take half pay, at least I won’t get bled dry by a golden retriever on command.”

But then you felt it. His hand cold but somehow warm grabbed your wrist like it was the only way to stop you from slipping away.

“Hey,” Jake said, low but firm. “Wait.”

“Stop chasing me like a wet puppy,” you snapped.

“It’s not cute. Not romantic. Not even functional.” He pulled you back slightly and smiled that half-smile bastard expression that knew exactly what it did to you.

“I’d say it’s very functional. I mean, look where you’ve got me. In the rain, with jeans stuck to my thighs. Romantic? Feels like one of those early 2000s movies you always watch.” You glared at him even though he looked annoyingly gorgeous wet hair, and breath heavy from running.

“Go back to your anemic Lira. I’m sure she enjoys wet pants. Her fashion choices seem limited to latex and desperation.” Jake burst out laughing that warm, full, cursed laugh of his and ran a hand through his soaked hair.

“Anemic and no fashion sense... wow, you must be mad if you’re dragging someone for their outfit, Y/n.”

You scoffed and started walking again.

“You know that’s the way to your old apartment?” he called behind you. “Our place is the other way.”

You spun around.

“There is nothing ours!” Your voice cracked more rage than sadness, more fear than truth and Jake stepped toward you, then another step, until he was inches away.

“So it didn’t bother you,” he said softly. “That someone else touched me. Made me laugh. Breathed the same air that’s usually yours.”

You looked at him, eyes glistening, and shook your head. “No.”

But your gaze dropped. “Say it to my face, baby.”

“No.” Still with your head down, he stepped closer. Just one palm away from your lips, he brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers slowly, like he was reading you.

“Your heart’s beating like a war drum,” he whispered.

“And you know I can hear it from miles away. You’re jealous. You were jealous the second I smiled.” You didn’t answer a tear slipped down your cheek. Jake followed it with his eyes and left his hand there.

You bit your lip, trembling, unsure what to say or do. You looked into his eyes those dark, gleaming eyes that had seen a century and a half of history and right now… they were all for you. And without thinking, without saying anything, you kissed him.

You were tired of pretending. Tired of not saying how you felt. So you kissed him first just like that night at the party. Except this time… there was no fear. This time, there was something else between you and him. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you back like he’d been waiting weeks to do it properly. There was hunger in your kiss restrained desire but more than that. Jake had wanted you from the first moment he saw you. Not just your blood, but every rebellious inch of your personality. You, on the other hand, couldn’t make sense of anything anymore. You’d had a thousand people’s attention in your influencer life, but he was different. He was hungry. He was patient. He was darkness that knew you better than you wanted to admit.

As soon as you entered his apartment, Jake pushed you firmly but without brutality against the wall. His eyes, a deep red, glowed like embers behind his foggy glasses. His tongue made its way into your mouth with a fierce yet precise impulse, and you grabbed his hair, making him murmur softly, almost amused, "Always so impatient..." as he tightened his fingers around your waist.

You quickly undressed him, pulling off his rain-damp hoodie, and he did the same with yours, revealing the trembling skin beneath your shirt. He looked at you seriously and said only: "Shower. Now."

You nodded, more with your heart than your head, and let yourself be led to the bathroom. The hot water started to flow, but Jake didn’t seem interested in the temperature; his lips immediately sought the mark of the bite left on your neck, and while kissing you slowly, he whispered against your skin: "I like that you don’t hide it — many girls are ashamed. It’s mine, and you know it."

His hands settled on your breasts, and he asked in a husky voice: "Raise your arms."

You obeyed, and with a precise click, your bra slid off. His eyes clouded with desire and amazement. "Damn... they’re perfect." He grabbed your breasts with his large hands, adoring their softness and shape, teasing them because they were perfect for his big hands. Sometimes he squeezed them, then bent down to suck one nipple slowly. You moaned softly, surprised by how every touch of his was measured yet hungry.

"J-Jake..." you stammered, lost in that whirlpool of pleasure, "I'm trembling... I’m cold," you shivered through your teeth, and he paused for a moment, looking at you with an unreadable expression, then growled softly: "If I were human, you’d feel warmth — but I’m not. Is the vampire version of me enough? It’s the only real part I can give you."

You nodded and caressed his lips, telling him that for you, just him was enough. So he slowly slid your jeans down, as if every inch less of fabric belonged to him. You, with trembling hands, took off his sweatpants and were left only in your underwear for the first time. You saw him like this: in black boxers, lean and powerful, with that almost mythological beauty only a century-old vampire could have.

"Wow," you said, ironic but with a voice cracked by desire, "not bad for a nerd who spends his days hunting and encrypting rogue vampires."

He smiled boldly: "You better get used to it. You won’t get rid of me that easily."

Jake pulled you into the shower without hesitation. The hot water poured down, contrasting with the black glossy tiles, almost cold to the touch. But you didn’t give him time to take control. You pushed him firmly against the wall, your hands on his wet chest, and rose slightly on your toes — not because you were too short, but because you wanted to dominate him even for a moment, to see him lose control.

You started kissing his neck like that night in the bunker when everything really began, and he murmured softly, with a strangled tone of pleasure and frustration as he felt your warm breath on his pale skin: "You always know where to hit... damn you."

Then he reacted: he pushed you against the warm stream, his hands moving with soap over your body, slow and skillful — but you stopped him with a whisper, brushing his lips with your fingers: "Let me... I want you to feel good."

Your lips moved down his collarbones, then to his abdomen, where the water highlighted every muscle line as if carved from marble. Your warm fingers traced the contours of his abs, while you looked at him with a mischievous smile.

"What are you doing, Jake? Did you sculpt yourself on the computer? You’re literally always sitting there — how do you have such defined abs? Is it my blood making you so beautiful?"

He glanced sideways, holding back a smile, but his eyes grew redder and his fangs protruded slightly, a sign that his hunger — for you, for everything — was growing.

"Don’t provoke me, or there will be no control left." His voice was hoarse, darker, as if something was telling him to take you and make you his. You continued with soft but firm kisses along his belly until you reached his navel, where a thin strip of fine hair drew an elegant, bold line downward. You licked your lips, eyes fixed on his.

"Can I take them off?" you whispered, in a tone that left no room for refusal, and Jake nodded but blushed slightly. "Only if you promise not to look at me like that... or I won’t be responsible for myself."

You slowly slid off his boxers. The steam wrapped your bodies, and when you took them off completely, he revealed himself in all his vulnerable power. You looked at him, surprised and amused, as you saw his cock twitch slightly against his abs, hard with a slightly reddened tip and thick while losing a bit of pearly white slickness.

"Wow... I didn’t think I’d have this effect on you. It’s just me, you know." Jake rolled his eyes with an exasperated but tender smile. "You’re not just anyone, believe me." For a moment, it was like seeing him naked in the truest sense. His wet hair fell over his eyes, the steam caressed his face, and his expression, without barriers — it hit you more than anything else.

You bent down slowly, and that’s when you heard his voice, more fragile than usual, almost pleading: "Baby... don’t do it."

But you didn’t want to listen, maybe because you wanted to see him lose control, or maybe because in that moment you wanted to possess him as much as he wanted to possess you.

Your hands wrapped him slowly, and Jake held his breath as if something inside him was about to explode just from your touch. The warm water poured over his broad shoulders, his tense arms, but he seemed almost unaware of it — it was only the contrast between your warm skin and his that made him tremble.

"You can’t... touch me like that," he murmured, low, deep, broken.

You looked up at him with a barely-there smile on your wet lips.

"No? I thought you liked it." He took a half step back, his back against the dark, cold tiles again, his chest rising and falling visibly with difficulty.

"I like it too much... that’s the problem." Then he added, clenching his jaw: "I’m not made for slow, gentle things... I am hunger. And you’re my greatest temptation."

You leaned in a little more, letting your lips barely brush the hard tip of his desire. He moaned softly, a guttural sound, almost feral.

“Fuck...” he hissed as one hand slid into your wet hair. His length was hard and heavy, and it felt so perfect in your hands. You started moving with more determination, your hands gliding slowly, measuring every reaction coming from his mouth. He closed his eyes, his breath growing more and more uneven. When you bent down again, licking his skin carefully, as if memorizing every inch, you felt him tremble. A quick lick on the tip, and Jake placed a hand on your head, urging you to take him deeper, and you coughed lightly. “Breathe through your nose, baby, I know you can do it, yes, be a good girl for me.” Those words heated you even more.

Your fingers stroked him more boldly, and he moaned louder, lowering his gaze to you as you looked up with the eyes of a fake innocent girl while sucking and taking his cock properly into your mouth and pumping him with your hand at the same time.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said in a hoarse voice, “or this will end too soon.”

You took him all at once in your mouth, letting instinct guide your actions even further. You puffed out your cheeks and wrapped your tongue around the veiny underside, your head beginning a slow bobbing motion to accommodate how big he was inside your mouth, and Jake threw his head back, fingers clutching the tiles—the only surface giving him any relief.

You hummed softly at the sight of him so vulnerable and lost only for you, for no one else.

“Shit, baby,” he whispered at the sight of you taking him so well in your mouth and your thighs rubbing together to ease some of your own excitement. Jake’s head was thrown back, his long neck exposed, as he bit his lower lip roughly, but his dark, possessive gaze was fully fixed on you as if you were the center of the entire world—and you had never felt so turned on in your entire life.

“Baby... baby, please...”

“Please what?” you asked, your voice velvety and teasing as you pulled him slightly from your mouth and pumped him with your hand.

He clenched his jaw, trying to stay clear-headed. “I beg you... don’t tempt me like this. Don’t make me lose control.”

But it was too late. Jake rested his forehead against the wall, one hand still tangled in your hair, the other trembling at his side. His hips moved slightly toward you, as if his body betrayed him.

“I’m... I’m about to...” he whispered, almost ashamed.

You continued, with more intensity, mercilessly. When you looked up into his eyes, you saw him bring his hand to his mouth, biting his knuckles to keep from screaming.

“Damn it...” he hissed, his eyes clouded with pure crimson light.

And then he lost all resistance. His body tensed, his breath broke into a sharp moan, and his pleasure exploded—deep, hot—as you welcomed him, your eyes locked on his. For a moment, time seemed to stop: no war, no blackmail, no secrets.

As he spilled into your mouth, you swallowed his warm seed, and the strands of cum coated your neck. He let himself fall back against the wall, exhausted, looking at you as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. He whispered, in a faint voice, “You... you’re a damn miracle, and I don’t deserve you at all.”

Jake looked at you as if you were burning alive before him, as if your naked skin was a vision he could never bear for too long without giving in. His hands lifted you, grabbing your thighs and raising you with disarming ease. Your body pressed against the cold wall, in a shock that only intensified the already burning heat between your legs.

Your breaths intertwined with his, and you laughed softly, cheeky, while he stared at you with red, dilated eyes—not just from desire… but from hunger. The hunger he had for you, only for you, from the first moment he saw you in class with those pigtails, that sky-blue Miu Miu cardigan, and that white skirt with those long legs he had dreamed of wrapping around his hips—and maybe that perverted desire was coming true.

Your panties slid off, pulled down with a slow, precise, almost ceremonial gesture, and you stood naked before him, your legs wrapped around his waist, your chest rising quickly, lips parted.

Jake kissed your neck, at first softly, then with growing urgency. His tongue traced hot circles, his lips sucked gently, and every touch was a silent plea. The way he buried his face in your skin made you feel like he was worshipping and devouring you at the same time.

“I want you…” you whispered, breath broken. He stopped and looked into your eyes.

“Me too. But I want to make you feel good. Not just take you.”

His voice was a hoarse whisper, yet there was a tremor beneath it, as if he wanted to hold back, afraid to lose himself too quickly. But you, drunk on his presence, his scent, his body pressed against yours, didn’t want gentleness; you wanted urgency and the need to feel him inside you. Without waiting for a reply, your hand slipped between you, grasping his hot, pulsing shaft again. He was already hard, already throbbing, the skin tight and warm under your fingers.

“You’re already ready…” you hissed. “Already this hard for me.”

Jake let out a deep, guttural growl that vibrated against your chest, and his hips instinctively contracted beneath your touch, as if fighting himself not to explode too soon.

His lips returned to your neck, this time hungrier, and he began to bite you softly but firmly, his canines pressing on your skin without breaking it. He kissed where he’d bitten, licking the mark and sucking your skin as if it were his—because it was, though not fully yet, for you would become his when he slipped between your folds. His damp hair tickled your chest and jaw as he gripped your hips, then grabbed your ass with both hands impatient, possessive. You continued stroking him slowly, your movements a bit sadistic, almost trying to drive him crazy.

“So big…” you whispered, cheekily. “It seems impossible you need all this just to suck a little blood…”

He lifted his gaze, pupils dilated, with wild, shining, pleading eyes that wanted you for himself alone.

“It’s your fault…” he whispered. “It’s your scent, your blood, your skin, the way you areyou’re a curse…”

“Do you want me? Really want me? Not just for the blood.”

Jake stopped to look at you; his lips trembled, he couldn’t speak, but his body said everything. He trembled slightly, his fingers digging into your flesh, and his breath grew more and more erratic.

You tightened your grip and teased him more because you wanted to hear him say that you weren’t just a sack of blood in human form to him—but more… “Say you want me. Say you need me—not my blood, but me.”

The moan that escaped him was almost a sob. “Yes… yes… please. I want you, I need to feel you. Inside, to fill you. Let me in… please… let me make you feel good and belong to you.”

You smiled wickedly and without warning, you jumped on him completely—your arms around his neck, your legs tight around his waist, like a koala hungry for skin and pleasure. Jake held you up with an ease that wasn’t human, and his pelvis pressed immediately against you. You felt his cock rubbing slowly against your already wet folds, soaked from minutes of suspended desire.

“So soaked…” he murmured through clenched teeth, lips on yours. “You’re ready for me. I can feel it.”

He rubbed against you, every movement slow, heavy, controlled only in appearance. His glans slid between your intimate lips, finding every fold, every edge that made you shiver.

“Stop… or I’ll dig inside you right now.” he hissed, voice trembling as you continued teasing him.

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” you bit his lip gently and saw his pupils dilate. “What if I want you to do it right now?”

Jake clenched his jaw, looking at you as if you were something that both destroyed and rebirthed him.

“Then get ready, because I won’t let you go until you’re screaming my name…” His breath mingled with yours, hot and ragged, his hands gripping your thighs with that ancient yet restrained hunger. The vampire who had studied you from afar for years now held you tight in his arms naked, wet, trembling but not from fear, from desire.

Your hips moved against his instinctively, as the heat of his cock rubbed slowly against your already swollen folds. Your skins slid over each other with a wet, growing sound.

You pulled his hair, tilting his face toward yours. Your lips no longer trembled from the game: they were both prayer and provocation.

“I can’t resist… I want you inside me. Now.”

Jake didn’t speak. But his gaze darkened and with a low, animalistic growl, he let the tip of his shaft slip just inside you, then pulled back. Again, once more maybe punishing you, or savoring every second of your waiting.

“Asshole…” you moaned. “You know you’re about to lose control too. I see it.”

He didn’t deny it... it was true. His red eyes shone with obsession, and he confessed it with a hoarse whisper: “I’ve been watching you for years, couldn’t tear myself away. You’re mine, always have been, always inside me.”

He wrapped you tightly, and your legs closed around his waist as he sank deeper inside you. Every centimeter was a burst of pleasure that made you shudder, and when he brushed the deepest part of your body, a scream escaped your lips. Long, sincere, broken only by the moan that exploded in his throat.

“You’re so tight…” he gasped against your neck.

“And you… so big…” you murmured through clenched teeth, struggling to wrap your arms around his neck.

He stayed there, inside you, motionless for a long second—a suspended moment where it felt like the whole world had stopped. Then your voice came, broken by need: “Please… make me yours, fuck me however you want but don’t stop.”

Jake smiled against your skin with that cruel sweetness only he could wield. Then he slowly pulled back, almost all the way out to drive you crazy, and thrust back in with a force that made you jump. Your body moved against the wall, a fluid, sensual bounce that ignited every nerve.

The rhythm grew fiercer but not rushed measured and carnal at the same time and his hands held you like he could either shatter or protect you, and you felt it, deep in your bones. The tears that ran down your cheeks were of pleasure, but also of opening up, of surrender.

“Your pussy…” he whispered, panting as he plunged deeper. “Takes it so well. You’re made for me.”

You felt his cock sliding perfectly inside your poor pussy, which greedily sucked him every time he slipped deeper. Small moans escaped your mouth, and you screamed his name—not “Jake,” but “Jakey,” as only you called him, as only you could make him lose all control.

And he lost control. He grabbed you with both hands, lifting you higher, tighter against him, while his cock moved inside you with new, desperate force. Pleasure grew darker, deeper, like a current pulling you both along.

“I won’t last…” he murmured, voice broken. “Not like this… you’re too perfect, baby.”

You looked at him, crying and smiling at the same time, “I beg you… make me come… I can’t take it… Jake… I need you…” He thrust deeper, with more force, with more darkness, then lowered a hand and his thumb found your clitoris; he brushed and stroked it in perfect, slow, cruel circles that drove you crazy and made you scream. “So sensitive…” he murmured. “I’m driving you insane, huh? Look how you tremble under my fingers… you’re my personal slut, and you love it.” You were embarrassed by how true it was. “Yes…” you sobbed. “I’m yours… fuck me… make me come, Jake… I beg you…” “I want to feel your pussy squeeze me until I break. Come for me, baby, now.” And you did, your body broke in an orgasm that overwhelmed you like a tide, while he kept thrusting mercilessly inside you. You felt invaded, consumed, worshiped and ruined all at once, your legs trembling, your voice a broken scream. Jake cursed, trembling against you. “So… so tight, again… God. You’re perfect when you’re so vulnerable and so full of me, I want to see you dripping with my seed.” “Yes… yes!” you screamed. “Come inside… fill me… make me yours… I’m on the pill.” You grabbed him by the hair, pulling him to you, and bit the skin under his jaw, marking him, and he growled with an animal sound and thrust even deeper, until the very end, then you felt it. That warm, liquid heat, deep inside, that muffled moan he whispered in your ear: “Damn, you’re too much for someone like me, you’re the ruin of my eternity.” His seed flooded you, warm, vibrating, and you moaned, wrecked, still shaken by the aftermath of the orgasm, while he stayed inside, sniffing your neck as if to calm himself. “Fucking perfect,” he whispered with an exhausted smile. “I’ll never let you go.” And you, still trembling, knew you didn’t want to even try. Jake was still inside you, still merged with your body, still fused with your pleasure, and every little movement of his made your skin pulse. Every breath was shared, you trembled, your legs still wrapped around his hips, and a little whimper escaped your lips. It was too much, and wonderful — it was too wonderful. “I don’t want to leave you…” he whispered in a hoarse voice, burying his face in your damp hair. “Never.” You gently pulled his hair, a soft, tired gesture. “Jake… you’re too much…” He laughed with that dirty and adoring tone that made you melt. “You took all my cock, like the little slut you are… and now you say it’s too much?”

He made you blush even though you didn’t want to, but then, slowly, with a caress more than a movement, he withdrew from you. A warm, whitish thread slid slowly out of you, pulling along viscous, dense strands; you felt empty instantly as it left, empty and tied to him like never before. Jake kissed your hair softly and held you gently, something you never thought a nerdy obsessed vampire would do, and carried you under the warm shower spray. The water started to slide over your sticky, sensitive skin, washing away the marks of pleasure… but not the effect. “You’ve got my bite marks everywhere,” he said softly, running a sponge between your breasts with a teasing slowness. “Well, don’t complain if I want to show them off to everyone,” you replied, pinching his side. He laughed and ended up nibbling your shoulder without breaking the skin. “My little influencer is also vain.” You washed like that: with tender touches, dirty jokes, and fingers that couldn’t stay still. He held you every couple of seconds as if he was afraid you might vanish, kissed your neck, sniffed your blood softly, played with your breasts under the water, and occasionally gave you a smack that made you moan and laugh together. Then, finally, you dried off, he put a big oversized shirt on you, smelling of him, and a pair of boxers that hung adorably loose on you. He stayed in low-slung sweatpants and was bare-chested, his hair still dripping and messy like a boy and dangerous like a legend. You slipped under the sheets, and he gently settled you in his arms. His face buried in your neck, and his fingers traced circles on your back.

The silence was sweet, intimate, and alive, while you stroked his soft hair and wondered why he hadn’t bitten you during the act of your carnal pleasure and asked him… “Jake… why didn’t you bite me while… we were making love?” You felt his body tense for a moment, and he muttered something barely audible. “Because if I bit you… I’d lose control and I love you too much to ruin a first time together that special.” He slowly lifted his face, and his eyes, which moments before were dark and hungry, were now strangely human, moist, shiny, and full of warmth. “It wasn’t just sex for me,” he whispered. “You’re not just a sack of blood, okay? I love your blood, yes, but damn, I also love your laugh. I love watching you put on makeup and get pissed about your events. I love when you insult me and then look for me with your eyes, you’re… everything, you’re too much, and I’m a fucking nerdy vampire with no life, no shame who wants you all for himself and yet…” He brushed his hair awkwardly, looking into your eyes. “I love you.” You stayed silent for a second, two, then chuckled softly, nervous, as if you wanted to break the tension. “Don’t laugh,” he mumbled, trying to get off you. “Come on, fuck-” But you grabbed him by the nape and kissed him hard, sure of all the feelings you’d had for him for a long time, and when you pulled away, you whispered: “Stupid. How could you not understand that… I love you too?” Jake looked at you as if you had just rewritten the laws of his immortality and gave a goofy smile, one of those beautiful, rare, pure ones almost like a human boy with his first crush, and praised you with whispered words, collapsed next to you, and stayed there, his head on your chest. Then you felt something, a little prickling a fang brushing your skin. “Shall we celebrate this confession, sweetheart?” he said, with a hoarse voice full of dark promises. “If you bite me while I’m sleeping, I’ll dig your heart out with a teaspoon,” you warned him. And he laughed but didn’t let you go.

💌 vampire taglist: @azzy02 @iluvblackk @skzdelf @hollxe1 @averiesimss @heewenos @bllcksa @yollohblbl @st4rg1rlies @rosepetals09 @tunafishyfishylike @kkamismom12 @11thenightwemet11 @kryllea @hollxe1 @seungsoftly @yollohblbl @donttellmymomlol20 @soobundle1009 @bvbblyjasmine @jjongmi @lassiie @laurradoesloveu

Rebblog and comments are appreciated

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thebibliosphere · 4 months ago

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Apologies if this is a dumb question, but re: scented things causing reactions, is it only fragranced things? Or can the smell of cooking food cause a reaction? I'm wondering if there are safer alternatives for people who want their home to smell nice (as opposed to just being clean) but without using fragranced things like candles or diffusers

Thank you for asking. And it depends on the person.

I have a condition called Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) which makes my body perceive harmless things as a threat.

Red meat is one of my worst allergies, and while the smell of it cooking won’t make me as lethally ill as eating it, the smell can make me feel not good because the mast cell receptors in my nasal passage pick up on it and start sending “we’ve been exposed to our allergen” signals and because my immune systems is broken, it can sometimes perceive that as a threat and I get ill.

It’s not as common as eating the allergen, but it can happen.

For people with “normal” fragrance sensitivity, using things like coffee beans or baking cookies is a lot nicer way of scenting your home without risking harm to others who are adversely affected by strong fragrances.

Best thing to do is ask people. It might seem weird at first but I promise you, asking your friend with say, migraines, if there’s any scents that bother them and making sure they’re not exposed to them in your house is a good way to show you’re willing to be a safe space for them. They’ve likely never even had people ask. People just expose us to our triggers all the time and don’t care.

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cerisereids · 25 days ago

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𝗛𝗮𝘀𝗵 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻, 𝗘𝗴𝗴 𝗬𝗼𝗹𝗸, 𝗜 𝗪𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗔𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘂- 𝗦.𝗥.

Pairing- mom!reader x s18!Spencer Reid

WC- just under 1k

Summary- Spencer enjoys a quiet moment with his wife and child. If he would have known 20 years ago he’d ever be so happy, he would’ve laughed hysterically.

Contains- just a bunch of dad!Spencer fluff, one super quick Maeve mention, Spencer being the best dad ever, not proofread we die like men

A/N- divider from @thecutestgrotto!

Spencer Reid, an accomplished man of three PHDs, is on cleanup duty. The sleeves of his linen pajamas are rolled up to the elbow, his hand gripping a wet dish cloth. It's just as well, really. Cooking with a three year old activates his need to clean immensely.

"Do you want to crack the eggs?" his wife asked, gripping two white ovals in her dexterous fingers. The sight alone is enough to make his stomach turn, let alone the idea of his baby girl trying to not get shells in the egg mixture. He loves them both with everything in him. That doesn't mean he's confident in their coordination.

"Yeah!" She yells in excitement. He can't help but smile, despite his anxiety.

"Alright, you have to be really careful. No shells in the bowl now, got it?" She holds up a finger to baby Diana's chubby face, slowly handing off an egg.

Diana is oh so careful. Her two chubby hands cradle the egg, balancing it in her right hand. She hits it once, twice against the counter, a bubbly shriek spilling from her lips when it cracks.

Spencer's heart swells at the two loves of his life, working so hard on making the perfect Sunday breakfast. They have the same crease of concentration between their eyebrows. The sight feels like the sun has taken home in his chest, warming him from the inside out.

"Good job! Now crack it over the bowl!" His wife instructs, and she pulls apart the shell, the gooey liquid sloshing in the bowl.

"No shells!" She squeaks, a fierce look of pride on her face.

"Atta girl!" Spencer holds his hand up for a high five, his wife's hand running up and down her back. She kisses Diana's head before cracking another one, giving Diana the last one.

He grabs a fork, whisking the eggs together as his two girls move on to the pancake batter. His wife pours powdered Bisquick in the bowl, giving Diana measuring cups full of milk to pour in.

She approaches Spencer, sleep still lingering in her eye. Her hands graze his waist as she passes, whispering a soft, "Do you want some coffee?" in his ear.

"Please," he nods, placing a chaste kiss on her lips before she goes.

He moves to his baby girl next, his hands wrapping around her soft tummy. She's still little enough for both his hands to fit all the way around her. That won't be for long, though he tries not to think about it. The way she sprouts up gives him at least ten gray hairs a day.

"Daddy look!" She squeals, ever so proud of her work. "Pancakes!" She claps her hands in excitement, splaying powder as she did.

Spencer sneezes at the contact, and a peel of giggles spill from her lips.

"Dada!" She gasps between laughs. Spencer can't help it, he laughs too.

"Diana, was that silly?" He asks, pressing his lips to her head.

"Yes! So silly Dad!" she throws a hand up to her face, like she can't even help herself.

She's too much, so much that he scoops her up, long fingers digging into her tummy in a vicious tickle. She screams even louder, her giggles multiplying in speed and pitch.

"What is going on over there?!" His wife asks as the coffee begins percolating. The strong earthy scent fills the kitchen, easing his uncaffeinated system.

"Daddy is being too silly!" Diana breathes as Spencer slows his attack.

"He loves to be silly, he's good at that. Don't fall for it, he'll still get you!" She waves a spatula at Diana, who just snuggles into him.

He watches his wife, the early morning light filtering through the kitchen window. It cloaks her in a golden haze, like their own personal angel.

Spencer gets a quick flash of the past 20 years, of everything that's led to this moment. Joining the bureau, his eventual decision to leave, accepting a linguistics position at Georgetown, meeting the prettiest European literature professor, his wedding and the birth of Diana...he's baffled.

He thought love like this only existed for other people. He'd seen his colleagues earn it and lose it, seen them grieve and celebrate. He'd learned to be fine without it, especially after Maeve. He just accepted he was one of those people it didn't happen to, that he was always meant to be alone. He'd seen the beauty in it, the freedom in doing whatever he pleased.

It was all well and good, but the love that fills his kitchen now is thick, sticky and sweet. It fills him up like warm cocoa. His wife reaches out for the two of them, wrapping them both in her arms as far as they'll let her. For the first time in his life, Spencer Reid is truly content.

#criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom #dad!spencer reid

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bunnis-monsters · 1 year ago

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Cat hybrid reader going through her first heat after taking heat suppresent pills all her life with werewolf husband(NSFW obv). This sounds kinda cute in my head.... I can't explain it.... Like getting married and then finally deciding that you want to let yourself go through a natural process which you were suppressing all your life.

Happy 5k! If this isn't something you'll write, I am sorry, please do not block me, I can't tell if this is following the rules or not.

Your husband held your hand as you started the morning without taking your heat suppressant pill for the first time.

You wanted to have kittens with him so badly, and he wanted to fuck you full of pups, so the two of you decided that it was beast for you to temporarily stop taking them so you could mate properly.

“You think it’ll be okay?” he asked, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

You frowned, leaning against him. “I’m not sure… it’ll take a few days for the suppressant to leave my system. I’ll find out then…”

And find out you did.

Your husband returned home after a long day of work, only for his cock to immediately strain against his pants when he picked up the smell of your heat. He could hear your desperate little mews from the bedroom, walking in to see you crying and begging for release.

You had never felt such an ache in your cunt, and had never really felt the urge to masturbate so you had no idea what to do. He watched you struggle to finger yourself and play with your clit, your pretty kitty tail rubbing against your fat, wet pussy.

“Poor baby, can’t even make herself cum…”

He fucked his fingers into you, making your back arch. “Mmph! P-please, need more!”

You panted, your body feeling like it was on fire. His fingers were a little help, but it was like throwing a bucket of water on a house fire.

You needed more.

“Shh, sweetheart. Gotta stretch you out, okay? Can you be my good girl and wait for me?”

He moved his fingers in a scissoring motion, trying his best to stretch you out as quickly as possible.

You nearly lost it when you felt him kiss your inner thigh, his lips moving to your fat pussy. He licked your clit, sucking on it as his fingers kept fucking into you.

After a few moments you cried out, cumming on his fingers and writhing on the bed. Orgasming while in heat was like nothing you’d ever felt before!

Your entire body spasmed as he pulled out his fingers from your aching pussy with a wet squelch. It took him a second to compose himself, watching your pussy ooze. There was a mess under your hips already, and your scent alone was driving him insane!

He already towered over you, but now he seemed to loom over your body like a predator ready to pounce on its prey.

He rolled you onto your fat tummy, lifting your hips so he could properly mount you. By now, he was going off of pure instinct, ready to breed his fertile little mate.

“Mew…”

You let out a pathetic little meow as he sunk into you. The two of you had sex before, but now it was an entirely different experience.

The pleasure was multiplied tenfold, and he was so much more intense than he had been previously. “Wanna make puppies with you! W-wanna-!”

You buried your face into the pillow as he pounded your kitty cunt. His grip on your tail made you cry out, arching your back so he could reach you better.

Your hips and legs were easily lifted off the bed as he began using your fat pussy to get off, his mind fat gone. You didn’t mind, the feeling of him knotting you and filling your belly with cum over and over again was the only thing helping to calm the heat in your body.

The next day, your mate fussed over you, feeling terrible that he went overboard and lost control.

“I’m sorry, little one… your heat, it just-“

You butted your head against him affectionately, purring as he began to pet you.

“I think it’s what I needed… thank you for being with me for my first heat.”

“Of course… I’m your husband and mate, it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”

The two of you spent the morning cuddling in bed, soft purrs and loving mews filling the air.

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljr

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tiramissyoucake · 4 months ago

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hi, I have a viltrumite mark request! do the gifts that he gives reader vary or to him they’re all the same? like if he’s really trying to impress her and get her on board with producing heirs, is he trying to get her the most valuable gifts he could salvage after his conquest or would he not know the value of the things he’d taken? idk if this makes sense but i love your writings about him :)

Tysm!! And IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE. He regrets destroying earth too thoroughly, there's nothing to salvage to give to you, even if there was there's a chance you'd just become more upset at the memory of what once was.

A shiny gem or two from a desecrated eco-system, pretty robes that survived fires that swallowed whole towns, anything he deemed too beautiful to be destroyed would be taken back, just like how he did with you when he saved you from the sinking ship that was earth

Though this gives me a blurb idea for a Stockholm syndrome type thing *rubbing hands together mischievously*

The doors to the bedrooms creaked open, your hands pausing from toying with a gem he brought back from a planet. (One that reflects everything it shows, you saw a glimpse of his smile as he picked it up, a fire, bloodshed, beautiful but daunting.)

"I'm home, love." He announced immediately upon seeing you, setting aside some sort of satchel and walking to you, throwing away the extravagant cape and cupping your cheek to give you a brief kiss, a happy noise vibrating from his lips briefly before he parted. "I have something for you."

'Oh, joy.' You mentally rolled your eyes, glancing up from where you were sitting. "Don't you think I have enough...?" You gestured to a full closet, a vanity littered with jewels you didn't even know existed.

"No, you'll want this, trust me." He took the satchel from where it was tossed, kneeling infront of you and opening it up. "I returned to whatever remained from Earth, and... you'll be happy to know that I missed a few spots."

Mark smiled as he brought out a few rectangular shapes; the familiar scent of paper albeit yellowed, the appearance of worn edges and cracked spines. Books. Actual books. By human authors.

Your expression lit up with.. something, he couldn't discern it as he put the books down in your hands as you shuffled through them, blinking rapidly as if this was a dream.

Familiar titles you've seen in bookshops returned to you, 3 parts from 'Before the Coffee Gets Cold', 'Pride & Prejudice', 'Dracula', collections of short stories, compendiums, you saw more small books between thicker ones.

You thought you'd be angry, yet you felt strangely happy to finally feel something you were familiar with.

"Do you like it?" His smile was so big it almost hurt his cheeks, your expression gave him hope. "Alien books aren't in a scripture you can read, a-and I know there isn't much to do around here when I'm gone..."

"It's perfect." It was so small, it was almost miniscule, you're supposed to be crying, angry to be reminded of your destroyed home. "I.. I'm really happy about this, this may be the best gift you've ever given me."

This was the most Mark has ever gotten from you, the most gratitude that felt genuine. "Books, hah..! Okay! Books, I'll get you more books! Earth books! I'll scour the entire galaxy for any remains of Earthen artifacts!" He monologued excitedly, his heart soaring as you set the books down and looked up at him.

"You look beautiful when overjoyed, I should've done this– mmf!" For once, you initiated contact yourself. Lips pressing against his, Mark melted into a moan as his arms looped around you, leaning up to take more from you.

"Thank you— I don't know how to explain but... thank you—" He shushed you, kissing the corner of your lips, your cheek, your forehead.

"I understand, there's nothing like... home." He begrudgingly called that failing planet your home, as opposed to Viltrum's accommodations. "You know... maybe you could read some of these to our children, in the future."

Your vulnerability was what he was waiting for, a chance to strike to bring up the conversation again. "You're kidding, I don't know if kids can read these..." You were too caught up in the worn cut-up corners of the book to use your usual mind-games, sighing. "... Mark, thank you."

You didn't notice the suspicious smile, the lidded dark gaze that appeared on his face as he stood up while you decided on which book to read. "You're welcome. You're always welcome, love."

#your stars have aligned .•°✧✦✧#invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader

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ilovebabyonboard · 18 days ago

Text

Care Package Confessions

PAIRING: Bob Floyd X Pilot!Reader

CATEGORY: Fluff

SUMMARY: On deployment, a misdelivered care package and a too-honest letter you never meant for anyone else to read land in the hands of the one person it was secretly about: Bob Floyd. You weren’t supposed to fall for the quietest guy in the squad, and he definitely wasn’t supposed to find out. But when he reads the words meant only for home, everything changes—awkward glances, missed chances, and a slow, soft unraveling into something neither of you expected

WORD COUNT: 3.5K

WARNINGS: Mild angst, mutual pining, mild invasion of privacy, semi proofread

The sky above the naval air station was a colorless, cloud-smeared expanse, neither blue nor grey—just muted, like someone had turned the world down to half-volume. Beneath it, the base bustled on with its endless mechanical rhythm: the metallic stutter of hangar doors, the thump of boots on concrete, the sharp hiss of hydraulics bleeding into the wind.

And in the middle of it all, a quiet anticipation hung in the air like the scent of jet fuel—subtle, but unmistakable.

Mail day.

On deployment, small things carried a weight far beyond their size. A hot meal. A familiar brand of soap. A joke that actually landed without falling flat. But letters—letters were gold. They were proof that somewhere beyond the scrubby tarmac and sun-bleached barracks, life moved on without them. That they weren’t forgotten.

When Maverick’s voice crackled over the PA system announcing the squad’s mail had arrived, the whole base seemed to shift, like the tide turning.

“Mail drop’s in,” Fanboy announced, bursting into the briefing room like a storm of caffeine and good news. He waved a clipboard over his head like it was a winning lottery ticket. “Confirmed: the boxes have arrived.”

“Finally,” you groaned, the tension in your shoulders easing a notch.

Around you, the rest of Dagger squad perked up, eyes brightening like kids promised pizza at lunch.

Rooster leaned back in his chair with a yawn. “Think my aunt sent that giant tub of trail mix again?”

Hangman drawled, leaning forward across the table. “She’s definitely sending it for me.”

Rooster gave him a deadpan stare.

“No fighting,” Phoenix mumbled from the wall, eyes half-closed. “Save it for the sky.”

You looked back down at your half-finished checklist, trying not to let your hopes rise too high. You’d written home several times over the last month—mostly to your best friend, Em, and your siblings—but you hadn’t been sure if anything would come back. Still, part of you hoped.

A week before the care packages arrived, sleep was a stranger.

The buzzing overhead lights outside your room hummed low and steady, the cot beneath you felt too stiff, and the earlier simulation rattled more than you cared to admit. You’d flown well—you always flew well. But when Bob spoke over comms—calm, measured, steady—you found your own breath skipping beats.

It wasn’t what he said.

It was just him.

Bob Floyd was… complicated in the simplest way.

He wasn’t loud like Rooster or cocky like Hangman. He didn’t swagger into rooms or fill the air just to prove he could. But he carried a quiet presence. Gentle, steady—like the hum of a well-tuned engine or the low static of pre-dawn radio waves.

You remembered the first week, when he held the door open for you even though his arms were overloaded with gear. Then, during briefing, when he quietly corrected a flight schematic with a soft, “Actually, I think this is reversed,” and nailed it perfectly.

Bob didn’t take up space.

He made space.

And that did something inside you—something soft and stupid and utterly inconvenient.

You were trying really hard not to fall for the guy who lent pens with a quiet smile, like it was the kindest thing in the world.

And you were failing.

Spectacularly.

So, when your brain refused to quiet down, you did what you always did: you wrote.

The letter started as a joke.

“Dear Em,” you wrote, “I think I might be in actual trouble. Not, like, Navy trouble. Emotional trouble. The kind where your stomach flutters and your brain short-circuits and your heart does this horrible lurching thing every time a certain someone says your name."

"I’m not saying I’m falling for a naval aviator whose glasses fog up when he’s embarrassed—but I’m not not saying it either.”

You went on, describing the squad: how Coyote bullied you into morning runs, how Rooster couldn’t cook to save his life, how Payback snored like a jet engine about to take off. You wrote about Bob’s laugh—rare, quiet, always a little surprised—and how you lived for the moments when he’d glance up from a mission brief and catch your eye, like it was accidental but not quite.

You cringed as you wrote it but didn’t delete the words.

You signed off: Anyway. I won’t say anything obviously cause I'm not stupid. But I had to say it somewhere. Just in case.

You folded the letter, sealed it in an envelope, and tucked it into the box you’d set aside for care packages.

You thought it’d be safe on its way home before anyone else saw it.

You were wrong.

Because when the mail finally landed, your box from home wasn’t among the pile waiting for pickup.

You scanned the rows of care packages, eyes darting between names and handwritten labels, but there was no sign of yours. No familiar scrawl from home. No hidden treasures wrapped in duct tape and love.

You asked around, casually at first, then with more urgency—“Has anyone seen a box for me?”—but the answer was always the same: nothing.

What you didn’t know was that somewhere else on base, Bob Floyd was sitting with two boxes stacked in front of him.

Two boxes with your name scribbled with hardly legible handwriting on one.

Your family was usually so careful, so meticulous with the labeling, but somewhere in the chaos—a slip of handwriting, maybe a mix-up in the sorting—your package had gotten swapped.

Bob, quiet and unassuming, hadn’t said a word. Maybe he hadn’t noticed at first, or maybe he hadn’t wanted to make a fuss. After all, two boxes might mean double the snacks, double the comfort. But Bob wasn't that guy— So he definitely didn't notice.

Bob kept his eyes fixed on the cardboard box that didn't look like it was for him that was in front of him.

He turned it once, then again, squinting at the name scrawled in permanent marker across the side. He couldn't even tell if it was written in English the legibility was so bad.

He hesitated.

The packaging wasn’t familiar—no handwriting he recognized, no usual return address from his sister or cousin or the couple old classmates who still sent him the occasional care bundle for morale.

Still, he opened it.

The first thing he noticed was the smell: barbecue chips. The second was the envelope, tucked under a bag of off-brand trail mix and a novelty bottle opener shaped like an F-18.

It was handwritten.

Sealed.

He should’ve known right then—should’ve stopped, double-checked the box, handed it off to admin to reroute. But something about the envelope snagged his attention. It wasn’t addressed formally. No full name, no rank. Just a single word in neat handwriting: Home.

And beneath it, in parentheses: to Y/N.

Bob frowned slightly, the crease between his brows softening as he thumbed the edge of the envelope. His fingers brushed the seal.

He didn’t open it maliciously. He didn’t even intend to open it at all. It just… happened. The way you might pull a book from a shelf you didn’t remember placing there. Instinctive. Curious. Thoughtless in the moment, but not unkind.

The paper unfolded like a secret.

He read the first line, and his breath caught.

"WHO IS THIS MYSTERY MAN? You have to send me a photo! A guy with glasses? That’s totally your type, Y/N. Come on, spill the details!”

He read the line again, and again. Then again.

Across the room, you sat half-listening as Phoenix described, in graphic detail, what would happen to Rooster’s skin if he didn’t stop using three-in-one body wash as face cleanser. The squad was in full post-briefing mode—half-buzzed on caffeine, half-crashing from mail day—when your eyes skimmed the room and landed, briefly, on Bob.

He looked… unreadable. His expression wasn’t quite confused, but it wasn’t neutral either.

Just distant.

Focused on something from his package.

You didn’t think anything of it at first.

Not until much later.

Not until the moment when everything, quietly, and without warning, went sideways.

Bob Floyd didn’t mean to read the whole thing.

He really didn’t.

But once the words were in front of him, once he realized it wasn’t just a small note or a postcard—it was a letter—his brain stopped working the way it normally did. Quiet, ordered, methodical.

Instead, it just… whirred.

And then stalled.

And then, against all better judgment, it drifted forward.

At first, he told himself he’d just skim. Just enough to know where it came from, to figure out how badly he'd messed up, and then stop. That was the plan. That was always the plan.

But the second line knocked the air right out of his lungs.

“How tall is he? 6'7 or is that reaching it? Does he do that thing where he pushes his glasses up his nose with one finger and mumbles smart things under his breath? I swear if he wears button-downs off-duty, I’m going to pass out.”

He sat there, frozen in his chair, surrounded by the soft clatter of snack wrappers and paper tearing open and Hangman loudly reading something he swore was a love letter from a high school girlfriend.

Bob didn’t hear any of it.

He just stared at the letter, then read the next paragraph. And the next. And then he was too far in. Too deep. He couldn’t have stopped even if he’d tried.

Each line felt like peeling away the edge of something that had always been sealed off. A secret voice. A map he wasn’t meant to see.

And then came the kicker:

“If you don’t tell me more about what his voice sounds like by your next letter, I’m flying to the base myself.”

He had to close the letter and fold it twice to stop his hands from shaking. It wasn’t just you writing about him anymore—it was someone else talking about him, based on what you’d said. He didn’t know how to process that.

It didn’t take a genius to piece it together. He knew himself well enough to recognize the archetype.

He laid in bed later that night, replaying it all: the teasing, the affection, the familiarity with which your friend talked about him—a man she’d never met. A man you’d clearly talked about before.

That part got him.

You’d talked about him.

To someone else.

Like he was important enough to mention.

Like he mattered.

And for someone like Bob—who spent most of his life blending into the edges of rooms and avoiding attention—that realization felt like someone had cracked a window in his chest and let in the air.

Bob spent most of the morning thinking about the almonds.

Well, technically, they weren’t even his almonds. They were yours. Or, at least, they had been, before the letter. Before the swap. Before his sense of moral order cracked like the seal on your envelope.

Now the bag sat on his desk—salted, honey roasted, your favorite brand, the one you’d mentioned offhand during a late-night flight brief two weeks ago when you were both too tired to filter what came out of your mouths.

You’d laughed and said something like, “If someone mailed me a truckload of these, I’d probably marry them on the spot.”

At the time, Bob had just nodded, like he wasn’t about to remember that sentence word for word until the end of time.

Now, staring at the bag, he felt ridiculous.

What was he supposed to do? Walk up to you like, “Hey, I accidentally read your emotionally intimate letter confessing your crush on me, and now I’m giving you back the snack that came with it?”

Absolutely not.

So instead, he decided on a middle path. He’d ease into it. A slow reveal. A gentle tip of the hand.

He’d just… start a conversation.

A normal one.

With you. Easy.

When he saw you in the hangar, your hair pulled back and flight suit tied around your waist, squinting into the sun with a wrench in your hand, his heart did something embarrassing in his chest.

You smiled when you saw him—bright and easy, like always.

Bob almost turned around.

Instead, he walked forward, almond bag clenched tightly in his hand like it was a rare diplomatic offering.

“Hey,” he said. It came out fine. Fine. Maybe a little high-pitched.

“Hey, Bob,” you said, half-laughing like you were surprised. “You’re up early.”

“Payback's snoring,” he replied, giving you an annoyed look.

That got a laugh.

Bob felt like he’d just been handed a trophy.

You leaned against the bench, eyeing the bag in Bob's hand.. “Didn’t peg you for the almond type.”

He blinked. “Sorry?”

You nodded toward his hand. “The almonds."

“Oh. Right.” He looked down like he’d forgotten he was holding them. “Yeah. Just… had them. Figured I’d eat some.”

Brilliant.

You smiled again, but something in your brow furrowed. “You okay? You look a little red.”

Bob went very still.

Abort mission.

This was a terrible idea.

He wasn’t built for this. He didn’t know how to flirt. He knew how to calculate airspeed and adjust radar parameters and give Phoenix the exact correction she needed mid-dive. He didn’t know how to have a crush on someone who might actually like him back.

It felt like flying with the control stick locked at full sensitivity—every tiny movement sent him spiraling.

So he panicked.

“No, I’m good,” he said quickly. “Just tired. Been a long week.”

You tilted your head. “It’s Tuesday.”

“Exactly.”

You gave him a weird look—half teasing, half concerned—but didn’t push. Instead, you bumped your shoulder gently against his as you passed.

“Go drink some water, Bob,” you said. “You get weird when you’re dehydrated.”

He didn’t respond.

He couldn’t.

Because you touched him and smiled and told him to hydrate like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And suddenly, it was too much.

Bob speed walked to found a corner in the mess hall that afternoon where no one would bother him and sat with his back to the wall, trying not to replay the morning in 4K ultra-cringe quality.

He could’ve told you.

He could’ve hinted.

But instead, he flailed, lied about being tired, and failed to give you your almonds.

He didn’t even eat them. They were still in his pocket.

The truth was: he wasn’t used to this. The possibility of someone choosing him. Liking him not just as a squadmate or a dependable co-pilot, but for the soft, quiet, weird corners of him.

Bob had always kept those corners hidden.

Because when you grow up being the quiet one, the careful one, the one who people always describe as “sweet” but rarely as “someone I’d fall for,” you start building walls without realizing it.

So now, standing on the other side of that wall, letter in hand, he didn’t know what to do except… retreat.

That felt safer.

Few Days Later...

You couldn’t pinpoint the moment the warmth between you and Bob started to falter. It wasn’t a sharp crack or a sudden snap. More like a candle’s flame, flickering nervously in a breeze it didn’t know how to fight — small and wavering until it threatened to gutter out altogether.

After that night, everything felt quieter. Not worse, exactly. Just… off. Like something had shifted beneath the surface, a current you couldn’t quite grasp but felt pulling you both in opposite directions.

He started calling you more on the comms. His voice was softer than before, like a whisper meant only for you, threading into your flight path like a warm hand steadying the turbulence.

Then that first morning after, when you nailed your run and found him waiting on the tarmac, his words were simple but held weight—a compliment muttered low, like he was afraid to speak too loudly and shatter the fragile moment. That small kindness lingered longer than it had any right to, curling around your chest and making your heart thrump in a way that made you both dizzy and hopeful.

That was day one.

By day two, things began to retreat. He was still there — polite, present — but a distance settled between you, thick and cold as fog rolling in over the runway. He stopped sitting near you in the mess hall, his eyes no longer catching yours during briefing. The quiet side comments, the folded arms leaning in close in the hangar? They vanished like smoke.

Day three was worse.

Now, he barely spoke at all except when he absolutely had to, clipped and careful. Words spoken only because the mission demanded it, not because he wanted to hear your voice.

And then, tonight—when Hangman cracked a ridiculous joke and you laughed without thinking—your eyes found Bob’s only to see him already looking away, like your gaze was too bright, too much. Like he couldn’t bear to be close, but didn’t know how to leave.

It was cruelty.

And all of it—every hesitant hello, every half-smile, every empty space where he used to stand near you—was driving you quietly out of your mind.

You waited until the evening, when the San Diego heat had finally broken and most of the squad had gathered in a lazy sprawl out back.

Someone had dragged folding chairs into a circle around a makeshift fire pit. There was music. Half-warm beer. Cheap chips. Laughter, floating light and distant into the night.

You didn’t laugh.

You were watching Bob.

He sat at the edge of the group again—physically there, but somewhere else entirely. One foot out the door.

Just like every other day since last mail day.

So this time, you followed him when he left.

He peeled off around the side of the barracks, quiet and unbothered, like he didn’t think anyone would notice.

But you did.

You always had.

So you stood and followed when he slipped quietly away.

“Bob,” you said softly, catching up behind him.

He stopped, but didn’t turn.

You slowed, letting the silence fill the space between you. Then, steadying your voice, you asked:

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

He exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding his breath for days, the tension releasing in a shudder.

“I’m not,” he said, voice low, careful.

“Don’t lie,” you said, your words fragile but firm.

He didn’t answer.

You stepped beside, coming into his line of sight.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

His head jerked up, eyes wide and startled.

“What? No. God, no,” he said too quickly.

“Then why does it feel like I said something wrong just by existing?”

He flinched, like your words had grazed a raw nerve.

His hand came up to rub the back of his neck. His eyes darted everywhere but at you.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” he said, voice rough with regret.

“Then what are you doing?” you pressed, softer now, heart thudding in your ribs. “Because for four days you’ve been—”

“I don’t know,” he cut you off, too fast. Then quieter, almost crushed: “I don’t know.”

His voice cracked like brittle glass.

You didn’t say anything. You just watched.

Saw the weight in his shoulders, the way his chest tightened with something heavy and unspoken.

Finally, he spoke again.

“Your box got mixed up as mine and I—I read your letter,” he began, voice quiet and hesitant, like each word was a step into unfamiliar ground. “And… well, it was the kindest thing anyone’s ever said about me.”

He scratched the back of his neck, cheeks coloring just the faintest shade, like he wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed or proud.

Bob swallowed hard, eyes softening.

"Maybe it sounds stupid,” he added, voice dropping to almost a whisper, “but it really… meant a lot.”

His eyes finally found yours, soft and a little unsure, like he was afraid you might think less of him now that the words were out.

“I don’t… usually get that kind of thing. You know? Compliments. Or people saying stuff like that.”

He took a breath, a small, nervous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“So, maybe that’s why I’ve been acting weird.”

He looked down, then back up, like he was searching for courage in the fading light.

“I didn’t want to mess it up. Or make it awkward between us.”

“I was trying to you know— make a move or whatever Fanboy says... but I guess avoiding you just made it worse.”

He shrugged, shy but sincere.

“I’m not good at this stuff.”

You smiled—soft, patient, warm.

“It’s okay, Bob.”

He let out a small laugh, like a relief he didn’t know he was holding.

You bit your lip, cheeks warming under the soft glow of the night. The quiet between you stretched out, heavy with unsaid things.

“It’s my fault,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. You raised a shaky hand to your forehead, like you were trying to physically smooth out the awkwardness curling there. “I shouldn’t have written those letters about you. I’m so sorry.”

You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve, cheeks burning. “I didn’t mean to make things weird or put you on the spot. I just… I thought it might be nice to say what I was feeling to a friend.”

Your words tumbled out, rushed and shy.

You glanced up, meeting Bob’s eyes, searching for any sign of anger or irritation.

But instead, he gave you that soft, shy smile again — the one that made your heart skip.

“Hey,” he said gently, voice warm and steady, “It wasn’t weird. Not to me.”

He shifted a little closer, like courage was building up inside him too.

“I just… didn’t know what to say, or how to say it.”

He raised a hand to fix his glasses, awkward but honest. “So I did the dumb thing and froze.”

You smiled, relief blooming between you, soft and slow.

“Make a move, huh?” You teased, trying to regain your confidence. Stepping closer to Bob until you were standing just feet apart.

He blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah" He said sheepishly.

You smirked, letting your gaze drop to his mouth before flicking back up. “So why don’t you right now?”

His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up, and he swallowed.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “But I'm no good at this.”

“Guess I’ll have to teach you,” you said, leaning into his body warmth.

Bob’s breath hitched, eyes darkening with promise.

“Good luck,” he said softly. “I’m a slow learner.”

And then, without another word, he reached out and brushed your hand, fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

Then closed the small gap between you.

#lewis pullman x reader #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x you #lewis pullman #fanfic #lewis pullman x y/n #lewis pullman x you #bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #bob x reader #bob floyd fic #bob x you #bob floyd fluff #topgun maverick fanfiction #fanfiction

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satorupi · 16 days ago

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the smallest sniffle out of you had nanami’s fork halting midway to his mouth, eggs hanging off the metal prongs. “what was that?”

you made a soft sound, having just sunk your teeth into your bread, chewing leisurely. you swallowed, head tilting with a quirked brow. “...what was what?” and you sniffled once more, as if handing him more proof of your state (or what he assumed was your state) on a silver platter.

“that.” he set his cutlery down and reached an arm over to where you were sitting next to him, the back of his palm resting against your forehead. “you’re burning up.”

“babe, you know i usually run hot.”

he shook his head, palms cupping your cheek, tilting your face in his hands as though looking for something. “not this warm, no.”

“oh, well...” you shrugged, taking another bite of your sandwich. “i probably just have a little cold then.” oh, how you’d regret those words—the ease with which you’d suggested a cold in your current state.

the word cold seemed to activate something primal in your husband. within minutes, he’d transformed your living room into a sort of medical center to hold you. said something about ‘not taking any chances’ with you and the baby.

digital thermometer, three different flavours of throat lozenges, a bulky humidifier he’d pulled from god knows where. enough vitamin c and zinc to keep you set for weeks.

you were only four months along at this point, but nanami had already transformed into the most devoted, slightly neurotic expectant father. past his usual devotion for you as his wife and into a more hybrid form, to best describe it.

“it’s probably just pregnancy rhinitis. the doctor said it’s common,” you tried to reassure him, but he was already mentally running through protocols.

“we don’t know that. you’re going to rest, and i’m calling in sick.”

“kento, you don’t need to—”

“nope. i’m not leaving you alone while you’re unwell and pregnant.” his tone brooked no argument, already set in his decision. “end of discussion.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

“your immune system isn’t as strong as it would usually be since you’re pregnant now,” he explained to you seriously for what felt like the third time, fluffing pillows beneath you with military precision. “anything minor can develop into something major. that’s the last thing we want.”

“I don’t think the sniffles are that serious, kento.”

“sniffles can become bronchitis. bronchitis can become pneumonia. pneumonia can—”

“okay! okay, i get the picture.” you held up your hands in surrender, lips lifting into a small smile. “you have yourself a willing patient, mr. nanami.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

within the hour, he’d already called your obstetrician, researched pregnancy-safe remedies for a common cold, and bundled you under your favorite cashmere throw. the man who approached work and life with methodical precision now applied that same intensity to your minor ailment. possible cold—you weren’t entirely sure yet.

“the doctor advised me to keep you hydrated and well-rested. this is the best tea for your throat,” he reported, settling beside you with a steaming mug that emanated the familiar scent of honey-lemon. “also no medications unless absolutely necessary.”

for the next couple of days, you lived like an invalid. a cherished, doted-on invalid, but one nonetheless. instead of going into the office, he worked from home, laptop on the little bed desk you’d gotten ages ago while you snoozed against his chest.

whenever you stirred, he was immediately attentive—checking your temperature with one of those digital thermometers, tsking when it glowed orange on the screen, bringing you more tea, adjusting your position and the airflow of the humidifiers so you could breathe easier. it had turned out to be a cold, though mild.

“you really don’t have to hover,” you protested groggily during one of his temperature checks. “i’m so much better now.”

“you still sound nasally, so no, you’re probably not,” he observed, brow furrowed with concern. “and you’re not eating enough. stay here, i’m gonna make you soup.”

he’d taken to preparing small, frequent meals—bland but nutritious soups, fresh fruit cut into perfect pieces, whole grain toast with honey. everything was measured, planned, optimized for both your recovery and the baby’s needs.

“ken, you’re gonna get sick sticking around like this,” you warned as he climbed back into bed with you as night fell, tugging you into his embrace with familiar ease.

“impossible,” he said confidently, arms wrapping around you. “my immune system is excellent. besides, i need to take care of you and the baby.”

he’d said all this while letting you sleep curled up against his chest, breathing in the same air as your sick, congested self for hours on end.

he carried you to bed each night, despite your protests that you could walk perfectly fine. slept there with you throughout the night. in the morning, before you even woke, he’d already have a light breakfast prepped on a tray for you, an accompanying flower there just to see you smile.

“this is so excessive,” you’d told him on day three, watching him sanitize the en-suite bathroom doorknob for the second time that morning.

“incorrect. nothing is excessive when it comes to you two,” he replied matter-of-factly, moving on to wipe down the light switches.

the domesticity of it all made your heart swell, and to see him so set on making sure you were getting better? you could try to take precautions to keep the illness contained to yourself, but...you wouldn’t deny him the pleasure of playing doctor and taking care of you. you weren’t sure he would let you anyway.

by the fourth day, you felt completely normal again. better than normal, actually—all that rest and pampering had left you feeling more energetic than you’d felt in weeks.

“see? i was right,” nanami said with quiet satisfaction once that congested quality had left your voice, your temperature back to normal. “all you needed was some proper care and attention. no sick wives or babies.”

“my hero,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his midsection from behind. “though i think you might’ve been a tad bit overprotective.”

he’d looked so silently pleased with himself and those caretaking abilities that had nursed you right back to health.

which made it all the more amusing when you stirred the next morning to the sound of him trying to muffle a cough in the connecting bath.

“mm, ken?” you called out sweetly from your position on the bed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“good morning, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice noticeably hoarse. he emerged from the bathroom, hair slightly mussed, looking like he was trying very hard to appear normal. “how are you feeling?”

you eyed him for a moment, already picking up on little tells that betrayed his condition. “better. are you feeling okay?”

“fine.” but even as he said it, he sniffled, then looked annoyed at the betrayal. “perfectly fine. peachy.”

you watched him go through his morning routine, noting how he moved just a fraction slower, how he kept clearing his throat, how he sniffled softly when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

“oh, baby,” you cooed gently, immediately moving to his side. “you’re getting sick.”

“i don’t get sick.” his voice was getting more congested by the hour, but his denial remained absolute. you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him sick during the entire duration of your relationship, so why would he be sick now? “i have an excellent immune system.”

“usually yeah.” you pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, mimicking his own gentle gesture from days before. “you’re crazy warm, baby.”

“i’m not—” he tried to protest, but you were already guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed, standing between his thighs. “i need to get ready for work.”

“ken,” you said softly, taking his face in your hands. “you spent a full three days breathing in my germs and letting me plaster my sick self to your chest. your immune system is strong but...” you made a slight expression, thumbing over his cheekbones, “anyone would get sick after lingering in a hazard zone like that.”

he leaned into the coolness of your touch despite himself, eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. “i’m good,” he insisted, though his voice was getting rougher, taking on a near drowsy tone. “i feel okay.”

yup. sick, alright. beginning stages, but sick all the same. “i’m calling in sick for you. lie down.”

“what?” he perked up, eyes creaking open, head shaking. “absolutely not. i have meetings—”

“—meetings that can wait.” you were already reaching for his phone. “your health comes first. isn’t that what you told me?”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

by evening, he was fully congested and running a low fever of 38°c (100.4°F). you guided him to the couch, the big man wrapped in the same cashmere throw he’d had you bundled in, his head angled onto your chest as you spoon fed him soup you’d made.

“this is ludicrous,” he mumbled around the spoon, even as he relaxed into your embrace. “i was so careful. i washed my hands constantly, kept proper distance when possible...”

you hummed, utterly enamored at his behavior despite yourself. hangs around his pregnant wife like a helicopter husband for days --> is surprised when he gets the same cold she had.

“i should be taking care of you. you’re pregnant.”

“yes, pregnant. not physically inept, baby.”

“but the baby—”

“—is fine. we both are. and you’re going to be fine too, once you stop being so stubborn about being sick.”

he was quiet for a moment, letting you feed him another spoon of soup, throat soothed by the warmth. “...my throat is just a bit sore.”

“there we go.” you pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “poor baby. i’ll go wash this and get you some tea.”

“i can get it—”

“nanami kento, do not move an inch from that couch. i’m bringing you tea.”

you bustled around the kitchen, preparing his tea exactly how he’d made yours—honey, lemon, a touch of ginger. when you returned, he was huddled in the blanket, looking thoroughly miserable despite his attempts to maintain composure.

“here, sweetheart.” you settled beside him, holding the mug while he sipped. “slowly...don’t burn your tongue.”

and you practically helicopter-wifed him for the rest of the night, masked up just so you could somewhat safely sleep on the pullout in the living room with him. something about having your strong, well-mannered, and usually very collected husband all sniffly and seemingly more cuddly made you a teensy bit giddy. not that you’d tell him that. he was already properly knocked out, soft lips parted with slow breaths.

still very warm since the fever hadn’t broken quite yet—but you were hoping it would by morning. he did have a strong immune system, after all.

you called in sick for him for an additional two days, during which you'd be absolutely insufferable for playing nursemaid.

you’re sure he wouldn’t mind too much.

a/n: thanks for reading lol <3

#satorupi 𓃠 #sena's script ⏾#nanami #nanami kento #jjk kento #kento x reader #kento x y/n #jjk fluff #jujustu kaisen #divider by uzmacchiato #nanami kento x you #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen nanami #i keep starting new stories #i have like 4 3/4 done #okay bye!

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afeelgoodblog · 1 year ago

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The Best News of Last Month

Sorry for being not active this month as I had some health problems. I'll start posting weekly now :) Meanwhile here's some good from last month

1. Widow donates $1 billion to medical school, giving free tuition forever

Ruth Gottesman surprised by her late husband's $1 billion in Berkshire stock, decides to donate it in full to the Albert Einstein College of Medicine in the Bronx, New York City's poorest borough. The donation is intended to cover students' tuition indefinitely, ensuring access to medical education for generations.

A video capturing students' emotional reactions to the news, cheering and crying, circulated after the announcement, highlighting the profound impact of the donation on the medical school community.

2. Electric school buses outperform diesel in extreme cold

In Colorado's West Grand School District, electric school buses outperformed their diesel counterparts, particularly in the bitterly cold temperatures of towns like Kremmling, where morning temperatures can drop below -30 degrees Fahrenheit. Despite common concerns about reduced range in extreme weather, the electric buses maintained their battery charge even in these frigid conditions, providing reliable transportation for students.

This success has been welcomed by the school district, as diesel vehicles also face challenges in starting in Colorado's harsh winter weather.

3. Christian Bale unveils plans to build 12 foster homes in California

Christian Bale has led a tour round the new village in California where he plans to build 12 foster homes, as well as two studio flats to help children transition into independent living, and a 7,000 sq ft community centre.

The actor has spearheaded the building of a unique complex of facilities with the aim of keeping siblings in the foster care system together, and ideally under the same roof.

4. Average lifespan of a person with Down syndrome has increased from 25 years in 1983 to 60 years today

Today the average lifespan of a person with Down syndrome is approximately 60 years.

As recently as 1983, the average lifespan of a person with Down syndrome was 25 years. The dramatic increase to 60 years is largely due to the end of the inhumane practice of institutionalizing people with Down syndrome.

5. Greece legalises same-sex marriage

Greece has become the first Christian Orthodox-majority country to legalise same-sex marriage. Same-sex couples will now also be legally allowed to adopt children after Thursday's 176-76 vote in parliament.

Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis said the new law would "boldly abolish a serious inequality".

6. Massachusetts police K9 tracks scent for over 2 miles to find missing 12-year-old in freezing cold

A Massachusetts police K9 followed her nose to help find a 12-year-old who went missing in frigid temperatures last week, tracking the child’s scent for over two miles, authorities said.

K9 Biza, a female German shepherd, was called on to help after officers learned the child left their home at around 10:30 p.m. Wednesday and was last seen in the Pakachoag Hill area of Auburn, the Auburn Police Department said.

7. Good News for the Socially Anxious: People Like You a Lot More Than You Think They Do, New Research Confirms

The "Lake Wobegon effect" or "illusory superiority" phenomenon highlights people's tendency to overestimate their abilities, but recent research suggests that in social interactions, individuals often underestimate their likability and charm.

Studies indicate that people consistently fail to recognize signals of others' liking toward them, leading to a "liking gap" where individuals believe they are less likable than they actually are.

Techniques such as focusing more on others during conversations and genuinely expressing interest in them can help alleviate social anxiety by shifting the focus away from self-criticism. Ultimately, understanding that others may also experience similar anxieties can lead to a more relaxed and enjoyable social experience.

---

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation here:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog this post with your friends.

#best news of last week

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billiesoxytocin · 3 months ago

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parent-teacher conference

pairing: wanda maximoff x female reader

summary: reader is billy and tommy's new teacher. milf!wanda comes down for the termly parent-teacher conference and uh.... things escalate..... somehow.... a little heavy on the plot building too, i feel.

warnings: 18+ mdni. legal age gap. cheating-ish (but not really) wanda using her telekinetic powers on you. sliiiiiiight mommy kink.

word count: 2.6k

monday

"goodbye, my darlings," you hummed as you let go of the twins before they went running to their dad, as they always do.

or not.

you stood corrected when your eyes followed their movements, leading you to whom you thought was the most gorgeous woman you've ever laid your eyes on.

"holy shit..." you mumbled, your eyes wandering from her luscious ginger locks, to her green eyes and down to her legs that went on for days.

"wanda maximoff"

yelena's voice interrupted your thoughts as she smirked in your direction.

you nodded slowly, not even the least embarrassed that you were caught staring at your student's mother. you watched as the woman helped the boys into the car before she went in and drove away.

a breath left your system. you didn't even know you were holding your breath.

"she's–"

"hot, i know"

you turned to look at the other teacher, only to see her looking at you with a knowing smile.

"how come she's never picked up the boys before this? i mean, i've only been here for a month but still," you wondered out loud as you both started walking back into the staff room.

the blonde just shrugged, as she crossed her arms. "busy woman, i assume. ceo and everything"

your lips pursed as you nodded in approval.

damn. ceo, huh?

you cleared your throat as a thought crosses your mind. "will uh– she be here for the parent teacher conference this friday?"

yelena snickers in amusement, looking at you incredulously as she pushes open the staff room door. "i wouldn't bet on it"

a small pout of disappointment appears on your face as you unconsciously longed to see the redhead again. the 2 introductory minutes you had to see her simply left you yearning for more.

wednesday

"this is so unfair," tommy whined as he threw his bag onto the floor.

you closed the classroom door and turned to give him a glare. he sunk down in his seat under your stare, and you couldn't help the small smile that eventually made its way to your face.

you adored your students, you really do. you knew incidents like these were bound to happen when you took on the job of caring for 5th graders.

"keith went home with a bloody nose, tommy," you sighed as you took a seat on your chair across from the kid.

he looks down at his crossed arms, a look mixed between guilt and pride on his face.

"look, i know you didn't mean it. but i'm still going to have a conversation with your dad about this"

as if right on cue, two knocks were heard from the wooden door of the classroom. you rose an eyebrow at the kid before you walked over to the door, mentally preparing yourself to speak to mr vision.

"hello, thank you for– oh"

your breath hitched as you laid your eyes on the familiar redhead in standing in front of you.

"hi! you must be ms y/l/n, we haven't met"

oh god. her voice.

"right– yes. that's me,” you cleared your throat as you tried your best to dial down the surprise in your demeanour.

the woman flashed you a toothless smile that had you weak in the knees as she held out a hand.

“wanda maximoff”

your bottom lip was tucked behind your two front tooth as you fought the foolish grin threatening to appear on your face.

your shaky hands reached out to take her hand in yours for a firm hand shake.

“y/n y/l/n, but you already knew that– anyway please, come in and have a seat. wherever you want. though, beside your son would be ideal”

the woman let out an amused chuckle at your rambling as she walked past you, the scent of her perfume hitting your senses delightfully.

“fuck,” you whispered to yourself as you sucked in a breath to stabilise yourself.

get your shit together, y/n.

you hurried over to your seat behind your desk before shooting her another smile.

“i told mr vision briefly what happened on the phone, i’m not sure if you’re informed that little tommy here was involved in a fi-“

“it was barely a fight,” tommy groaned as he covered his face with his hands.

“no, no, tommy don't interrupt. let your pretty teacher speak,” ms maximoff says nonchalantly, her eyes never leaving yours and an almost sinister smile plastered on her face.

you felt heat rising to your cheeks at her choice of words, quickly breaking the eye contact before she could figure out just how flustered you were.

you cleared your throat for what felt like the tenth time since this conversation started.

“um- yeah, the other kid keith, went home with a bloody nose and a fuming mother. i’m not entirely sure what went down, so tommy– the floor is yours”

tommy lets out an exasperated, dramatic sigh before starting off his side of the story.

at first, you nodded in acknowledgement as you actively listened to the kid. but it was when you glanced at the woman beside him and caught her staring straight at you.

you blinked once, giving her a shy smile of acknowledgement.

she never looked away.

and neither could you, truthfully.

green orbs turned into red, and it was as if you were caught in a trance. you watched as her lips opened slightly, and suddenly you felt hot breath on your neck.

what. the. fuck.

your hands clamped down hard on your thighs in attempt to calm yourself down as your mind tried to fight both the intimidation and arousal that’s being caused by the redhead.

you flinched as you felt a sudden warmth surround your body. and you somehow knew it was the doing of wanda.

“jumpy little thing, are you?”

and suddenly it was cold again.

you blinked once, sitting up as you broke out from the trance you were in. refusing to acknowledge what wanda had just said to you, you turned to tommy to see that he had indeed finished explaining his side of the story and was staring expectantly in your direction.

"thank you for that, tommy. ms maximoff–"

"–wanda, please"

you paused and gulped, nodding once. it took every fibre of your being to look away from the redhead's eyes.

"tommy, wait in the car please. mommy will be there soon"

mommy will be there soon

you almost choked on your spit as you heard the words come out of her mouth.

why was that so hot?

you watched as tommy grabs his backpack and dashes out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

shit. what now?

"well, uh– thank you for coming down, mrs maximoff–"

the loud sound of the chair being dragged across the floor cut me off as the redhead stands up abruptly. she placed both her palms on your desk, towering over you with a menacing smile on her face.

"what did i just say, pretty girl?"

you couldn't help but feel small as you looked up at her nervously. you opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

she lets out a small chuckle that made your heart do backflips. a hand reaches to push a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear, and you had to fight the urge to lean into her touch.

"perhaps mommy will be easier for you to say. what do you think?"

she takes a look at your stunned demeanor and snickers, her thumb softly swiping against your bottom lip.

it felt as though you couldn't move. and even if you could, you wouldn't even know what to do.

she lets out a little sigh before pulling away, turning around to grab her purse.

"i'll see you this friday?"

you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, although your stomach was fluttering at the thought of seeing her again so soon.

"y-you're coming?"

she turns to look at you and winked, "only if you want me to"

friday

two knocks on your door snaps you out of the anxious episode you were in. a loud gasp left your lips, loud enough for the person on the other end of the door to hear.

"relax, it's just me"

you heard yelena's voice before the door was pushed open, revealing the smirking blonde.

you let out a relieved sigh, your thumb rubbing the sides of your temple.

"i take it that she hasn't shown up yet?"

you shook your head, a frustrated whine leaving your system. "she's killing me, lena"

she chuckles before taking a seat opposite you, where all the other parents have sat on throughout the evening.

"look, i get that she's a milf," she starts off and you looked up to glare at her, "but you really don't have to be this nervous. she's just like every other parent"

other parents don't put you in a trance and make you call them mommy, yelena.

before you could think of an appropriate response to yelena, the classroom door burst open. a ragged-breathing redhead came into view and you immediately felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"sorry, i'm late, dear"

yelena gave her a quick smile and a nod of acknowledgement before she got off the chair and left the room, closing the door shut.

"that your girlfriend?" wanda asks as she strides over to where yelena was once sat.

you snickered slightly, nervously as you shook your head. "just a colleague, mrs-"

you stopped yourself, remembering the situation you caught yourself in with the redhead just a few days prior. you were definitely NOT about to call your students' parent, mommy.

you cleared your throat, looking up at her to see her already boring her green eyes into you, a small smirk playing on her lips.

"just a colleague," you repeated yourself more convincingly this time.

wanda crossed her legs, her heels clicking softly against the tiled floor as she leaned forward, arms resting on her knees. her eyes never left yours.

“you seem nervous, ms y/l/n.”

you blinked. “me? n-no, i’m–”. you paused, glancing down at your clipboard just to look at anything but her. “just a long day. lots of parents.”

“mm. and yet you seem to save the best for last.” her voice was low, velvet with mischief.

you almost dropped your pen. “i—i don’t get to choose the order, the slots are randomly assigned–”

wanda tilted her head, her red hair spilling over her shoulder. “relax, sweet girl. i’m just teasing.”

her smile deepened when she noticed the way your shoulders tensed at the pet name.

you managed a polite nod, flipping through tommy’s file like it actually mattered right now. like your heart wasn’t threatening to beat out of your chest.

“i can hear your heartbeat from here,” wanda murmured, eyes half-lidded. “so loud, so fast. does mommy make you nervous, baby?”

your pen slipped from your hand, clattering to the floor. you bent down, cheeks burning, but before you could reach it—

you froze.

you couldn’t move.

your body locked in place, suspended just an inch above the ground, arms mid-reach, knees slightly bent.

and then she appeared beside you, crouching gracefully, hand outstretched with a glimmering red thread dancing between her fingers.

“hmm,” she whispered, lips almost at your ear. “look at you. so tense. poor thing.”

her magic curled like silk around your thighs, slithering beneath your skirt, warm and electric and everywhere. your breath hitched.

“wanda—”

"don't worry, baby. i'm going to take real good care of you."

a red surge flowed through you, and you were gently but firmly pulled upright, seated back in your chair like a puppet on strings. the door clicked shut with a flick of her wrist. blinds twisted closed. lights dimmed.

"do you trust me, sweet girl?" her voice was low and soft, with edge to it.

you looked up at the wanda who was looking at you almost lovingly, and that itself made you nod without a second thought.

the air in the room has become incredibly thick. wanda stood before you, the red in her irises glowing brighter, more ravenous. her hand falls slightly on the side of your face, and she feels the slight tremble on your skin.

“nervous,” she husks, now whispering against your ear. “or needy?”

you whimpered.

her lips brushed your earlobe. “tell me to stop.”

you didn’t.

“that’s what i thought,” she purred, and before you could even process it, a shimmer of red dragged across your core — not fingers, but pressure, warmth, movement. like she was touching you with invisible hands, everywhere at once. your hips jerked, legs trembling, but the magic held you still.

“wet already? god, you’re so easy, aren’t you?”

your hips jolted slightly, and she chuckled. the sound was low and dark and entirely in control.

“look at you. trying so hard to be composed. miss professional,” she mocked gently as the magic grew bolder — teasing your clit with firm, precise circles, even as a phantom pressure slipped inside you, thick and curling just right. it felt too good, too overwhelming, and you couldn’t squirm away. couldn’t stop it.

“but this pretty pussy’s begging, isn't she?"

her mouth ghosted over your jaw. “look at you. tied down, stuffed full, and still trying to pretend you’re not enjoying it.”

you whimpered.

“say it,” she whispered, breath hot against your ear. “say you like it.”

“i—I like it,” you gasped, shame thick in your voice.

her tongue licked a slow stripe up your neck. “mm. that’s a good girl.”

your hand shot out, bracing yourself against the desk. “wanda—please…”

she hummed like she was considering it. “mm, try again, baby”

your eyes rolled back as you felt her magic, whatever, teasing you. you were so close, but it felt as if she was purposely holding you out.

fuck it.

"mommy, please..."

stillness settled over the room.

wanda stilled like a predator who’d finally cornered its prey — pleased, hungry, and so devastatingly in control.

she exhaled slowly, as if savouring the sound of it. her eyes fluttered shut for just a second, and when they opened again, the red glow had deepened.

“say that again,” she whispered.

you swallowed, voice barely steady. “mommy.”

a small, pleased laugh escaped her lips — not mocking, not cruel. proud. warm.

“there’s my good girl.”

with that, you felt it — her powers humming around your skin, invisible threads of scarlet that coiled like silk. they slipped under your clothes, not ripping or tearing, but pulling. adjusting. lifting. like she was unwrapping you, slowly, carefully. reverently.

the pressure increased — harder, faster, more. the magic rolled through you in waves, forcing you open, dragging you to the edge without mercy. and wanda watched it all unfold with a terrifying calm, eyes glowing as you writhed in her hold.

"come for me,” she commanded.

and you did.

the orgasm ripped through you like lightning, your cry strangled in your throat, thighs shaking as wave after wave hit you — magic holding you upright even as your body collapsed under the pleasure.

finally, the invisible bonds eased. your wrists dropped limp to your lap, and you slumped forward, breathing hard, trembling all over.

wanda brushed a thumb across your cheek, almost gentle now.

“you’ll be thinking of this all weekend,” she whispered. “and next time?”

she leaned in, lips barely grazing yours.

“you’ll beg for my fingers instead.”

then she turned, her heels clicking on the tile, door swinging open with another casual flick of her magic — leaving you ruined and dazed, sitting in a puddle of your own need behind your desk.

read: my sweet girl (part 2)

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff smut #fanfic #wlw #one shot #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #marvel smut #marvel

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rafesbabygirlx · 2 months ago

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I’D RATHER HAVE YOU

✧ 𝙳𝙸𝙻𝙵!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚎𝚛!𝙽𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚢!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ✧

✧ 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 | 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

✧ Warnings- suggestive behavior, name calling (rafe about wife)

✧ Some inspiration from @moondustbaby headcanons! Thank you 🩵 it really helped with the motivation here!

You were young and beautiful and driving yourself crazy with college classes. Being nanny was the only thing that kept you afloat in your tiny apartment and worked around your class time.

The rich families on the island would pay any amount of money to not have to worry about their kids. That’s how you ended up working for Rafe Cameron. Richest man on the island. You made $55 an hour taking care of his 3 kids.

When you interviewed, Rafe seemed nothing short of uninterested. He sat there silent staring into the glass of whiskey he was swirling in his hand. You couldn’t stop your eyes from constantly flickering over to him. All while his wife read off a list of questions that sounded like she entered - “questions to ask someone who may watch my kids” - into an ai system.

If it weren’t for their 3 kids running in and crashing the interview, you didn’t think you’d even get the job. Their youngest, Ella. She warmed up to you instantly, getting you hired on the spot.

You worked for the Cameron’s for about a month when you noticed Rafe working from home more as the time went on. You worried about your hours being cut, but I never happened. Ella was constantly stuck to your side. You watched as Rafe’s eyes always lingered to you, but you thought the stares were directed at Ella.

When the older kids were at school and Ella was down for her nap, you took the time to do your assignments at the kitchen island. Rafe would wander into the kitchen, stand a little too close and ask you what you were working on. You’d try to ignore the way you can hear him smell the scent of your shampoo or the way he leave the kitchen clearly adjusting the crotch of his pants.

When the kids would be outside playing you’d sit in the grass with a book, occasionally keeping an eye on them. Rafe would come out and sit next to you with that same glass of whiskey. His hand would slowly inch towards yours and he’d softly brush his thumb across your knuckles. You felt a flutter in your stomach and tried to play it off as best as you could.

Then came the night when everything changed. His hair was ruffled and tie was loose from a stressful day at work. His wife was god knows where with god knows who. You were at the sink cleaning up the dishes from dinner when he came and stood behind you, placing his arms on either side of you, locking you in place between him and the counter.

Your breath hitched when he leaned in and his lips grazed your neck.

“You’d be a great step mom. The kids already love you.”

“Mr. Ca-” before you could finish he cut you off again.

“My wife is a big whore. She doesn’t think I know what she does. I know. I know everything. Working on leaving her, by the way.”

You’re at a loss for words. You’re frozen in place.

“You’re a smart girl. Working hard to get places. She’s no good. Worth nothing. My kids need someone like you to look up to. I need someone like you. You feel what you do to me?”

And you do. You feel exactly what you do to him. It’s poking you in the lower back, letting you know it’s there. “I do, I feel you, Rafe.”

“God the way you say my name. Your beautiful. I promise I’ll make you mine once everything’s settled. You’ll fit right in here. I won’t make you work baby. You just study hard… and make me hard. That sound good?”

You couldn’t deny it. He was a beautiful man. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. You were ok with waiting and that’s exactly what you were going to have to do. Just as you went to turn around the front door open and shut making you jump.

“We’ll have a moment again soon.” Rafe stood up straight and walked over to the fridge grabbing a beer walking out of the kitchen as his wife walked in not acknowledging her presence, leaving you, standing there alone with her.

Tags + some moots @rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @diasnohibng @slurpdew @alphabetically-deranged @whydoesthemirrorhateme @currentresidentinhell @slut-4-rafey @akobx @rafesheaven @laniirackssss @jjmaybankmylovee @slut4you @larema121 @nemesyaaa @cherrywriterrr @inthelibrarybtw @littlelamy

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swordsandholly · 1 year ago

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Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 6: Where…?

The first thing out of your mouth when you wake is a low, discontent groan as your hands fist the blankets around you. Your head and eyes throb. For a good several minutes, you remain completely still - no motivation to move from your semi-comfortable position. You really can’t drink like you used to, huh?

Eventually you work up the courage to crack your eyes open. At least the curtains are closed. The room takes a minute to focus, and the first thing you notice are the incorrectly colored sheets - lacking the usual floral print. You frown, grunting as you sit up. The second thing you notice is the t-shirt and sweatpants you’re currently wearing - not yours and easily a couple sizes too big. They have to belong to someone wide and tall to not be fitted on you. You don’t remember going home with anyone…

You take a moment to look around. It’s a decently sized room with minimal decor. A few art prints line the walls and the closet is in perfect order - separated by type and color. Though, most of it appears to be black. The bed is huge. Tall, too, you realize as you slowly slip your way out of it, nearly tripping on the long fabric of the sweatpants you’ve been dressed in. Glancing at yourself in the small mirror on the wall, you realize your makeup is gone and your hair is braided. There’s a dark wooden dresser and a matching desk with a laptop and sketchbook neatly placed on top. You wander over nosily, squinting down at the book. Oh shit! Oh shit, that’s Simon’s sketchbook. You’d recognize that collection of skull pattered stickers anywhere.

The sound of clinking pans and the scent of bacon slowly registers. Did… did you somehow end up going home with him? There’s no way, right? You remember asking him to dance, you remember him being surprisingly good and… and… that’s about it. On top of the dresser is your outfit from the night before, neatly folded with your bra tucked underneath. Your face heats and you cover your chest.

After a quick self inspection (and a nervous check for condoms in the trash) you decide you’re pretty sure you didn’t fuck anyone. Probably. Hopefully. What happens if you did? Would Simon tell John? Should you tell John? Will it make things awkward? Will he fire you? Oh, you really don’t want to lose this job. It’s the best you’ve ever had and you really, truly love all your boys so much. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes both to soothe the ache in them and to bite back tears.

You’ve always been such a stupid girl.

After giving yourself a few minutes to sit on the bed and properly freak out, flapping your hands in an attempt to get that nervous energy out of your system, you decide it’s time to face the music.

You slip your bralette back on before slowly cracking open the bedroom door. The short hall is mostly shadowed, lights off and the sun drifting in from what you assume is the living room. The door across from you is closed and to your left is a rather nice, spotless bathroom.

You peak your head out into the living room. It’s large and open, flowing into the kitchen as hardwood becomes tile and an island with stools between the two. Simon is the source of the clinking, apparently, moving around the stove like it’s second nature. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised he can cook - he’s a grown man - but there’s something about the way he arranges the plates, the from-scratch ingredients, that tells you he does actively enjoys it.

It’s cute.

Johnny and Kyle sit on a well loved couch just a few feet from you, both focused on some TV show you don’t recognize. A slow frown forms on your face, turning into shock as the door beside you opens. You nearly jump out of your skin as John appears beside you in a robe and plaid pajama pants.

A soft smile splits his face. “Mornin’, dove.”

“Och, she’s awake!” Johnny grins, throwing an arm over the back of the couch as he turns to face you.

You blink dumbly, head pounding and gut churning as you step closer to stand beside the couch. Without thinking you blurt, “You all… live together?”

“Course.” Kyle pipes up, looking at you as well. As if you were supposed to have known that already.

You melt to the floor in a hungover heap. “Oh, thank god!”

Johnny laughs. “Why thank god?”

“I was so scared I did something stupid…” Your voice cracks as you press your cheek to the cool hardwood. You didn’t fuck anyone, you didn’t embarrass yourself, you were simply taken care of. The relief alone almost makes you want to cry. Though, that’s probably the hangover more than anything.

“Oh, love.” Kyle reaches down to soothe a hand over your hair. “We wouldn’t have done anything like that, yeah?”

You nod.

“Sorry it scared you.” John murmurs, crouching to set a mug of coffee on the floor beside your head. “We didn’t feel comfortable sendin’ y’home alone.”

You nod again, slowly pushing yourself up to grab the mug. The bitter taste of black coffee makes you cringe, but it wakes your system up and seems to push your hangover down to a tolerable level.

“I should go home…” You sigh, not moving a single muscle off the floor where you currently sit.

“Not before you eat somethin’.” Simon calls from the kitchen.

You take the opportunity to look around the living room. The sun has been mostly blocked out by barely cracked curtains. There’s a little bit of each of them in it - artwork scattered across the walls. A few photos - one of John and Simon that looks like the opening of the shop. The leather pride flag sticker stuck on what looks like a toolbox doesn’t escape your notice. Probably John’s. You’ve never seen another man with such well cared for boots and leather coats. Maybe that’s assumptive. There’s a game boy and a PS5 behind the 4K television. Your eyes follow the rather extensive sound system to a massive CD organizer. There’s a short hall on the opposite side of the apartment where you assume the other two rooms are. Everything is so… homey. Comfortable.

“Wait, who’s clothes are these?” You ask suddenly, staring down at the oversized t-shirt and tightly tied sweatpants that pool at your feet awkwardly.

“Mine.” Simon shrugs, setting a plate on the coffee table for you before handing two more off to Johnny and Kyle.

“Comfy.” You hum, eyes zeroing in on the large breakfast in front of you - plate piled high with bacon, sausage, and waffles.

“Ye can sit up here wit’ us.” Johnny pats the empty couch beside him.

You think for a moment before shaking your still aching head. “Don’t think I should stand up yet.”

The food is even better than it looks. For a Brit Simon actually knows how to handle his flavors.

You groan as a particular rough throb stabs at your temple. “I don’t remember drinking enough to be this hungover…”

“Johnny can be very convincing.” Simon rumbles, stabbing a piece of sausage.

“What do you remember?” Kyle leans forward a bit to reach for his coffee.

You shrug. “I remember dancing. That’s kind of where it stops.”

“At least you got to skip the part of the night where Johnny starts rantin’ about chemistry math.” Kyle rolls his eyes.

“Och! Ye love my chemistry talk! It’s the structure of the universe! It’s-“

“Yap yap yap.” Kyle opens and closes his hand in a mocking ‘blah blah blah’ motion.

Kyle helps Simon clean up. You try to insist to let you help as well, but they won’t hear of it. John offers to let you stay the day and sleep off your hangover but you shake your head, wanting nothing more than to take a burning hot shower in your own bathroom - as fun as hanging around with them all day sounds. So, you slip into Simon’s room to change back into your own clothes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Kyle rest a hand on Simon’s lower back. A light touch, but solid. You don’t have the wherewithal to think about it.

You peel off Simon’s clothes and put yours back on with a wrinkled nose. There’s something so gross about it, not that you’re clean right now anyway. Thank god you had the foresight to not wear underwire. You order yourself a car on your mostly dead phone as you wander back out to the living room. Your skirt suddenly feels far too exposing for the daylight.

You chew your lip. “My driver’s five minutes out… so, I’ll see you guys Wednesday?”

“I’ll walk you down.” John grunts, pulling himself up out of the arm chair.

“Oh, you don’t have to-” You pause when he gives you that look you’ve come to recognize as ‘don’t argue, I’m doing it anyway.’

You give a round of goodbyes to the others who make no movement to get off the couch, fully sunken in. Johnny has sprawled over the L part of the couch with an arm over his eyes and a water bottle in hand.

“Thanks for letting me stay over. Sorry if I got too, uh, sloppy or whatever.” You murmur as the elevator makes for the lobby.

John chuckles. “No more than Johnny ever does. I’m glad you came. Lookin’ forward to the next one.”

You heart skips as you nod. “Me too.”

John leans forward just as your driver pulls up, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. Your back stiffens and your stomach flutters - face hot as he pulls away.

“See you at the shop.” He nods, sauntering back into the building like he didn’t just give you a heart attack.

Bonus:

“No, ye need an oil cleanser first.” Johnny slurs. “Tha’s how ye get the - hic - the makeup off.”

“Don’t act like I didn’t teach you everythin’ you know about skin care y’muppet.” Kyle snipes back as he digs through the drawers under the counter.

“Workin’ on yer John impersonation, I see.” Johnny snickers. Kyle bats at his arm.

You just giggle, seated on the toilet in Kyle and Johnny’s shared bathroom and swaying back and forth. Simon leans in the doorway, watching as the two drunkenly try to help you get your makeup off. All three of you bursting out into another fit of giggles when Kyle squeezes your round cheeks to make a fish face. It occurs to him that he’s never seen you bare faced. None of them have. Not that you come in everyday with a full beat but even so, there’s something intimate about it. To him, at least. Something about you perched in their apartment, in his clothes, having Johnny smudge moisturizer over your face while Kyle braids your hair to keep it from tangling overnight.

The three of you fit together so well…

John puts on a stupid action movie. Something to distract everyone as you wind down and sober up before bed. You snuggle up to Johnny, unsurprisingly, tucking yourself under his arm with your head on his chest. He’s practically Pavlov’d you into constantly touching each other. Just like he did with the rest of them. He jumps a bit when you press your socked feet to his thigh, humming comfortably. There’s a stupid grin plastered across your face.

“Alright, off to bed with you.” John chuckles as you snore comfortably on Johnny’s chest. The Scot is equally asleep, your chests rising and falling in an asynchronous rhythm. John loops his arms under your back and knees, just as strong as he’s always been, carefully cradling you against his chest as he takes you to Simon’s room.

Simon follows, glancing sideways at your clothes in his dresser. You groan as John lowers you but don’t wake up - well and truly passed out.

Simon pauses for a moment before following John out, staring down at you. He’s no better than the others, the alcohol numbing his inhibitions. So, he reaches down, and swipes a thumb over your slightly parted lips. Just as soft as he thought…

He settles into John’s bed, the frame creaking under their combined weight. Neither of them are particularly slight, after all.

“Glad y’danced tonight.” John mutters, reaching over to turn off his lamp.

Simon just grunts.

“She’s good for you.”

“She’s good for us.” He blurts, immediately wanting to shove the words back down his throat.

To his surprise, John just nods, turning to sling an arm over Simon’s waist. “She is.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for enjoying this series with me, it means a ton! I’m sorry I’m not very good at responding to replies/asks but I really do love and appreciate you all!

Hope you’re pumped for the next part bc I am

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snail-day · 3 months ago

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Family Matters

I fear my brain worms have moved onto:

Yan! Choso x Reader x Yan! Yuki

Tw: Yandere Behaviors, Somno, Captivity, Power Imbalance, Mentions of drugging, Stockholm Syndrome, Overstimulation, Creampies, Full nelson, Dubcon/Noncon. MDNI

a/n: This was supposed to be short and sweet. I believe the brain worms munched a little too hard :)

You’d like to think Choso never meant for this all to happen. That the whole situation was due to his own desire to start a family. That if it were up to him, you’d be somewhere far from here, curled up with a book and not wrapped between his arms while he whispers sweet apologies into your skin.

However, Yuki did all the dirty work and brought you here. Who decided you were perfect for them. Choso wanted a family, and she didn't want to give up her freedom. You'd give her that. Though kidnapping doesn't seem like the best solution to that problem, but maybe you were just a bit more sane. Who knows.

Yuki’s always been a hunter. A visionary. She wouldn’t go for someone stronger; no, she chose you precisely because you weren’t. Soft and pliant, someone who reminded her of a rabbit caught between wolves. And now you’re here. While it took a while to get Choso on board, he eventually had to give in.

He never imagined himself sharing. Always thought he'd be monogamous. But when his lover comes home cradling you like a prize, whispering about how sweet you’d be (once tamed), how you'd look tucked into their bed? How could he say no?

Especially when you’re so cute when you cry. When you're sleepy from all the drugs she put into your system, not clawing or screaming every time he tries to hold you. Dragging you out from under the bed by your ankles so he can cradle you and stroke your hair nestled in the various blankets. Because when you're quiet, well, he can pretend. Pretend you want this, too.

It’s Choso who cherishes the naps. Who likes the way your weight sinks against him, your breathing slow and warm on his chest. Yuki’s always moving, training, exploring, and hunting down her next thrill. But Choso? He’s a sleepy homebody. He’s selfish when it comes to cuddling. You’ll try to wriggle away, always so defiant, but eventually you give in. Huffing and puffing as he releases a sigh, breathes in the scent of you as you melt into his arms, quiet for once. Humming against your temple, gentle fingers stroking through your hair, tender lips pressing gentle kisses to your forehead. You sometimes wonder if he wishes Yuki were a bit softer. Less adventurous. Maybe then he wouldn't be so devoted to clinging onto you.

But you realize you don't know much about him as he doesn't understand much about you. Perhaps it's the curse in him, but he doesn't exactly understand why you cry so much. You're being loved. Taken care of. What more could you possibly want? How much of the world does he have to give you?

It’s only when you’re tired that you stop trying to claw your way free. When you’re drowsy, limp, vulnerable that Choso can’t help but admire you. That peaceful little face… it makes something ache inside of him. Ache and throb. Precum stains his pants, his cock pressed hard against your thigh, and before he knows it, his hand is slipping under the silk nightgown Yuki dressed you in before she left this morning. No panties. House rule reserved only for you.

Two chubby, thick fingers trace lazy circles over your clit. You're still half-asleep, but your hips betray you, grinding gently into his touch with a breathy whimper. One that he hushes with soft coos into your hair, as he reaches for the bottle of lube on the nightstand. He's too needy for proper prep, but not a monster. He won't split you open dry, no matter how desperate he is.

Gently coating his cock in the slick gel, groaning at the sensation, then smears the rest over your folds, working two fat fingers into you with care. Stretching you open, watching the furrow of your brows. The way your hips grind into his palm. That's when he knows you're ready to be his sweet girl.

Moving to shift you into a full nelson, your legs spread wide, needy cunt on fully display to the cruel, cool air, his toned arms wrapped tightly beneath your knees to hold you open. His body shakes as he lines himself up, the flushed purple head of his cock nestled against your soaked entrance. And when he finally pushes in - inch by slow, shuddering inch - his breath stutters in your ear.

" I'm sorry,” he whispers, voice cracked and barely holding together. “I just - I need you. I need you so bad. Love you too much. You understand, don’t you?”

You don't. But who are you to think when you're being split apart with each and every inch.

His trembling, soft lips brush your temple, then anywhere they can reach, almost frantic like he’s trying to kiss you into forgiveness. His cock twitches inside you, buried deep, stretching you around every vein, every pulsing inch of him as his hips start to roll in slow, desperate grinds upward.

It’s overwhelming when every movement seems to be thick and needy, every stroke a whimper he can’t quite bite back. You can feel the tears welling in his thick dark lashes as he mumbles, “Feels so good - feels too good - I’m sorry, I’m sorry - ”

And that’s when Yuki walks in.

“Aw, baby,” she sighs, lips pursed into a faux pout as she drops her bag and saunters over. “You said you were too tired to play.” She teases, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. Kneels between your trembling thighs, fingers curling around Choso’s thigh to still his movements.

“Let me taste.”

She leans in, licking a long, slow stripe from the base of his cock to the swollen bundle of nerves at the top of your slit. Thin pink tongue all hot and wet, sinful even, and your entire body trembles. You mewl into Choso’s shoulder, but Yuki only hums in approval.

“None of that. Let mommy make you feel good, okay?”

God, she does. Takes her time savoring you, swirling her tongue, teasing both of you until Choso’s thighs are shaking and your slick drips down onto the sheets in glistening trails. Every drag of her tongue across his base has Choso twitching inside you, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

Eventually, perhaps mercifully, she relents. “Go ahead,” she breathes, voice honeyed and cruel. “Stuff her full.” Moving her soft hand to stroke lovingly through his dark hair as he fucks you slow and deep, whispering praise between gasps. Yuki draws lazy circles against your clit with two fingers, tracing their names into your overstimulated nerves until you’re gushing into her palm.

“Such a good girl,” she murmurs, leaning up to kiss you gently. “See? We take such good care of you. You’re going to let Choso fill you up now, right?”

You nod, dazed, teary-eyed, far too dumb with pleasure to form a single coherent thought. All that spills from your lips are soft, slurred thank yous, babbled between gasps every time she pushes you into another climax. Each twitch of your body, every flutter of your walls around Choso’s cock, sends him closer, until he's almost sobbing, the warm tears finding home at the dip of your shoulder.

It only takes a few of those pretty little squeezes, and then he’s bursting with a low, choked groan. His cock throbs inside you as he cums, hot, thick ropes filling your cunt, the warmth blooming deep, pressing tight against your insides like he’s trying to make a home in you. He stays buried there, panting into your hair, as Yuki leans in again, slender fingers catching the spill of cum that threatens to escape with obscene care.

“I think we’d make a really happy family,” she purrs, pressing a soft kiss to your swollen, puffy cunt. “Don’t worry. Mommy will pay all the bills. Choso wants at least ten kids. You can do that, can’t you, sugar?”

You don’t answer. How could you, with exhaustion taking over? Your lashes flutter closed, brain turned to syrup from the overwhelming heat. Rebelling tomorrow seems like a better idea. Your head lolls to the side in a barely-there nod, and that seems to please her, or maybe it’s the taste, your juices tangled with Choso’s musk as she slurps her fingers clean, tongue dragging with a playful hum.

A part of you would’ve shivered. Maybe even cried. But then there’s pathetic little Choso, pressing his face into the curve of your neck, breath shaky, voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured in a soft, cracked whimper. As if the words have any meaning because he still doesn't pull out. You wonder if he even understands the word for someone who says it so much.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere #choso x reader #yuki x reader #yandere choso x reader #yandere yuki x reader #yandere choso x reader x yuki #yandere choso kamo #yandere yuki tsukumo #choso x reader x yuki #yandere yuki #yandere choso kamo x reader #yandere yuki tsukumo x reader

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everythingmp3 · 4 months ago

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secretly dating Nat during her antler queen era - headcanons 🦌💌

I’ve never written for her before but I love her and she’s clearly gonna go through hell this season, so I felt like imagining her having someone in her corner, being in love etc. I wrote down whatever came to mind and it’s kind of a narrative, so most of the points are rather elaborate! it’s mostly romantic/sfw - hope u enjoy <3

you and Nat go way back - you went to the same schools since you were kids but you only grew closer once you entered high school and both made it onto the soccer team

you were never best friends but there was always an implicit trust between you, you never got into fights or had weird tension, something about your temperaments just naturally fit together - you often joked around with her during practice and defintitely got told off more than once by Ben to keep your mouths shut (she’ the type to get the giggles and you for sure got her in trouble countless times by whispering out of pockets shit to her while he was talking)

over time, you ended up growing closer and closer, especially once you started going to house parties and somehow always ended up outside to share a cig and take a break from the chaos inside - you always had a sparkling chemistry, which was only intensified by having a few drinks in your system and opening up to each other in that tipsy state in ways you usually didn’t (she confided in you about her parents, you told her about your own issues, and you came to turn to each other when you needed some understanding)

your chemistry also showed on the soccer field, so opposing teams quickly grew to resent you and Nat because you somehow always managed to find her on the field to assist a goal, no matter how hard they tried to foul you or block her (one time she scored the winning goal during an important game thanks to you and in the heat of the moment kissed your cheek when you hugged to celebrate, which almost made you fuck up during the rest of the game because you were so flustered by it)

the summer before senior year was when you started spending time together outside of school/practice and group settings because neither of you had anything else to do, so you ended up biking around together, swimming in the lake nearby, driving to get gas station snacks at night before laying on her bed for hours while sharing a joint and listening to music with the window open, having sleepovers

something changed that summer - you didn’t even realize it was happening at first but you started feeling giddy before hangouts with her, you missed her when you went a few days without seeing each other and felt a tingling sensation whenever she touched your arm or knee during conversation - you also grew increasingly jealous whenever she mentioned a guy, since you hated the idea of her meeting up with one instead of calling you to hang out, so eventually you admitted it to yourself: you had a crush on her. a hopeless one.

you kept it to yourself, you enjoyed the time you had with Nat and ached for her in silence, stole glances when she laid next to you, tanning in her black bikini, soaked up her scent whenever she hugged you and made peace with the fact that that would have to be enough. still, you dreamed of her nearly every night that summer

the first time you got high together you coughed pretty obnoxiously on purpose so she’d offer to shotgun it for you, which you almost came to regret when you felt her lips mere millimeters from yours and couldn’t just close the distance - the memory haunting you for the weeks to come..

what you didn’t know was that she had similar feelings, that she ditched the idiot she’d been seeing for a while a bunch of times to come see if you were home and wanted to go for a ride because you were much better company and nicer to look at

it was hard not to get your hopes up sometimes because Nat was always very physically affectionate with you, she made you mixtapes, lent you her clothes, stole some of yours, hugged you in your sleep when you slept in the same bed, so you told you yourself "shes probably like this with everyone", even though your intuition told you she definitely didnt do all that with just anyone

once senior year started, you stopped hanging out that regularly and things kinda went back to how they were before, but you still talked a lot in school and spent a late night smoking and/or listening to new music together here and there with her, since it had become a ritual that you didn’t wanna entirely give up on, and it was the same for her, she loved those quiet hours of laughing and lounging around, especially when she was the one who snuck out to come knock on your window, since she always felt very at peace in your home, in your bed, away from her parents, distracted from that mess by your effect on her, which was always a calming one

one memory that stayed with her for a long time afterwards was when she showed up at your place at 2am one night, trashed, drunk and high and wrecked from a horrible fight she’d gotten into, shaking and scared, when you didn’t ask her any questions and just let her crawl into bed with you and sleep, holding her tight as she drifted off (she would always remember how bewildered she was by the fact that you didn’t seem to mind at all that she reeked of booze and smoke and sweat, that she’d felt disgusting and pathetic and that you had just pulled your blanket up to let her sleep, without making her shower or change - to you it was only natural, but to her it was a big deal, since she wasnt used to such gentle treatment)

during and after the crash you weren’t much closer to her than the other girls, since everyone was just trying their best to survive and you needed to be a strong group, but there were little moments here and there where you sought each other out, while sleeping on the cabin floor next to each other, or bitching about something while doing the laundry together

it pained you to see her and Travis get together the way they did, you didn’t let it show and you had worse things to deal with (starvation, lack of hygiene, general feelings of terror) but whenever you saw them sneak off, it ruined your mood, Van once looking at you and saying "damn, and I thought Jackie was in a foul mood today… what happened?" you waving her off and pretending it was just a migraine..

the winter was so horrible that you forgot about everything concerning desire and romance pretty fast, Shaunas birth and Javis death overshadowing any possible petty feelings you coulve been stewing on, Nat clearly also drifting apart from Travis more and more, both of you, like everyone else, falling into a deep hopelessness

then, when she was crowned, things shifted a little: when it was your turn to kiss her hand and vow your loyalty to her a sudden spark of affection and need rushed through your tired body, the way she looked down at you, the tears in her eyes, her look of disbelief, the subtle hint of tenderness, it made your crush come back in full force, even more intensely than before because you were so delirious from everything you’d gone through, hungry for any kind of passion and love you might get before possible dying out there

later on during the spring, it was like all of your senses were suddenly awake again and desire came crashing over you in violent waves while watching Nat walk around in shorts and cut-off shirts, seeing her try and take on her role as the new queen - it made you fall into an obsession that was even worse than during that summer back home, you couldnt stop staring at her to a point where you were scared the others were noticing

Nat was experiencing similar things, you weren’t aware, yet again, but you weren’t alone in your feelings, she realized it while watching you with the others that she got jealous whenever one of them hugged you or laughed a little too loudly at your joke, when someone cozied up to you and asked you to braid their hair, she didn’t wanna accept it at first but then one night when you were all eating dinner and she watched you, the way you looked in the candlelight, it hit her: I want her. I want her for myself. she should be mine. she dismissed the thought as silly and told herself to get a grip, to focus on being queen and surviving but it didn’t make her desire for you any less palpable whenever you sat near her or gave her a friendly embrace

one night, things changed. you had a spot near your hut, a particular tree stomp that you often used as a bench whenever you couldn’t sleep and wanted some fresh air, but that night Nat beat you to it, she was already sitting there when your turned up, so you joked "stole my spot, huh?", before joining her and sensing that she was going through it

"you fucking hate being queen, don’t you?" you bluntly asked her, which made Nat laugh a tired but genuine laugh because it felt good to have it out in the open, to be seen like that, she didn’t lie to you and used the moment to confide in you when you told her "come on, talk to me"

the moment that shifted the vibe was when you could tell frol what she saying that she was scared of Shauna, what might happen with her, and you told her "I swear if she lays a hand on you..." - she turned to you, curious then, and asked "yeah, what then?", so you said "I´ll flip the fuck out." in a tone that was serious and intense enough for her to be stunned by your protectiveness - for a moment she was quiet, but hearing that from you, the girl whod once been the for her at her lowest, in that moment where she felt broken down for different reasons, made her realize all of a sudden how much she’ missed you, talking to you, having alone time with you, how much she’d loved you all along, deep down, so she didn’t think at all before grabbing you to kiss you

that first kiss was so hungry and eager that she almost bit your lip, you were frozen up for a second because you couldn’t believe what was happening, so she pulled back and frantically apologized like "oh fuck sorry, I´m so -" but you quickly came back to your senses and interrupted her by pulling her in for another kiss, which ended in you two making our for a while, passionately, grabbing each other wherever you could reach, your thighs, your sides, you pressing yourself closer to her when you sensed some hesitation and wanted to signal to her that she should touch you wherever she wanted, which she did, finally allowing herself a moment of bliss amidst all the horror

after that kiss, you talked for a second, finally confessing how into each other you were, had been all along, Nat nudging you and saying "you should’ve fucking told me back then, during one of those many hours where I already had you in my bed. could’ve made good use of that time when we still had soft fresh sheets, you know"

you agreed to venture deeper into the forest the next night, for more privacy, both of you a bit nervous about sleeping with a girl for the first time, but relieved that neither of you had done it before, Nat getting a little jealous when you told her that you’d once gotten pretty close to having sex with a different girl back home, eager to drown out those memories with the ones you’d make with her (which worked, for sure..)

going forward you couldn’t help but sacrifice sleep to have at least a few nights each week where you spent an hour or two somewhere between the trees kissing and touching and getting lost in each other, Nat up against the tree as you knelt down to eat her out, you on the forest floor as she smiled at you from above before kissing your body all over and making you come undone with her fingers, both of you laughing when you attempted to find positions that would work in that enviornment, glowing and happy in a way that you never were during the day

it took you no time to develop a deep bond, the core of your trust had been there all along, so the romance was a natural progresssion, everything about it felt right and good to you, which was such a healing contrast to everything going on around you, such an unexpected gift after all the trauma youd endured out there, both of you showering the other in affection because you were just so grateful to feel held and loved and cared for in a way you hadnt during all the months before

during the trial it took every ounce of your will power not to just let everyone see that you’re together by defending her and stepping in to protect her but you managed to keep it somewhat subtle, only here and there saying things like "thats irrelevant" when someone went on a tangent or "damn, back off a little" when someone got too close to her face, things that a concerned friend would say, not just a lover - you also definitely made sure to communicate with your gaze, keeping eye-contact with her for a few seconds in a way that said "you got this, I am right here, we will get through this, I am so sorry this is falling on you"

in general you make sure she can sense your support and care whenver you’re near, even when you can say anything out loud in front of the others, and it does manage to calm her whenever she’s caught up in some argument or has to reel Shauna back in, the fact that youre watching and would step in if she was truly out of options

you made a habit of collecting flowers during the day whenever you have some time to just enjoy the sun or wander around, and you developed a ritual: waiting for a moment when nobody is paying attention to sneak into her hut and leave them on her pillow, and sometimes on particularly rough days thats the only thing that manages to get a smile out of Nat, when she steps into her little private space, drained and frustrated, and catches a glimpse of some lavender or yellow or pink flowers signaling to her that youd been in there, thinking of her, trying to cheer her up <3 (perhaps she braids a few of the flowers into her little braids, the others think she picked them herself, but you know better)

speaking of hair: I think she doesnt trust anyone but you to help her with it, she doesn’t like to admit it but even after everything you’ve been through out there, she’s still a little vain about her hair and hates that she can’t touch up her roots, so you help her out by brushing it out with the comb one of the girls rescued during the crash, you wash it for her in the river nearby, you give her one of your softer shirts to tie around her hair at night to keep it from getting frizzy. she also loveees to have her hair played with by you

she tires her best not to show you favoritism but it is hard, especially when someone else being bitchy to you for no reason, it is torture for her not to just use her power to punish them in some way, by denying them some privileges or finding some hard job for them to do the next day (it happened more than once that she dug her nails into her palm until she almost started bleeding from it because she was trying so hard not to just lunge at someone or tell them "shut the fuck up" when they were mean to you)

you tease her by calling her "my queen" when it’s just you two, she acts like she hates it and tells you to shut up, but her smile always betrays her, she does love it, when you jokingly bow to her, or even better get on your knees and hug her waist, something about the sound of your submission to her does get to her, even when its just in a playful manner (she cant help but tell you that you look good on your knees and ruffle your hair while grinning, and you have no issue using it to your advantage, the fact that she likes seeing you all devoted and eager..)

initially you werent one of the girls who were taught to hunt but once you and Nat got together she said that you should learn as well "never hurts to have as many people as possible learn a skill" was her reasoning (even though she would only be teaching you) - it was clearly the ideal cover to get some alone time far into the woods during the day and you always make the most of it, finding a nice spot to sit or lay and make out, undress and relieve each other of the stress you’re holding onto, getting lost in pleasure for one beautiful hour where nobody can interrupt, where shes not the leader, where its just you and her and the trees above you, the sounds of birds, the midday sun, her soft skin against yours, her lips, her smile, that smile that only you ever get to see, the smile you remember from before the crash and that you had feared dead during the winter, that you had finally brought out of her again once you started dating

even though you thought she didnt actually wanna teach you to hunt better, Nat does insist on teaching you a thing or two about how to handle the rifle because she wants you to be able to use it to defend yourself if it ever came to that in a moment of chaos, which you were amused by at first but she scolded you and told you to take it seriously, which was charming to you, her little moment of bossing you around (when she said it you corrected her and said "or to protect you" which charmed her, even though she always insists on never wanting you to risk your safety for her)

one might expect that youd be weird about Travis but he is so wrecked by grief and out of it in general that you never feel jealous when she talks to him, but you do make it clear to her that you hated watching her be with him when you still lived in the cabin and she looves seeing the flicker of envy in your eyes when you mention it, she loves knowing that you were watching all along, that you wanted to be in his place

whenever youre in charge of serving food you give her a little more than the others - she noticed one time and told you to knock it off, scared that someone might notice and target you for it, but you insisted that it was only fair considering that she was doing a hard job, that she needed it, and since you also noticed that she was not gaining weight back as fast as the others due to stress, which moved her, the fact that you had paid close enough attention to notice that (she pretends to be mad but she does feel a little rush whenever you serve her food and she knows you were liberal with her portion, makes her feel loved, tended to)

whenever Melissa steps in to act as Shaunas guard-dog, you do the exact same for Nat but more subtle, with the other two its clear to most of the others that something wild is going on there, but with you two nobody really suspects anything, so you are less aggressive than Melissa but whenever they gang up on her, you make sure to get a word in and refuse to leave Nats side until the conflict is over

since she doesnt have access to music, you got over your fear of sounding horrible when she kept begging you to sing for her - you caved and started doing it, her laying in your lap during your little moments of respite while you hum some of her favorite songs to her (those that you also know), and she adores it, soaking up the sounds as you sing to her forgetting the hell of your situation for a moment, almost as if she’s back home in her room listening to her favorite record, safe, at peace, relaxed

its torture for her when she sees you sunbathing with the others, half undressed, only in your bra, knowing that she cant go over and touch you or even just give you a kiss, but it became a game between you two, for you to lay there and give her a nice view whenever the sun was bright, while she watched from afar while pretending to do other things

you love her freckles and shower them in kisses <3 on her face, on her shoulder, her arms, her thighs, she used to feel a bit self-conscious about them but you made her appreciate that part of herself more with your consistent admiration

in general Nat is very protective of you. she has moments where the idea of something happening to you sends her into a spiral of dread and panic, especially when youre sick or seem weaker than usual, when she imagines you becoming the target of a sacrifice, so sometimes she wakes up from a nightmare about it, she has to walk by your hut for a second to check that youre sleeping peacefully

due to her antler queen duties she doesnt hunt much anymore but every now and then she wants to be on her own and clear her mind, and she realizes that she became more ambitious with her hunting after getting together with you, she will hold out for a little longer than she did during the hunts before because she wants you to eat well, specifically the food she is responsible for, she has more of a provider spirit with you than with the group in general

she collects little trinkets for you when shes out there on her own, she loves to bring you back some pretty feathers or rocks she found, she always keeps her eyes peeled for something that you might like to have as decoration because out in the wilderness thats the only way for her to give you gifts (it kills her that she cant just go out and buy you something nice, even just a book or a candle or a shirt, so she settles for whatever she can find, and after a while you have a little collection of souvenirs from her)

you both 100% get jealous as fuck of Tai and Van sometimes when you see them be openly affectionate, when they hold hands or Van lays on Tais lap for everyone around to see, when they share a brief kiss without worrying who might see, when they got to bed together, you and Nat have had more than one moment where you saw it and then locked eyes in a way that said "they dont know how good they have it"

I think she’s even more romantic than she lets on, she might do little things like using a knife to carve your initial or your full name somewhere only she can see (like the inside of her shoe or something, she wont even tell you about it, its just for herself, a secret sign of her devotion)

she doesnt tell you about this but she sometimes gets extremely paranoid about Shauna sensing a vibe between you and exploiting that knowledge to hurt her by targeting her obvious soft spot: you. she has nightmares about being humiliated in front of everyone, falling from grace and tearing you down with her in the process because she knows you would get blamed as well, for keeping that kind of secret, for trying to get special treatment from the leader, she knows Shauna or others who want her off the throne would have no trouble twisting the rhetoric around your being lovers to really do her in

so, she makes a point of not always sitting next to you during meals and finds little reasons to scold you in front of the others like "did you do xyz? no? then get to that please" - she’s a decent enough actress for the others not to clock how much she hates being stern with you, even just for show

you spend a lot of your one-on-one time dreaming together <3 neither of you are naive enough to count on a rescue, but you do remind each other to hold out at least a little bit of hope and especially after the horrible winter you had, it is healing in a way to be in each others arms under the night-sky and just let your mind wander off to better places, to stop being all pragmatic and realistic for a moment and just enjoy the nice scenarios you come up with together

your plan for a potential post-rescue life is simple: get the fuck out of your hometown and move somewhere nice and peaceful, far away, to get jobs and enjoy all the little mundane romantic things that you cant out in the wilderness, no crazy ambitions, just you and her and a bed to share, a quiet, soft life with the occasional road trip and adventure here and there

you also fantasize about more playful things for sure, sometimes when youre undressed or in your underwear together you tell the other person what kind of lingerie you’d like to see them in and you get really specific about it too, down to the exact colors and fabrics, you tell each other what outfits you’d like to wear during date nights, what perfumes notes would drive you crazy if the other wore it, its a little game you play, conjuring up very vivid images like that when youre alone and want to drift off into fantasies for a while

whenever you get self-conscious about the state of your appearance after that many months out in the wilderness (aware that she knows how you looked before) Nat makes sure to remind you that she finds you no less attractive then than she did back home, she might tease you a bit by pulling you closer and feeling you up while saying "and besides, this look kinda works for you, I always thought you looked pretty fucking hot after games when your kit was all dirty and torn up"

shes also definitely the type to jokingly cat-call you or whistle at you when its just the two of you - like when you take your shirt off to go swim in the river for a second with her and she eyes you up and down while letting out an appreciative "damn", you do the same to her and she gets endearingly flustered, which never used to happen with guys, not the way it does with you, something about your attention and praise gets her way hotter, probably because shes never performing for you and actually feels like you want her for who she is

you both definitely had a few moments of almost fucking up and calling each other nicknames in front of the others, you stopping yourself as you felt the word “baby” coming out of your mouth when you wanted to call her over, Nat saying “hey -” and pausing awkwardly for a few seconds after because she was about to call you “angel”

she’s the little spoon when you cuddle, for sureee, she has to put up a tough front in front of the others and youre the only one who gets to see her softer side, so she loves being held by you, the tighter your grip the better <3

you think it’s kinda hot when she’s in her antler queen get-up and she definitely made you try on the crown at least once, wistfully sighing “fuck. what I wouldn’t give for us to just switch roles..” clearly into the idea of following your lead instead of the other way around

you’re her advisor and she runs pretty much all of her important decisions by you, seeking reassurance that she’s doing the right thing, regularly panicking about something until you assure her she’s doing fine, so she jokes about it sometimes by saying things like "if they knew youre running things from the shadows"

you both of course have your fair share of horrible issues to deal with and her responsibilities as queen weigh heavily on her, so there are some truly horrible days where both of you are just trying to survive, literally, but feeling each other near and knowing that you will get through it all together, that you will be alone again eventually, makes everything more bearable than before you were together <3

#this was just a spontaneous experiment to try and write for a different yj character but I ended up having fun with it!#natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets

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