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cutehoons02 · 15 days ago

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Bad Desire

Desire:Unleash Jake pt Jay pt

*pairing: CEO vampire Park Sunghoon x human intern Girl

*trope: Enemies to lovers

*synopsis: Park Sunghoon’s wish was to never fall in love again after losing his soulmate. But what would happen if an intern barely 22 years old and, on top of that, human joined his Marketing department? You and he are light and darkness: you're fun and carefree, while he’s cynical and cold with everyone. But opposites attract, especially when he tastes your blood, which for him becomes both his cure and his sweetest poison. What will happen between a young woman fresh out of university and him—one of the most famous vampire CEOs in the world, 270 years old but with a human identity that says he’s 27?

*tags: Sunghoon at first is cynical and not at all friendly but slowly softens, love to tease, humor, blood, vampire bites, rebels vampires, talk about the death of Sunghoon’s soul mate, a lot of kisses and forges, the protagonist loves touching Sunghoon, needy Hoon, needy protagonist, masturbation, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) cowgirl, +18, pet names (CEO,Hoon) (baby, little girl)

18k (💙)

The world had changed. Humans and vampires had been coexisting for decades; they worked side by side in corporate offices, attended the same universities, and exchanged hearts on dating apps. Some even found their soulmates on vampire-specific platforms like Love Alarm and yes, some of them even got married. All it took was compatible blood, the right chemistry... and making sure no one, in the heat of passion, sank their fangs too deep.

Some said the children of these unions were miracles: half-human, half-vampire, rare, mesmerizing, and often dangerous. Some were born fully vampires and those? The tabloids called them children of chaos. You, though, had never paid much attention to those stories, not until today.

It was your first day as a marketing and communications intern at Park International, one of the most powerful and mysterious companies in the mixed world: Founded and run by the feared and respected “brothers” though not by blood Park Jay and Park Sunghoon, two ancient vampires with deceptively youthful faces.

Officially, they were 27. Unofficially... Jay was 375. Sunghoon, 325. Vampire magazines called him "The Winter CEO." “Colder than a corpse, more beautiful than a curse.”

Sunghoon Park was the man everyone wanted as a future husband yet no one dared approach. His skin was pale like imperial porcelain, his feline eyes pierced through souls, and those scattered beauty marks across his face looked like cosmic signs meant to drive you insane. His black hair fell in rebellious strands over perfect eyebrows that moved with his thoughts. His body, always hidden beneath tailored dark suits, was athletic, composed, and threatening even when still, and every movement was calculated like a deadly dance but it wasn’t just his looks that inspired fear.

It was said he had fired 49 interns in just three years: Humans, vampires, and half-bloods; no one lasted more than two weeks under his supervision. Some had cried, others moved abroad. One rumor claimed a human fainted just because Sunghoon told him, "You're as boring as a bag of lukewarm blood."

And you? You were going to be intern number fifty, the one everyone assumed would meet the same fate or worse. Except there was one problem. You weren’t like the others, and your blood… wasn’t like theirs, you’d find out too late, maybe but the moment Sunghoon Park laid eyes on you in that icy office, lit by a single artificial light, something ancient would stir inside him and for the first time in centuries, his predator instincts would awaken.

Working for the Park Society has always been one of your dreams. One of those that feel unreachable until the moment you find yourself there, standing in front of the building you’d seen a hundred times in photos, in university internship brochures, and on TV. Now it towered among Seoul’s skyscrapers like a temple of glass and darkness. You stepped out of the subway with your heart beating a little faster, a mix of fear and excitement rippling across your skin like a shiver. You adjusted your jacket, tightened your grip on your bag, and looked up at the building. Park Society: Marketing, Communication, Design for both small and major businesses, and Advertising. It was every creative marketing student’s dream and future. You walked through the revolving doors and the first impact was… disorienting. Human employees moved quickly but seemed dazed, with bags under their eyes, oversized coffees in hand, ID badges always askew, and voices too loud. Vampires, on the other hand, were something else entirely: elegant, deadly in their poise, dressed in fabrics that looked like they were woven from darkness itself. Some were sipping blood from pocket-sized bottles like it was the most natural thing in the world. No one spoke. They walked, watched, subtly sniffed the air and a jolt of adrenaline hit your stomach. It wasn’t fear. It was electricity and you couldn’t wait to start working. You reached the turnstiles and swiped your badge, but nothing happened. The gate beeped again and again, refusing to open. You tried once more. Still nothing.

“Oh come on, don’t do this to me today…” you muttered, tapping the badge against the sensor. A vampire security guard: tall, blonde, and looking like she’d stepped straight out of a horror fashion film turned slowly toward you, staring as if you were a mosquito buzzing against her window. -No entry for little girls with faulty badges. Go home and watch your dramas,- she said with a cruel smile. You gave her a half-smile, trying to hide your nerves. “Well, if I had to go home every time technology hated me, I’d have been unemployed for months. But thanks for the warm welcome.”Then, in a softer tone the one you always used around vampires to avoid triggering any… lethal reactions you added, “I’m just the new intern, it’s my first day. I hope it’s not also my last, especially over a broken pass.” You gestured to the gate, hoping she’d open it, but the vampire raised an eyebrow and said nothing. You bit your lip to stop yourself from snapping. Just then, a human guy about your age walked up with a kind smile. He looked friendly, with slightly curly brown hair and a proudly crooked tie. His face reminded you of one of your classmates.

'Don’t mind Camilla. She’s the gatekeeper of hell. Your badge’s deactivated for the day's classic system glitch. You can come in with me.' He winked, scanned his badge, and the gate clicked open with a metallic sound. He gestured for you to follow. 'Welcome to Seoul’s chicest hell,' he said, watching you closely. “Thanks,” you said with a smile, already feeling a little more at ease. “Have you worked here long?” you asked as you crossed the massive lobby toward the elevators. 'Three months. Marketing department. You?' “Communication.” You took a deep breath, hoping you'd see him again, then added, “Under the supervision of the CEO… Park Sunghoon.” His smile faltered just a little, and he looked at you as if searching for the right words. 'Wow. You’re either brave… or clueless.'

He laughed, though it didn’t sound like a joke. The silence in the elevator that followed was filled only by the soft hum of background music. You were rising slowly very slowly toward the 25th floor: the CEO’s territory. 'If he fires you on your first day, come find me. I’ll buy you a coffee… or one of those blood bars vampires love, though I’m guessing you prefer more… human snacks.' You smiled, but deep down, you weren’t sure whether to laugh or shiver. When the elevator doors opened, the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. You glanced at the black carpet, the smoked glass walls, and the air smelled of burnt wood, metal, and freshly spilled blood and at the end of the hallway, the silhouette of a man in a suit stood beyond a wall of glass. Him. Park Sunghoon and without even meeting his gaze, you already felt him beneath your skin.

The secretary seated at the desk in front of the large black glass door glanced up at you—quickly, professionally, but with a faintly amused glint in her eyes. She wore a dark tailored suit and blood-red lips drawn with perfect precision. Without even asking for your ID, she typed something into her computer.

“Name?” You studied her carefully, and if everyone on this floor was like her, they could devour you in a single bite. You said your name with a serious voice, and she replied,

'Oh. So you’re the one who applied to work under Park Sunghoon.' You nodded, and she picked up the phone with glossy black nails sharp, like dipped in ink and pressed a single button. 'CEO Park, the intern has arrived. Right on time, just like you said.'

Something twisted in your stomach, and then you heard a deep, velvety, razor-sharp voice come through the receiver: “Let her in.” The secretary gave you a knowing wink and a quick thumbs up. You smiled faintly. “Break a leg…” you muttered under your breath.

You smoothed your skirt, took a deep breath, and grabbed the handle. The door opened silently. And from that moment on, you had crossed the threshold of your most beautiful hell… though you didn’t know it yet.

The room was large, with glass walls overlooking all of Seoul—you could see the hills, and the Han River in the distance. It was minimally furnished: cold, elegant, perfectly tailored to its occupant. And seated behind a sleek black desk, was him: Park Sunghoon.

His face was bent over the file he was reading, his white shirt impeccably pressed, sleeves rolled up to reveal sculpted forearms. When he heard the door close, he slowly lifted his gaze and it felt as if something cracked in the air. His eyes pierced through you, no emotion in them, only that ghostly amber shade, slightly feline, that read your soul in an instant. You tried to appear confident, to hide the way your heart was racing… especially in that vulnerable part of you. Even though your hands were sweating, you tucked them between your skirt and thighs, clasping them together with poise. You took two steps forward and introduced yourself:

“Nice to meet you. I'm your new intern. My name is—”

Before you could finish, you heard his hoarse voice the one you had learned to recognize from countless interviews and university videos. Your breath caught as he replied coldly.

“I know who you are,” he cut in with a flick of his hand, not raising his voice. “Degree in Communications and Marketing. Average résumé and you're already talking too much. I didn’t tell you to speak.” You froze mid-breath, your eyes widening slightly but you didn’t look away and that’s when he felt it—that faint irritation creeping into his body.

The moment you stepped in, it hit like a wave of heat in the middle of winter. Your blood and more than that, the scent of your skin was toxic to someone like him. There was too much sweetness in you, too much innocence and that scent… it was everything he should ignore: warmth, life, instinct.

“What the hell is in her blood?” The bite of self-control came instantly. It was a pull—ancient, dangerous, one he hadn’t felt in centuries and yet, there you were. Standing there, glowing, with the look of someone completely unaware they were walking a tightrope suspended over a den of predators and he was predator number one.

But you didn’t look down, you didn’t blush, you met his eyes with a gaze that was both insolent and curious and for the first time in decades, he felt something that wasn’t just thirst.

“Let’s see…” He picked up your résumé, fingers long and sharp gliding over it as if reading the file of a soon-to-be-judged victim.“You’ve worked with human agencies,” he said, looking back up. “Never dealt with vampires, right?”

“No. But I studied with vampire classmates, I know how to behave. I even took a course that was 80% half-bloods and vampires, so I’ve learned how to study and work with them.” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow dark and sharp like a blade an expression that made him look even more like a predator ready to strike.

“Studying is for kids. Working is something else entirely.” He stood up. He was tall too tall, even for your 170 cm. “Working with me... with a vampire CEO... isn’t for everyone.” He walked around you slowly not in a vulgar way, but like someone analyzing a problem… or a temptation.

“You know you’re the fiftieth intern to walk into this office?” He gave a half-smile. “My guess? Two weeks, and you’re gone.” You looked at him with a bold, cheeky smile you didn’t even know you had in you. “Two weeks, you say? We’ll see if you can get rid of me that easily... or if I’ll be intern number fifty-nine.” His eyes darkened slightly.

“You’re far too cheeky for an intern who’s never met me before.” His voice was low, emotionless, but the sharp tone cut through the air between you. You swallowed your nerves and lifted your chin slightly. “I’m just trying to make a good impression. I don’t want to be the fiftieth intern to quit.” You smiled—tense, but genuine. “...Or worse, the one who gets fired on the first day.”

The corner of his lips curved upward a smile, but one that felt more like a warning than approval. “You’re lucky today’s not one of my worst days.” He took a step closer.

“But if you do want to get me to fire you… you could always ask Mr. Park Jongseong instead. Maybe he’ll like me better!” You said it without thinking-half a joke, half a desperate way to say (I don’t want to end up blacklisted like all the others) but as soon as the name Jay hung in the air, the mood shifted.

Sunghoon looked at you with daggers. “Mr. Jay Park doesn’t handle marketing and communications. He’s in strategic operations. So... not your savior.”

“Shame.” You gave a small smile and rocked slightly on your heels, but inside, your heart was pounding, you had no idea how to handle someone like him and as Sunghoon’s eyes roamed over you, slow and calculated, you wondered if he could actually hear how anxious you were to be standing there in front of him.

Then, with a smooth motion, he took three sheets from the table and placed them in front of you.

“Three questions. Answer well, maybe you stay.”

“I’m listening,” you said, folding your hands over your legs.

“One: How would you present a product line for Ultra-Light-Sensitive Vampires at a human daytime event?”

You had already looked it up online and heard about the infamous trick questions Sunghoon was known for, so you answered confidently: “With soft visual communication, warm tones, and a storytelling approach centered on adaptability, highlighting the shared experience between vampires and humans. I’d partner with human ambassadors to break bias and invite high-profile state figures to legitimize the event.”

He gave a slight nod but didn’t say if it was the right answer.

“Two: How would you handle a social media crisis if a royal-status vampire; like myself was accused of biting a human hostess without consent at a press fair?”

“Media blackout for the first few hours. Then a joint statement from the Blood Bank and the Human-Vampire Council. Plus, an exclusive interview with the hostess, along with public compensation and a formal apology.”

He watched you closely, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“Last one. What’s the first mistake a human intern makes in a company where 70% of the staff is a vampire?”

“Talking too much, maybe,” you said, eyes dropping slightly, half-ironic.

“Correct. Talking too much.” He grabbed a thick dossier over a hundred pages and dropped it in front of you with a thud. “You have one week. I want a draft of the rebranding revision plan on my desk every day, we’ll see if you can work.”

“It’ll be done.” Your voice was steady, even if your knees weren’t.“You’ll have a desk. Don’t expect this one.” He gestured to his own black, sleek, perfect. “It’ll be a tiny workstation, shared with twenty others. You’ll adapt.”

“I adapt well, Mr. Park,” you replied with a touch of sarcasm. “I’m human. It’s in my DNA.” For half a second, it looked like the corners of his mouth twitched. Just barely. “Go. The secretary will show you where to settle in.”

You were about to turn when a pen slowly slipped off the edge of his desk and fell at his feet. You bent down to pick it up, the movement is instinctive and that’s when it happened. As you bent down, your ponytail shifted to the side, revealing your neck bare, delicate, pulsing with a scent that was both sweet and impossibly clean, like fresh laundry.

Sunghoon held his breath. In the span of a heartbeat, his eyes darkened ever so slightly. His pupils stretched, and the slow rhythm of your heart, the flow of blood just beneath your skin was an irresistible pull. It was far too dangerous for his sanity to observe your skin from that close and he spoke before even realizing it.

“Don’t come into my office without a reason again.” His voice was flat again, but sharper, like a blade. “And... keep your hair down. I don’t want to see it tied ever again.” You straightened up instantly and looked at him, a little confused.

“…Alright.” You gave a slight bow, turned, and walked out composed, steady but the moment you were outside, your hands began to tremble. Back inside the office, Park Sunghoon closed his eyes for a moment and for the first time in years, his fangs sharpened not because of blood.

Because of you.

It had been two weeks since you first stepped into the headquarters of the Park Society, and though each day felt like a test of endurance, you were still there: alive, whole, not fired and so far, Sunghoon hadn’t yelled at you or lashed out, which was already a major achievement. Maybe even a small miracle, considering the stats.

You’d made a few friends among your colleagues mostly humans, especially Jin, the guy who had helped you on your first day at the turnstiles. He had become a sort of support system for you, always ready with a joke, always a little too sweet, but in the end, he made you feel less alone.

Vampires were another story, they watched you in silence and rarely spoke, but it only took a single look to understand they were keeping tabs on you, and sometimes, between coffee breaks and meetings, someone would whisper:

Don’t make him angry.

Don’t provoke him.

Don’t hold his gaze too long… and above all, don’t fall for him.

As if that were something easy to avoid. Park Sunghoon had authority in his blood, power in his voice, control in every step, and yet, something in his eyes spoke of things you couldn’t quite decipher: something ancient and dangerous, something that wanted desperately to bite and never let go.

That day, there was an important meeting: the launch of a joint campaign between vampires and humans on a topic you were directly involved in Vampire Idols and their Gen Z and Alpha fans. It was your first official presentation, you wore a simple, elegant outfit, your hair down (as he had ordered), and you’d rehearsed all night.

The room was full: seven, eight people half human, half vampire seated around a long black marble table. When Sunghoon entered, silence fell like a switch being flipped. No one dared speak as he sat at the head of the table. You locked eyes with Jin across the room; he gave you a quiet thumbs up, reassuring.

Then Sunghoon turned he saw everything. He always saw too much, his gaze landed first on Jin, then on you… cold, unreadable, and behind his closed lips, his fangs twitched ever so slightly.

“Begin.”

He said it to you. No introduction, no preamble, just that so you took a breath and started. Your voice trembled just a littlebut you were prepared. You spoke about inclusion, about building more interaction between idols and fans both on stage and on social media. You spoke with passion, with emotion, with humanity. Some nodded, others looked skeptical, but Sunghoon…he stayed silent and that silence was unbearable. You wanted feedback, you wanted someone anyone to speak but he just watched you: Eyes locked on yours, cold and intense a tension wrapped itself around you, forcing you to speak each syllable with surgical precision and then it happened.

He pushed his chair back, eyes lifting from his tablet, and he stood up slowly, too slowly, and started walking toward you. One step at a time. You didn’t know why, but your entire body stiffened. Had you said something wrong? A word? A chart? A footnote?

He stopped behind you, too close and you swallowed hard. You felt his cold fingers brush slowly against your back as if to “correct” your posture… or maybe for something else. Maybe to feel, for the first time, the warmth your body gave off. A shiver ran through you, starting exactly where he’d touched you, a current shooting up your spine and he felt it.

Your vibration, your quickened pulse, the warmth of your blood, the living flesh and the scent of that blood he had spent two weeks trying and failing to ignore, every single day.

“There’s a mistake here,” he said, his voice sharp, but calm. “And… here, too. Be careful with wordplay. Double meanings can cost you a partnership.” You corrected it on the spot, your hands trembling just slightly.

His scent enveloped you a fragrance that whispered of elegance and wealth: mint, a trace of moss, and something sharp that clung to his skin and then, just like that, he turned back to the room.

“For a first draft, made by a freshly graduated little girl… it’s decent. We’ll consider it.” Neutral. Almost dismissive but to you, in that moment, it felt like a small triumph. The meeting resumed, and Sunghoon didn’t speak again but in his thoughts there was only you.

The presentation with Sunghoon had gone beyond expectations.

You had worked hard and slept little, and in the end, it had been worth it: you’d been put in charge of developing the entire campaign for the project between the fans and the vampire idols. Even him the cold vampire with icy eyes and razor-sharp teeth had said your work was “decent,” which, in his language, sounded almost like an award.

That evening, the office was silent, lights dimmed, keyboards already turned off. Just a few vampires still working, you glanced at the clock: 9:45 PM. You’d been buried for hours in graphs, drafts to revise, and social media ideas. You blinked slowly, exhausted.

"Maybe I’ll just die in here, in front of an Excel sheet... so romantic! While everyone else is out partying..." You grabbed your bag and headed toward the elevator. You pressed the button and sighed and that’s when you felt it. That scent: unmistakable, slightly spicy, yet fresh, dark, elegant and you turned your head slightly… and there he was.

Park Sunghoon.

Their shirt unbuttoned just enough, glasses resting casually on his nose, gaze sharp even in the shadows. He looked like he had just walked out of a gothic novel without even trying.

"Leaving already?" he asked, voice deep, gravelly and the tone hit you instantly: low, almost… hypnotic. "I’ve finished everything. Tomorrow I’ll correct the last few details." A slight smile curved the corner of his lips, it almost looked… human. "Diligent," he said. Then, a short pause. "At least you’ll die for a noble cause." You stifled a laugh but stepped into the elevator with him. His scent followed you, like an echo beneath your skin.

"Subway or taxi?" he asked, not looking at you. "Taxi. I feel safer." He nodded and said nothing else, until the 22nd floor. There was a sudden jolt a metallic screech echoed around you; the lights flickered and then everything stopped.

The elevator was stuck, your breath caught instantly, and your heartbeat pounded like a drum. The walls started to close in and your chest tightened, and your throat closed up.

You barely whispered, “No… no, no, no...” You pressed the alarm button multiple times no response, your body started to move in jerks, panic setting in fast, and tears welled in your eyes, he said nothing at first and just looked at you but he could hear it, your heart racing, blood pumping too fast. Then he took one step forward. Just one but it closed all the space between you. “Look at me.” His voice was different now.

Deeper, softer almost a whisper that slid right into your bloodstream.“You’re having a panic attack. There’s no danger, you’re with me, you’re safe, Y/n.” You shook your head, trembling, but he kept going like his words were weaving directly into your mind. “Breathe with me.” He held out his hands. You took them without thinking.

They were cold much larger than yours but steady. You had always noticed them: those long fingers, those elegant hands…and now, they felt like an anchor in chaos.

“Just like that... Good, breathe again, match my rhythm.” You looked into his eyes, they were darker than usual. Hypnotic. His voice filled you like warm light in a dark room and slowly, breath after breath, the panic began to fade. His thumb slightly chilled drew slow, careful circles over your skin and the way he calmed you with such a simple touch…frightened you more than the situation itself. You stared at him, heart still pounding but for entirely different reasons now.

“Now you know what it’s like, little one.” His voice dropped even lower.

“Fear, control. The need to trust someone. If you ever find yourself in a situation like this again, think of something beautiful… or someone. Even if they’re not with you, someone who could calm you down just by being there. Little by little, it’ll pass. Are you feeling better now?”His fingers pressed lightly against yours, and you nodded, your heartbeat was slowing, but your skin still burned a silent spark passed between you a low, dull vibration, like a call pulsing under the skin.

“What is this in your blood…” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

“It’s... dangerous. Sweet. Warm.” He was looking at you with a hunger that wasn’t just for blood but he dimmed it. Or at least held it back, he didn’t want to scare you. You were already scared enough.

“Don’t ever stay alone in an elevator if you’re afraid.” You lifted your gaze. “I didn’t think you cared about my anxiety,” you whispered, as he kept touching you a faint, almost ironic smile curled on your lips. “I don’t care,” he replied flatly, “but if you faint and die here, I’ll have to hire another intern. And that’s annoying.” You laughed, still shaken, but lighter now. Then you dared to tease him, your mind a little clearer.

“And what if I didn’t have you to calm me down?” He leaned in slightly, his face just inches from yours. “You won’t need anyone else,” he said. “I’ll be enough to calm you down… in any situation.” And for a second, it felt like your lips would meet almost, barely but then the elevator jerked, jolting you both.

You pulled back instinctively, not quite sure what he meant by that last line. “Let’s go,” he said softly but as you stepped out, your heart was still beating strangely, erratically and him… behind those glasses, he looked like he was trying to figure out whether it was your heart going wild or his control that was starting to break.

It had been three months since that first encounter, three months in which you had managed to stay, to work, to shine; even Sunghoon seemed… satisfied, or at least, he hadn’t fired you yet and for him, that was almost a declaration of love. Jin, the guy you’d met on your first day, would sometimes glance at you with a mix of irony and concern.

'I don’t know what you did to Park Sunghoon… but it’s obvious you’re different.' You’d laugh, even though your heart beat faster every time Sunghoon called you into his office. You liked challenging him, answering with sarcasm, lowering your lashes but holding his gaze, and… he seemed to tolerate it. No, he seemed to expect it.

It had been decades since he’d wanted to wake up and go to work, not to see the numbers always glowing green on the financial reports, but to see you. To hear your voice, to keep you close even if not directly under his eye. Just knowing you were there, and nowhere else, was enough but something had changed. Since he touched you in the elevator since his cold fingers had brushed your warm skin your dreams were no longer the same: Every night carried the same torment, feverish dreams.

Visions that left you breathless, skin damp, lips parted in an unspoken whisper. “Sunghoon…” His name on your lips as you twisted in the sheets and in those dreams…he wasn’t just your boss, he was the predator. The forbidden lover, the vampire who slipped into your room at night silent as a shadow while the moon spilled silver over your naked body.

You dreamed of him above you, hands on your thighs, fangs bared, mouth just a breath away from your neck, he spoke in that deep, hypnotic voice that made your stomach clench and then… the bite. Always the bite, always that moment when his teeth sank into your flesh, and you moaned from pleasure, yes but also from fear.

From the want that coiled and burned into a single, molten spasm. One night, you woke up screaming his name, heart pounding like you were being chased, you looked at the clock: 3:33. Always the same time, always the same vivid, erotic dream and you weren’t the only one. Sunghoon, in his office on the twenty-fifth floor, stood staring out the window, pupils dilated. There was nothing outside but your scent lingered.

On the pen you’d touched, on the pages of the report you’d signed, on the armrest of the chair where you had leaned back. He studied you in silence every time you entered, but for months now, his control had begun to crack.

Her blood is calling me, he thought.

It was sweet. Spiced. Like burnt honey. Like a curse hidden under sunlight and he who had stopped wanting centuries ago was starving. Starving for the feeling of sinking his fangs into something alive.

He found himself thinking of you when undressing, your name slipping between his teeth in an ancient tongue, fists clenched to keep from coming to find you, touching himself in the shower with fangs bared, whispering your name like a prayer and he dreamed of you. Yes, he did: Dreamed of you beneath him, naked, breathless, dreamed of your heartbeat racing under his palm, of your throat, the pulse of your skin tightening under the pass of his tongue.

“If I had her, even for one night, I’d never give her back.”

And it drove him insane because you were human, small, brilliant, reckless but something in your blood had tethered him, and in your eyes… there was light. Too much light. The light that blinded a creature made of shadow and control, one evening, after hours, you crossed paths with him in the hallway.

He was dressed in black, shirt unbuttoned, tie loosened-predatory elegance that made you hold your breath.

“You look tired,” he said softly, his voice like a whisper beneath the skin, watching you type at your computer.

“I work for you!" you replied, trying to smile, to hide the fact that every night he invaded your dreams in his truest form, as a vampire, fangs deep in your skin. He gave a faint smile one of those cold, cutting ones but something was stirring in his eyes.

“Sleeping poorly, intern?” he asked. You blushed. “A little…” you murmured.

“Too many thoughts?” he stepped closer. You held your breath he was too close. Too close.

“Too many dreams,” you whispered without thinking and his eyes gleamed.

“Be careful what you dream,” he said, slow and low, voice almost sensual, as it slipped beneath your skin. “Because sometimes dreams become calls… and certain creatures… they answer.” You turned away, a shiver crawling down your spine, you didn’t know if he was playing or warning you, you looked back at him, unsure.

“Don’t play with fire,” he added behind you, his voice darker now. “If I were you… I’d let it sleep.” But you couldn’t. Every night, it returned more vivid, more real. The blood dripping down your chest from your neck, his hands on your thighs, his lips on yours, stained with your blood and every morning, your skin woke up tense, your senses starving, his name still on your lips.

The corporate resort was hidden deep in the mountains outside Seoul, a luxurious, quiet place thick with tension, where most of the biggest brands eager to partner with K-pop groups made up of vampires came to hunt for talent. You had been working there for days for the elite summit, cut off from the world, and now it was 10:40 PM.

You, exhausted but still fighting, had opened your laptop in the private lounge, sinking into a sofa far too elegant for someone who had just worked twelve hours straight. Sunghoon, flawless as always in his black suit, sat not far away, his face carved into the shadows, his gaze lit by something you couldn’t quite read.

“Look at this,” you said, showing a video of a concert you loved idols dressed in custom-made faux leather from an up-and-coming Asian brand, tailored perfectly to vampire bodies. The music blasted from the speakers modern, free, alive. A rush of youth and passion filled the room as the screen showed seven vampires, each with a different style, singing in harmony to a track with rap undertones and a touch of romantic pop. He looked at you like you’d shown him a failed science experiment.

“What is this?” he said, staring at the seven performers on your screen with clear dismay. You rolled your eyes at the cynicism in his voice and held back a sigh. “It’s music. Real music. It speaks to us, to Gen Z-you know, people born 20 years ago, not just your aristocratic, emotionally extinct clients from 200 years back.” “Your generation listens to anything that screams and moves,” he muttered, rubbing his chin. “You’re not too old to get it, right? I bet deep down you love music too. You should act like it and explore new ways like your young vampire does.”

You didn’t mention to Sunghoon that you’d been talking with the “baby vampire” in their group, Ni-Ki, who had a ton of crazy but brilliant ideas for the brand’s social strategy...

“I’ve watched empires fall, darling. Don’t tell me you’re talking about… Ni-Ki?” You raised your eyebrows. “Yes. He’s a vampire too, but younger. And he likes this. You know his ideas for social media are insane, and we’re getting massive engagement thanks to the way he’s merging human and vampire culture.”

His eyes darkened instantly. He hated hearing another man’s name coming from your mouth.

“Don’t mention Ni-Ki. Especially not around me.” You smiled and looked at him with that sharp, knowing gaze. “Are you jealous, CEO Park?” He stood up slowly, and every movement felt like a calculated threat as he walked toward you, the air tightening around his tall, predatory frame. “You… have no idea what you're waking up inside me,” he whispered, leaning over you and in a flash, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you up.

The laptop crashed to the floor with a dull thud. Your breath caught in your throat and your back hit the wall.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered.

He looked into your eyes those dark, ancient, hungry eyes your mind recognized every time you closed your eyes becauseyou dreamed of them constantly… “Stop me, Y/n… because if you don’t, I won’t be able to stop myself from touching you or kissing you.” You looked at him, lips slightly parted, but no sound came out and then he took your face in his hands and kissed you. It wasn’t like the kisses you used to give boys back in university for fun. This one tasted like claiming. His lips crashed onto your hot, fierce kiss that was wild and starving. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, exploring, stealing your breath, while his hands pinned you in place, holding you tight against him.

His body pressed into yours cold, hard but at the same time radiating heat. Then you felt a small bite on your lower lip his sharp canine piercing it. Your blood trickled slowly across your tongue, but he was faster. He didn’t want to waste a single drop none for anyone but him. Because only he could worship you, only he could possess you. He drank your blood, your soul, your essence and let out a low moan like your taste was something he’d been craving for centuries. You gasped, feeling something deep and dark vibrate inside you, a desire that made your knees weak, the same one that always woke you up soaked in heat and need, haunted by dreams no, nightmares that always had one name: Sunghoon.

You reached up and grabbed his hair, pulling slightly on those soft dark strands sliding through your fingers. He growled.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said, pulling back just enough to let you breathe.

“Then show me,” you whispered against his mouth, and he ran his fingers along your throat.

“Your heart’s beating too fast, darling… I can feel it everywhere.” He licked your lip slowly, savoring the last drop, and then moved down to kiss you again, kissing and licking your skin as he tasted the scent rising from your neck.

“Do you feel it? My control is breaking. For you. Only for you and that hasn’t happened in centuries,” he said, his voice laced with something like sorrow.

“Then let it break,” you whispered, breathless, your body burning. His hands moved lower, exploring the skin beneath your shirt, and his bites turned into kisses, and the kisses into promises. But everything still hung on the edge balancedbetween passion and danger. Between you… and the predator who, by now, had been obsessed with you for months.

Since that kiss, Sunghoon had changed or rather, he had returned to his natural state: cynical, distant, sharp like an ancient blade. When you brought him new ideas for marketing campaigns or social formats for young vampires, he replied with the same scornful sarcasm, arms crossed, chin slightly tilted down as he stood above every thought you dared to have, and yet… every project, every draft, every presentation was read, corrected, and annotated by him.

The next morning, a small smile tugged at your lips when you saw his notes edits on how to reshape your slides, andcomments where he told you it was good work. He was watching you, following your progress, listening in on meetings but always silently. That day, you’d walked into his office with yet another proposal in hand.

“New concept: young vampires, underground night events, hybrid playlists, Ni-Ki style but less...” “Are you planning to bring up that brat every two days?” he cut in, not even looking up from his screen. You crossed your arms. “It’s called targeting. You should know what that is… or are you too ancient to understand?”

He slowly lifted his eyes to you, scanned you from head to toe, and let out a low growl.

“Watch your tone, girl. You’re here to learn, not to play trend-hero. You’ve stayed because you’re good but with one snap of my fingers, I could fire you in an instant,” he said, gruffly. “And you’re here to be a CEO, not Dracula having a midlife crisis.”

You smiled, defiant, folding your arms over your sweater, and for just one second, you saw something in his eyes, the smallest flicker of a smile but he turned away, ice-cold. “Out. And next time, bring me something serious.”

That evening, in the lounge, Jin had sat down next to you. He was sweet, human, young, with an honest gaze, and had been flirting with you for months now but you felt nothing. Because your twisted mind only wanted to feel Sunghoon’s lips on yours again, his strong hands on your hips, or cupping your face.

“Are you free tomorrow night? There’s a wine tasting at a place just down the road…” he said, touching his hair, clearly trying not to look nervous. You laughed at how his cheeks turned pink he was cute, and he made you feel at ease.

Unlike… him. You didn’t notice right away that Sunghoon was there, in the shadows, standing still, silent, eyes fixed on the two of you. He had heard the entire conversation, and his fangs had already lengthened, and his hands had gone even colder and he would not let anyone take you away from him, especially not some human boy. Later, you received a message on your work phone. You already knew who it was from.

Office 74. Now. — S. You walked in moments later, confused, he’d seen you two hours ago.

What could he possibly want now?

But the moment you entered, his face hit you like a cold wave. He was standing near the window, hands behind his back, shoulders tense, jaw clenched.

“You asked for me?” you said, staring at his perfect profile, speckled with small beauty marks that only made him look more like a vampire carved from myth. He turned. His eyes were fire beneath the ice, locked on you with terrifying precision. “Don’t let them touch you or ask you out. Ever again.” You stared at him, a little stunned by the words that had just left his mouth. “Wait… what did you just say?” He took a step forward, his voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t let anyone get that close. Not to you.” You scoffed and almost laughed. “Why? Are you jealous? He just asked me for a drink or maybe you’re jealous because he’s human and can control himself. Or maybe...”

You didn’t finish a red the alarm shattered the air a blaring siren, followed by a cold voice: WARNING. UNAUTHORIZED PRESENCE IN THE BUILDING. REBEL VAMPIRES DETECTED. CODE RED.

The sound was a nightmare to any human caught in a red zone invaded by rogue vampires. At university, it had happened only twice and both times, you’d been surrounded by others. Vampires but now, it was just you and him. Sunghoon grabbed your wrist immediately. His eyes had changed.

No longer human predator eyes, dark, wild. He pulled you tightly against him.

“Stay with me. Don’t move not one step away, and I swear nothing will happen to you,” he said, looking at you the same way he had the first time he saw you frightened, and only he had managed to calm you. “Sunghoon…” you whispered. “Silence.” His voice was an order, he pushed you against the wall, shielding you with his body, eyes fixed on the door. “If they touch you, I’ll tear them to pieces, if they even graze you, I’ll destroy them. You are..” But he didn’t finish because, at that moment, the faint scent of your blood still lingering on his lips from days ago made him lose control.

Just for an instant and you understood. It wasn’t just desire, it was obsession, fear of losing again, fear of losing his soulmate and this time, he would fight even to the death. The door creaked open with a sinister groan, and then you saw him.

The vampire who entered was nothing like Sunghoon, nothing like Jay, nothing like the others who wore suits and blended into the human world, not like the students you’d studied with. No. He was filthy. Beast-like.

His eyes were blood-red, and coagulated, and his hands… covered in something that looked like mud, flesh, and blood. The stench was unbearable, Sunghoon gripped your wrist tighter. His voice came low, icy, sharp like a ritual blade.

“Close your eyes. Now and don’t move. Trust me for once.” You obeyed. It was all you could do but you heard everything.

The vampire’s voice is slimy and cruel. <Well, well… what do we have here? A little girl with no vampire mark yet… what a sweet scent. So alive, so… soft. I’ll turn her, make her mine, and drain her ‘til the last drop.>

Your heart exploded in your chest, and your hand searched for Sunghoon’s arm in the dark. Then his voice. Cold. Rough. Right by your body.

“Take one step near her, and there won’t be enough of you left to bury.”

The vampire chuckled. <And who are you supposed to be? Her brother? Her guard? Humans are making everyone weak. Especially those who love them. Those who protect them…>

Then came a sound...a crash, a scream, another. None of it was Sunghoon’s. Then a dull, sickening thud. You opened your eyes just a sliver just enough to see him crouched over the monster, hands soaked in blood, eyes pitch-black, fangs bared. He was the predator a god of the hunt. The kind of vampire who hated rebels, the kind all his brothers especially Jake and Heeseung had sworn to eliminate but even he was wounded. His breath was ragged, one arm pressed to his side.

“Sunghoon?…” you asked in a low voice.

“Close your eyes!” he growled, turning toward you with a brutal expression but it wasn’t aimed at you, it was the blood, the fight, the beast within him. You collapsed to the floor, trembling, and he came to you, gripping your waist and pulling you up with a strength that defied the pain in his body.

“Out of here. Now.” You both left the room. The hallway was empty, but the air reeked of metal, adrenaline, and vampires. When you turned to look at him, you screamed. His face was streaked with blood, his shirt torn, deep wounds carved into his chest.

“Oh my God, Sunghoon! You’re hurt! You....” He silenced you with a hand over your mouth cold, but steady. “Stop shouting. I’m fine. It’s just blood.” “You don’t look fine! You need help!” Sunghoon looked down, then let out a bitter, hollow laugh.

“Wounds don’t kill a centuries-old vampire. But stubborn little girls? Those are lethal.” He grabbed your arm and draped it over his shoulder. The contact was strange, intimate, warm, and cold all at once.

“Come on. Take me wherever you want, and I’ll let you play nurse… just don’t look at me like I’m dying, or I might bite you just to scare you.” You scoffed of course even now he had to act tough, you entered an emergency room: a survival station, with medical kits, blood bags, and bandages. You made him sit down, trying not to shake.

“Take off your shirt.” He looked at you with a sharp smirk. “Where are we going with this, intern? Not exactly professional behavior for a girl like you.” “Now’s not the time to be a jerk, Sunghoon! You’re covered in blood!”

He sighed and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a broad chest and a deep cut along his side. The dark blood still flowed, and you stared at his body.

“Holy shit…” you whispered as your eyes traced his toned chest, pale skin, and the faint blood smears over thick biceps.

“Like what you see?” he murmured with a teasing chuckle just a mask, hiding pain, rage, and what you'd just witnessed. You pressed a gauze pad to his wound, and he let out a low groan. You looked at him, suspended between panic and something deeper. “Why did you do this for me?” you asked quietly. His gaze darkened.“Because he was here to take you. And I… I can’t let anyone take you away. Not again.” You looked at him, confused. “Why?” you asked, and he spoke low his words sinking into every part of you. “Because you’re not just blood. Not just scent. You’re… dangerous to someone like me.”

You looked up at him, hearing the teasing note in his voice, and his bare, blood-streaked chest rose slowly under your fingers. The wounds were deep, and the pain made him groan softly but he didn’t complain. Not him. Never.

“You need proper treatment, Sunghoon…” you whispered, fingers gently brushing his side while dabbing the wound with a wet gauze. He clenched his jaw, eyes shut for a moment, and his fangs had grown longer, sharper, glistening. “Are you okay?” you whispered. He opened his eyes there was a spark of hunger and irony.

“I’ve felt better since you started touching me… but if you keep going, I might want something else.” A crooked smile played on his lips, and you swallowed but your voice was clear. “Is that your way of saying… you want my blood?” His expression shifted. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you gently toward him.“That’s not a question you ask a vampire you know that. Not even one like me. Because the answer is always yes. Especially if your blood is… special.” He leaned toward your neck, inhaled, and brushed your skin with his lips. “…and I believe it is. Which makes it worse.”

“Worse than who?” you whispered. His jaw tensed.

“Let it go.” But you stared at him. Stubborn.

“Do you want to taste me?” Sunghoon turned toward the wall as if holding himself back but you stepped closer and slowly touched his wound. The growl that escaped him was rough, deep, almost erotic, and then you whispered: “You saved my life. If you want to… you can.” He turned to face you; his eyes were black, tinged with red, his fangs extended.

“You don’t understand what you’re offering, little girl.” You tilted your head, revealing your bare neck.

“Then tell me. What’s your favorite part? My lips?” A crooked smile tugged at his mouth.

“Your lips are a constant invitation to sin… but there’s not enough blood in them to heal this.”

“My neck, then?” you whispered. “Mmh… the neck. Symbolic. Vulnerable. But also so... basic.” He took a step closer.

“Or your wrist. I could feel the pulse there alive, hot. But if I’m being honest…” He paused. A wicked smile spread across his face as he licked his lips slowly, erotically.

“Your thighs. They promise something sweet.” You shot him a mock-offended look.

“You’re disgusting,” you said, slapping him lightly on the chest. He laughed. “I’m honest.” You bit your lip.

“Better the neck, then.” You stepped closer and saw his gaze shift. “Is that why you told me months ago not to tie my hair up?” He nodded. “Yes. Every time you do, it drives me mad. I always want to press my nose to your neck… and my mind always imagines sinking my fangs right into you.” You swept your hair to the side, offering your bare skin, Sunghoon stood still, chest rising slowly. “Lie down on the couch,” he said. “You’re the one who’s hurt you should be the one lying down.” His expression darkened. “Do it.” His voice was rough and you obeyed.

He reached you and climbed on top of you, his hands on your hips, then he started kissing your neck slow, wet, warm and you let out a soft moan without meaning to and he laughed, a low, scratchy sound. “You moan so sweetly… and I haven’t even bitten you yet.” He kissed you harder, almost a bruise, then ran his fingers still slightly bloody along your cheek. “You’re insane, but at the same time brave. You don’t understand what you might unleash in me if, when I sink my fangs into your skin, I find your blood tasting like some ancient blessing I won’t stop wanting you.” Then his eyes met yours and it was no longer a game, he opened his lips and his fangs sank into your skin. A sweet pain, deep, a warmth that spread through your whole body. You felt emptied, but at the same time… full. You gripped his hair the moment you felt his fangs break through your skin and he… moaned. Not from the wound, but from the taste of your blood flowing into his mouth like holy water, because it had been centuries since he had sunk his teeth into anyone’s skin.

God, forgive me he thought as his fangs sank into your flesh, and it was the end for him but also a rebirth, the end of his control and centuries of discipline. You had the sweetest blood he had ever tasted sweeter even than the girl he once loved…the one they killed, the one they took from him. Your body and your blood tasted like innocence and sensuality at the same time, like damnation. He felt every heartbeat between his lips, every gasp, every drop of your desire mixing with fear, and it was the most erotic thing he had ever tasted. Because he felt it you wanted to be bitten, and you weren’t doing it for fun, you were doing it for him, and your blood had a rare and dangerous flavor even for someone like him. It was something he had never encountered in 270 years.

The one biting you, drinking you like a man starved of blood, your blood, was your boss, the CEO everyone feared, the man who treated you like just a pawn… and who now was touching you as if your flesh were sacred. You felt his fangs pierce your skin but at the same time his lips sucked greedily, and it was like a jolt, a sharp, living pain and then… a deep warmth as if he were sucking your soul through your skin. Your body tensed, but Sunghoon’s hands held you still not with force, but with power, and you… didn’t want to move. Your blood was leaving your body but there was no panic, because deep down, you trusted that man, and all you could feel was a strange heat between your legs. An animal impulse, and a moan half pain, half arousal escaped your lips, and a thought burned in your mind, searing hot: I want it again.

When he pulled away, his lips were stained with your blood, and he gently caressed the spot where he had bitten you. "Now I'll heal faster. But you… you've become a problem," he murmured, licking the wound to soothe it, while you held him tighter and whispered, "Why?" "Because I tasted both heaven and hell the moment your blood touched my lips. And it's as sweet as you."

You were still dazed, and lightheaded, your legs weak, the warmth of the bite throbbing on your neck. Every heartbeat felt like a soft pull toward what had just happened. Sunghoon hovered above you, braced on his arms, his eyes cold, sharp, and hungry as if you were something forbidden that he could no longer resist.

“Can I take your shirt off?” he asked, voice husky and dangerously low. You nodded, uncertain whether it was from shock or full awareness. Slowly, he unbuttoned your blouse, each motion deliberate, reverent. When it fell away, he saw the faint imprint of his bite on your pale skin proof of his broken restraint. Your simple black bra revealed the rise and fall of your breathing. His eyes darkened, and he bit his lip, still tasting your blood an instinct flickering across his face.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. As he gently parted your thighs, you wrapped your arms around your chest, blushing.

“Don’t say that… You’ve seen prettier girls,” you murmured. He leaned in, his cold fingers brushing yours, moving them away. “I’ve lived for two and a half centuries. I’ve seen all kinds of women. But none…” he said, breath grazing your skin, “…have ever had a body I wanted this much.” Your back arched slightly at the confession. He kissed you slowly, with a tension that made your pulse race. His tongue, the same that had just tasted your blood, explored your mouth, and his hands gripped your hips like he feared losing you. Your mouths melded, breaths mingling, tongues teasing, until he smiled against your lips with that sharp, cocky grin you knew too well.

“You like teasing me…” he growled, lifting you slightly. “But now I’m the one who wants to play.” With a flick, your bra unclasped. Your breasts bounced lightly into view. He cursed softly in Korean, then whispered with that brazen vampire arrogance: “Your body is killing me. You've been my obsession since the day you walked into my office, girl.”m He bent down, taking one breast in his hand. You moaned softly. His lips closed around the other, licking, sucking, and when his sharp canines brushed the sensitive bud, your back arched fully.

“A-Ah… S-Sunghoon… slower…” you moaned, fingers tangling in his hair—pleasure tinged with fear. He groaned from your touch, then looked up at you, lips still wet. “You moan so sweetly… and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

His touch was gentle at first almost human but there was nothing human about him. His cold hands moved with confident precision over your breasts, thumbs circling your already hard nipples. His mouth followed, sucking and biting with mock tenderness. You moaned a choked sound lost in the dimness of his room and he loved it. Those soft, breathy sounds were his, and his alone, forever.

“So responsive…” he murmured against your skin with a crooked smile, sucking greedily on a nipple. “You’re such a little treat.” His tongue left a wet trail down your stomach, pausing just below your navel. He looked up at you, eyes burning with primal hunger. “I want to eat you.” His voice was low and rough. You swallowed hard, unsure what “eat you” meant for someone who’d just fed from your neck.

“Not your blood… That’ll be another addiction. But right now, I want to devour you until you forget how to speak.” You instinctively squeezed your thighs together. “Sunghoon…” you whispered. “I won’t hurt you,” he said darkly. “You’re mine. Only mine.”

The way he said it, it wasn’t a promise. It was a sweet curse. And you? You didn’t stop him. Instead, you scratched the back of his neck and whispered, “Don’t be an asshole.”

He smirked. “Too late.” With a slow, predatory motion, he slid your skirt down. When he saw the black lace of your panties, a soft curse slipped from his lips.

“Fuck… You’re built to make me lose control.” Then, with a low, wicked laugh: “You came here for an internship... and you’ll end up signing me your soul.” He inhaled deeply along your inner thighs and felt how wet you were just for him, exactly as it should be. His cold breath made you shiver.

“I could lick you for hours… but I’ll save biting your thighs for later. When you’re ready to scream my name like a prayer or a curse,” he chuckled, fingers grazing your skin.

“You bastard,” you gasped, trembling with both fear and arousal. “Love.” When you tried to close your legs, he grabbed them firmly, voice cold and commanding: “Open. I want to taste all of you. Don’t you dare close them again?”

You obeyed, heart pounding, as he slid down your panties. Seeing how soaked you were, he muttered, “Goddamn... Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you?” Without warning, he grabbed your hips, placed your legs over his shoulders, and leaned in. His tongue met your clit with slow, ravenous precision, savoring you like the rarest prey. You cried out his name once, twice—pulling at his hair as he devoured you, eyes fixed on you with one truth blazing in them: You’re mine. And you’re not escaping.

Sunghoon’s tongue moved in slow, deliberate figure-eights over your center, drawing shameless moans from your lips. His eyes never left your pupils blown wide, the gaze of a predator savoring his prey before the final bite.

“God, you’re shaking… You want to come, don’t you?” His voice was gravel and heat against your skin, and you writhed under him, desperate for more, for his tongue deeper inside you. “Can I use a finger?” It wasn’t a question it was a warning. Because before you could answer, he slid a finger into your heat, and you gasped,

“Y-you’re… such a bastard, that’s… that’s not fair…” He chuckled, low and amused. “Says the girl who’s not even twenty-three and moans like someone just promised her eternity.” Then his tongue flicked your clit again, making your back arch with a cry.

“Stop,” you panted through pleasure but instead, he added a second finger, thrusting deep into your aching cunt, making you scream his name. “Asshole!”

“Guilty,” he laughed. “Don’t lie, stubborn little human. You love feeling yourself under me like this…” His fingers moved harder, faster, setting your nerves ablaze. You were beautiful flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes glassy with lust, and the sweetest whimpers slipping from your mouth.

To him, you were divine. “Look at you come alive under my touch… You were made to be devoured.” He paused only to press his lips to your inner thigh, his sharp canine brushing your skin.

“I could have had you already bleeding, trembling but I don’t want just your blood,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours.

“I want every breath, every spasm… and I want them now.” He went back to licking you, faster, with his fingers thrusting relentlessly.

“Sunghoon… I’m going to…”

“Don’t come yet,” he growled. “Not unless I say so.” You threw your head back, a soft sob escaping as he pinned you in place, watching you unravel with cruel delight. He wanted this—wanted you helpless under his control. Then, in a low, perversely sweet tone:

“Now. I want to see you break for me. Show me, my little girl, who’s been teasing me since the day she walked in.” He teased your clit with a fang and you screamed, a cry of ecstasy laced with fear. You grabbed his hair and pulled him closer as your body shattered in his arms.

He muttered something low, filthy, feral but then, in a gesture that left you stunned… he kissed your forehead. A tender, unexpected, almost human gesture that seemed to surprise even him. “You’re not like the others,” he murmured. “She… the only one I ever loved, died centuries ago. And you… you’re a problem.” His hand traced slowly along your side, gentle, possessive. “But you’re a problem I’ll never let go of.”

It had been exactly one week since that night. One week since Sunghoon had kissed you with hunger in his eyes, had licked you with dark devotion, and had saved you from a vampire attack leaving you with one final mark: his bite. A small indentation on your skin that hadn’t faded. It burned when he was near… or when he wasn’t near enough.

For two whole days, he hadn’t shown up at the office, you figured he might’ve been away, maybe in a meeting in Gangnam or at one of the company’s satellite branches but by the third day, anxiety crept in. You approached Jay’s office hesitantly. He was the other CEO. Another vampire but different: less cynical, calmer, his amber eyes carrying a rare flicker of compassion for someone centuries old.

“Um… Jay?” He looked up from his tablet. “Yes?” he asked, curiosity in his gaze.

“Can I… ask about Sunghoon? He hasn’t been around.” Jay stared at you, hesitating for a moment, as if unsure whether to speak. “He’s… resting. He hasn’t been well.” The moment he said it, your heart skipped Sunghoon, unwell?

“What do you mean not well? He’s a vampire, he shouldn’t…” Jay sighed. “He was attacked. At night. Nothing fatal, but…” He looked down, searching for the right words.

“He’s having trouble feeding.”

“He can’t drink blood?” you asked, stunned. Jay nodded slowly. “Not… from blood bags. He says it tastes… flat. He rejects it.” A pause. Then: “It’s better if I don’t tell you more.” But you didn’t let it go.

“Jay, please. I need to know. Is it my fault?” Jay stared at you, his eyes shimmering faintly.

“No. But maybe… you’re the reason.” Silence fell. Then he added softly: “When a vampire tastes something rare, something they desire… everything else becomes poison.” Your blood ran cold, and you left his office and immediately searched online and the results were mixed but some sources were clear:

“When a vampire drinks blood that’s compatible with their lineage, often from a kindred soul, a dependency may form. Emotional and physical. In rare cases, it manifests as a deep sexual, mental, and spiritual bond. Sex with a bonded vampire is described as… consuming. It gets into your bones, your mind, and carves into your soul.”

You kept scrolling, curiosity growing. “The human may choose: become a vampire, or live and die alongside the vampire. The bond remains even beyond death.”

But that wasn’t what you were looking for, you just wanted to know how he was and so, raised in a loving human family, you did the only thing that felt right.

You cooked, no gourmet dishes, no blood. Just heart. When you finally arrived at his apartment, night had fully settled in. Above you, the moon hung like a white eye, silently watching. In your hands: a bag of warm containers, a blanket… and a foolish little hope.

You inhaled deeply and dark thoughts crowded your mind:

What if he opens the door and loses control?

What if he doesn’t open it at all?

What if he still wants me—but only as food?

Then you knocked once, twice. The silence lasted too long. Then you heard footsteps, slow and heavy like he was dragging himself forward. The door opened. And there he was—not the Sunghoon you saw every day in a suit and tie, always polished, always with a blood bag in hand. No. He was pale, disheveled, dark circles under his eyes deeper than ever and those eyes, God, those eyes burned into you. "You…" he murmured. His gaze flicked to the bag in your hand, then to you, then to your throat. "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice sharp, accusing, and you cursed Jay for telling you he was sick telling you he couldn’t feed properly from the blood sent by the Blood Bank. "I brought… something. Warm food. No blood, I swear." You tried to smile. "Just… something I made. With my hands." He didn’t move. The door didn’t open any wider. "You should leave," he said cynically, already trying to close the door, trying not to breathe in the scent of your skin calling to him like a drug. "Sunghoon…" you said softly. "You don’t get it, do you?" he growled. "Having you this close… it’s dangerous. For both of us. The smell of your blood…it's nauseating. It's all I want. And I’m not in the mood for human food unless that food is you." You shivered but didn’t step back.

Slowly, you brushed your hair aside, baring your neck to Sunghoon’s eyes, it looked like an invitation to sin and it was. His gaze shifted. His fangs elongated. His nostrils flared. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to ground himself in reality. “Damn it…” he hissed. “Don’t act like a reckless girl. Don’t play with monsters, you might get hurt, and there won’t be a way out.” You pushed him gently. He didn’t move at first. But then, he gave in and let you step inside. His apartment was cold, gray, frozen in time. You looked around. “Wow… a vampire’s place. Obsessed with work and shadows. Just missing the coffin in the living room.”

He stayed silent an oversized gray hoodie covered his broad shoulders, and his sweatpants looked strangely out of place on him yet made him seem more human, more real. As you wandered through the living room, your eyes landed on a photo under the TV, facedown and cracked at the corner of the glass. You picked it up carefully, your hands trembling it was him. With a girl. They were in each other’s arms. The photo looked like it came from another time. She was beautiful, with long fair hair and, an ethereal face. And from the way he looked at her… he had loved her. Maybe he still did. You felt him behind you cold breath, fingers brushing the edge of the frame. “If you don’t want the food… throw it away. Maybe I should just go,” you muttered, trying to leave, but a tear escaped. He caught your wrist and in a second, turned you to face him. You crashed into his cold chest, frozen between his arms like a refuge. He cupped your face, brushing your flushed cheeks.

“You’re a stubborn fool.”

“I…” you stammered. “I just wanted to know if you were okay.” Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, seeing how his anger had faded into something much sadder.

“It was my fault…” he whispered. “She… she died because of me.” He held you tighter like he was afraid you’d disappear like she had. “How?” you asked, voice cracking.

“She loved a human and to protect him, she sacrificed herself and I… I was too weak to stop her. She was older than me stronger, more prepared. I loved her in silence for decades, but she… she fell in love with a human. A pathetic man who couldn’t protect her, who couldn’t be with her forever. One she wanted to save… from me but she didn’t realize it wasn’t me she needed to protect him from.

More than a hundred years ago, no human could be with a vampire—not really. Hybrid love didn’t exist.” His voice grew rougher.

“I let her go. I thought that was love. I thought if I gave her space, she’d realize the only one who could love her completely—the only one like her was me but when the hunters found them… she chose to die for him. To die without fighting as if I was the monster, and he the innocent.” He swallowed hard. “I was too far. Too late. When I found them… they were dying. In each other’s arms.”

Something cracked inside you, not just for the tragedy, but for how he bore it like he was the only one to blame for all the horror in the world.

“Sunghoon…” You lifted a hand to his cheek. His skin was cold, but he didn’t flinch. You felt how broken he was and how much it had hurt to lose her to a human who hadn’t deserved her.

“It wasn’t your fault.” He closed his eyes and leaned into your warm touch.

“You’re not a monster. You’re just someone who loved too much… and lost.” Slowly, heart pounding, you rose on your toes and kissed him. At first, it was soft barely more than a brush of lips. Then a breath, it was like something shattered inside him, his arms crushed you to him not to hurt, but to claim and his mouth devoured yours with hunger no longer just emotional.

His tongue sought yours, his fangs grazed your skin he kissed you like he wanted to tear away every part of you that was still human…and yet he held you like you were the most alive thing he’d ever touched.

"You're so warm..." he murmured against your lips. "You burn me." And then he collapsed letting himself fall back onto the couch with a sharp breath. It looked almost like a bed, wide and grey, built for sleepless nights. You followed him silently, straddling his lap.

His chest rose in erratic bursts he hadn’t fed since biting you. His eyes devoured you, and even though your body trembled slightly, you didn’t back away.

You kept kissing. Your hands tangled in his hair, he clutched your waist, and as you moved slightly against him, you felt him hard beneath you ready, restrained by a discipline that was about to snap. "You deserve another chance," you whispered against his ear, kissing the lobe gently. "You deserve to be loved again."

He growled softly. "No. I don’t."

"Yes, you do. You deserve a bit of light too… in this whole world of shadows." Something in him broke. He held you tighter and pulled you even closer until you felt melded to him. His eyes flared, glowing more intensely.

"Little human..." he murmured, voice low and grim, "don’t say things like that unless you’re ready to pay the price."

"What price?" you asked, not looking away.

"My darkness, the part that doesn’t forgive, that takes, that never lets go. The part that wants to make you mine. Forever." You rocked your hips again, the contact making you both shudder. He gripped you harder, whispering, voice hoarse and rough as the night outside:

"If you keep grinding like that on me… I swear, I’ll make you forget every human thought you’ve ever had." His cold hands slid under your oversized hoodie the one you’d grabbed from home, maybe hoping it would shield you, maybe not.

His fingers brushed your skin. The touch was electric. He leaned down, breath grazing your neck.

"This neck…" he rasped, "is an invitation to sin." Before you could respond, his fangs brushed your skin. He didn’t bite, no, the torture was in the restraint. In holding back the urge to claim and consume you.

"You’re mine. You know that, right?" he finally said.

"Even if you don’t want it. Even if you’re scared. I… will never let you go." You bit your lip as you looked at him—his chest rising under the dark hoodie. Your eyes dropped to the skin beneath, and you leaned in gently, tenderly, with a softness you knew would crack something inside him.

"Can I… kiss where they hurt you?" you whispered. He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow, gaze shadowed but amused.

"Didn’t take you for a war-scar collector," he said dryly. "I knew you had a Florence Nightingale kink, but this? New level."

You didn’t answer his jab. Your hands slipped under his hoodie slowly. His skin was cold and smooth. Beneath your fingertips, a subtle shiver. His body reacted barely but enough.

The contrast between your warmth and his chill made it impossible not to feel. "Are you… trembling?" you whispered, with a hint of a smile.

He said nothing but his eyes had darkened. He hated feeling vulnerable especially because of a foolish little human who had carved her way under his skin.

You lifted his hoodie gently when the light hit his torso, you gasped. The scars were there some thin, others deeper, old cracks on porcelain. They didn’t mar him. They made him ancient. Beautiful. You bit your lip at the sight of him.

"You’re… beautiful," you whispered, tracing a scar across his ribs. "Don’t say bullshit," he muttered. The words came out sharp and bitter. "You’re just a sweet little girl turned on by monsters. A little sadist, a little naïve. Don’t throw romantic crap at me."

You rolled your eyes and huffed. "Oh God, not this again. Don’t tell me you're still playing the asshole CEO in here too. Pretty sure you left the tie at the office."

You looked around. "In here… people breathe. Or in your case don’t die. I’m alive. I feel something for you and I hate it when you act like a jerk."

For the first time, a laugh slipped from his lips. Low, hoarse. “You’re insolent.” “I’m honest.” You smiled at him faintly, then leaned down slowly and started kissing him. Your lips touched the first mole under his eye, then the one on his cheek, then more. Small, dark, scattered like a constellation in a winter sky. “I love them…” you murmured, moving down to his jawline, his chin, his neck. You kissed him, sucked gently, feeling his cold skin warm under your mouth. He stayed still, but the tension grew beneath you like a rope tightening, ready to snap—and his hand grabbed you under your ass, pulling you close with force, making you feel how hard he already was beneath your soft sweatpants. “You can’t compete with me at giving hickeys,” he hissed in your ear, his voice thick with desire. You looked up, a half-smirk playing on your lips. “You’re wrong, I’ve already beaten you, and other guys have left marks on me—but gold hasn’t sunk their canines into my pale skin,” you said, giggling, and his face changed. A shadow of raw jealousy flickered through his body, and for the first time he was caught off guard: “W-What the fuck are you saying? I… I don’t even want to think someone touched you before me.” You smiled, continuing to suck on the skin at the base of his collarbone, leaving a dark red mark. “Uh-oh, Park Sunghoon is jealous? Of who, a girl, and a human one at that!”

He literally growled, and his hand under your ass pulled you even lower, pressing you against his now-hard cock, throbbing beneath his sweatpants. You rocked slowly, feeling his desire grow beneath you like a wave ready to crash over you. “Christ, you’re… damn hot.” His hands trembled as he held you still. “Fucking human girl, what are you doing to me…” he hissed against your throat. “I swear, if you keep going like this, I’ll fuck you until you don’t even know your own name anymore.” Your hair brushed against his skin as you leaned lower and Sunghoon felt a faint tickle, almost imperceptible but enough to make his fingers twitch against the couch. Your kisses followed an invisible line on his body: from his neck, to his chest, to his belly, where his abs tightened beneath your lips as if they were made of living stone. You reached the edge of his V-line, just above the waistband of his sweatpants, and stopped there, looking at him with a sly smile.

“So who are you training for, huh? If you spend your time playing cold, cynical vampire with everyone… including yourself?” He let out a half-snort, raising an eyebrow. “I train to stay strong enough not to break the idiots who decide to mess with someone they shouldn’t.” “Ooh, touché.” You giggled, then bent down again. Your mouth began exploring the pale skin below his navel, where thin dark hairs formed a line disappearing under his pants. You sucked gently on that spot beneath his belly where you saw him tremble and moan softly, and he growled, his stomach contracting under your touch.

“Careful, little one…” he muttered, his voice thick and rough. “You’re playing in a field you don’t know how to dominate.” But you ignored him, slowly and provocatively untying the sweatpants’ drawstrings with your fingers, then confidently pulling them down just a bit. He propped himself up on his forearms, watching you with red eyes full of held-back desire, and when you saw his black boxers, the clear shape beneath the fabric leaving nothing to the imagination, you climbed on top of him slowly, letting yourself fall onto his hips. You started rocking gently, rubbing against him, feeling every reaction, every shiver running through his body. “Look how hard you are for your little human intern…” you whispered in his ear, nibbling his earlobe. Sunghoon half-closed his eyes and growled, but there was something in his breath, the way he swallowed... “Christ… you’re such a little… tease, you know how easily I could break you...” He stammered, and it was rare to see him like this—it made him even more beautiful, more desirable, more yours. With a smooth motion, you took off your sweatshirt, and he liked how comfortable you felt with him. His eyes immediately went to your breasts struggling to escape your lace bra.

“Last chance, little one.” He spat the words out between his teeth, harsh, broken by a thread of wild desire. “You can still stop, after this… I won’t be responsible for myself.” You looked him in the eyes, without hesitation, and said, “I don’t want to stop, and neither do you from what I see.” You smiled at him, then slowly slid your hand under the waistband of his boxers, and when your fingers met his skin, he moaned. Not a fake, controlled sound, but a real moan low, strangled, animalistic. “You’re just a… damn insolent girl…” he whispered, almost angrily, grabbing you with both hands under your ass to force you to grind harder against him. “A sadist who gets herself into trouble, who wants to get into my fucking trouble…” but his body said otherwise he wanted it, he wanted you. His cock was perfectly shaped, the glans swollen, wet, slightly reddish, veins pulsing along the base with strength, and a pearly drop of desire gleamed at the tip like a forbidden invitation.

You, surprised, muttered something under your breath, a small “oh God, it’s big…” that slipped out without meaning to, and Sunghoon tensed. “Don’t do that,” he hissed. “Don’t bite your lip in front of me and don’t stammer like you’re shocked, you wanted this, you asked for this situation.” He looked you up and down, his chest rising and falling slowly. “Christ…” he whispered, then grinned through clenched teeth. “You just murmured how… big it is? Are you trying to kill me?” You didn’t answer; your hands, trembling but warm, closed around him with an almost reverent gentleness, and your skin against his was a complete contrast: life against death, warmth against ice, love against the desire to possess you. “You… are… damn… dangerous…” he stammered, almost with hatred, but not toward you, toward himself. “With that smallmouth and warm hands… you’re the most human thing I’ve touched in centuries, and I can’t…” His words stumbled and you looked at him, surprised. Sunghoon never stammered, he wasn’t human enough to do that—but there, under your hands, he was naked and weak because of you. You leaned down slowly, brushing his cold skin with your nose, down to his lower belly, and began to gently stroke his throbbing cock, and you heard Sunghoon say to you: “Don’t think you can do this… without consequences, I don’t want just pleasure, little one…” he whispered with a strangled voice.

“I want all of you, and if you let me in, you won’t come out anymore.” You started to tease him with your tongue, slow, careful, like you were exploring, and every little kiss you left on his tight, stretched skin was a challenge, a silent declaration: I’m not just the intern who brings you reports in the morning. Sunghoon barely gasped, almost imperceptibly, but he did as you started giving him small kisses and even little licks around the tip, and you raised your head to study his face his eyes were already watching you with primal hunger. “Do you like it?” you asked in a faint voice, barely daring. He wet his lips with his tongue, pupils black and dilated. “Keep going.” His voice was low, almost hoarse. “I want to see how… talented a little intern playing at driving an ancient vampire crazy can be.” That tone hit you right in the chest slightly mocking, but full of challenge and for that, you didn’t back down. You opened your mouth wider, your hands trembling but holding him firmly as you started exploring him more boldly. Your tongue traced every vein, every curve, and with every broken moan that slipped from his lips, you felt more confident, stronger. You began licking and sucking him more fiercely, one hand around his base and the other steady on his thigh as you balanced yourself—and then you felt him move.

He lifted slightly, muscles tense, and began slowly thrusting his hips, making space between your lips with deeper pressure. You coughed softly, eyes watering slightly as you tried not to lose control while he pushed his shaft deeper and deeper into your little mouth you were truly beautiful with your lips covered in him and the tears slowly falling down your face, and a growl vibrated in his throat as he grabbed your hair. “Don’t forget who’s in charge, human.” His voice grew rougher, and he stammered something you couldn’t understand, and you realized he was fighting himself. It wasn’t just desire; it was hunger, frustration, the damn fear of letting go completely but his body was already lost. And when he saw you cry a silent tear rolling down your cheek as you tried not to let go he broke into a cruel half-smile.

“Look how you finally shut up…” he murmured, almost pleased. “Maybe I should do this more often.” You tried to retort, with a sharp look, but then you felt his finger, cold and icy like snow, brush along the edge of your panties. A touch so subtle yet so loaded that your entire body shuddered and made you squeeze your thighs tighter and he chuckled, and this time he stammered: “H-Holy hell… you’re… soaking wet and you’re… sucking me… like you’re trying to make me lose fucking control.” The tone was a mix of hatred and desire. Hatred toward himself, toward that weakness only you made him feel, and his hand gripped your hair tighter not to hurt you, but to anchor you to him. “You’re a stubborn… insolent, human girl… and you’re playing with something you can’t even understand. Use that mouth properly. Make me feel good… for once.” Your tongue brushed the tip of his member, gathering a drop of pre-cum that tasted like iron and desire. He moaned softly, bringing a hand through your hair to guide you harder, and you started moving first slowly, then letting yourself go to the rising rhythm of his thrusts. Each plunge grew more determined, and deeper, and your breath grew ragged, but you didn’t stop. “Shit… I’m gonna come,” he growled, voice broken, almost incredulous. “Take it all, every fucking drop.” You nodded with watery eyes, cheeks wet with tears and saliva, and when you felt him tremble, with a guttural growl he filled your mouth. The taste was strong and salty, and you swallowed without protest, moaning yourself, and when he pulled back, shiny strands dripped onto your lips. “Look at you…” he chuckled softly, voice low and rough like coarse velvet. “You’re a work of art, with my excitement on you.”

You squeezed your thighs, a shiver ran down your spine, and he wiped your face with a damp handkerchief and then pulled you onto his legs as if you were as light as air. His lips rested on your neck, his canines brushed your skin without piercing it, and you trembled because your body wanted only him. “I want you,” you whispered in a thin voice, your hands on his broad shoulders. “I want you inside me.” He stopped a crooked smile on his lips. “Be careful what you ask for, girl, I might give you more than you can handle.” You rocked gently on him, feeling his member grow again beneath you. “Please…” you murmured, your voice broken by need. “So desperate?” he laughed. “Show me how much you need me, take off your panties, and show me how ready you are.”

You lowered them slowly, blushing, and he grabbed them and threw them away while chuckling at the sight of your arousal showing through your panties, then whispered to you. “Is it you who wants me so badly? Then ride me. Show me you’re not just a curious girl but a woman who can take even a centuries-old vampire like me.” You blushed, but you wanted him too much to resist. “I’m not a girl,” you warned him, climbing on top of him. “And you’re not untouchable.” “No,” he whispered as he brushed your intimate lips with the tip of his sex. “But you, little human, are dangerously mine and you don’t even realize it.” You lifted yourself slightly, your hands firmly on his broad shoulders, and his gaze was glued to your body, attentive, feverish, and in a moment you slid down slowly until you felt him fully enter you. A broken scream escaped you, held halfway between pleasure and vertigo as you felt his cock slide inside your poor pussy that held him tight and you felt full, invaded, crossed by him, and your hips trembled against his.

“Mine…” he stammered, his voice hoarse and his hands gripping your hips with growing force. “Fuck, you’re so tight… so warm…” You gasped, clinging to him. “It’s so big…” you stammered, your voice choked by pleasure. He laughed. “You are a girl, you know? … and already so desperate to feel me inside.” “Don’t call me that…” you moaned, but your protests dissolved when he moved slightly inside you and a shiver ran down your spine. “Oh no? Then prove it,” he teased you. “Show me how well you can ride a monster, little human.” You raised yourself slowly, then lowered again and began to ride him with uncertain but fiery movements, and his eyes never left yours, red as freshly spilled blood, and every moan of yours seemed to ignite him even more. “And you?” you gasped. “Do something too… I don’t want to do it all alone.” “You’re demanding for being just my intern,” he hissed with a grin but then lifted himself, almost sitting up, his arms around your back, and you screamed in surprise as he pinned you against him and you felt his cock pushing into you and felt it all the way to your stomach and he took control of the rhythm, thrusting into you with growing force and you screamed, your forehead pressed to his shoulder, your nails digging into his skin from overstimulation. “Do you feel how mine you are?” he growled in your ear. “Do you feel how deeply I’m taking you?”

Your body against his, him inside you, deeper and deeper, your folds tightening around him with almost desperate spasms, hot, alive, so different from anything he’d known in centuries of death. “So tight…” he gasped against your neck, his voice broken, ruined by hunger. “So human…” His thrusts became more dry, more fierce, and you couldn’t control your voice anymore: you moaned, and stammered his name like an invocation, as if he was dragging you into an abyss of pleasure with no escape. His hands moved on your hips, then your neck, then on the marks you still bore from that night he saved you. “Can I bite you?” he asked, his voice strangely sweet, trembling. “Yes,” you whispered. “I can’t resist you anymore, make me yours, Hoon.” “Where do you want me to bite you?” he asked, his canines brushing your skin. You closed your eyes, your heart racing wildly. “Wherever you want.” And he did it, sinking his teeth into your skin while holding you tight against him, while you bounced harder and harder, more and more desperate, until reality and desire merged into a single, infinite explosion.

His canines sank into your skin and a shiver ran through you as the pain mingled with a pleasure that brushed on ecstasy. He sucked slowly, with restrained greed, as if tasting your blood was holier than sex itself. “Damn you…” he growled between sips. “You’re my favorite drug… and my curse at the same time.” You screamed from both pleasure and pain and your body trembled, every fiber taut on the edge. “I want to come… please… let me…” He pulled away slowly, his mouth red with your blood, and his tongue slowly traced your lips, gathering the last drops as he soothed the wound, then grabbed your nape and kissed you. A full, hungry kiss, and you tasted your blood sliding from his mouth to yours, it was sweet, it was metallic, it was ours and you didn’t realize that from that moment on you were completely his and at his mercy.

“My favorite girl…” he murmured in a low tone, merciless but full of adoration. “So good at making me lose control…” A hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your center with cruel precision, and with his thumb, he teased and tormented your swollen clitoris and you moaned shamelessly. “Come for me,” he ordered, “now, show me what happens to a human when a vampire takes her beyond every limit.” “And you?” you gasped, in a thin voice. “You want to… I want you to fill me…” His eyes shone a darker red. “You don’t know what you’re asking for…” he growled. “If I fill you… if I mark you… you’ll be mine forever.” His hips moved with a rhythmic, brutal force and the wet, dirty sound of his thrusts burying themselves inside you filled the living room, punctuated by your broken moans and his curses clenched between his teeth. Every thrust took your breath away, every deeper plunge made you squeeze your thighs around his hips as if you could cling to something. “Look at how you take me, little one…” he growled against your ear, sinking his teeth into your lobe. “Your body is sucking me in like it never wants to let me go, and maybe it was made for me for this…” It hurt, but it was the kind of pain you wanted, the one you sought, and your eyes rolled back as you felt that knot low in your belly tightening more and more, ready to burst. Your body trembled, wet, hands on his shoulder blades, fingers digging into his smooth, cold skin.

“S-Sunghoon, I…” you gasped, your voice broken by a high moan. “I’m about to… I’m about to come…” He didn’t slow down in fact, he kissed your neck, right where he had bitten you a few minutes earlier, the mark still fresh and sensitive, and his warm breath on your skin clashed with the chill of his body. You shivered and then exploded: a fierce orgasm tore through you from within, a wave of raw pleasure that made you cry and moan against his chest; and you screamed from pleasure as you felt your excitement drip from your folds, soaking his cock and making a messy mix of excitations between yours and his, who was about to come but wasn’t done with you yet. You felt your walls clamp spasmodically around his cock as you trembled, helpless, exhausted, your body still shaken by small spasms. “So good…” he hissed, his voice deep and hoarse. “You came all around my cock, like a good little grateful whore.” You blushed, but couldn’t help moaning again the way he spoke to you made you feel dirty, used… and alive; you let yourself go against him, your voice thick: “I-I'm tired… I can’t take it anymore…” Sunghoon laughed softly, that cold and perverse laugh that made you tremble every time. He took your chin between his fingers and lifted your gaze to his.

«You’re tired? Baby… I’m just getting started.» With two slow, deep thrusts, you suddenly felt yourself filled and his cock swelled inside you, then he came with a snap of his hips and a low, animalistic growl. His seed invaded you, warm, making you gasp from the overwhelming fullness. “Shit…” he cursed, holding you close. “Look what you make me do, it’s amazing to be inside this wet, sweet pussy, you’re fucking perfect for me.” He stayed inside you, his body tense, his breath still, and you could still feel him throbbing, and you… you couldn’t even move. You just stayed there, legs trembling, your head against his chest, and the contrast between his cold skin and the warmth he left inside you gave you chills. Then he moved, lifting you slightly to pull out, and a thick, whitish strand began to drip down between your thighs. “Look how you drip for me,” he murmured, pleased, with a wicked half-smile. “You took it all, huh? To the last drop… good girl, my little girl.” You stammered something, confused, your cheeks flushed and your legs still weak. “S-Sung… you came… so much… inside me…” He laid you down on the couch that felt more like a bed, caressed your thigh, and bent to kiss your sweaty head. “Now close your eyes, I’ll protect you, no one will hurt you as long as you’re mine.”

He seemed sincere and sweet but something in his eyes said otherwise. It was the way he looked at you… like you were food, like with every kiss he held back the urge to sink his teeth in and claim you forever… because he was a vampire, a monster who had already lost once but would never lose anyone again in his life, especially you, and he was selfish, dangerous and now… he wanted only you. Your body, your blood, he wanted all of you to the last drop.

That morning, the first movement was a hesitant attempt by your legs, but a weight held you anchored to the bed not oppressive, actually reassuring, warm and cold at the same time, like a blanket made of flesh and ancient blood. You slowly opened your eyes, stretching just a little under the black silk sheets that caressed your bare skin. You wore only a shirt that wasn’t yours, and Sunghoon’s scent wrapped around you.

A thin beam of light filtered through the half-closed curtains, touching the dark room like a timid caress. When you turned, you found him there, lying face down, his head turned toward you, his eyes calm and eternal as they stared at you. One of his arms rested over your stomach, his bicep tense as if holding you with almost involuntary energy, like he feared you might slip away from him… just like maybe it had happened before, with someone else. “Finally…” he whispered with a crooked smile. “I knew you humans loved to sleep, but not this much.” You tried to get up, but a moan slipped from your lips. Your legs hurt, tense and sore, and the spot where his fangs had bitten you throbbed deeply, almost sensually, like someone had pierced you with tiny stings, causing a slight pain. You looked at him and blushed; his gaze softened, and he lifted you carefully back among the pillows without a word. He watched you seriously as if searching for a sign of your pain or discomfort, but what he found was much more disarming. “Are you okay?” His voice was rough, and controlled, but more… human, as if he feared he had crossed too many lines with you last night. “Yes… I’m fine, but someone was thirsty last night if I recall correctly…” you replied with a tired but amused tone. “Of course, I’m a bit weak, Sunghoon.” He lowered his gaze, a guilty but pleased smile touching his lips. “You offered yourself, and I only accepted. Remember this: if you’re not sure, never offer your neck to a vampire, especially one like me, little girl.” Then, in a softer tone: “But I don’t want you to feel bad, even if sometimes… I forget what limits mean.” You smiled softly, your voice sincere and trembling. “I don’t know how to explain it… but with you, I feel… safe, even if you’re a fucking vampire.”

Something changed on his face, a micro-movement, almost invisible, and the mask of the cold, impenetrable CEO cracked just a little. His eyes darkened, became more real, and something strange he hadn’t felt for centuries perhaps only when he was still human, stirred inside him. Then he leaned over you and his fingers brushed your cheek. He kissed you gently a slow, long kiss that made you forget the strength in your legs and the cold of the sheet. The world went dark for a moment. There was only you and him, his taste, his tongue, his mouth that sucked your soul. But then, without warning, you felt the teeth. It wasn’t violent like before, nor aggressive. He sank his fangs slowly into the soft spot between your neck and shoulder, and the pain was minimal like an electric shock followed by a rush of heat and a strange, guilty pleasure crossed you. You moaned softly as you clung to his shoulders, your body tense while he sucked slowly as if savoring every drop. You felt yourself burning inside, but you didn’t want him to stop, and when he pulled away, leaving the red, shiny mark of his mouth on your skin, you looked at him with an expression that mixed with indignation and desire. “You did the teeth thing again…” you muttered, poking him with a finger on his chest. He laughed, that damn perfect smile playing on his lips. “You tempt me, little one. You’re a constant invitation to sin.” He said, pulling you close to him. “You know you could at least ask before sucking me?” you whispered. “You know you could at least pretend you don’t enjoy it so much?” he retorted, leaning down to brush your lips with a kiss, then stopped, his gaze serious and deeper.

“I… didn’t want to. But now it’s too late.” “Too late for what?” you asked while caressing his face. “To stop, to let you go, to not want you every night, every hour, beneath me, in my hands, between my teeth…” He stroked your neck where the blood still pulsed. “I want to mark you, make you mine, bind you, change you, maybe…” he said but couldn’t look you in the eyes because he knew what he wanted was too much for you. You chuckled, almost to break the too-heavy tension, a timid, real sound, so yours that even Sunghoon seemed suspended for a moment in time. “You know… it’s crazy. You spent months treating me with that asshole superior tone, those cold jokes, those looks like I was just an annoying intern…”

Sunghoon’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling, then he looked at you, and for a moment, in his features, you saw the boy who was before the CEO, before the vampire. Maybe, just maybe, it was an illusion you wanted to cling to. “I don’t even know how it happened,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair. “That a heartless bastard like me found himself tied to a stubborn, sweet… and so irritating little girl.” You smiled and moved closer, gently stroking the small, irregular, almost hidden moles on his face. You did it often; you knew it annoyed him to be touched there, but this time he didn’t pull away. “I don’t want to transform, Sunghoon. Not yet,” you whispered, your voice fragile but firm. “I understand you’re afraid of losing someone again. I know she broke you, but I… I’m only twenty-two. I want to live, I want to laugh, do stupid things, go dancing, I want to stay human even being with you for a while, and then, in time, we’ll see how things go between us.” He looked at you skeptically and silence filled the bedroom, then almost whispered to himself: “You’re not like her, you won’t die like her, I won’t allow it.” But his tone, his gaze… wasn’t a promise, it was a threat to fate itself, as if he swore war on time, death, on you—and you didn’t understand.

You curled up against him, your face on his cold chest that now felt almost warm, and he held you, a hand tangled in your damp hair. “I’ll do anything for you,” he said. “I swear, I’ll protect you from everything.” Except himself, he thought, because deep in his immortal heart, while holding you so tenderly, a rotten thought grew, pulsed, and took root. “I love you, little girl,” he said as he held you close, but what he meant was that every time he sucked from you… every time his fangs broke your skin… he left something inside you. A slow, invisible, sublime poison and he would never ask your permission to become one with you. He wouldn’t respect your twenty-two years or your dreams of a normal girl. No. He would take you, one sip at a time, one bite after another until he extinguished every human beat inside you—and no one would stop him, and you would never know when the change began. “I love you,” you whispered, and he… kissed your forehead.

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godmadeaterribleerror · 6 months ago

Text

I Could Have You

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Love Confessions, Smut (p in v, oral both receiving), light angst, soulmates, sex pollen, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: Dean is hit with a lust spell, and it doesn't seem to only be effecting him. No one's really sure why, and Dean refuses to give in to the curse, so you'll just ride this out.

You'll defiantly be able to just ride this out.

Author's Note: I had a lot of fun with this one, I hope you enjoy it!

Title from Normal Fucking Rockwell by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 6k

You’re losing your mind.

Your skin is on fire, your back is flat on the cold bathroom floor, and you’re moaning and whining and bucking into the air but nothing is fixing this. Nothing is relieving you, not your fingers or the pillows or the toy a very red-faced Sam had bought you. Nothing is going to save you, because only one, stupid, handsome, selfless idiot can, and he’s suddenly too good to just fuck you.

Hell, that idiot is the only reason this is happening. According to Sam and Bobby, Dean got hit with a sex spell in Colorado, you started whimpering for him in South Dakota, and you’re not allowed to have sex with him for… reasons.

Reasons no one seems willing to fully share with you, but reasons.

You know Dean wants you. You’ve known he wants you. Neither of you have ever been able to do something about that—never going beyond flirting and lingering touches and stares—but you’re certain he feels the same way. Maybe not the exact same way, because you want whatever Dean offers you, his body or mind or heart or very soul, but you know he’s attracted to you. And if the countless little pieces of evidence you’ve hoarded in your brain—winks and smirks and long, apperceive scans of your body—weren’t enough for you to know, this was. You’d heard Dean roar your name from outside Bobby’s cabin as the Impala door slammed. You’d seen the feral, lust-blown expression on his face as he’d charged at you. Sam had tackled him to the ground as you’d grown a little dizzy with need, and Bobby grabbed your wrist, dragging you upstairs. Away from Dean, from the cure, from his big hands and soft mouth and huge-

“You’re gonna need to stay in here.” Bobby had muttered, refusing to meet your eyes as he shuffled out of the room. “Least until we get Dean’s head right, or figure out what the hell is going on.”

It’s been almost a day, and they’ve made almost no progress. From Sam’s last update, all they’re certain of is: Sex spell, you and Dean, no other options except you and Dean.

“What do you mean no other options,” you’d said, leaning up to frown at Sam. “Did Dean-“

“No.” Sam shakes his head, giving you a sheepish expression. “I mean, Bobby and I suggested it, but he said no.”

“Oh,” you’d mumbled, falling back down on the mattress. “Why?”

Sam had shrugged, leaning into your line of vision. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

“No, Sam, what the fuck-“

“That’s why.”

He’d stood up and left, and you hadn’t had a clue what the hell he was talking about. Sure, you didn’t want to have sex with him, but he was like a brother to you. Dean, somehow, wasn’t. Dean was Dean. And it wasn’t like you’d say no to a random, no-strings attached hookup right now-

Something had tugged in your gut, and you’d realized—staggering to the toilet and vomiting up your lunch—that you could not do a random hookup. You wanted Dean. You needed him. You might die if you didn’t get him, and it had to be him, and he must feel it too, but when you’d asked Sam he said no.

“No?!” You’d rolled over on the floor to glare up at him, wishing you could find the strength to surge up and punch him in his stupid, apologetic face. “What do you mean No?!”

“Dean, um,” Sam had sighed again, and if he kept doing that you were going to kick him in the balls. “He made us lock him in the safe room. He won’t come out until we cure him.”

“Why did he-“ You’d cut yourself off as it hit you, another, softer wave of sickness rolling over your body. The sickness lived in your heart. This sickness was made of the tragic reality that Dean might want you, but he didn’t want you. Maybe that was why he’d never made a move. Maybe he was attracted to you physically, but couldn’t see you like that, and didn’t really want to try to.

Maybe Dean was disgusted by the idea. Maybe he hated that his body found you hot, because he thinks of you like you think of Sam.

“Oh,” you’d rolled back onto your stomach, and prayed Sam would leave soon so you could go back to humping the floor. “Okay.”

Sam had said your name, waiting until you hummed an acknowledgment to continue. “We’re going to fix this-“

“I know.” You’d let out a long, slow breath, curling into your own body. “We always do.”

They would fix this. And then you’d have to look Dean in the eyes, and find a way to be okay with his rejection. Teach yourself how to not turn into a pining dumbass, chasing after someone who obviously didn’t want you. You wouldn’t lose him, he was your best friend, but you’d also have to learn to pretend it didn’t feel like your heart hadn’t just been ripped out of your chest and stomped on.

And now you’re here. Hoping Sam and Bobby will fix this soon, crawling into the empty bathtub to try and sleep. The bed is too warm, too intimate, to inviting of fantasies that will never be reality. Daydreams of Dean’s hands on you, trailing over your skin and setting of little sparks as he maps your body. Those same hands pushing open your thighs, two of his fingers teasing over your pussy, his mouth wrapping around your nipple as he started pumping and scissoring and crooking inside you-

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and you yank your own fingers out of your cunt, wiping them on the towel as you speak, your voice far too hoarse. “Yeah, Sam?”

“Not Sam.” Bobby grumbles, his voice slightly muffled through the door. “You decent?”

You toss a towel over your body, having long abandoned clothing. “Yep, is everything-“

You cut yourself off as Bobby pushes the door open, his face angled up to avoid you.

“I said I’m decent, Bobby, you can look.”

He grunts, and you sit up a little straighter, making your voice a little firmer.

“It’s weirder if you don’t, you know.”

Bobby nods, his gaze slowly dropping to yours as he sits on the toilet, bracing his arms on his knees. “Sorry.” He mutters. “Ain’t tryin’ to make it uncomfortable. Just not lookin’ to see one of my, uh-“

“I know,” you sigh, leaning your head back on the tile. “I get it. Must be weird seeing Dean as well.”

“Eh.” Bobby shrugs. “I’ve walked in on him with lady company before, this ain’t new-“

“But it’s new with me?” You ask, raising your brows, and Bobby glares at you.

“I didn’t help raise you girl. And you’re just as important to me as those boys, but you’re also a girl. I mean, not a girl, but I don’t got those parts-“

“Jesus, Bobby.” You mumble, bringing your knees up to your chest. “I’m teasing. I know what you mean, I promise, just,” you swallow, shaking your head slightly. “Sorry. I’m tired.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, but his voice becomes a little softer, and far less panicked. “That ain’t nice, kid, you’re gonna give an old man a heart attack.”

“You’d be fine. I know CPR.”

He gives you a flat look. “We both know you ain’t in any condition to give me CPR.”

You wave him off. “I’d call Sam.”

“He wouldn’t hear you, he’s down in the panic room with-“

Bobby cuts himself off, and you roll your head to the side, giving him a bored glare.

“You can say his name, Bobby.”

“Fine.” He grunts. “Sam’s down checkin’ on Dean. He,” Bobby frowns at the air. “He still ain’t listenin’ to reason.”

You hum, hoping Bobby doesn’t notice how you’ve moved the towel between your thighs, just for something. “Reason?”

“We don’t have anythin’ to cure this except, uh, that way.” Bobby mutters. “And he’s still insistin’ we keep him chained up.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Awesome.”

Bobby says your name, and it’s gentle. Like he’s consulting a child who’s had a nightmare, instead of a grown woman who was just finger-fucking herself in a tub. “You don’t gotta pretend this ain’t hurtin’ you.”

“I mean, it doesn’t feel good-“

“Not the spell.” Bobby says, and you frown at him.

“What-“

“Dean. He’s bein’ a fuckin’ dumbass, and you don’t need to act like he’s not.”

Your voice drops to a whisper. “He’s not what?”

“Killin’ you.” Bobby grunts, scanning over your face. “Rippin’ your heart out and take a big fat shit on it.”

You grimace. “That’s gross, Bobby-“

“Truth ain’t always sunshine and glitter-“

“It’s not the truth!” You snap, your voice suddenly harsh as something wilts and twists in his your chest. “I’m fine! I get it! Dean doesn’t want to do that, and that’s not his fault.”

Bobby leans back on the toilet, holding your glare with his own. “Why do you think you and Dean are the only idjits gettin’ hit by this? Why isn’t Sam humpin’ pillows and leavin’ stains on my walls?”

You feel a rush of heat from that thought—the image of Dean fucking into his hand flashing through your mind and leaving a mark between your thighs—and your voice is almost a squeak. “Because Dean’s the one that got hit?”

“Sam says he was in the line of that bitch’s fire too. But only Dean got,” Bobby makes a vague gesture over you. “This.”

“I don’t-“

“And Sam ain’t in love with his fuckin’ brother, so he was safe.”

You flush, gaping at Bobby for a long, wired silence, and when you speak your voice is a squeak.

“I- I’m, I’m not in love with Dean. I mean, maybe I have a crush, or something, but that’s, that’s not love-“

Bobby gives you a flat, disbelieving look. “You feel safer ‘round him?”

“Yeah, but I-“

“You laugh at all his jokes?”

“Maybe, but he can be funny-“

Bobby mutters your name, shaking his head. “I love that boy like a son, and he ain’t half as funny as he thinks he is.”

You frown. “He’s funny-“

“He can be,” Bobby shrugs. “But his jokes ain’t all winners. And you laugh at every single oneof ‘em. And,” he sighs, rubbing his beard. “He laughs at all’a your jokes.”

“Hey.” You scowl. “I’m a riot-“

“Didn’t say you weren’t. But even you can miss, girl. And he never seems to care.”

“So?” You shuffle on the floor, desperate not to starting grinding on the air in front of Bobby, but getting more and more wet from just the mention of Dean. “We’re friends, friends laugh at each other’s jokes-“

“Do friends get connected by sex spells ‘cross state lines?”

“I dunno,” you mumble. “Never been hit by a sex spell before.”

“You weren’t hit by one,” Bobby snaps your name, starting to sound exasperated. “Dean was. And that’s my damn point. Sam and I, we,” he sighs, giving you a long, confusing look. “We got it. We know what’s goin’ on.”

“Fuck,” you sit up, glowering at him. “Why didn’t you lead with that-“

“Cause you ain’t gonna like it.” Bobby grunts. “It’s an old location spell. Back in the day rich assholes would cast it on their highest eldest sons, so he could find his,” Bobby cringes, his last word pushed through his teeth. “Mate.”

“Mate?” You repeat, letting out a dry, huffing laugh. “What are we, fucking dogs-“

“Soulmate.” Bobby mutters, giving you a look that might have been sympathetic, or kind, or pitiful, but you’re suddenly a little dizzy and can’t really think or see.

“That’s not,” you shake your head. “No, Bobby, soulmates aren’t real-“

Bobby says your name, his voice stern. “You should know better than to say somethin’ like that in our line of work. Sam called Cas, and he said they’re real, but population increases or somethin’ made them ‘logistically impossible’, so they aren’t on the shop line no more.”

“But- But wouldn’t we have like, I don’t know, noticed? If that was true?”

“You shoulda.” Bobby shrugs. “Cas seemed pretty shocked you hadn’t. Said he had assumed you knew, because the pull is like a magnet or some shit. Spell’s only an enhancer, to move the train along.”

“So why-“

“You hopped in right after Dean got back from hell.” Bobby mutters. “Dean’s soul mighta been fucked enough not to recognize you. Spell mighta jumpstarted it.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

It’s a few minutes before you speak again, and Bobby waits patiently as you spiral. Down, down, down in your head, trying to rationalize how this could possibly be true. It couldn’t be true. There was no way it was true. Sure, you’ve liked Dean since you first met him, from the moment he introduced himself with a cocky grin, smirk, and fake name. You liked him even more when you called him out on his fake name, and he’d just chuckled, figured out you were a hunter, and offered to buy you a drink. You’d liked him when that drink had turned into a long, sleepless night of only conversation, and when you’d joined him and Sam on the road. And you’d kept thinking of him like that, and you thought of him all the time, but that didn’t mean anything. You didn’t love him. It’s not like you feel better when you wake up in a motel bed and he’s next to you, or a smile always tugs at your lips whenever he so much as looks at you, or the thought of him being in alone or pain makes you physically ill. It’s not like, if he grabbed your hand and told you he was done with hunting—the only life you’d ever both known—then asked you to join him in a boring, easy apple pie life you’d immediately say yes and kiss him, because you’ll go wherever he goes and he’s the only person you’ve ever really-

Oh.

You might be in love with Dean.

You might be soulmates with Dean.

“What, um,” you swallow, watching Bobby carefully. “What did Dean think? Of this?”

“We have told him yet.” Bobby’s jaw ticks, holding your gaze. “We ain’t sure he’ll-“

“Yeah.” You whisper, turning your attention back to the ceiling. There’s a little crack on it. Jagged and split through the white paint, easy to stare at and get lost in. Helpful in pretending this doesn’t hurt like a bitch. “Okay.”

Bobby mutters a promise of at least trying to talk some sense into Dean, but you both know his words are empty. Because Dean won’t believe this. It won’t be a matter of you and Dean, it will just be Dean, believing something like a soulmate could never happen to someone like him. He’ll insist they’re lying, or Cas is wrong, or all of this fucking bullshit.

“You ever wondered about aliens?” He’d asked you once, leaning against the Impala as you lay on the hood, watching him from an upside-down angle.

“Just like, in general?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess,” you’d tilted your head at him. “Why?”

“I dunno, just curious.” There had been another moment of silence, then, “You think they’re real?”

“They have to be right?” You’d reached over your head, grabbing his chin and tilting it up, until he was staring at the night sky. “I mean, look at that, De. It’s huge.”

He’d chuckled, swatting your hand away. “Where have I heard that before-“

“Eat me, Winchester.” You’d rolled your eyes, and his shit-eating grin had grown. “No. Shut it.”

He’d raised his hands in surrender. “Didn’t say a thing.”

“Uh huh.” You’d let your own attention trail up, over the vast darkness above you, splattered in infinite stars that you think—if you really tried—you’d be able to grab and hold in your hands. Maybe offer one to Dean. He’d deserve it.

You were silent for a while longer, you watching the sky, Dean waiting for you to come back to earth, and when he’d spoken again his voice was soft.

“You think you’d want to go? If they were?”

You’d looked back to him with a frown, and found him already looking at you. “What, aliens?”

He’d nodded, and you’d furrowed your brow in thought.

“Maybe. I’ve never thought about it before. I kind of like Earth.” You’d rolled onto your stomach, swinging your legs around to rest in Baby’s open window as you looked down at Dean. “What about you?”

“Nah,” he’d held your gaze, pulling himself up to sit at your side. “Not now.”

“Not now?”

“I would’ve when I was younger, if I coulda taken Sammy with me.” Dean had let out a dry chuckle. “But I’m not that lucky.”

He wasn’t that lucky. Dean didn’t get to be abducted by aliens, because he wasn’t lucky. Because saviors and little lights to guide you forward don’t just drop out of the sky.

But you didn’t drop out of the sky. You’d been on the ground, and tangible, and very, very real.

You feel real, to yourself. You didn’t feel like a possibility, or a myth, or a lie.

And you might love Dean.

And you know that, the longer you don’t get to at least see him, touch him, breathe him, the more you go mad. The harder it becomes to speak to Sam and Bobby when they check on you, the less you allow them to even say the word Dean, because it makes you writhe and moan and everyone just gets very uncomfortable.

So if Dean’s too much of a righteous, noble, self-loathing buttface to do something about this, you will.

You wait until the house is dark and quiet. Until you hear Bobby mutter a goodnight through the door—about an hour ago you’d started whining every other breath and fucking the edge of the bathtub, so Bobby wasn’t coming into the room anymore—and Sam walks in backwards to make sure you’re not dead and have enough food and water. Like you’re a caged animal.

You do feel a little like one. You feel like someone’s sucked everything rational and careful out of your brain and replaced it with Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean, you need him or you’ll die. He needs to need you, or something worse than death will happen.

And you’re willing to risk that, that small possibility of Dean looking at you—bare and wet and pleading for him—and still turning you away, because at least you’ll see him.

You need to at least see him.

It’s shocking easy to sneak around the house. For two seasoned, well-respected hunters, neither Sam nor Bobby seem to wake up as you crawl down to Dean, despite the floorboard creaking under you movements and the downright pathetic whimpers that keep escaping your mouth. It takes all your focus to grab the key to Bobby’s panic room, unlock the door, and push it open.

It’s dark. Pitch black. But you know Dean’s in here, because every nerve is trying to fly off your body and into the shadows. To Dean.

“What the hell are you doing,” Dean groans your name from the back of the room, and you feel molten. “You can’t be here-“

“It’s not your panic room, Dean.” You mumble, pushing yourself up on the wall and fiddling around for the light switch. “I can be wherever I want-“

“Not here.” Dean snaps. “Go.”

You shake your head, and the lights blind you as you flip them on. It takes a moment to adjust—blinking and hugging your body in a desperate play to not leap across the room to Dean the moment you see him—and when you do a high whine escapes your mouth.

Dean looks as feral as you feel. He’s just as naked as you are, just as drenched in sweat and flushed, and—if the proud, massive cock between his legs, standing at full attention and twitching as he scans over you, is any sign—just as aroused.

“Dean.” You whisper. “Please.”

“You need to leave.” He grunts, his fists clenched at his sides. “Now.”

“I don’t want to go-“

“Yes, you do.”

You frown. “You don’t get to tell me what I want, Dean. I want to stay-“

“No,” he hisses, and you might come just from him looking at you like that. Primal and wanting, with a gleam in his eyes that feels like a promise. “You don’t know what you want-“

That gets you to scoff. “Fuck off, asshole-“

“See!” He makes a dramatic gesture, then flinches back from himself. “I, I can’t let you do this. You don’t want me,” Dean mutters your name, running a hand over his face. “The spell wants me. Doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, the spell does want you, you idiot!” You take an unsteady step forward, and he steps back. “Because I want you!”

“No, you don’t-“

“Yes, I do! I need you, Dean, and I think you need me-“

“Doesn’t matter what I need.” He grunts, bracing his body and you take another step. “Go back upstairs.”

“Did Bobby talk to you?”

He scowls. “Bobby’s wrong. That’s- No.”

“Because it’s me?”

“Of course not,” he snaps, and it’s too quick. “Because that, that’s not a thing. People would be runnin’ around, selling soulmates in little bottles if they were real. And we’d have known by now-“

“We do know now.” You whisper, swaying slightly in the middle of the room. “And Cas says-“

“Cas is wrong.” Dean mutters. “I don’t, there’s no way that’s true. Not for me.”

His beautiful, deep eyes look so sad. Glossed over and weighted down of years of that being the truth. That things like that, like this, don’t happen for Dean.

You’d really love to be the first exception.

“What about for me?”

“What are you-“

“What about for me, Dean.” You watch his jaw clench, his nostrils flaring. “Does it get to be true for me?”

He doesn’t answer, and you push on.

“If it’s true for me, it’s you.” You talk another step forward, and this time he doesn’t flinch. “Just you.”

“It’s just the spell.” He mutters, and you don’t think he’s convincing himself. Not when his throat bobs and his eyes darken. “You don’t want me, baby, not really.”

You almost fall over from that. From Dean calling you baby, and saying it the exact same way he says your name. Low and rolling and lined with something soft.

“I do.” You hold your ground, raising your chin. “I want you, Dean Winchester. Fix this.”

He shakes his head, barely a jerked movement, and you start to feel a little faint.

“Dean. I need you to look me in the eyes,” your voice starts to rise, growing pleading and frantic. “And tell me you don’t want me. Say that you wanting me is just the spell, and I’ll go. I promise. I just need to you to fucking say it, Dean, just fucking say you don’t want me or need me or love me-“

He moves before you even realize what’s happening. Almost leaping onto you as his mouth crashed into yours, his hands cupping your face as he walks you back, back, back into the wall and growls down your throat. And you’d been wrong. His hand on you don’t feel like small bursts of electricity. They’re like lighting. Dragging something you hadn’t known existed to the surface, and setting off a storm of need in your body.

“Course I want you,” one arm snakes around your waist, pressing your right into his erection. “Always fucking wanted you. You’re smoking hot,” he starts to kiss over your face, his words slightly muffled against your skin as you cling to his body. “Funnier than I am, and smart as hell. You feel like home and smell so good and, fuck, I’ve lost sleep thinkin’ about how it’d feel to get lost in you. I’d have to be fucking blind and dumb not to want you,” Dean grunts your name, returning your mouth to yours with a painfully soft, gentle, featherlight kiss. “But I’m not-“

“If you say good for me,” you mutter, leaning back to glare at him. “I’ll punch you.” He chuckles, and it’s dry and low, rumbling from his chest into yours. “I’m not-“

“You are.” You whisper, offering him a small, slightly broken smile. You need him to get this. You might start crying if he doesn’t. “You’re good for me. And I want you. I love you.” Something flashes in his eyes, and you don’t care if he believes you. He doesn’t have to believe you. He just needs to get it. “No spell, Dean. I’m here, and I’m yours. Take me.”

Your nails dig into his skin—attempting to leave a mark of him if he turns you away—and his breathing is ragged. Heavy and hot, fanning across your face as he stares at you, just stares at you, why is he just staring at you-

“Dean-“

This kiss is brutal It’s teeth and tongue and bruising lips, like he’s trying to move into your body. His hands are everywhere on you, squeezing your ass and palming your tits, rolling your nipple between two fingers before groaning down your throat when you moan.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters your name, his hand on your ass glides onto your pussy, playing with your folds and flicking at your clit once, twice, three times and you feel fucking high- “So wet for me-“

“For you,” you whimper, nodding stupidly as Dean presses him thumb down on that bundle of nerves, rubbing slowly. “Fuck, Dean, all for you-“

“Need to taste you,” he growls, pulling his mouth fully back, watching you grind onto his hand with a dark gaze. “You gonna let me taste you, baby? Let me eat that pretty pussy-“

You’ve barely nodded before he’s on his knees, one arm still around your waist to support you both as he dives into your cunt.

Oh.

He’s good at this. Really, really fucking good at this. You can’t really think anything that’s not Dean, or make any noise that’s not a moan kind of good at this. He’s ravenous and starved, his nose bumping and pressing into your clit in an impossibly mind-numbing rhythm, his tongue plunging in and out of your cunt until your squirming above him, desperate for more.

“Dean,” your hand tug at his hair, and you don’t know if you’re trying to push him deeper or pull him away. “Shit, Dean, I’m gonna cum-“

He groans against you, his eyes opening to watch you come apart above him, and you think he might be getting off on this.

“Please,” you whimper. “God, please, I need to cum-“

Dean bites your clit, and your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave. It’s all bliss and relief and a high, bright haze of Dean, and then you’re falling down.

Dean’s pulling you down. Onto his lap as he leans back, moving you to straddle over him as his cock throbs between his legs.

You want to touch him.

You push back on him, just enough for his grip to loosen, and take him in your hand. He’s huge. And pretty. Dicks aren’t supposed to be pretty, but Dean’s is, and it might be because every part of Dean is pretty. Every part of him is impossible pretty, from his cock twitching in your hand as you run your thumb over the slit, to his lidded eyes and parted mouth as he watches you with wonder.

“Shit,” he moans your name, and fuck, even that was pretty. “What are you doing to me-“

“Handjob,” you whisper, placing your free hand lightly on his chest in a silent request for him to lay back. “I think.”

Dean huffs a laugh, leaning back with a smirk. “Ya think? You sure you know what you’re doing with that- Fuck-“

You hum around Dean’s cock, your lips wrapped around the base as your tongue swirls around his shaft, and his groans are sinful. The fire in your corse hadn’t lessened by any means from your orgasm, but it grows unbearable as you move Dean’s hand to your hair and let him guide you up and down. Let him set the pace, moaning when his hips jerk and he hits the back of your throat, and squeezing his thighs in silent reassurance that you’re good. You’re really, really good. You’re grinding onto Dean’s knee as he fucks your face, playing with his balls with your free hand and devouring every bit of slightly slurred praise that falls from his mouth.

“Fucking hell, baby, you always been this good at sucking cock? You’re, shit, you look like a wet dream, look like an angel, fuck.” He hisses at your teeth graze over him. “You look so good like this. Mouth stuffed full of cock, desperate and wet for me-“ You roll your hips against him, and Dean tugs you fully up, smirking at your swollen lips and glossy eyes. “Careful,” he warns, sitting up as his thumb swipes a little bit of drool from your cheek. “When I’m cumming tonight, I’m cumming in you, baby, got that?”

“Yes, please,” you whimper. You’re on the pill anyway. “Dean-“

“C’mere.” He tugs you into his lap with careful hands, scanning over you with a small shake of his head. “Son of bitch, you’re gorgeous. You’re sure you-“

“I’m sure.” You grind against his cock, never looking away from him as the head of him bumps your clit. It goes on for too long, Dean just watching you fuck yourself on his lap with his hands bruising your hips, and you start to whine. “Shit, Dean, need you-“

Dean surges forward, kissing you long and deep and slow, and keeps his brow pressed to yours as he looks down to where you’re moving on him.

“Hold on,” he mutters, and you follow the order without a second thought.

Your arms wrap around Dean’s neck just as he lines himself up, and you almost scream when he pushes into you.

“Shit,” he looks back at you, eyes wide. “Are you-“

“Don’t stop,” you moan, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Fuck, it feels so good, Dean, don’t stop.”

He nods, kissing the side of your head, and slowly moves into your aching pussy until he bottoms out with a long exhale.

“Gonna, fuck-“ He groans as you squeeze around him. “Can’t do that, baby, I won’t last a minute-

“Sorry,” you mumble against him, playing with the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. “Didn’t meant to-“

“It’s fine.” He grunts, still not moving. “Just, fuck, you feel so good. So warm,” he groans, pressing his face onto the top of your head. “So tight and warm, feel so good-“

“Dean, please-“

You gasp as he gives one, short thrust upward.

“So good,” Dean growls in your ear, making another small, dizzying movement that presses him right up against that spongey spot deep inside of you. “Ready?”

“Ye-“

You squeal as Dean rises to his knees, keeping himself sheathed inside you as he falls forward, his hand splayed on your back and holding you carefully against him. His face is resting between your breasts, his cock angled so deep inside you it might drive you insane if he doesn’t start to fucking move, and his eyes stay yours as you only watch each other for a long moment.

He’s asking permission. Dean’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving, because he’s offering you one last chance to turn him down.

You move one hand to hold his face, wrapping your legs around his waist and squirming around him in silent encouragement.

It snaps something in him. Dean grabs your hand, moves it onto the back of his neck, and lowers you fully onto the ground so you’re caged between him and floor. He scans over you for only a second, a small, cocky smirk crawling onto his face, leans down to give you one last, almost sweet kiss.

A soft moan leaves you as Dean traces his tongue over your lips, and his low growl is the only warning you get before he starts to fuck into you like an animal.

It’s sloppy and wet and loud, skin slapping against skin as Dean abuses your cunt, and fuck you’ve never felt better. You feel full, split open on his cock and right where you belong, alive in a way that seeps right into your soul and ignites your blood into a holy fire of Dean. Groaning your name on your skin and touching you with calloused, big, expert hands. Watching you as you unravel beneath him, scraping your nails over his back and making needy sounds that only spur him on.

You’re going to fly out of your body. Dean’s muscles are ripping above and around you as he fucks you into the floor, and his mouth is mold perfectly onto yours. Neither of you seem to care to breathe, or speak, or do anything but nips and suck and lick at each other. Trying to get impossibly closer, to drag the other over the edge so you can fall with them. You grind up into Dean, and Dean bites your lip. Dean rolls his hips as he bottoms out, making your mouth fall open for his tongue to plunge down your throat, and you scrape and claw as his chest until he groans, and you manage to slip one hand down to play with his balls.

He wins he swats your hand away and starts to rub small, firm circles on your clit. He’s unrelenting, and watching you with an affection that feels a little misplaced for the carnal hunger on his handsome features.

“Always want you,” he mutters your name, pressing his thumb flat against you. “Cum for me, baby.”

Your vision blurs as you find release, and it feels like heaven. Like stars and fire and water and light under your skin, in your blood, like a halo around your head that’s all just the pleasure Dean’s is still wringing from your body. Your pussy is fluttering and gushing around his cock, and it sends him over the edge with a roar, his hips slamming home as he paints the walls of your cunt white.

And when you’re both spent and Dean rolls you over—carefully adjusting you to be right on top of him, his body a barrier between you and the now-cold floor—you feel good. Really, really good. Fucked out and high, nothing trying to burst out of your skin or eat at your stomach. You feel better than you might have ever felt in your whole life. The only warmth in your body is heat you’re trading with Dean, and you feel good.

“We, um.” You trace over his tattoo, looking up at him under your eyelashes. “We should probably talk, or something-“

“Or something.” He agrees, grinning down at you. “Don’t feel like it’s a rush though. Sammy and Bobby will find us in the morning. Right now,” Dean kisses your brow, squeezing his arms around your body. “You’re all mine.”

You can be all his. It’ll be really, really easy to be all Dean, because he hasn’t said he loves you, but he does. You know he does. It lives in how he’s still touching and holding you, still talking to you like you’re his best friend and not a mistake, and running his hands through your hair mindlessly.

And you’ll have a lot to talk about later. A lot to fight about, and fuck about, and laugh and cry and scream about.

But right now you just have to be Dean’s.

And that will be really easy.

End Note: Bobby Singer you are fifty times the father John Winchester could ever HOPE to be.

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@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery

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inseobts · 3 months ago

Note

Heyy! Love your work! I have an idea for law and ace (my goattss dont playy lol), but it can be for anyone else in one piece too! I was thinking reader thats similar to Maomao(apothecary diaries) and her obsession with poisons, eating it etc. As for plot, really up to you but I have an idea, maybe they dock at a new island with lots of herbs and their caught trying to eat the most textbook poison looking plant, no doubt thats not poisonous type of plant. Idk it can be like their secret or something. A lil basic cause I have the creativity of a stick, so if u think of something better then plss do it no hesitation fr!! If you do write this thank youuuu!! 🫶🫶

Poison Queen

a/n: I don't know the anime/character but I hope I got the intention of it right after a small google research T.T

characters: law (wc 2.6k), ace (wc 3.6k)

tags: poison enthusiast reader, slow burn, humor, fluff (eventually)

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:

The island is lush. Dense, dripping green stretches as far as the eye can see, humid air thick with the scent of earth and herbs. From the deck of the Polar Tang, you practically bounce on your heels.

“Is that… purple nightshade?” you whisper, eyes gleaming unnaturally.

“Don’t eat it.” Law says without looking up from the chart he’s examining, standing nearby. His voice is as flat as the sea on a windless day.

“I wasn’t going to…” you lie.

He turns his head a fraction, golden eyes narrowing “Yes, you were.”

You hum innocently, stuffing your medical satchel with your vials and note scrolls “I’m just here to observe, Captain.”

Shachi leans over the railing besides you “This place gives me the creeps. Everything looks like it wants to kill you.”

“Or cure you” you murmur, a little too enthusiastically.

Penguin eyes you warily “Why do you sound excited about that?”

You flash them a polite smile “Because it’s fun.”

Law sighs, sharp and tired “No wandering alone. You stick close to the group. Got it?”

You nod obediently “Of course.”

He doesn’t buy it. No one does.

The island is a botanical goldmine. You’re taking notes faster than your ink can dry. Moss that numbs the tongue, vines that smell like overripe peaches but rot skin on contact, and…oh. You spot it.

A crimson-stemmed flower, petals a sickly sweet yellowish pink, growing under the shade of a tree.

You gasp.

Law, who had started sketching a tree trunk for identification, stiffens “Don’t.”

“But it’s not poisonous!” you defend, already crouching, eyes wild “It looks like it, but this is Miracle’s Folly. It only mimics toxic flora to keep herbivores away. You can eat it, and it has incredible stimulant properties.”

“You just said it looks poisonous.”

“Exactly!” You pluck one with clinical precision “I’ve never seen one in the wild before. This is amazi—”

Law snatches it from your hand, holding it between two fingers like it’s radioactive.

“You’re obsessed” he accuses.

You blink “I prefer the term enthusiastic professional.”

“You tried to eat a known neurotoxin last week.”

“I suspected it was a neurotoxin. And I was right, wasn’t I?”

“You lost motor control for six hours.”

“It was valuable data.”

He stares. You stare back, unbothered.

There’s a beat of silence before Shachi and Penguin burst out laughing behind you.

“She’s gonna kill herself one day” Shachi cackles.

“Captain’s gonna lose his mind before then” Penguin adds.

Law exhales through his nose. He pockets the flower, out of your reach “You’re banned from going anywhere without supervision.”

Your eye twitches “Captain, please. This is a scientific expedition—”

He turns “Touch another cursed-looking plant and I’ll have Bepo chain you to the ship.”

You pout “Kinky.”

His ears turn red. You catch it.

Later that night, while the others are prepping camp, you quietly flip open your hidden pouch. Inside: one perfectly preserved Miracle’s Folly bloom.

You smirk “I am a professional.”

You glance at the campfire where Law is sipping his tea, glancing up only when your giggles reach him.

His eyes narrow again.

You chew the petal. Slowly. Carefully.

It’s bitter. Burns the tip of your tongue. But beneath that… Electricity.

The world tingles. Not in a hallucinatory way but in a sharpened, humming, this-might-kill-me-or-make-me-a-god sort of way.

You lean back on your heels, staring up at the canopy as the flower’s effects trickle through your veins “Oh, I have to isolate what’s responsible for this…”

“What are you muttering now?”

Law’s voice cuts through your thoughts like a scalpel.

You jolt and whip your head around. He’s standing there, arms crossed, dark brows drawn low.

You swallow quickly “Nothing.”

His eyes narrow “You’re sweating.”

“It’s humid.”

“Your pupils are dilated.”

“I’m excited to be alive.”

He steps closer. You instinctively step back, hiding your pouch under your coat. He notices.

“Show me what’s in your bag.”

“No.”

“Y/N.”

You sigh, dramatic “You know, trust is the foundation of any good captain-crew relationship.”

“You ate that flower, didn’t you?”

“No! Just a piece of it.”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters, stepping forward “Tongue out.”

“What?”

“Tongue. Out.”

You blink at him.

He’s completely serious.

“…Always so kinky.”

He closes his eyes like he’s mentally ejecting himself from the conversation “Just do it.”

You stick out your tongue, smug “Ahhh~”

He leans in, inspecting “Slight discoloration… mild irritation… your body’s resisting the stimulant effects.”

You raise a brow “You’ve memorized what this flower does?”

“I know every entry in that ridiculous notebook you leave lying around. Including the one titled ‘Things I Definitely Shouldn’t Eat But Might Anyway’.”

Your stomach flips.

“Oh” you say, quieter.

He straightens, expression unreadable “You think I haven’t noticed? The stash in the med bay. The coded labels. You catalog poisons more lovingly than most people talk about their pets.”

You look away “It’s just… interesting. The line between medicine and poison. It’s so thin. One drop too much and—”

“You die.”

“Or you cure something incurable.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Law studies you, tone dropping low “Is that what you want? To be the one who finds what no one else has the guts to touch?”

You meet his gaze “Wouldn’t you?”

His jaw ticks.

“…You should be more careful.”

You grin “But then you’d have no one to lecture.”

Law huffs, walking past you “Bepo’s watching you tomorrow. Don’t test him.”

“Bepo lets me eat weird berries if I tell him they’re for science!”

“Exactly.”

Later that night, as the rest of the crew sleeps, Law leans over the log where you were sitting earlier.

He finds a scrap of petal.

Miracle’s Folly.

He twirls it between his fingers, thoughtful.

“You’re not letting me touch anything…” you whine.

“Correct” Law replies, not even sparing you a glance as he adjusts his gloves.

You’re trudging behind him, Bepo flanking your other side like a very fluffy prison guard. The island is buzzing with life but all you’ve gotten to do so far is stare longingly at roots and flowers like a kid with her nose pressed to a candy store window.

“I’m an herbalist,” you mutter “This is discrimination.”

“It’s self-preservation” Law deadpans.

Bepo pats your shoulder gently “You did try to lick a hallucinogenic frog yesterday.”

“It looked juicy.”

“You said you saw the celestial dragons dancing salsa.”

“…I mean, I did.”

Law shoots you a look over his shoulder.

You grin at him.

By midday, you’re sulking on a log while the others finish whatever they were doing.

You pull out your notebook and begin scribbling, sketches of the strange bulbous blue fruits you passed earlier, notes on the slightly vibrating moss near the creek, and, of course, the effects of Miracle’s Folly.

You don’t notice Law watching you.

He clears his throat “Give me your hand.”

You blink up “Why, so you can handcuff me to Bepo?”

“No,” he says, kneeling in front of you with a small vial “I want to run a test.”

You hesitate, then slowly offer your hand.

He drops a single, translucent drop of something onto your skin. It tingles.

“New tincture?” you ask, curiously sniffing it.

“Neutralized extract of Miracle’s Folly. I isolated it this morning.”

Your eyes light up “You tested it?”

He mutters “Voluntarily. With supervision.”

You snort “So boring.”

“But now I need to observe secondary exposure. You’re uniquely qualified.”

Your heart does a little somersault “You mean I’m special.”

He rolls his eyes “You’re reckless. And resilient.”

“And a little cute?”

“Don’t push it.”

You grin.

Minutes pass. He keeps his fingers on your wrist, counting your pulse with the pad of his thumb.

You try not to think about that.

“It’s steady” he murmurs.

“Disappointed?”

He ignores the question “You’re reacting differently than I expected.”

“How so?”

“Your nervous system is adapting.”

“Like immunity?”

“Like something else” he says, voice quieter now “You’ve been exposing yourself in microdoses, haven’t you?”

You pause.

“…maybe.”

He looks up at you, eyes unreadable “Why?”

You drop your gaze, suddenly unsure.

“It’s not just for fun.” you say “I mean, partly, yes. But it’s more than that. I want to understand them. The poisons. The lines. Everything people fear. I want to know it. Control it. Be stronger than it.”

He’s silent.

You add, softer, “I was sick once. Really sick. No one could help. All the doctors, all the books… nothing. But the old apothecary in my town? She mixed me something that should’ve killed me.”

You glance at him, eyes bright “But it didn’t. It saved me.”

Law doesn’t speak for a long time. When he does, his voice is gentler than before.

“You and I aren’t that different.”

You blink.

He rises to his feet, brushing off his coat “But if you ever eat another unknown fungus without telling me, I’m performing surgery with no anesthesia.”

You beam “That’s fair.”

That night, Law catches you adding a drop of something green and shimmering into your tea.

He stares.

You pause “It’s just moss extract.”

He raises a brow.

You sigh “…Okay, mildly hallucinogenic moss.”

He snatches the cup.

“Captain!”

“You can have it back after I test it.”

Your eyes widen.

“…Wait. Are you going to drink it?”

He gives you a rare smirk “For science.”

Your jaw drops. And suddenly, you think you might be falling a little bit in love.

Now you’re staring.

Not at the moss sample.

At him.

Trafalgar D. Water Law, Surgeon of Death, Warlord-turned-revolutionary, terrifyingly brilliant man of mystery… just drank the tea you spiked with a moss known to mildly bend reality.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand like it’s nothing.

You blink “That was an experimental dosage.”

“I adjusted for body weight.”

“Oh my god.”

Bepo’s ears twitch “Captain… are you sure that was smart?”

Law gives a slow blink “I’m fine.”

You and Bepo exchange a look.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s very much not fine.

“What… the hell is that?”

You follow Law’s dazed line of sight “That’s… the campfire, Captain.”

He squints.

“It’s breathing.”

You purse your lips “Okay, slightly more than mild hallucinations.”

“Why is it breathing, Y/N.”

“Symbolic warmth?”

He stares at you. His pupils are so dilated.

You pull out a notepad “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“I see seven.”

“…I’m holding up two.”

He sways.

You sigh and grab his arm “Alright, that’s enough science for tonight.”

He lets you guide him with surprising ease, mumbling under his breath.

You make it back to the tent just as the hallucinations seem to peak.

“I need to sit” he mutters.

You lower him down gently, watching as he pinches the bridge of his nose “Throbbing temple. Flashing visuals. You’re not vomiting, though… interesting.”

He opens one eye “You’re enjoying this.”

“A little,” you admit, handing him water “You’re cute when your grip on reality is slipping.”

“Y/N.”

“Mm?”

“There are tiny doctors running in circles around me.”

You blink. Then look around the tent.

“…Well. You’re not wrong.”

You sit next to him. Close, but not touching. It’s oddly quiet for a jungle night.

“Headache?” you ask softly.

He nods once.

You reach up and, very carefully, press your fingers against his temples. Slow circles. He doesn’t flinch.

“Pressure can help the tension pass” you say.

He closes his eyes. Exhales.

You pause “Tell me what else you see.”

“…You.”

You snort “No kidding.”

“No, I mean…” he trails off, brows twitching “You look… soft.”

Your hands freeze “I—what?”

“You’re glowing.”

You’re absolutely not glowing, but...

“Oh” you whisper.

“You’re always buzzing,” he murmurs “Like something dangerous in a pretty bottle.”

You stop breathing for a second.

“Law…” you say, too quietly.

But he’s not done.

“I always thought I hated that. The unpredictability. But now it feels like… I don’t know.”

He leans his head forward, forehead bumping gently against yours.

“You scare the hell out of me,” he breathes “And I think I’m starting to even like it.”

You think your heart just stopped.

“Definitely a side effect…” you whisper, but your fingers are still on his skin, still gently pressing against his temples.

He exhales “I’ll regret saying all of that, won’t I.”

You smile, a little shaken “Only if you pretend it wasn’t true later.”

Silence. He doesn’t move.

Then he mutters “I’m keeping the tea recipe."

You laugh.

Outside the tent, Bepo lowers his paw from the tent flap and whispers to Shachi and Penguin “They’re in love. Told you it wasn’t poison.”

After that, Law pretends nothing happened.

You give him three days.

Three days of ignoring the fact he hallucinated tiny doctors and confessed to liking the chaos you bring to his life. Three days of sidelong glances, awkward silences, and you very purposefully reminding him of the tea incident every time he gets too comfortable.

“Captain,” you say sweetly as you walk by him, “you’re not seeing glowing versions of me today, are you?”

He glares “No.”

“Shame. I looked great in your hallucination.”

He drops his pen. Hard.

But he doesn’t say anything else.

Coward.

Later on - You don’t mean to get sick.

Not really.

It’s just that the vines didn’t look that threatening, and you were pretty sure it was just a paralytic contact toxin, and well… maybe you’d misjudged the concentration.

The world tilts sideways.

You feel your legs give out before your brain registers it.

And then darkness.

You wake to voices.

“…found her by the river. Unresponsive.”

“I told her to stop touching unknown plants. Why can’t she just—”

“She didn’t do it on purpose.”

A long silence.

Then Law’s voice again. Quiet. Cracked.

“She always makes it look like she’s in control. But she’s not.”

You open your eyes.

The ceiling of the Polar Tang greets you. So does a pounding ache in your chest. You shift and wince.

Law’s at your side in an instant.

“Stay down.” he says, low and sharp.

Your voice is hoarse “Didn’t think I’d go out like that. No drama. No romantic poisoning. Just a stupid plant.”

His eyes flicker “It was… dramatic. You stopped breathing.”

“Oh…” you say, blinking.

“I didn’t know what it was. For once, you knew more than me. And I couldn’t—” He swallows the words.

You offer a small smile “So… scared the hell out of you, huh?”

He doesn’t answer.

Just sits back down beside you. Shoulders tense. Jaw clenched.

You watch him, softly “Law.”

“Don’t say it.” he mutters.

“Say what?”

“That I was right. That you should’ve listened. That this was inevitable. That I knew you’d get hurt eventually.”

You tilt your head “Wasn’t gonna say any of that.”

He looks up, surprised.

“I was gonna say,” you murmur, “that I’m sorry I made you worry.”

You reach out weakly, stupidly, and your hand grazes his.

“I forget sometimes,” you whisper “That people care.”

Something breaks in his expression.

“Y/N,” he says tightly, “you can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep flirting with death like it’s a hobby.”

“I wasn’t flirting with death.” you tease “That was basically a date. I only flirt with you, Captain.”

He glares.

You smile, and it fades slowly as your fingers curl around his.

“I didn’t want to die. Not really. Not before I figured out what this thing is.”

He blinks “What thing?”

“This,” you whisper “Whatever this is between us. The hallucinations. The confessions. The weird tension where you want to kill me and kiss me at the same time.”

“You’re wrong.” he says.

Your chest tightens “Oh.”

“I don’t want to kill you, you already do that to yourself alone.”

Pause.

“I just want to kiss you.”

You stop breathing.

He leans forward. Slow. Intentional. One hand brushing your jaw, tilting your face toward him like you’re something fragile and fleeting.

“Captain” you whisper.

“Y/N” he breathes.

And then he kisses you.

It’s gentle, for all of three seconds, then desperate, frustrated, furious about the fact that he was almost losing you.

When he pulls back, you’re both breathless.

“You’re the most dangerous thing I’ve ever studied” he mutters, forehead against yours.

You grin.

“And you’re my favorite side effect.”

── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:

The sun is brutal on the upper deck, but you don’t notice. You’re too busy holding a tiny, glittering vial up to the light with the reverence of someone holding an engagement ring or, in your case, an exciting new potential toxin.

It’s pink. Slightly viscous. Smells faintly like fermented fruit and regret.

Perfect.

“Please tell me you’re not going to drink that.” Marco says behind you, half-exasperated, half-terrified.

“I’m going to sip it,” you say, rolling your eyes “For science.”

“For science?” he repeats.

“For science,” you nod solemnly, uncorking the bottle “And also morbid curiosity.”

He groans “Y/N…”

Too late. You down it in one go.

There’s a moment of silence as you smack your lips thoughtfully.

“…Taste?”

“Like someone dissolved candy in cheap rum and lies.”

“Oh good,” Marco mutters “You’ve poisoned yourself again.”

You wave him off “If I die, I’ll write it down first.”

He opens his mouth to argue but a loud whistle cuts him off.

“Oi!” Ace calls, walking over shirtless, sun-drenched, grinning that smug grin that says I’ve definitely started three fires before breakfast “You experimenting again?”

You nod, blinking a bit “Just something I found in a locked crate under Izo’s bunk.”

Ace raises a brow “You… drank random liquid you found in Izo’s stash?”

“Yes,” you say matter-of-factly “And also, your laugh makes my spine feel weird.”

He stares.

You stare back.

Marco sucks in a sharp breath “Oh no.”

You tilt your head thoughtfully “And your shoulders are distracting. I’ve catalogued seventy-eight poisons but can’t remember what you said this morning because you yawned mid-sentence and I lost focus.”

“…You what?” Ace coughs.

You continue, voice perfectly even “Also, I sometimes fake headaches to watch you carry me to the infirmary. You’re very warm.”

You slam your hands on your mouth to stop it from saying more, while the crew begins to gather like sharks to blood.

Thatch appears holding popcorn. Someone is calling for Izo. There’s actual cheering.

“You’re glowing,” Marco says quietly, inspecting your skin “Shimmering. That’s one of Izo’s truth serums. A prototype he was working on some time ago.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Ace echoes weakly.

You turn to him “Also, I ranked your freckles once. The ones on your jaw are my favorite.”

Ace turns so red you think he might combust without using his powers.

“You… I… how long is this stuff supposed to last?!” he splutters.

You shrug “Few hours, probably. Don’t worry. I’ll be asleep before I get to the part about your hands.”

“What about my hands?!”

“Nothing!” you say, far too quickly “They’re just… statistically… dangerous looking.”

He’s speechless. Marco is already reaching for his notebook.

You’ve become the Moby Dick’s favorite form of entertainment.

You’re still sitting cross-legged on the deck, glittering faintly in the sun like a cursed disco ball, while the Whitebeard Pirates form a loose circle around you.

“Truth serum,” Thatch hums, rubbing his hands together “This is the best day I’ve had in weeks.”

“It’s unethical...” Marco mutters beside him.

“It’s hilarious,” Izo corrects, snapping open a fan and leaning in “Y/N, darling, be honest... who took the last chocolate muffin last week? It was you, am I wrong?”

You open your mouth immediately “Not me. It was Ace.”

“Traitor!” Ace sputters from somewhere behind you.

You shrug “You left crumbs in the storage room. Also, your heartbeat spiked when someone mentioned it at breakfast.”

Everyone turns to Ace. He throws his hands up “It was one time!”

“You licked the wrapper, too.” you add calmly “Twice.”

Someone howls.

“Alright, my turn!” Thatch grins “Y/N, have you ever sabotaged anyone’s food?”

You nod serenely “I put mild laxatives in Namur’s tea once because he wouldn’t stop stealing my ginger cookies.”

Namur gasps “You monster!”

“You deserved it,” you reply without a trace of guilt “You called my medicinal brownies ‘dirt bars.’”

“Next question,” Izo purrs, leaning forward “Have you ever kissed someone on this ship?”

The crew leans in.

You blink “No.”

“Have you thought about it?” Marco asks, suddenly very interested.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Ace.”

The sound Ace makes is somewhere between a squeak and a small, internal detonation.

The crew loses it.

“YES!”

“I KNEW IT!”

“PAY UP, IZO!”

“I had money on Marco, damn it!”

You sigh as if this is all deeply inconvenient, like the truth is just leaking out of you against your will, which, of course, it is.

You say casually “He smells good. Like firewood and something sweet. Maybe toasted sugar. I haven’t narrowed it down yet.”

Ace is covering his face with his hands now, bright red from the neck up.

“Can I go lie down?” you mumble “Or roll into the sea?”

Marco snorts “Not until the glitter wears off.”

Thatch throws an arm around your shoulder “C’mon, Y/N, one more... if you had to kiss anyone else on this ship—”

“I’d rather drink from the mildew jar in my lab.”

“…Fair.”

You blink slowly, tone still deadly calm “Thatch, you once tried to trim your chest hair with surgical scissors. Drunk.”

Thatch chokes “That was off the record!”

“No such thing,” Marco laughs “She’s the serum’s hostage now.”

“I regret nothing,” you reply “Except licking the blue mushroom last month. That hallucination lasted eight hours. I tried to dissect the air.”

Ace groans “Can someone drag her below deck before she tells everyone what I look like shirtless in creepy detail?”

You look straight at him “You’re built like a statue someone made while going through something personal.”

He explodes.

The next morning you’re back to your usual self.

The strange, glittering effects of the truth serum have worn off, leaving you feeling… normal again. You’re busy carefully grinding some herbs into powder, a mixture for your next experiment, when a familiar voice rings out behind you.

“Morning, poison queen.”

You freeze.

“Don’t call me that” you mutter without turning around, but there’s an unmistakable edge of dread in your tone.

Ace slides onto the bench next to you, uninvited, a grin spreading across his face as he leans toward you, looking like he’s about to launch into a full assault.

“Oh, I think I will...” he says, practically purring “You’re the one who told the entire crew how much you love my shoulders, remember?”

You tense “I did not—”

“And those freckles?” Ace raises an eyebrow, already loving the flush spreading across your face “Did you know that Marco bet I’d get at least five different comments on my jawline today? Maybe next time you should be more specific.”

Your eyes snap to his, and you open your mouth to argue but then he continues.

“You really should have warned me before you started cataloging all my features. Or how about when you admitted you fake headaches just so you can get me to carry you to the infirmary?”

The teasing tone in his voice is getting under your skin, and you try to focus on grinding your herbs, but his words are still ringing in your ears.

“You do know that it’s not even the ‘headaches’ you fake that’s the problem, right? It’s that you actually like it when I carry you. Which I can totally tell from the way you always sigh in my arms.”

You bite your lip, cheeks burning, desperate to look anywhere but at him.

“Or how about when you—” Ace’s voice drops low, “—admitted that I smell good? Like firewood and… What was that you said? Oh, right! Toasted sugar!”

You inhale sharply “I never said that.”

“Oh, yes you did, and you know.” he says, leaning in closer, the amusement in his eyes dangerously obvious “And you also said I’m built like a statue. Do you really think I wouldn’t remember that?”

“Shut up.” You finally look up, but your voice is strained as you meet his teasing gaze.

“I mean, I’m just curious,” Ace continues, a little too happily, “how much more stuff you’ve been hiding from me. How long have you been analyzing my muscles, exactly? Do you think they’re… aesthetically pleasing?” He pauses to let the words sink in “Hmm, maybe I should flex for you to get a clearer answer.”

The crew, who had been quietly watching from a distance (but clearly listening), suddenly bursts into laughter, but you just want to curl into a ball and disappear.

“Oh, this is good,” Thatch says, clearly enjoying the show “I never thought Ace would get revenge like this, but here we are.”

“You should see her when she’s trying to make that poison tea thing,” Marco says, shaking his head “She’s way too serious about it, but now we know she’s been obsessed with Ace’s shoulders the whole time.”

“You guys are awful.” you mutter, sinking into your chair, arms crossed tightly across your chest in an attempt to hold yourself together.

Ace, however, is not letting up. He knows the soft spots, and he’s making sure to press every single one of them.

“So, how’s it feel?” Ace grins, tapping your shoulder playfully “Being soooo open about how much you like me? You definitely don’t look uncomfortable at all.”

You shoot him a glare, but it’s hard to stay mad when he’s looking so damn smug about it.

“I don’t know, Ace. It must be so hard for you to carry the weight of being so perfect that I couldn’t stop talking about how handsome you are, huh?” you bite back.

Ace stares at you for a moment, clearly thrown off by your unexpected response. Then he laughs “Oh, that’s rich. You think you can out-tease me?”

“You’re the one who’s been doing it all day.” you shoot back, finally turning to face him fully “Seems like you loved me pointing out all the things I like about you.”

The crew laughs even harder, and Ace’s grin only grows.

“I won.” he says, smug as ever “It’s not my fault you’re so obsessed with me. Honestly, I’m kinda flattered.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are.” You roll your eyes, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

But Ace doesn’t relent “Admit it, Y/N. You’re in love with me.”

You pause.

“And if I am?” you ask coolly, holding his gaze.

The teasing gleam in his eyes flickers, then vanishes. Ace looks just a little taken aback by the way you’re holding your ground.

“Well…” He scratches the back of his head, clearly flustered now “You’ve already said it once. So I’m just making sure you’re still on the same page.”

And just like that, it’s his turn to feel the heat in his cheeks.

“Well, maybe you should stop teasing me, then.” you say with a sly smile.

Ace grins, shaking his head “Nah, this is fun. You’ll get used to it.”

Now it’s your turn to mess with Ace.

After days of relentless teasing, you’ve decided that it’s time to use his own game against him. He’s made it clear that he loves to toy with you and now, it’s time for him to spill the truth, whether he wants to or not.

The deck is quiet, the crew all doing their own thing, but you know Ace will find you soon. He always does. And, sure enough, as you’re mixing something into a flask in the corner of the kitchen, his voice floats over the rim of the doorway.

“Hey, poison queen,” he says with a grin, clearly thinking of another thing to tease you about “Are you planning to poison the whole crew with whatever concoction you’re making today? Or is it just my poor, unsuspecting self?”

You don’t answer right away, focusing on your work. You’re careful with every motion. Just one drop of this ingredient, and you’ll have him talking like a parrot for hours.

“Alright, alright, what’s in the flask today?” he presses, inching closer “Am I going to shit myself?”

You glance over your shoulder, smiling sweetly “Oh, nothing dangerous, I promise.”

“Then why do you look so… suspicious?” Ace narrows his eyes playfully, still not suspecting a thing.

You flash him a mischievous smile, taking the flask with one hand and adding a few drops of your carefully prepared herbal mix into his mug “Just a little something to make sure your day is… interesting.”

Ace raises an eyebrow, but at this point, he’s practically inviting the teasing. He’s completely unaware of the slight adjustment you made. After all, you’ve poisoned your own drinks with far worse. The concoction in his mug isn’t lethal, but it’ll get the job done.

You hand it over with a flourish “Here you go, fire boy. Drink up.”

Ace takes the mug, his smirk growing wider. He’s used to your antics, but he doesn’t know you’ve just pulled the wool over his eyes. He takes a swig, and just as the liquid slides down his throat, you watch him carefully.

But then, a few seconds later, Ace’s expression shifts, his eyes flickering with confusion as he sets the mug down.

“You okay?” you ask casually, keeping your voice neutral.

Ace blinks, a frown tugging at his features “Yeah, just… feel a little weird. Like, light-headed… You didn’t actually put something in here, did you?”

“Oh, it’s just a little herbal remedy,” you say with a shrug, your grin widening “You know, to make you feel better.”

“Well, I do feel better, but I also feel...” he admits with a nervous laugh “Weird.”

That’s your cue. You pull out a chair and sit down, raising an eyebrow “I think we can have some fun with that.”

His eyes flick to yours, unsure “What do you mean?”

“You see, I didn't drink all that bottle the other day. And, well… the thing is,” you continue, now holding his gaze, “you’ve been teasing me for days, Ace. And I’m really curious about how much of what you said was… well, the truth.”

Ace stares at you, confusion melting into realization as the drug starts to kick in, the subtle influence of your concoction making him more vulnerable to his own thoughts.

“Wait, what…?” He shakes his head, trying to focus “This is… a trick, right? Did you really—”

“So, Ace...” you say in a soothing tone, leaning in slightly “Admit it, you like me.”

Ace laughs awkwardly, his eyes unfocused as his lips move to speak without hesitation “Well, uh, yeah. I’ve liked you for a while now… I just thought it’d be funny to make you squirm about it.”

You narrow your eyes, pretending to act surprised “You like me? You’ve been teasing me because you like me?”

He stumbles over his words, but it’s too late to stop himself “Yeah, you’re like… fun. I don’t know how to act around you, okay? Every time I try to be normal, you just—ugh, you get under my skin. And I can’t stop teasing you.”

You smile wickedly, feeling the rush of victory surge in your veins.

“Is that so?” you ask sweetly, letting his confession sink in “And here I thought you were just being a brat.”

"That's just my love language ok? I don't know how to act normal around someone I like, so I just tease and tease and tease."

"Love language?" you ask actually a bit shocked "So you really do like me?? Couldn't you just confess back when I got exposed with that truth telling thing?"

"It's too complicated. I just... didn't know now." he says trying to avoind your eyes.

"You just did it."

"Well, not in a fair way, though."

"I've put nothing in that drink, you idiot..."

Ace freezes “Wait a sec… Are you messing with me right now?” he asks, his voice suddenly more wary “This isn’t real?”

“Oh, it’s very real,” you reply, letting a mischievous grin slip into your expression “The truth serum is working, wihtout even the need to actually use it. You’re just… a little more vulnerable than you think.”

His eyes widen “Wait… wait, what did you do to me?”

You chuckle, leaning back in your chair “Just a little something to get you to spill your guts. But what’s even better is that you’re admitting things you didn’t even realize you were feeling.”

Ace’s face twists as the realization hits him “I—I thought I was poisoned? You… you tricked me into confessing everything?!”

The crew, who has been silently observing the entire exchange, erupts into laughter from all corners of the room. Marco, Izo, and Thatch are barely holding it together, while the rest of the crew seems equally entertained by the spectacle.

“That’s right, fire boy,” you say, leaning closer “You weren’t poisoned at all. You were just brainwashed into thinking you were.”

Ace stares at you, his face redder than ever, looking like he’s ready to combust.

“Yeah, well, now I’m gonna make you regret it” he mutters, his earlier smugness replaced by genuine frustration and something else you can’t quite place.

But for now, you’ve won. And you’ll savor this small victory for as long as you can.

The crew is still chuckling from the aftermath of your little “truth serum” game. You can practically feel the heat radiating from Ace’s flushed face, the sheer embarrassment of his earlier confessions hanging in the air like a cloud.

“Well, Ace,” you say, leaning back in your chair with a smug grin, “I gotta say, you made it pretty easy for me to get all your secrets out.”

Ace grumbles, clearly trying to salvage what’s left of his dignity “I can’t believe I fell for that.” He crosses his arms, glaring at you but clearly not all that mad, more like… flustered.

You lean in a little closer, a teasing smirk tugging at your lips “You did admit a lot, though. Like how much you actually like me.”

That catches him off guard. He stumbles for a moment, as if he wants to deny it, but there’s no escaping the truth now “Well, what can I say, you did say a lot of embarrassing things, too, when you drank that ‘serum’.”

You raise an eyebrow, the teasing still simmering beneath your words “Like what, exactly?”

“Oh, you know, I still think about you counting my freckles…” He flashes you a grin, almost too proud of himself for turning the tables.

You smirk, taking a deep breath “Well, now that I know you like me back…” You pause for effect, leaning even closer, “I can finally say it all again without the need for any truth drink.”

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. Ace’s eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, he’s speechless “Wait, what?”

You grin, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort “Yep. So now, I’m free to repeat everything. Your teasing? It’s actually kind of cute. And maybe I even find you hot… especially with that devil fruit power of yours.” You’re clearly enjoying this far too much “Might even be into that.”

Ace is completely flustered now, cheeks burning red, and he stammers, “You… you really are messing with me, huh?”

Before you can answer, he suddenly leans forward, a spark of determination lighting up his eyes “Alright, then, I’ll just prove to you how much I like you.”

You blink, confused “What are you talking about?”

He leans in, his usual cocky grin back on his face “You wanna tell me what you like about me? Then I’ll tell you what I like about you... Like a competition since you like it.”

You tilt your head, intrigued “A competition, huh? Alright. But what’s the catch?”

Ace leans in even closer, voice dropping to a low, teasing tone “No backing out. You have to admit everything you like about me, truthfully, no holds barred.”

Your eyes glint with mischief “Alright, fine. But be warned. You might not like what you hear.”

Ace’s grin only grows wider “I’m all ears, Y/N. Let’s hear it.”

“First off,” you begin, your tone as playful as ever, “I might like how your hair looks like you just rolled out of bed. It’s… charming in a ‘I just woke up and I’m not trying’ kind of way.”

Ace scoffs, looking both proud and a little defensive “Well, you know, some people can’t pull it off, but I do.”

You roll your eyes “And I might find it kind of adorable that you get so riled up when I call you out. Your pride’s kind of cute… in a completely frustrating way.”

Ace stares at you for a second, then grins, almost cocky “I’ll take that as a compliment… for now.”

But before you can continue, someone shouts from the back of the room.

“Get a room, you two!”

The words echo across the deck, and everyone bursts into laughter. Ace’s face turns redder than ever, and for a moment, it looks like he’s about to explode.

“Shut up!” he snaps, but the crew’s laughter is uncontrollable.

But the comment gives Ace an idea. He stands up suddenly, grabbing your wrist and tugging you toward the stairs leading below deck.

“Alright, fine. We’ll take it to my room,” he says, his voice a little breathless but determined “Let’s see how much you really like me.”

You blink, surprised at his boldness, but you can’t hide the grin forming on your face “Ace… you think you can just drag me to your room and get away with it?”

“Maybe,” he says with a sly wink “But you’ll never know unless you come with me.”

You chuckle, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline you get when Ace is being this unpredictable “Alright then, hothead. Lead the way.”

The crew, of course, continues to shout playful remarks as you both head toward his room. Marco just shakes his head with a knowing smile.

Ace’s room door slams shut behind you both, and whatever happens next is anyone’s guess. But one thing is certain, this game of teasing is far from over. And in the end, neither of you is going to back down from it anytime soon.

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deikshen · 10 days ago

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Shen Qingqiu accidentally got caught in one of the plagiaristic wife plots from Airplane, becoming cursed like Medusa. Literally. Anyone he sees turns into a stone statue and has many snakes instead of hair. Airplane said it was an interesting way to explore papapa blindfolded and Shen Qingqiu hated him more for it.

However, the only one who now knows his situation is Mu Qingfang; in the eyes of the rest of the Sect, Shen Qingqiu was blinded as a result of some curse. He hides the snakes with talismans drawn on his skin that make people unable to perceive them, they just see him all the time with his long hair loose and untidy.

Snakes are a piece of shit. They hiss and talk all the time and only Shen Qingqiu can fucking understand them. They gossip about how sexy Liu Qingge is, talk shitty about Airplane, and make weird and unfortunate comments all the time. Shen Qingqiu can hardly concentrate many times.

Snakes are also... nice. In a way. They nibble at his cheeks and force him to eat something. They tell him secrets they hear. They smell the air and tell him when it's going to rain or if a disciple has been misbehaving. With Luo Binghe in the Abyss, they are certainly pleasant company.

Then Jinlan arrives, and Shen Qingqiu may be blind to the jianghu, but that doesn't mean he won't show up. It will help even with a blindfold – in fact, he can see through it, albeit in black and white and mostly in very poor quality. It's as if he's using his qi to see thanks to the talismans he's developed with Mu Qingfang! Which also means that when Without-a-Cure attacks him, he's completely blind behind the blindfold, but oh well. Occupational hazards.

And then, Luo Binghe is there.

And their snakes go fucking crazy, excited, not one of them is scared, damn it! They've all heard of Binghe – seriously, Shen Qingqiu may have told them about Binghe, but SERIOUSLY! Don't put it like that! It's just his disciple who came back to kill him. And the Protagonist. YOU, ENOUGH SAYING HE'S SEXY.

Shen Qingqiu survives the first encounter without being dismembered, with the whole bunch of snakes murmuring and squealing excited hisses that only Shen Qingqiu can hear and understand. Fine. He just needs to protect himself with Liu-shidi and...

And of course Luo Binghe steps forward, cornering him in his own room. Of course he had to be faster and...

God, seriously, stop saying he's hot!

Shen Qingqiu is grateful that no one but him can hear any of those chaotic snakes. Except that–

Why the HELL can Luo Binghe also hear and understand them!? Seriously, Airplane!? That wasn't in the novel!! Luo Binghe, don't castrate your scum Shizun for being lustful too, all that stuff about you being sexy and hot isn't just thoughts you're accidentally hearing! It's the snakes in the hair of this master!!

... Why doesn't Luo Binghe seem disgusted by all those snake murmurs, though? There's no way he's okay with Shen Qingqiu thinking that way about him – AND IT'S NOT THAT SHEN QINGQIU THINKS THAT WAY ABOUT HIM!

#svsss #svsss ideas #mxtx svsss #svsss au #bingqiu #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #airplane wifeplots #are snakes thoughts of sqq? yes #next question #sqq medusa au #i'll do something with this someday #i don't know if soon #meanwhile #lbh is being very normal with listening to his shizun's “thoughts”#he doesn't understand how he got it but #he won't waste it as long as shizun still thinks he's hot

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againaweasel · 6 months ago

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“We know nothing about canon Remus-“

My brother in Christ we know he sleeps with his mouth slightly open

He snorts in his sleep sometimes

That even tho his belongings are falling apart the knots and stitches he puts around things are meticulously neat and tidy (controlling what he can control)

That after a full moon he’s so exhausted he can sleep all day

His voice is hoarse

He can do (or at least it’s implied) wandless magic to create flames

His first response to an attacker is to talk to it (and be real sassy with it)

He’s competent enough to get rid of said attacker

He gives away the cure to dementors but doesn’t seem to eat any himself

He smiles a whole lot, considering

He can go from asleep to perfectly alert in seconds

He’s sickly looking to the point “a good curse would finish him off”

He’s likely thin

He has his name on his suitcase but the lettering is old and worn suggesting he’s been called Professor before (likely as a joke but we can’t tell that quite yet)

He looks young despite grey hair, it’s noticeable that he’s been prematurely aged

He’ll take responsibility and check in with the driver

He’ll write to pomfrey to tell her that a student is hurt

And this is just Chapter 5 of PoA- when he’s asleep for 90% of the chapter! Imagine the shit we get when he’s awake

#at this point it does seem like a skill issue #remus lupin #marauders #James we know very little about #but REMUS? no no

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harryspet · 2 months ago

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the island program | r.cameron

[warnings] dark!gray!rafe cameron x addict!reader, billionaire!rafe, obsessive rafe, pogue!reader, sober!rafe, rafe has a private island, rafe and reader with established relationship, kidnapping, descriptions of s ubstance a buse & withdrawal, praise kink, dom/sub dynamic, mental health themes, stockholm syndrome, rafe controls everything, spanking, DUBCON

a/n: I really wanted to write Rafe taking you to his private island :)

divider credit: @/h-aewo

In which the cure for your cravings is a softer life, a secluded island, and Rafe’s personal brand of discipline.

word count: 5.9k

rafe cameron masterlist

Rafe hadn’t heard from you in three weeks. He completed his important meetings, signed million-dollar contracts, and immediately tried to get in contact with you. You were always on his mind even though he was never on yours. He’d texted you about fifty times. No reply.

He’d gotten you that expensive phone so you could call if you needed help but you’d never used it when it was an actual emergency. You didn’t call him when you needed to be bailed out. You didn’t call him when you needed a ride from the bar. So stubborn. You’d walk the eight miles back to your motel room in heels. He was starting to believe you were doing this to spite him.

You did call him, however, when you needed money for drugs. Rafe went in circles with you. You’d shun him when he didn’t give in. When he offered you shelter and let you get high within the safety of his expensive condo, you stole from him.

It wasn’t always like this. At one point, you actually wanted help. That’s how you and Rafe met. A narcotics anonymous meeting in a church basement that smelled like mildew and cigarettes. It took him two years to actually get clean and that was thanks to the meetings, his sponsors, and his determination to finally fulfill his father’s wishes for his future. He relapsed about three times but now he had been clean for an entire year.

He thrived now. Without the influence of mind-altering substances, he could actually make good business deals. He could make a real future for himself. He grew up lucky but he wouldn’t waste that privilege any longer. He had crawled out of the hole and hoped you would follow behind him.

Except you didn’t grow up as lucky as Rafe. He thought he was good for you. He recognized the sadness in your eyes. He knew what it felt like when the world was against you. Rafe often took what he wanted but he took his time with you. You needed a sponsor but sponsoring someone required a lot of trust. If you were any other girl, he would’ve devoured you whole. Your soft skin. Big, beautiful, tired eyes. Plump and raspberry-colored lips. Long curls that defied gravity, never tamed by a hair tie. Your uniform usually consisted of a pair of jean shorts and a worn hoodie that swallowed your frame.

The first time he actually talked to you was outside of the Marlin Mart, after filling up his truck with gas. He wandered into the store for soda and a pack of gum but walked into a chaotic scene. The gas station owner had you by your wrist, shouting curses at you, while you tried to pull away from him, “Hey, hey, hey,” Rafe intervened quickly, “Let her go, man!”

“She’s a thief!” You twisted in his grip, eyes wild, defiant, like a cornered animal ready to bite. “Let me see what's in your pockets!”

“I don’t have anything, old perv! Let me go!” You shouted back.

“Let her go,” Rafe said again, placing a strong hand on the man’s chest, commanding, pushing him back, “Calm down, I’m paying for her.”

The man argued, of course, but Rafe talked him off the ledge. When Rafe turned back to you, he gave you a warning look. C’mon, I’m helping you not get arrested, he wanted to say. You gave in a moment later. You emptied your pockets. A bag of skittles, potato chips, and a can of Modelo. Rafe took in a breath, taking the items in his hands, and walked over to the gas station counter.

You spoke to him the first time when Rafe found you outside, leaning against a tall ice box, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Rafe gave you your items, wondering you were hungry and this was your sad excuse for a meal, “I’m Rafe, I’ve seen you at a few meetings.”

You didn’t give away whether you really recognized him or not. It didn’t matter, Rafe had already memorized the details of your face. You could brush him off but he’d find a way to talk to you again. He wanted to know you.

“Hmm,” Was all you said.

“If you want a real meal, I could take you to the Wreck. We could talk about the program, and you know, recovery.”

“I don’t put out for gas station food and burgers,” When you rolled your eyes, sticking your hands in your jacket pockets, Rafe’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“I’m not – not trying to be shady. It’s just been awhile since I’ve met someone under the age of thirty who’s in recovery. Just trying to be nice. It’s on me, you don’t have to give me anything in return.”

You used to look at Rafe like he was an alien. Like no one from his side of the island had ever spoken a kind word to you. You didn’t trust him. Rafe wasn’t sure if you knew how to trust anyone. Later, the two of you talked over bowls of hot gumbo. Well, Rafe did most of the talking. He talked about how hard it’s been maintaining his sobriety, how much he’s grateful for the sponsor that practically saved his life, and how much more control he feels over his life.

Rafe always like control. It just took him so long to realize how much chaos all of the alcohol and blow were bringing to his life. He saw something spark in your eyes, a glimmer of something real, but it went away quickly.

At the end of the lunch, you leaned across the table, a wicked smile on your lips, “I bet you know where the Kooks like to party. I’ve never tried any expensive shit. Maybe we could get fucked up tonight.”

You hadn’t been listening. Not really. But he understood why. He would help you get to the other side of your problems. You were too beautiful to leave to your own demons. Rafe could save you.

He should’ve known that you’d disable your location services. It slowed him down but Rafe had prepared for this. He had informats. Other druggies that would keep eyes on you and snitch on the dealers who sold to you. Sheriff deputies that gave him a call whenever you got booked into the county jail.

He tracked you down to a motel, someone had seen you enter a room with some lowlife guy last night. They were lucky to have disappeared before Rafe arrived. Rafe couldn’t even count on two hands how many sleazy guys had to injure to the point of hospilization because he found them on top of you while you were out of it or because they had sold you something.

Rafe knew you were starting to hate him. He could take the hate. As long as you were alive.

Surprisingly, you weren’t passed out when he found you. You opened the door when he knocked. He could smell that you were newly showered, your hair freshly washed, but Rafe quickly spotted the remnants of last nights “fun” sitting on the nightstand. You were wrapped in a robe, a mascara wand in your hand, your makeup half done.

“Who paid for the room? I know it wasn’t you.”

An eye roll, of course, “I have more sugar daddies than you, Rafe.”

“I’m not–” He stopped himself from arguing, “What are you getting ready for?”

“None of your business,” You turned away, marching towards the bathroom, “You worry so much.”

Rafe followed, standing in the doorway. He watched the way your hands trembled as you tried to paint your eyelashes. The tremors were new. Things were getting bad. How were things getting worse when his leash had tightened so much?

“Y/N,” Rafe said, tired, exhausted, “I want to help you.”

“And I never asked for your fucking help,” You said although Rafe knew you didn’t mean it, “I’m going away for a while. Gonna get out of your hair.”

His fingers tightened around the wooden trim of the door frame, “With who?”

“Always with the questions,” Even now, you were beautiful. Even with bloodshot eyes and track marks on your skin, “You can’t stop me.”

“I can. I have before. I’ll tie you down to the bed and stop you from hurting yourself.”

“What if I told you I was going to get help?” You looked at him and Rafe knew you were lying. All you did was lie, “My friend knows about this new treatment program. I’ve done every program this entire state has to offer. She’s gonna drive me there.”

“And you need mascara for rehab?”

“Anyways, it’s in Florida. Gonna make it a little road trip. You should be happy for me. I’m finally listening to you.”

“If you go, you’ll probably get yourself killed in a few weeks.”

“Fuck you, Rafe.” The mascara hit the sink with a clatter. You turned, fists flying at his chest. He let you. When the hits got harder, more frantic, he caught your wrists, then your waist. You weighed less than the last time this happened. You always forgot to eat when you were using.

He sat you on the edge of the bed, pinning your thighs when you tried to kick. It was nothing. Rafe was all muscle, all control. You were all bones and smoke.

“Ugh,” you groaned, still struggling, “What do you want, huh? I can do this on my own.”

“You can’t,” Rafe said, feeling like a broken record, “Come home with me. I’ll take care of you.”

Rafe felt some of the tension in your body melt away, your shoulders sagged, and you let out a breath. You were considering it, he thought. Maybe you’d finally grown exhausted too. He loosened his grip and fixed his blue eyes on yours, “Hey, I’m serious,” He continued, “You need sleep and an actual meal. I promise there will be no hospitals, no doctors, just you and me.”

“Rafe,” You whispered weakly. He saw a glimmer of that innocent side he knew was inside of you. A little girl begging to be taken care of and loved, “I see the way you look at me…”

“What way do I look at you?” Rafe noticed it though he didn’t give it away in his eyes. Your legs parted slightly, your head tilted to the side as you looked him over. Your eyes became playful.

“Like you think I’m pretty …. even like this.”

“I do,” Rafe said, his voice deep and sure, “I think you’re beautiful, Y/N.”

“You can have me. You can have it.”

“Y/N-“

“I know you want to. I’d play nice. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

You smiled. Rafe’s heart was breaking in his chest.

“And you’d want something in return,” Rafe spoke knowingly. You parted your lips to argue but Rafe continued. He stood tall, towering over your figure, “You think I couldn’t have already taken that from you if that’s all I wanted? It wouldn’t be hard even if you didn’t play nice. You’re weak. You’re fucked up every time I see you. Sad thing is, you’d probably let me do it over and over again if that meant you could score.”

His voice hardened. The words landed like punches. And still, you didn’t look away.

“Stop,” That was all you managed.

“That’s not all I want, Y/N. I want all of you. I want you safe. Clean. Sober. I want you to fucking listen to me not because you’re looking for your next fix. I want you to listen because I’m the one who gives a shit. Who’s going to give you everything you need. Guidance. Structure. Love. All of it.”

You shook your head. You probably stopped listening in the middle of his rambling, “I don’t deserve that.”

“I’ll tell you what you deserve,” Rafe let out a breath. His rough hands nervously roamed over his shirt, buzzed hair, “Get your shit together. You’re not going to fucking Florida. If you don’t want me to have your friend arrested for possession then you’ll pack your shit and get in my truck.”

You stood, shoulders squared like you wanted to fight, but you were shaking again. You’d burned through whatever energy you have left. You were hollow. Empty. Rafe could see it.

“You want to own me,” you spat, but the words lacked conviction.

“I already have you, angel. That’s what I can’t get you to understand.”

That night, Rafe gave you another chance. Took you home. Let you put yourself together. Fed you until you were sick. It was routine. You relaxed, laughed a little, told him scraps of what you'd been through. You always smiled through the shame. You fell asleep against his chest during some movie neither of you were watching. He carried you upstairs. You probably hadn’t slept in three days.

The banging woke him up just after dawn. You were gone.

He moved downstairs, groggy and shirtless, drawstring pants hanging low on his hips. The banging was frantic. He opened the kitchen drawer and took out the syringe Barry gave him. He’d practiced. He was ready.

Rafe held the full syringe at his side as he approached the front door. There you were, wild and furious. “You locked me in? Open the door, Rafe! I’m serious, I can’t do this. Please,” Your eyes wandered down to his right hand, hanging by his side, “What’s that?”

Rafe slowly closed the distance between you. The rest had given you some of your strength back. Even as you scratched at his arms, Rafe kept you pinned to the door, “Rafe! Don’t! Please!” You screamed, tears in your eyes.

He shushed you as the needle finally pricked the side of your neck. Your eyes were wide and sad, “It’s okay, baby. I got you,” Your eyelids started to droop and you pushed at him weakly. Rafe caught you when your legs finally gave out, “It’s okay, just sleep. I’m gonna take care of you.”

You sat up too quickly. You were going to be sick. Your seatbelt kept you in place. You squeezed at the soft, italian-leather of your seat. You tried to get your bearings. Your lips parted. You thought you were talking but your voice came out in a moan.

You sat back, your body was weak, your head lolled to the side. A window. Clouds. A blue ocean. Your eyes fluttered until they were wide open, “Easy,” A familiar voice said.

“What did you do?” Your voice cracked. You tugged at your seat but your fine motor skills were practically useless. You were so foggy. Not in the way you usually felt when you were coming down or withdrawing. That needle. He’d knocked you out. On purpose. “What the fuck did you do?”

He was calm. Calmer than he’d ever been.

“It was the only way. You were hysterical yesterday. And you haven’t been in your right mind for a long time,” You shook your head, “I made a decision. And you’re gonna hate me for awhile. But this is gonna be good for you. For us, too.”

You’d really done it this time. This was your fault. Why did you have to show the most unhinged side of yourself to him?

You were so angry at him. If you were honest with yourself, it wasn’t because you were sitting on his private jet, going to a foreign place. It wasn’t even because you actually hated him. It was because you knew that Rafe wasn’t going to let your skin touch another heroin needle, let your lips taste another sip of alcohol, or let you smoke another joint to mellow your withdrawal symptoms.

Fuck, you thought. Fuck. Fuck.

Despite the warnings from his business partners about the futility of the tiny island of Isla Brisas, five hundred miles from the Ecuadorian coast, Rafe had proved them all wrong. There was no long-lost treasure, but his plan had not led to Cameron Development's bankruptcy as they had predicted. Not only had his men found gold, but there was a good chance that the parts of the island that had yet to be explored would yield similar findings.

His secret project. No one would ever disturb the two of you. No one would even be looking for you, he knew that. But he wanted you to feel like it was only the two of you in this world. No one on the island would consider helping you. The closest piece of civilization was thirty miles away on the Galapagos islands.

The villa was tucked between a grove of palm trees. The backyard stretched into the soft slope of a green hillside. The front of the house had a winding, stone path that led to an infinity pool before a five-minute walk shaded by tropical trees took you to a private beach. White sand sparkled underneath the sun, kissed by turquoise waves..

There were no fences. No barbed wire. No obvious guards. But inside there were rooms with locks that clicked shut when he pleased. Windows that let in the sun during the day but provided blackout privacy at night. Staff that were local. Silent. Loyal. Bought.

The first two weeks on the island happened in a blur. The bed was massive, the sheets always cool, even though your skin was often on fire. If you weren’t sleeping for hours at a time then you weren’t sleeping at all. You threw up everyday. Rafe was usually there, holding your hair, rubbing circles on your back. You begged him everyday to stop letting you suffer, to help you feel better.

“I am making you better,” He’d always say. The only drugs he gave you helped your sleep and nausea, they didn’t get you high, and a week into the nightmare, he starting giving you something for the depression and anxiety. The depression was probably the worst symptom.

He carried you from the bed, to the bathroom, and to the bathtub. He brushed your teeth, detangled your hair, and changed your clothes. You fought him in the ways that you could. It didn’t matter. Rafe did what he wanted. You kept trying to hate him.

One morning, you finally had the strength to pick yourself off the bed. You looked down at your hands and legs. Some of the bruising on your inner arms had started to fade, some had scarred. You could already tell there was more meat on your bones. Your stomach didn’t ache with hunger. You smoothed your hand down over your dress. The yellow night gown was light-weight, smooth and your fingers traced over the lacy floral designs that decorated it. It barely reached the middle of your thigh. And you were sure you’d never worn anything like this. You’d never worn anything this nice. Nothing so…delicate.

You wobbled towards the master bathroom. It was so big that even your steps seemed to echo. You gasped when you saw your appearance. Tentatively, you touched the skin of your face, unsure that it was really yours. You looked brighter, your eyes were no longer sunken in, the darkness under your eyes had smoothed out.

You looked away and wandered further into the bathroom. You took note of a modern soaking tub and a spacious shower with a rainfall shower head. You found the walk-in closet next, a heavy silence pressing against you. You were walking into someone else’s life, you were sure of that. It was neatly organized, large, and one side, from floor to ceiling, hung all of Rafe’s polished clothing.

On the other side was a stark contrast. Your fingers grazed over the soft fabric of a dress that was hanging at eye level. Silk, just like the one you were wearing, except this one would reach down past your knees. Soft hues of pink blush, pale golds, baby blues, and creamy whites filled the racks. More dresses. Skirts. Delicate. Frilly, even. The only pants you found were shorts and those were all silk as well. Pastel ribbons and lace.

Your fists squeezed at your side. Did he expect you to feel happy? This wasn’t yours. This was the wardrobe of some island princess. Who did he think you were? You closed your eyes tight. God, you just wanted to get high. This would all be easier if you didn’t have to feel. You could handle this. You could pretend to be what he wanted if he just let you get high.

You found Rafe on the balcony connected to the bedroom. Looking through the glass sliding door, you saw him leaning against the balcony’s railing, a phone pressed to his ear. The view behind him was dazzling. The sand was so white it was blinding. He wore board shorts and a cream-colored unbuttoned shirt. The conversation seemed tense.

This was your chance. You weren’t sure if you wanted to step forward or to run. You took a step back but just as you did, his head turned. He said something into the phone that you couldn’t hear. You turned quickly, too fast, you felt a headache coming on. You hurried to the bedroom door anyways, padding over a soft carpet, before you tried to yank at the large, mahogany doors. They didn’t budge. Of course.

You heard the glass doors slide open and the sound of crashing waves flooded your ears.

“You’re out of bed,” He said. You turned, pressing your back against the door, and mentally cursed. Rafe looked different too. He looked happy, hopeful, “Look at you… you look so good–”

“Where is this place?”

“Far, far away.”

You pressed a hand to you forehead, “God, I feel like shit.”

“I know,” Rafe spoke, eyes understanding, “It’s gonna be a process. But you - you look better than you have in so long.”

“I don’t–”

“You really do,” Rafe took a step forward. He was so handsome. Sometimes you forgot. He was tall, commanding, and he seemed to be coming into his own even more as his business became more successful. You hadn’t even seen the rest of the house but you never understood until now how successful he’d become. It made your stomach twist, “I love you like this.”

You shook your head defiantly, “At the detox clinic, they give you stuff to help with the cravings. Helps with the withdrawal. It’s too painful without. Just a small amount would help wean me off.”

“You’re not going to find a bottle of wine in this house. No pills. No stash under the sink. Best I can do is an ibuprofen.”

Your chest heaved and your eyes started to burn, “That’s not enough. You can’t just lock me up and expect me to raw dog my way through withdrawal.”

His expression didn’t change, even as your tears started to fall, “I hate to see you in pain. I’m here to take care of you but I need your cooperation. If you sit down on the bed, I’ll give you some pain medication.”

“I don’t want your fucking medicine!” Rafe’s jaw clenched, “Take me home!”

In a matter of seconds, he had you by your wrists, and was hauling you over to the bed, “You make this easier for yourself by listening. I’m done playing by your rules. I’m in control now. Do you hear me?” Rafe growled, pinning your arms above your head. His knees parted your legs and he pressed his weight onto you, “You are going to be obedient.”

“You can’t do this,” You whined, struggling beneath him, “You can’t fucking do this!”

“I can!” His deep voice rumbled across your skin, and for the first time, you were actually scared of him, “I’ve decided I’m not going to let you kill yourself. I’ve decided you’re going to live and this is the life I’m giving you. You’re going to do what I say, when I say it. You’re going to eat three meals a day, exercise, take your fucking vitamins, breathe fresh air, and you’re going to act like you’re happy until it starts to feel real.”

“Fine, okay – just let go – you’re hurting me–”

He scoffed. “Hurting you? After what you’ve done to yourself? After what you’ve let happen to you? I’m the one hurting you?”

And then his mouth was on yours. Crushing. Possessive. Final.

It felt like love. Even though all his weight was on top of you and he hadn’t asked for your permission. It felt like love because of how gentle and hot his kisses were against your lips, against your neck, and against your jaw. He squeezed you tightly but not to bruise. Not because he was getting off on your pain.

It was a warm embrace. You tried to run from it. It was so overwhelming that he fit against you like a matching puzzle piece. Strong hips rocked against yours and it made you dizzy. It was perfect. Just what you needed. Your headache was gone, all you could feel was him, hard and heavy against you.

He pushed the top of your nightgown to the side, took your nipples into his mouth, and sucked until your back was arching. “Please don’t,” You begged but the more you talked, the less you were able to hear yourself, “Rafe, I can’t.”

He sounded like an animal, a deep rumbling in this throat, vibrated against your skin. Like you’d denied him so long of his primal instincts. This was your fault.

“So fucking beautiful,” It was out of your control. He’d decided that you were ready. He got you there easily. Rocking against your hips, grinding into you, making your juices soak through your lacy yellow panties. You were so ready that when he finally pushed inside of you, he met no resistance at all, “All mine.”

Your head tilted back just as a strong hand wrapped around your throat. You screamed but he didn’t stop. He went faster, thrusted deeper, “Look at you,” He spoke in a low rasp, “You’re gonna come already, aren’t you?”

You gritted your teeth. It was painful. You tried to push the pleasure away. He noticed and became relentless. You screamed again, “Fucking feel it,” he commanded, “Fuck, you’re fucking perfect. Made for me. You can take it. Fucking take it.”

Clenching around him, your body betrayed your mind. Reisting had made it worse. You convulsed around him and he tightened his grip around your throat. You expected a break, some sort of relief, when Rafe finally pulled out of you. Your muscles were still twitching, squeezing, your walls ached. You felt empty.

He flipped your body easily. Your fingers clenched the sheets as he pulled your underwear down to your ankles. A series of spanks against your bare ass made you yelp but you kept still. He pressed his weight down on you again, sliding into your welcoming hole from behind. At this angle, he could go even deeper. He kissed above your ear, “Good girl,” Your lips formed a permanent “o”, “Stay like that. My good girl.”

You came again. This time because of the voice in your ear. It put you in a daze. You didn't know if you wanted to cry or to beg him to stop, but the words didn’t come. Only the sound of his praise, "Good girl," "You're perfect", each word tightening its hold on you, sinking deeper inside. Finally he softly said an, “I love you so much”. You hadn’t ever felt anything like this. Consumed and cared for. Used and loved. It was everything, all at once.

Rafe didn’t sugar-coat his intentions. He was training you. You made the mistake of showing him that he could give you pleasure. That your mind melted when he was fucking you. He could make you chase after the orgasms. It was the only high he provided you.

You ate all three meals provided to you and he’d bury his face between your legs on top of the kitchen table. You went out to the pool and swam with him instead of throwing vases, he fucked you hard against a lounge chair. You went a whole week without asking him for drugs and he’d fingered you until you lost your voice. You wore a bow in your hair, a pink mini dress he picked out, and sat in his lap while he worked in his office and you came for the first time with his finger in your ass.

You’d replaced one addiction with another. You still thought about your old life almost every hour of every day but the pleasure took the edge off.

The first time you’d seen another person other than a cleaning lady was when Barry, Rafe’s business partner, came to visit. He warned you to be on your best behavior. You saw it as a chance to be on Rafe’s good side for a long time. Maybe that meant you would be able to get away with more. Maybe that meant he’d do that thing again where he tied you down to the bed, put a vibrator on your clit, and made you cum over and over.

They were out together, surveying whatever Rafe’s secret project was. He still kept all his business under wraps. All you knew was that there was gold involved. And you’d only heard that when you were eavesdropping on one of his calls.

When they returned at dinnertime, you had dinner and a dessert ready. Grilled mahi-mahi and sweet potatoes for the entree and chocolate cake for dessert. You started early, knowing you might burn your first attempt. Luckily, you perfected the recipe on the second attempt.

You chose a floral, white dress, one that was low-cut and showed off your ever developing breasts. You were slightly insecure about them but Rafe complimented your blossoming figure consisting.

Rafe eyed you cautiously but Barry was more than impressed. You hugged Barry to greet him and you felt the man’s hands linger on your waist for a moment too long.

You made conversation easily. Your tone was light, almost fake, but this was how Rafe wanted you. You smiled until it felt real. Barry thought all of his jokes were funny. You laughed politely.

You served them both chocolate cake, leaning over each of them as you scooped a slice on to each of their plates. Rafe eyed you again, “After dessert, should we all get in the pool?” You asked, your eyes flirty and on Barry. He smiled, gold-tooth flashing.

“That sounds–”

Rafe interrupted him, “You want a beer, Barry?”

Your heart pounded. Your lips parted, “A beer?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Barry responded, unaware of the tension between you and Rafe.

“Angel, could you get two beers for me and Barry from the fridge in the pantry? I had some flown in the other day,” You hid your hands behind your back, to hide how bad they’d started shaking.

You hadn’t noticed any beers. Then again, you hadn’t looked in that fridge in awhile. What was he doing? Without another word, you turned on your heels and made your way to the pantry. To your surprise, and likely, your downfall, there was a pack of beers in the fridge.

Shaking you picked up two. Just two. You stared down at them, cold, condensation dripping down the glasses. Fuck. You hadn’t chosen this. Rafe chose this. It was just beer. It wasn’t a hard drug. He didn’t have the right to do this. He was testing you.

It took everything in you to walk back to the table and set them in front of each of the men, “Thanks, sweet thing.”

Still trembling, you sat back down in your seat. You were sweating. You watched both of them. Rafe’s strong hands twisted open his bottle. You sat eerily still as the men enjoyed their dessert and the alcohol. The conversation continued without you.

You tuned back in when you heard Rafe say, “Why don’t you head out there, Barry, and we’ll join you in a second.”

Barry’s eyes flicked between you and Rafe, suspicious, before he said, “Sure.”

When the coast was clear, Rafe asked, “What are you trying to do?”

“What?” You asked though your attention was fixed on his glass.

“You’re trying to get something,” Rafe said. Of course you were. All addicts do is use other people to get what they want.

You didn’t move your eyes from the glass.

“Hey, look at me,” And you did. It had become second nature. Do as your told, “You’re strong. You’ve been doing so good.”

“I’m not,” You disagreed.

Rafe tilted his head back, taking a sip, “You’re my good girl, right?”

“Yes,” You said quickly, “I’m trying. Maybe if I could just have a sip–”

“I know what you really want, Y/N, and you know I can’t give you that,” Rafe continued, voice steady, “You know what I can give you though.”

You nodded, “Okay,” You rubbed your hands nervously over your dress. Your palms were sweaty, “Can I have your cock, please? Can you make me cum?”

“Stand up, lift up your dress and bend over the table,” You did so quickly. You even made sure to pull down your panties. You were already wet. He didn’t need to warm you up. Sometimes you liked it better when he skipped the foreplay and went straight for what he wanted. You liked it. You had a purpose. You had love.

He didn’t move immediately. He watched you. He took his time, finished his beer.

“All this was because you wanted a reward, huh?”

“Yes, Rafe.”

His chair scraped against the marble floor as he stood. God, you were soaked. If he could just touch you –“You trying to manipulate me now? Use my friend to get what you want?”

“N-No–”

He spanked you so hard you screamed, one of your legs kicking up as you tried to fight through the pain, “Y-Yes, I-I’m sorry!”

“I know when you’re lying. I’ve always fucking known. You’re bad at it.”

“I’m sorry,” Another spank. You winced.

“You’re not gonna have a sip of beer. You’re not gonna cum either, okay?”

“Rafe, please, I’ll be–” Five hard spanks.

“Shut up, angel,” Five more spanks, “This is what this has all been about. Discipline. Not giving into temptation. You’re so close to getting it.”

Shame. You used to run from it. You were so ashamed of your life and your decisions that you wanted to feel nothing. With Rafe, you felt everything. Shame. Depression. Happiness. Pleasure. All of it. He didn’t let you run from it.

He kept going until you were sobbing and your thighs were glistening with the need that had dripped down from your aching center.

When he was done, he was out of breath. You were sorry. So sorry. He was right. You just needed more discipline, “Thank you,” You whispered, pulling your body from the table. Your body had grown stronger but you were still so much weaker than him. Part of you liked that, “Thank you, Rafe.”

You got down to you knees, “For what, angel?”

“For caring,” Your voice was so weak. You hugged his leg, rested your head against his knee, “Thank you for caring.”

He bent down, brushing a hand through your hair before trailing his fingers gently along your cheek. You leaned into his touch instinctively, eyes fluttering closed.

“I want you to go upstairs,” he murmured, “put on your swimsuit—the one-piece with the sunflowers. Then grab one of my belts and lay it on the bed and come back down.”

“I’m going to spank you again tonight,” he continued, almost reverent. “And I want you to thank me again. Just like this. Just as perfect as you are right now.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. Trembling legs brought you up the stairs. You’d never felt like this before. You wanted Rafe to be proud of you.

Reblogs w/ your thoughts are the best way to support me! Please message me with drabble ideas for this au if you have any :)

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