#Ruby best practices

[lum164]

this is just some mens anatomy practice, i know it looks janky but muscles are fun to draw

by the way, this is a human au, they are full on mecha in canon i fear

[fangswbenefits]

Having nursing students from my nursing school is always a blast cause it just shows me that some teachers still refuse to correct the information/practices they teach..... and it's been years. Then, when these students go out into the field, the nurses there just sigh and go "listen.... who taught you this? there's scientific evidence against this practice??"

[uncle-cucky]

Will you take her hand?

[arminsumi]

ㅤ★ ONETWOTHREEFOUR — MAX!

... bully!Gojo loves fucking you in the bathroom stall, turning his creampies into whipped cream inside you. But you know what else he loves? Plugging you up with a vibrator and surprising you by turning it on mid-lecture — and passing the control over to his best friend.

ㅤ★ requested by anon / promptlist

ㅤ★ cws; strictly no under 18s, smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, secret public sex/nearly caught (poor confused Choso just getting moaned at), multiple orgasms/creampies, remote toy control, Suguru gets passed the remote, dirty talk, some spanking/ass slapping

There's just no way he can reach your little hole without bending his knees — and still you have to be poised on your tippy toes to let him fuck you.

Body shuddering with your hands splayed against the bathroom stall's pretty pink wall, your skirt fisted in his big hands and your thong pushed to the side of your puffy lips, bully!Gojo thrusts into your poor overused pussy 'till she cries, 'till she gushes, 'till he groans and releases another cumload against your cervix, 'till he turns his creampies into whipped cream.

Sure, his cockhead is oversensitive from plunging into your wet walls, and his balls are sore from slapping into your poor puffy clit for creampie after creampie, and yeah, there's cum dripping down the front of his thighs— but he's fucking you to put you in your place. And with how addicted he is to the feeling of being inside you, getting his pretty pink cock hugged tight by your walls, he just can't stop now.

His hips practically move on their own. His cock keeps telling him not to pull out just yet — it's telling him let's let her have it.

In mock affection, he presses his sweaty cheek against your forehead, white wispy bangs sticking to your skin, eyes glued to your jiggling breasts, big hand coming down to rub your clit. "Insensitive, huh?" he asks in a dangerous coo, "I'll show ya how fucking insensitive I can be." and with that, he's frantically massaging circles on your super fucking sensitive clit.

"Ah! Fuck! T-t-toruuu, I'm sorry! I didn't even mean it, I was just a-angryyy!" you sob out, feeling his mean cockhead rubbing sweet spots deep inside you.

His clit rubbing is ruthless, and he's a messy boy you know he doesn't care that his fingers and palm are coated with your slick.

"Nah, you meant it." he grunts back, blue eyes piercing you with a glare, hips pounding into you from the back, muscles twitchy 'n tensing, "Now stay still 'n take it. I told'ya I was gonna fuck that attitude out of ya, didn't I?"

You let out a strangled moan at his words, nearly going limp against the shuddering bathroom stall's wall. Satoru presses your head against it, smushing your cheek, getting rougher by the second.

He's still tightly fisting your skirt in his hand, other hand sometimes tugging harshly on your pathetically tiny thong — the one he told you to wear today, or else he's gonna throw one of his spoiled rich boy tantrums. He can't resist groping at your soft ass and spreading your ruby red smacked cheeks wide.

Satoru momentarily stills inside you, choking you up with how deep he chooses to keep his throbbing cock, and then he repositions himself; sharp polished black shoes clicking as he spreads his long legs further apart.

"New angle, hope ya like it." he jokes, angling his cock so it curves right against the gummy roof of your pussy, right against that spot.

"Oh fuck!" you cry out when he starts pounding up into your hole, nearly lifting you off your feet with the force of each thrust, makin' your sweaty body jiggle erotically.

He watches you widen your eyes when his cock hits a sweet spot just right, the one that makes your eyes twitch in pleasure 'n your knees buckle.

You're gushing around him, totally soaking his length, pussy too full of his gooey creampies 'n now they're leaking out and running down your thighs.

His cock hits that damn sweet spot again, with more precision than before.

"Oh fuck, fuck! Right there! Fuck me right there, 'Toru!" you chokingly moan, feeling a shockwave of pleasure pulse from your pussy to every point in your body.

"Damn, chill." he chuckles.

Chill? Of course he'd say that while he's fucking you like he's trying to get you cockdrunk. He's pounding into your gummy walls 'n rubbing your clit with this hate-fueled determination.

All you did was talk back to him in class. Just a cutesy little snide remark. You thought it would turn him on. Well, it did turn him on — it also turned his gaze cold and wiped the smirk off his face. Two things that sent shivers down your spine.

Oh, I'm fucked.

The way he leaned back and hummed had your pussy twitching, already getting wet at the thought of what he was gonna do to put you back in your place.

Whiiich brings us back to the last bathroom stall of the men's bathroom, the stall in which your bully is fucking up your guts and turning you into his personal cocksleeve.

He's close, you can tell because that's when his steady, deep strokes slow and he takes two inches out so he can rub annoyingly back and forth across his favorite ridge inside your pussy. And his tell-tale signs? Choppy breathing, brows twisted together, tightened grip on your body, 'n he's got this psychotic smile forming on his face which he likes to press against your sweaty forehead to let ya know how much he's enjoying bullying you.

Just feeling all his cum getting fucked out of your quivering hole makes you want to cum again. It's almost scary. What if you fall apart? You might even scream this time. Nah, who cares honestly? You can't control how your walls squeeze his cock now even though he bitterly scolds you for being too tight, too tiny to take him all.

You can hardly hear the nasty vocabulary he's using on you, 'cause you're too fucked-out on his thick cock, not even caring if the squelching sounds and choking moans escape under the door and echo down your college's corridors. Even if anyone barged in, Satoru would probably just do what he did last week — when someone barged into the spare room while he was in heat 'n balls deep in your pussy — tell 'em to fuck off.

"Fuck me." Satoru groans, "That hot little pussy 's gonna make me cum... 'm gonna cum... gonna fill you up... ahah... fuck."

He's just the type to giggle during the buildup to his orgasm. It sounds almost psychotic — yeah, you knew from day one that he's crazy and his cock is crazy.

His cock gets hotter, then it bursts with thick ropes of cum once again. The both of you savor in the feeling. It's in the aftershocks of his orgasm that Satoru wonders if he's actually falling in love with you.

Then he snaps-to.

"Shit, you're a fucking mess." Satoru grins almost sadistically, sweating like crazy under his uniform.

You're just shivering against the wall as he eases his cum-coated cock out your pussy, sliding past your folds. Cheek smushed against the wall, face looking like you just saw heaven for an hour, you're relishing the buzzy afterglow of getting fucked dumb by your bully.

His hard slap on your ass brings you back to reality. You hear the sound of him pulling his pants up his long legs, dragging up his zipper. The click of his button. Then he plants another hard slap on your stinging cheek.

You groan, teasingly wiggling your cum-filled pussy, feeling his big hands groping the plush of your cheek and spreading it to reveal your twitchy holes — and he just keeps grinning, watching his seed ooze out 'n drip down your pretty thighs — those thighs that are the reason he chased you in the first place.

You'd think he's looking at the Mona Lisa with how he marvels at the sight — but nah, it's just his white, gooey creampies smeared across your lips and inner thighs. "Aw, don't let it drip out or 'm gonna need to plug ya up..."

Trembling, you listen to him unzipping his backpack and rifling around. "What d'you mean?" you ask, looking back at him with a dazed afterglow on your face, but when you do he's already sliding something into your pussy.

"Ahhh, fuck!" you squirm, feeling that hot pink toy push inside and stretch open your cum-soaked walls again. "I'm so tired, gimmie a break!"

"Relaaax, it's just to plug ya up..." he grins mischievously.

"Oh... o-okay... if you say so."

Oh, but what a liar he is.

It's ten minutes after you and him cleaned up and scurried off to your class and took your seats.

Shit — late again. You curse Satoru and his dummy big cock as you settle down.

... then you feel something start to buzz inside you.

"Oh!?" you let out a small gasp.

Vibrations against your sweet spots make your eyes flicker. Your filled pussy freaks out, spasming and twitching like crazy around the toy.

You give a glare of disbelief back at Satoru, who sat two rows behind and above you — duh, so he could always get a nice view of your breasts.

He sees you. He smirks. He raises a pink little controller shaped like a flat egg, and tauntingly shakes it in his hand before clicking a button.

One notch up.

"Nn!" you tighten around the toy.

He watches you freak out from afar, his sweaty face contorting into a diabolically naughty smirk.

Two notches up. Three notches. Off. Onetwothreefour — you gulp and smack the desk — earning a look from your seatmate, Choso.

The toy temporarily turns off.

"... sorry, this question is just so frustrating." you apologize, playing off your random desk smack.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I'm failing this class for sure."

"S-same, honestly." you reply shakily, soothingly rubbing up and down your clenched thighs.

You text Satoru with fervency.

You

'just a plug' my ass! wtf is this thing!

Toru

lol 🍑🔜 and chill... it's just a lil something i picked up for ya

You

ur the devil. i hate u.

Toru

ur hurting my feelings 🥺

Onetwothreefour — max!

"Fuck...!" you gasp again, feeling a dizzy rush as the toy buzzes at max deep inside your pussy.

Choso gives you a concerned side-glance.

"Sounds like you're really having a rough day." he jokes.

You look at him. He's sitting pretty close.

"You have no ideaaaaaahhhhhhh~" you moan back, accidentally cumming right there in front of your classmate.

Immediately clapping your hand over your mouth, you blink at him. Oh no... you just orgasmically moaned against poor, confused Choso's face.

His eyes widen. He blinks. " H u h ? "

Satoru sees this and slides down in his seat, holding in his laughter behind a toothy smile, pearly whites all on display. Now his best friend gives him a look.

"Satoru..." Suguru sighs, catching onto what was happening. "Give the girl a break."

"You wanna try?" he offers Suguru the remote control.

Suguru looks at it. He looks at you, then Satoru, then the toy... and takes it into his hand and chuckles with his best friend behind their textbooks, clicking it to a new pattern.

You just twitch your eyes and then shut them in pleasure, cursing the both of them in your mind while you feel your thighs tremble and feel the toy pulsing. Your pussy squeezes the pink silicone.

And you can hear those dastardly best friends giggling behind your back, watching you wiggle in pleasure, trying to contain your moans. Every time you glance back at them, Satoru makes mocking ahegao faces at you. Suguru just smirks and continues to play with the vibrator.

Oh, you were definitely gonna get 'em back for this.

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢

𝐓𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 💗

[connormoving]

thank GODDD the doctor is taking time to work on himself maybe now he can stop ruining womens lives .

[cutehoons02]

Blood Sacrificies

Desire:Unleash Sunghoon pt Jay pt

*pairing: Hacker nerd vampire Jake x influencer Girl

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

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

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

17k (🦷)

The world between humans and vampires had long been established.

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

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

Jake wasn’t like other vampires.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lab door opened with a hiss of sterile air.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It can’t happen to me.”

-Jake...-

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

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

Twenty-four hours later.

The code was burned into his mind: MF020-Z

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

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

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

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

Name: [YOUR NAME]

Age: 22

Major: Communication and Marketing

Status: Influencer – verified profile

Last Donation: Two weeks ago

Reason for Stopping: Confidential

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the expression that was off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was obsessed nd it was about to get worse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His game began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus Christ, you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MF020-Z

Your code.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stiffened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aria grabbed your hand with a cold and strong grip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s the best I’ve got.”

He paused, then added more seriously,

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

You looked at him.

Your heart was pounding.

Was this the moment? After everything that had happened?

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

So you nodded.

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

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Better you don’t know, sweetheart.”

You stared at him, brows furrowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heeseung pretended to jot something down in an invisible notebook.

'Symptoms of the Golden Retriever Vampire:

– Nocturnal irritability

– Sensitivity to physical distance from the chosen one

– Absence of playful banter from human partner = emotional breakdown

– Gentle biting paired with painfully restrained longing

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

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

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

<You can’t hide behind that anymore, Jake. You drink her blood. You protect her. But she drives you insane and you miss her when she doesn’t talk to you. That’s not confusion. That’s… attachment. Maybe even love.>

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna come in with me?” he offered.

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

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

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

You bit your lip and walked in.

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

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

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

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

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

And you?

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

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

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

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

“What kind of game is this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The silence in the room turned thick.

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

Heeseung muttered a quiet 'uh-oh.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And in a way… you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoffed and started walking again.

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

You spun around.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby... baby, please...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[highdramas]

it had to be you | dr. jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!attending!reader warnings: language, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), references to sex but nothing explicit, sweet sweet fluff <3 word count: 3k summary: it is the first year you're attending PTMC's annual gala as an attending. it's also your first year with a date. notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. GALA FIC GALA FIC GALA FIC <3 this is a part of the ring of fire interconnected series, but it’s not necessary to read the prior parts to understand this fic. if you would like to, though, you can find the masterlist here <3 not proofread so apologies for any errors!

“i don’t know…” you hands trail down your torso, looking at yourself and your dress in the mirror. “i think it’s too much. do you think it’s too much? is the red giving, like…” you chuckle a little bit to yourself. “i dunno, blood?”

jack rounds the corner from the en suite bathroom, leaning in the doorway with his hands in the pockets of his immaculate dress pants. pressed, tailored, and fitting his legs perfectly– you know if he turned around, you’d find that it fit his ass perfectly, too. not fair, you think to yourself. simply not fair for him to look like that.

his eyes find yours in the mirror, but not before you watch him take in the sight of you from behind. his chest rises with a big inhale, blowing it out through his mouth. “i don’t know how to say this nicely,” he takes a step closer to you. “or gentlemanly. but here goes: if someone saw you in that and their first thought is blood, they might be certifiably fucking insane.” his hands settle onto your hips and he pulls you back into him, back to front, a kiss being placed onto your shoulder. “wear it. it’s perfect.”

“i don’t want to be the gala harlot.”

the vibration of his laughter hits the spot between your shoulder blades and you practically keel over. “it’s perfect.” his hand smacks his favorite spot– your ass. “besides, i found this, and i thought i’d wear it. match you.”

you turn in his arms and he reveals a signet ring, resting on his pinky– a beautiful, flat ruby settled into it. it’s almost a perfect color match. “i didn’t want to go full prom, red tie, but this…” he shrugs his shoulders and looks at you with one perfectly arched brow. “what do you think?”

both of your hands take his and you bring his palm up to your mouth, kissing it. “it’s perfect.”

that look dawns on him. the look that tells you that he has plans that are so far away from any gala, hospital fundraiser, or anywhere in between. you point at him. “don’t.” he leans in and presses your hair back with a delicately precise motion. capable hands. god, you love his hands. “jack. we’ll be late.”

“don’t care.”

“i do,” you rub at his arms, where they encircle your waist and tug you ever-closer, until you’re practically one body instead of two. you feel like that most days, anyway.

you’ve found your rhythm. going from not-official to very-official wasn’t as jarring as you thought it might be, and definitely not as jarring for jack. it was, largely, simple. it was all of the other stuff that wasn’t simple.

it was the fact that now, when you entered work together, you got smirks from tired day crew folks. it was the fact that now, when you have one of your little spats– never disrespectful, always passionate– from across each other, trying to determine the best course of care for a patient, someone else in the room has to determine it a lovers quarrel.

when it was just the two of you, holed up in jack’s apartment after a long shift… it was quieter. you missed that, sometimes.

but jack loving you out loud is worth the stares and the remarks. because you love the way that his gaze lingers on you, freely, wherever you are. you love that he comes by and slides a granola bar into your pocket when he has watched you go nonstop for hours, barely even coming up for air. you love that he’s your boyfriend, but he’s still your attending, too. he’s still your teacher. you love when he guides you through an insane procedure that he hasn’t performed since he was overseas. you love when it works.

even when it doesn’t work. when you work side by side and for as good as you are together, for all of the lives that you save together and apart, you can’t save everyone. and when you find that familiar feeling of despair, and shame, and like maybe this isn’t what you’re built for, jack still finds your eyes. finds your heart, your fear, your anguish. and he walks through it with you. god, he’s good at walking through it with you.

you hope that he feels you’re as good to him as he is to you. it’s the only goal you’re ever trying to achieve, the one way that you want to measure up.

“this is my first time going to this thing as an attending,” you say, not without significant nerves. “now i have to talk to donors and it means something.”

“i’ll be there,” jack says easily, squeezing your arms. he kisses your shoulder again, open mouthed and hot, and it makes your head fall forward, leaning against his shoulder. “you think i’m gonna leave your side tonight, with you looking like that? i’ll be following you like a lost dog.”

a chuckle bubbles out of you and you meet his eyes through your eyelashes. he looks diabolically handsome– he kept his stubble, which you love, obviously– to the untrained eye, he looks polished. but there’s still that roguish glint to him, the thing that no amount of suits or shiny dress shoes could wipe away. “i’ll put you on a leash,” you joke.

“you could do anything you want to me, kid.”

the two of you watch each other thoughtfully. there’s no need to fill the space with words, when silence is this comfortable. it’s a byproduct of years of mentoring, knowing, loving. “you’ll really stay with me?” you ask, your insecurities scratching at your heels.

“you know i will,” he says. “i’ve gone to this thing for a million years. big donors want to know the same three things– tell me about the most impactful case you’ve worked on recently. how do you do it all. can you tell me that my money goes to those who need it. simple.” he can tell that you’re not convinced. “we could always smoke a little.”

you gape at him. “i am not smoking before work.”

“come on– you’re not intubating anyone! we’re gonna be talking with suits!” he laughs at your reaction. “alright, suit yourself. i smoke before it every year.”

within ten minutes, a roach is stubbed out in his ashtray, your lipgloss clinging to the filter.

–

“look at you two!” dana gives you and jack big hugs outside of the ballroom where the gala was taking place, squeezing you against her tightly. “you two look sharp.”

you’re feeling light from the weed, nerves settled like sand at the bottom of the ocean. you look over at jack and pick a strand of your hair off of his suit jacket. he looks at you and shrugs his shoulders. “she laid out my outfit last night,” he jokes, and it makes you groan and roll your eyes.

you shove him a bit and dana laughs. “oh, yeah? been together what, six months, already acting as mama?”

you scrunch your nose up and give her a sideways glance. “hell no.” you laugh and jack has that smug smile on his face. “he’s a big boy. he took care of himself long before i came into the picture.”

dana winks at you. “smart girl. abbot, she’s your lady, not a maid, alright? i don’t peg you as the type, but–”

“yes, ma’am.”

dana laughs. “alright. i’ll see you in there.”

you suck in a big breath. by your side, jack does the same. “are you nervous?” you ask.

“nah. my leg.” he shifts his weight slightly, and your mouth goes into a straight line, suddenly as serious as a heart attack. “don’t look at me like that, doctor. i’m good.”

“okay, but if it’s too much–”

“i know. i’ll sit down and take a break.” he rubs his hand up and down on your lower back. “we should get in there, huh?”

“you’re just trying to get me to stop being all doctor on you.”

he pats your ass one time, with no eyes to take it in. “dunno what you’re talking about.” he says it with that deadpan expression that he loves to wear, but you see the mirth in his eyes.

jack takes your hand and leads you in. the ballroom is immaculate– you’ve never seen anything so… frivolous. it’s the only word that you can think of. there’s waitstaff flitting about with trays of hors d'oeuvres, flute glasses filled with sparkling champagne.

when you look over at jack, he wears a similar, thinly veiled expression of mild disgust. you make eye contact. each of you rolls your eyes at one another, and you slide your arm through his and lean in with a smile. “we could probably give every nurse a significant raise with the money that it took to throw this,” you say under your breath.

“why do you think i need to smoke before i step foot in here,” jack responds.

he guides you towards your place setting– a big circular table, with spots for each attending physician. you gulp when you see your name plate– your name with the appropriate prefix. you pick it up and examine it with a slightly amused smile. you show it to jack who doesn’t say anything, but you can feel pride radiate off of him in little ripples in the way that he puts his hand on the back of your neck and squeezes.

the remarks are kicked off by gloria, and you take a seat. jack tugs your chair so that he can put a dangled arm, draped across the back of it, his fingers brushing your shoulder. you maintain enough self control to not put your hand on his knee. every once and awhile his index finger will trail the back of your neck, the sensitive place between your shoulder blades. you shoot him daggers. he winks.

you finally relent and put that hand on his knee of his right leg.

as you continue to sit, you watch jack shift. in that way that he does when his hip is starting to ache– and you’re tuned in to him and his needs, instantly. you squeeze his knee to get his attention while gloria continues to drone on… and on… and on. “you okay?” you mouth the two words, concern written in the way that your brows furrow.

he gives a noncommittal sound and he gestures for your purse. you fish the little orange bottle out that you always carry for him, and hand him the proper dosage for when phantom pain comes for him.

if it weren’t your partner that were experiencing it, you would find the concept of phantom pain… fascinating, medically. the brain is a powerful, sometimes too powerful, organ. but because it’s jack, and because you can see the set in his jaw and the way that he shifts again in his chair, you don’t care what the brain is capable of. all you care is that his brain stop.

he knocks the pill back and hands the bottle back to you. the slight rattle gets whitaker looking over in your direction, and you make a motion with your finger that says turn around before i make you. he complies with a quickness, and you settle once more with your hand to jack’s leg. you squeeze, gently, only half focused on the words that gloria says.

jack’s hand goes back to its favorite place: the back of your neck. it’s where you carry the majority of the tension in your body. you think jack likes being able to alleviate that, even if just for a moment. you also think he simply likes the way that your eyes roll back, the way that you’ll sometimes steady yourself with a hand that brushes his knee, or waist. you think he likes knowing that he can melt you with one touch in an instant.

now is no different. your eyes flutter shut, and when they open, jack is staring at you with a look of satisfaction that’s only brought out from making you feel good.

“you’re a dog,” you say under your breath.

“you told me you’d get a leash.”

keeping your laughter inside, gloria wraps up her remarks, and encourages everyone in the room to mingle, drink, eat, and dance. you and jack stand, hand in hand, and look at each other with an identical expression that reads, thank god. he leads you to the bar without another word.

that watchful eye stays upon him, and as you wait for your drinks– his whiskey, your martini– he rubs your back and adds, “meds are working.”

“good.”

“you don’t need to watch me like a hawk.”

this gets you to scowl. the drinks are slid in your direction and you take yours, gently clinking your glass to his. “have you ever thought,” you lean in. “maybe i just like looking at you tonight?”

you don’t know if it’s scientifically possible for an eye color to darken in a split second. but if it can, jack’s do. he knocks the contents in his cup back and holds his hand out for you. “dance with me.”

“your leg–”

“if my leg hurts from dancing with you, then so be it. well worth it.” he pauses. “what’s the murakami quote… pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.”

you’re unconvinced, but moved regardless. “you are dramatic.”

“yes i am,” jack flexes his hand. “are you really gonna turn me down in front of our peers? that’s just rude.”

you roll your eyes at him, but your smile is wide and it’s bright and it’s the smile that you get on your face because of jack, and jack alone. you set your drink to the side and take jack’s hand and let him lead you to the dance floor.

people know that you and jack are together, yes, but it’s rare they see you so free with your affection. javadi’s eyes are as big as saucers as the two of you pass by her and mateo. you wink. your arms and hands settle into place: jack’s on your waist. your arms dangled on his shoulders.

it had to be you plays over the speaker system as the two of you take the floor– the harry connick jr. version, the one in when harry met sally. a little bit more flirtatious than the original, the two of you sway in time.

“remember when we watched this movie? way early on?” you reminisce with a big smile on your face.

“oh, i remember. the scene in the diner… you blushed when that came on,” he snickers and his hands tighten on your body. “i don’t think we’d even kissed yet.”

“i didn’t know if you were…” you shrug your shoulders. “i dunno. i think, at that point, i still kind of thought it was all just up in my head. yeah, it’s one thing to smoke weed and watch a movie with your mentor. it’s another to want to have sex with him.” you peer up at him through your lashes. “and i wanted to do all three.”

“ah, kid, you always were an overachiever.”

you laugh, leaning forward. his hand comes up to cup the back of your head as you rest your cheek against his chest, eyes closing, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. his hand slips under your hair and continues to rub at your neck. you sigh. it feels like everything is at right in the world.

“you know,” he starts, his cheek resting on the top of your head. “i could do this forever.”

“dance?”

he chuckles. “no.” your head lifts up and you’re face to face. he takes your hand, puts it on the spot where you just listened to his heart. “just… this.”

the gravity of his words click into place. “oh.”

“yeah.”

there’s a gentleness to his eyes and his words. almost vulnerable– but trusting, too. “i could too,” you affirm without another thought required. you lean forward, your lips at his ear. “as long as you’ll have me, dr. abbot.”

if there was any distance left between the two of you, jack abandons it, pulling you in. he presses a kiss against your cheek.

as he does, a throat clears. you both look over, slightly misty-eyed and fully in love, to see gloria with a pleasantly manufactured smile plastered across her face. “oh, you two. adorable.” she looks at her watch. “patricia miller is here. just lost of her husband. big donor– big romantic, too. i would like you two to get to talking with her before she leaves. don’t forget to share you’re together. that’ll do wonders on her.” she tilts her head to the side. “enjoy your evening. don’t forget to take home a goodie bag.”

gloria saunters off. you look over to jack.

the two of you laugh, loudly, drawing eyes in your direction. robby and collins share a glance, trying to figure out what on earth could possibly be so funny. whitaker checks his shirt to make sure he doesn’t have a stain.

“man,” jack says. “duty calls, right?”

“guess so.” you run your hand up the back of jack’s head, through his silver curls. you feel him shiver as you rake your nails down. there’s a moment where you hesitate, but you don’t find yourself in the business of holding back where jack is concerned, so you say it anyway: “what are they gonna do when there’s two dr. abbot’s? they might combust from donation possibility. nothing sells like a love story.”

jack’s eyes flash. if before wasn’t enough… you think this might just be the confirmation he needs. he doesn’t say anything at first. he leans and he kisses you, taking you somewhere far, far away from this ballroom. “i think i’ll be the one combusting first.”

[orphicmusings]

nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby

summary: the aftermath of what happened in skyhaven with pre-relationship sylus. hurt/comfort, exploring mc’s trauma.

A simultaneous sigh blooms from both of your lungs as the last wanderer crumbles into oblivion. The dust of its essence floated up to the polluted night sky of the N109 zone, painting artificial stars for the pair of victors below. Sylus lifts his gaze to you after he scrapes what’s left of the aftermath from his fingernails. He looks infuriatingly unaffected. You, however…

“You look like shit.” He remarks playfully, his eyes softening as he holds out his hand to help you up. You, like he anticipates, softly slap it away and get up on wobbly legs. “Fuck off.” You retort, still trying to catch your breath, and he simply smiles- striding next to you and subtly offering you his weight to lean on. You tried stubbornly standing on your own, but found yourself surrendering to his quiet help as you walked back to his bike.

“I’m not letting you ride back to Linkon like this.” He huffed, handing you his spare helmet, the one that is practically yours at this point. “Spend the night at the base.” Coming from him, it sounded more of a purring command than a gentle suggestion. “Get some beauty sleep.”

You had felt your muscles tense and your heart clenched as you were rapidly reminded of the last time you stayed over someone else’s place. The sound of doors locking, the pills, the confusion, the breathing man that you still mourned. Before you could refuse, though, a traitorous yawn escaped your throat. You knew he was right, that you were in no shape to travel home, and it’s not like he could exactly traipse into Linkon at the moment to accompany you. Besides, you’ve been fighting alongside him for a while now, and while he has little weaknesses, you’re willing to exploit them if need be. “Alright.” You breathe your surrender as you put the helmet on, bracing yourself for his driving skills.

Luke and Kieran greet you at the door like eager puppies. What happened, boss? Boss lady? Did ya kill something? How many? How bloody? Any guts?

Sylus held out a commanding hand and answered for you, thankfully. “Don’t ambush the poor girl, she’s beat up.”

You rolled your eyes at that. “I’m not beat up-”

“Come.” He holds his arm out for you, and you defeatedly take it, blindly following wherever he deigns to go.

“My head…” You groaned at the harsh overhead kitchen light being flicked on, rubbing your temples. “Does the big bad mob boss happen to have ibuprofen?”

“I’m not headache proof, believe it or not.” He exhaled a small chuckle. “Sit down.” He ushered you to the sofa across from the kitchen table. You obliged, but not because he told you to, of course. You were achey, dirty and exhausted. He held a glass of water in one hand and two pills in the other, and you hesitated slightly as you let him give them to you. Turning the pills over in your fingers with a squint of your eyes, you looked for the label etched into the chalky red circles to identify that it was, in fact, ibuprofen.

Sylus noticed. Of course he noticed, he always does. “What?” He tilts his head, confused, but his tone still holds a hint of safe and familiar teasing. “You think I’m slipping you something?”

Swallowing back those nagging memories again along with the medicine, you force a chuckle. “Can never be sure with a lawless scoundrel like you, can I?”

He grinned, one of those rare smiles of his, toothy and reaching for his ruby eyes. “I may be a lawless scoundrel, sweetheart, but I’m not a monster.”

Not a monster, because a monster would do that.

Your best friend in the whole world would do that.

A deep breath left you, ready to be rid of this conversation topic. “Can I take a shower?”

His wide grin melted down to his signature smug smirk once again. “In which wing?”

Sylus’s living situation was fucking ridiculous. Four bathrooms with showers, three of them with tubs. For, what, three people? You shake your head in disbelief as he leads you to a guest room. Just as lavish as the rest of the place, the first thing that stares back at you is the neatly made king sized bed. A leather futon sits across it, right next to an enormous closet. Before you can gawk at any other evidence of luxury in the room, he shuts the door behind you. Your gaze instinctively flies to the knob, the phantom click still ringing in your ears. Your shoulders hunch, posture stilling as you find yourself waiting for it— but the door remains unlocked. If Sylus noticed, he gave you the grace of ignoring it and deciding he teased you enough for now. He opens the closet, unhooking a hanger from inside, draping a plush back bathrobe from it. “This should fit you.” You ran your hands along the fluffy material, unable to stop touching it. “And could I wash my clothes after-“

“I will.” He assures you with an interruption. “Leave them outside the door. I’ll find something laying around for you to change into so you don’t have to wait for them to dry.” You nodded, not expecting this level of consideration from him. It brings an irritating, fond heat to your cheeks. “Right. Thank you.”

“Just being a good host.” He smirks, opening the bathroom door. The bathroom was, of course, also fucking ridiculous. Dark marble walls, spotless black tile floors. A black Japanese bathtub next to the spacious shower stall. Woody, spicy potpourri wafted through the air from a bowl on the sink. He moves to shut the door, and you turn. “Um…” Swallow. “Is it okay to keep the door unlocked?” He frowned in confusion, and you quickly added, “It’s the steam. Too much in an enclosed space, I get a headache and I already have one, so I-“

“Okay.” He simply agrees, leaving you no room to over-explain and lie further. You’re almost taken aback with the ease he’s treating you with, but if you think about it, he’s always just accepted. He may question once or twice, but always nods his head without judgment.

You showered all of the blood and grime off your skin, but the reminder of Skyhaven clung under your fingernails no matter how much you scrubbed. It was something you had been pushing away from the forefront of your mind for weeks, almost a month now.

It’s not what you think it is, you remind yourself as you clench your fist, watching the hot water droplets roll off your knuckles. It’s Caleb. He was trying to protect me…

“No, we’re not doing this right now!” You mumbled aloud to yourself. Think, think, think of something else. You abruptly turned the valve to the wall, the water turning freezing cold. Your breathing seemed to slow down with the ice hitting your veins, and by the time you caught two chills, you stepped out and toweled off. The robe felt nice against your damp skin, the fuzz of it all absorbing the water droplets quickly. Opening the door, you see the clothes Sylus left for you in a neat pile: two items. A black satin button down with an “S” monogrammed into the breast pocket with golden embroidery, and grey basketball shorts. A dry snort found its way out of your nose. What a look.

You swam in them, of course, but in a cozy way. You folded the waistband of the shorts until they would aptly rest on your hips, and you didn’t mind the way the shirt’s sleeves hung past your fingers. The shirt smelled like him. Like his stupidly nice cologne, the familiar scent of spices and leather on the collar.

You let your exhausted body drive you to sleep.

The door is locked.

The eyes you used to seek comfort in refuse to soften.

You blindly take his sleeping pills.

The door is locked.

He pins you down on the sofa, next to a photo of the two of you in a frighteningly similar position, play-fighting and laughing.

He threatens to wrap a collar around your throat.

Your pleas fall on deaf ears.

The man in front of you is breathing, but he is long dead.

The door is locked.

Your heart drops you awake, out of breath and eyes watery.

You are not in your bed.

Where are you?

You push the covers off you before you could even remember, rushing to swing the door open. The force of the mahogany hitting the wall got the attention of your gracious host.

“Sweetie…” A deep voice rumbled up your spine. Sylus.

You’re with Sylus.

The pet name lacked all the familiar playful condescension, more of a brace, a concerned approach to a wild, wounded animal. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t answer at first, your clouded mind still assessing the situation. Your shoulders relax a fraction as you register your surroundings, Sylus’s base. You spent the night here after a hunt. You’re with Sylus, you want to be here, and the door was unlocked. Your grip on the doorknob loosens. Sylus slowly comes out from behind you and into your field of vision. “Sit.” He ushers you back into the room, sitting on the bed and patting the silk sheets. You slowly obey, perching on the bed with your knees hugged to your chest. A gentle expression paints his face, something you could’ve sworn you’ve never seen before. “I’m going to ask again.” He urges softly, slowly, the brisk command his tone usually carried melted away.

You can lie to anyone in your life. You could have said it was a bug in your blankets. A noise, he thought of an intruder. Even a nightmare about something else. You can lie to anyone in your life, except for the man in front of you who looks worried for the first time you’ve seen it. You can lie to anyone in your life, except for the man who seems to know your very soul despite only knowing you for a handful of months.

You don’t even try, clenching your fists so tight you’re sure your fingernails would draw blood out of the meat of your palm.

“I can’t tell you…” You murmured, holding back the flood. “Because if I do, it becomes real.”

He frowned, his head tilting to the side slightly. He pushed a soft smile out of the corner of his mouth. “I won’t tell reality if you won’t, sweetheart.”

You exhaled out of your nose shortly, an amused puff of air followed by a sniffle. “No, I’m…it’s serious.”

“I know.” He sat back on his elbows, blanketing the atmosphere with a sense of leisure and ease. That was something you had to admit he was good at. “I’ve noticed.”

You turn to him. “What?”

“You checked the pills I gave you.” He started. “I thought that was a one off, maybe you being extra careful, but then you announced you were gonna shower with the door unlocked-“

You scoffed shakily. “Okay, I didn’t announce-“

“The point is…” He interrupted. “You’ve been…off tonight.”

You don’t know how to answer. You know that at this point, if you open your mouth, the tears will start free falling.

“You don’t have to explain.” Fuck him for always reading your mind. “But you just need to tell me you’re alright. No guest feels unsafe under this roof.”

“It’s not you.” You assure shakily, resting your chin on your knees. “It’s…a long story.”

He nodded, accepting again. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”

“Um…” You suck in a breath through your nose. Here we go. The tube of toothpaste is squeezed. Your voice is slow, measured as you continue. “Remember about three weeks ago I went to Skyhaven?”

You began to unload. From the top. He knew of the explosion, the one you wrongfully blamed him for. The reminder of that moment brings a flash of mortified heat to your cheeks, expecting him to bring it up. You pause for it, the tease, the coy ‘Yes, kitten, I’m so bad,’ but it doesn’t come. His eyes just pave a delicate path down your face, waiting for you to continue. You watch them widen slightly when you tell him your childhood best friend survived, and that you found him up there. Your words shake and choke in your throat when you get to the next part, tears pricking the back of your eyes. You squeeze them shut, and feel a feather-light weight on your hand; his covering yours. A soft affirmation, a silent I’ve got you. The action is so tender, it pushes even more tears to your waterline. You purse your trembling lips at the gentleness of it all, the opposite of the force you two exuded over one another when you first met. You shoot him point blank in the chest, and he holds your hand like it’s precious gold.

“Sweetie…” He looks at you as if the sight of your face twisted in tears makes him violently ache. “Don’t cry.”

Which of course, makes you cry more. He closes the distance between you within a second, pulling you into his side. “I’m trying not to.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He whispers gently, rubbing his thumb over your bare shoulder, the collar of his shirt hanging off of you. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

It takes a few minutes to gather the words, because how exactly do you say, I think my best friend held me hostage in his home and slipped me pills but I think it’s not really him based on zero evidence?

His thumb stopped its soothing rhythm. “He what?”

You cringe and stammer. You feel caught, for some irrational reason. “I-I know what it sounds like, but-”

“No.” He shook his head, his tone still soft but firm. “No, you don’t have to protect him.” He has to bite back the snarl in his voice, fight to keep his words gentle. “Not after he does this…” He wipes a tear from your cheek, his fingers lingering on the skin for a moment. “Not after he does this to you.” His voice shakes alongside yours, for different reasons. “You don’t need to tell me anything more, but you don’t protect him, either.”

You look up at him, drawing in a deep breath. It makes you realize that’s exactly what you’ve been doing all this time, refusing to acknowledge it. While he was ruining you, you were protecting his memory. At the same time, though, what you know about the professor and Caleb’s abnormal behavior flipping like a switch makes you doubt it was fully him that did this to you. Even if it wasn’t, it doesn’t mean it didn’t affect you so deeply that you’re crying into the arms of the person you’d least expect. You watch his fists clench. “He didn’t…” A hesitation. “He didn’t touch you, did he?”

You vehemently shake your head and you could hear a small breath of relief. “It wasn’t like that.” You go to explain again, to defend him, but stop yourself. “It was so scary.” He breathes a deep sigh, tightening his arms around you.

“I know.” He whispers. “I know, sweet girl, but you were brave.”

You scoff tearfully. “No I wasn’t.”

“You’re here.” He pointed out, brushing his hand through your hair. “Not there. I know your prowess firsthand.”

A pathetic half-laugh exits your chest, followed by more sobs. He holds you even tighter as you cling to his grounding familiarity. He does that for as long as you need it, waiting patiently as he assures you you did the right thing, that you’re safe with him, that he could walk into Linkon and take you home right now, bounty be damned; whatever it is you need to hear.

“I’ve got you.” He whispers into your hair. Your head is atop his chest, laying down now. Your eyes are closed, and he can tell you’ve cried yourself to sleep. “Always have. Always will.”

When your breaths turn steady, he moves slightly to get his phone from his pocket. One hand on your back, the other on the keyboard, he types a message to Luke and Kieran.

Farspace Fleet Colonel. Lives in Skyhaven. Name’s caleb. Need any and all information there is to know ASAP.

Another message.

Boss Lady will not let you hurt him, as much as I am dreaming the different ways I could make him hurt right now. Do not go after him. Just watch.

Two pairs of thumbs up from the twins follow the message, not needing any further instruction or explanation. He locks his phone and leans his head against the pillow, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. It’s quiet now, the only sound surrounding him are your soft breaths and Mephisto’s caws into the night as he suddenly takes a trip up north.

[pwnyta]

Some more Stobotnik doodles...

Someone on Twit asked for this to be drawn so... While I was buzzed up on some iced coffee i did and then I left for ever. As one does.

Ivo refused to cuddle but their new son decided its free real estate.

Stone🤝Shadow Bikes Robotniks Coffee Black

Theyre practically twins.

I still cant draw motorcycles...

This is an old draw meme... but I cant find the original picture anymore... just a fanart version of it... Anyways ruby vs emerald shibari ya? LOL Ivo has his favorite precious Stone regardless.

Just some games is all. Games with your best friend in the whole wide world that might get blown up if theyre missing a rock.

Kiss the pebble. Bite the pebble. Stick the pebble in your tiddies.

I just know Stone had to be hurting after getting tumble polished in the crab (then I thought about him getting an elbow to the chest trying to cuddle so I made it drama.) I just dont think the yaoi is gonna be that toxic if/when Ivo gets back... cuz he obviously thought Stone was like everyone else so thats why he bullied Stone but now he knows Stone really does love him.

Ivo tries to flirt Stone style. Its super effective.

DND style Stobotnik.

I was reluctant to change Stones eyes because his big brown eyes are his charm point(for me)... HOWEVER I gave him red eyes to match Ivos other 'tools' but also gave Ivo purple shades à la Xibalba/La Muerte from TBoL... 'They only have eyes for each other.'

Also I know Elves arent supposed to be able to grow facial hair but thats dumb. Tieflings werent supposed to be technicolor either but here we are... if we all elect to ignore it elves can have facial hair.

Drawing Tiefling Stone made me think of Nightcrawler.... so...

[h4venpha]

⸺ baby's favorite

✦ dragon!sylus x reader contents: myth/dragon sylus, dragon baby!, fluff wc: 586 notes: scrappy and kinda sloppy but i needed girldad!sylus AND dragon!sylus, whats better than to just put them together!

“i told you to watch her while i was gone.” 

“and i am watching her.” sylus hums lightly, ignoring the slight tone of annoyance in your voice as he dangles their rowdy daughter by her leg. he’s laying down with one arm propped to hold his head up with the tip of his long tail wrapped around her small, chubby ankle. regardless that his tail was covered in hard, jagged scales, their daughter, dove, squeals happily. sylus playfully swings her side to side, smiling when her loud giggles echoes throougout the cave.

ever since their daughter was born, their little cave seemed to glow a little bit brighter. warm, comforting, and baby proof. soft leather pads replacing the hoards of gold and jewels, candle lights burning brightly whereas the only source of light was once the gap above for the sun to shine through. you truly try your best to make this cave safe and sound for your daughter… except things become difficult whenever you get reminded where half of her blood comes from. 

dove was a hybrid, yet… looked like an exact copy of her father. silver hair, black scales, ruby red eyes, and recently, tiny black wings have sprouted from her back, along with an uncontrollable tail that knocks down everything in its path. you can only handle her when she’s willingly. nowadays, sylus has to practically wrestle her to keep her in check.

‘you’ll make her dizzy, sy.” you scold him for a second time as you set down the small basket of goods you bought from tarus city.

“i’m simply entertaining her so she doesn’t… fly off the cliff again.” sylus chuckles lightly, ignoring the way you glare at him for laughing. it’s been twice now that dove has somehow rolled herself off the cliff. small, weak wings flapping for a moment before is sylus swooping in and catching her mid air. he swears up and down that it’s always accidents, but you can’t help but think sylus just wants her to be able to fly with him and see her spread her wings.

must be the dragon in her that makes her so rowdy and eager to run off with him. makes sense considering her father is the only one who can truly handle her.

you come over and quickly turn your daughter right side up, pulling her from the grasp of his tail. dove whines softly, complaining as she makes grabby hands for sylus. 

“no no no, your daddy is a bad influence.” you say in a faux serious tone, wagging your face in front of dove’s tiny face. her red eyes track your finger before pouting, as if she understood your words.

“bad influence?” sylus repeats, coming behind you to look over your shoulder at her. “mommy doesn’t like when you have fun with me, isn’t that right?” he scoffs, smugly smirking when dove immediately lets go of your finger and makes grabby hands towards him instead.

you don’t even have time to comment before he suddenly reaches in to take dove out of your arms. sylus throws the tiny dragon baby into the air, smiling when she bursts into a fit of giggles. you watch with a defaeted smile as he spins and throws her around, letting her float her way back down, baby wings fluttering.

“look, can mommy make you laugh like this?” sylus taunts playfully, “hm i don’t think so.” his ruby eyes flicking from dove to you as her laughter warms the cave a little.

[killishin]

— ♡ right person at the right time.

PART 04.

pairing: jason todd x reader

category: lots of fluff, angst, he fell first she fell harder kinda trope, sfw, thinking of making this a slow burn but we'll see.

content warning: afab, mention of death (reader's mother), violence here and there, mention of blood, inaccurate medical talk, not proofread

summary: reader's just a normal citizen of Gotham, scrambling to making ends meet. after a fateful encounter, when he saw the reader kick ass and save a life- he can't get them off his mind. and fate just keeps pulling them together forcing him to do something about it.

a/n: im having a shit week but at least i have time to write. enjoy :)

wc: 3.8k

fic masterlist. previous. next

dividers by @cafekitsune

easing back into normalcy wasn't easy, not after that very weird, very out of the blue— very pretty— gift. you had wrapt it back in its box and kept it safely on your vanity as if your clumsy hands would somehow shatter the rubies. you had decided to give it back to red. you knew well in first glance that it would have hurt his pockets hard enough— and you just can't accept something that expensive as just an apology.

but he didn't turn up. that sly idiot did not come, it has been a whole week now. and you tried to rationalise that he has far more responsibilities on his shoulders than to play buddy buddy with you but you just wanted to return something that you possibly don't deserve.

you kept your grubby hands off of it without any problem initially, then your heart began tugging you along, wanting you to just wear it. its pretty, you love pretty things who doesn't?

your eyes stared at it, lips puckered in a deep frown, struggling with the polite part of you. the rubies stared back, like sirens calling.

that's when there was a knock, no not on the balcony but from the main entrance. you almost released a disappointed sigh as your heart had momentarily awakened in anticipation of that vigilante.

you opened the door and Kira barged in with bags— shopping bags held on both her forearms. you closed the door with an amused smile and folded your arms, "looks like you finally emptied your bank account huh?"

she rolled her eyes but her giddy smile stayed etched, "of course not! i didn't pay for it. at least not mine." your brows furrowed and she continued, "we're going to the gala!"

in contrast to her excited yelling, your brows just further furrowed, lips scrunching up as you walked towards her, poking at the bags in confusion and suspicion. dresses, two in total. "who's we, kira?" you questioned before giving her a pointed look, "tell me you don't mean me."

kira is a reporter, a good one at that, just reaching her prime and she has been to a good number of galas.

her lips turned downturned, brows furrowing and you immediately scoffed, "i can't believe you—"

"but its a gala."

"filled with those snobby, rich, insensitive—"

"it has great wine. and food."

"i can get great food at the diner down the road. and its made by a sweet old lady-"

"its a Wayne gala."

your lips seized for a moment, stopping as you registered the words. in your eyes all those charity galas are nothing but places for the rich to practice their laughs and stew in gossip. but you've heard of the most talked gala, the ones the Wayne's throw. and while you still have your reservations about it, you know its one of the genuinly best parties. it has the best cuisine selected, the wines are somehow always something new and better than last, the arrangement actually shows refined taste.

maybe for a day you can set aside your differences, at least you can have an experience of a gala, the best one at that. even if it'll suck at least you'll have a story to tell.

so you consider, much to your chagrin, you do.

"its still gonna be filled with those pricks." you grumbled, though it sounded more petulant than firm and she bit back a smile, "yeah but who says you gotta talk with anyone of them? I'll quickly scope any scoop i can get then we can dance, and drink and eat- all while looking the most gorgeous in the room."

and she's got you.

"alright when?"

"dress up, pretty. we're leaving in an hour." she winked before happily taking the bags to your room and you followed behind with a sigh.

"its been soo long since we went out together-"

"didn't we just eat dinner together yesterday?"

"that wasn't going out, that was just stewing in each other's depression." she scowled before stopping dead on her tracks, her eyes trained right on the earrings.

"oh. my. god."

"oh shit—" you cursed under your breath before rushing to hastily close the box. she clicked her tongue in annoyance before swatting you away, opening it back up and gasping yet again.

"who gave you these?!"

you reeled back a bit with an offended frown, "why did you assume someone gave it to me? i could have bought it too."

"with that salary? yeah right." she scoffed before back to cooing at the earrings as if its literally her baby.

"out with it. who gifted you these hm??" she teasingly asked and your groaned, pulling the box gently out of her grasp and putting it back down.

"no one. i mean— a friend."

"right a friend." she scoffed, "at least he's a loaded one for sure."

"its nothing kira. im gonna return it."

"why?!" she stares at you like you just committed a heinous crime, making you scoff. "because its too expensive?"

"so??" she scoffed back as she rested a hand on her hips, "come on if this didn't hurt the pockets of the one who gifted you, you should just thank the daylights outta them and wear it."

"but—"

"not wearing it will be a disrespect to the gift. to the person."

"....you know this is called manipulation?"

"not if its for your best interests." she shrugged as a cheshire smile adorned her lips, "also they're just too pretty to return because you're an emotional idiot."

and so she finally convinced you to go, wearing those rubies. you felt a bit bad for wearing them without even thanking him prior to it. the guilt was there, like a persistent ache, but it lightened at the sight of them on you. they really were beautiful, you didn't linger on why he specifically bought rubies, chalking it up to him just really being obsessed with red.

and as you left, lost in the shine of the red on you, you failed to notice the red reflecting off the glass of your balcony.

"kira what the fuck?"

"i know."

it was beautiful, down from the drapes to the architecture, the carefully selected wine that tasted just the right amount of sweet and fizzy, the chandelier— the chandelier. it was straight out of some fantasy, some fairytale and all its missing is the fluffy gowns. of course its ethereal, it would be since its held in the Wayne manor itself— something kira failed to mention.

"you didn't tell me it was hosted right in the manor!" you whispered to her, nervously yet awkwardly looking around. it wasn't that you were a mess at interactions, its just you don't want to be caught fawning over the art and architecture all for a rich snob to sneer at you. you really do not want to out yourself in a sea of sharks.

"it was supposed to be a surprise!" she grinned, this time it really was innocent and you sighed, shaking you head as you smoothened your dress for the umpteenth time.

"you gotta relax, pretty." she reassured, gently steering your shoulders towards herself, "do what you like. flirt with whoever you want or simply geek out about the art. the people here are way too self absorbed to notice us, trust me." times like this you really do feel grateful for a friend like hers.

"and if someone bothers you, i'll take care of them. just holler." she grinned wickedly, winking at you as she pulled back.

"holler? in the middle of the gala?"

"yep." she chuckled as she started walking away, "they won't remember us anyway."

you shook your head as you stifled a laugh, something told you she has brought the wild side of her to a lot of galas.

but then you realise you're alone. while she makes her round for any potential scoops, you need to keep yourself company. so you snatch a wine before looking around, actively avoiding everyone's eye. you pick a relatively empty corner by the huge window stool, leaning against the wall as your eyes admire the particular painting up on the wall.

"not fond of socialising i presume?"

your skin jumped a bit, the wine sloshing around in the glass a bit as you looked beside you. you really didn't hear him— him, oh he's a gorgeous him alright.

"didn't mean to startle. dick grayson." he smiled, a certain playfullness to it before he extended his hand towards you.

your eyes flickered to his hand and then his eyes, skeptical but also a bit confused. not only have you seen him somewhere that name sounds awfully familiar—

"oh!" your brows jumped up as you shook his hand, quite a reflex action since you realised this damn manor was technically his home. "hello— hi. sorry i didn't recognize-"

"its no problem." he chuckled, amusement rolling off of him and you're already starting to see the proof of his charm that the gotham talks about, "i tend to gravitate towards the more interesting people in these boring galas, so i should be the one apologising if i... intruded."

he did not sound apologetic at all, instead his eyes simply flared with delight as he looked down at you. it unsettled you, not exactly in a creepy way, but you do want to be a part of whatever he is concocting in that pretty head of his.

"interesting? how is me standing in a corner interesting?" you mused as your raised a brow at him, willing your nerves down. he stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets before looking around, his brows furrowing in fake annoyance.

"you're not among them, gossping and bragging. or feeling me up." he makes an exaggerated shudder of his body before sighing and you stifle a laugh, "the gotham elite has some drama every other tuesday, so i get them needing to gossip." you shrugged and he caught the way you subtly grouped him with them.

"also i thought you liked the attention. i don't mean to assume, but it certainly looked that way in the tabloids." you said and he immediately grinned teasingly , "really didn't take you to be interested in tabloids."

"im not." you come to your defense, quite quickly so, "but i see them here and there. in passing." you're definitely not going to accept that in front of anyone, much less the source.

out of the corner of your eye you noticed the center being cleared, lights dimming down. as if that was exactly what he was waiting for he extended a hand and did a little bow, and you wondered just how many people has he charmed to be this confident.

"great to know you're interested." he said and before you could deny that he tilted his head towards the center, where few had gathered. "a dance? something to break your assumptions." his smile wasn't inviting, it was challenging. everything about him seemed mischievous, as if he was upto no good.

still you accepted, and he was a good dancer. he swayed you right, the dip was perfect— though his hold did get tight suddenly.

dick on the other hand, he wasn't looking at the pretty lady in his arms, no, he was looking at his brother right across the room shooting daggers at him. he smiled back, wide and smug, before mouthing, "she's really gorgeous."

Jason's fist tightened as his jaw clenched in unmasked ire at his brother's antics. he would have regretted coming here, as he always does, but he really can't stand you in his arms.

so what happened was he had... eavesdropped on your conversation with your friend. he only wanted to check up on you but the mention of gala really caught his attention. more when the name Wayne reached his ears, he should have left at that. he never attends Bruce's galas, hates them with a passion— not to mention any interaction with bruce that puts him in the spotlight really throws him off. but then you wore the earrings— his earrings. and just like that his heart swayed.

it swayed so hard to the point he doned on the suit, full black and formal. and while the stares and whispers made his eyes twitch, he was far too enamored by the sight of you, beautiful and stunning. he can't help the pride that swells in his chest as the earrings glint in the warm light, he does have impeccable taste.

he would have approached first, he really wanted to but he wasn't red hood right now, he wasn't the red you knew, he was just.. jason. the man who promised to text back for the settlement of the coffee but left you on unread. yeah he really forgot about that.

and he was content with simply watching, but apparently his brother wasn't. dick was already flabbergasted when jason called him to let him know he's coming, reluctantly requesting him to handle bruce in case he swarms jason. and ever the curious cat that dick is, he needed to know why the sudden change of heart.

and his eyes followed Jason's line of direction and settled on you, immediately remembering you from the cafe.

now being the good brother he is, it is his... duty, you can say, to push his brother on the right path. and so that is why he is swaying with you, your innocent yet awkward smile in sharp contrast to Jason's glare at a distance.

his dimples simply deepened as he watched jason literally march to where you are, so confidently and smoothly evening out his frown before plastering the same charming smile dick has.

"really sorry to cut in." he wasn't. before you even knew what was happening, who it was and why the hell did dick wink at him—

oh.

Jason's hand engulfed yours, intertwining, while his hand slipped around your waist yet it felt as if it was hovering. he didn't even pull you close, the gap almost felt awkward yet his eyes didn't show that discomfort. he was giving you a choice, asking while respecting your space.

"you." you whispered out, and your brows raised slowly, "the guy who helped. jason was it?" you remembered his name, you weren't one to forget so easily. but it did hurt your ego a tad bit to not get a text back, its not like you were hitting on him, you simply wanted to return back the money.

his lips pulled into a sheepish smile as he looked away for a moment, cursing his past self for his stupid decisions. it made sense at that moment, to keep you at an arms length. "one and only."

you stepped closer to him, letting your hand rest on his chest, a silent permission and in an instant his hovering hand rested on your waist. it was just a simple touch, you shouldn't make a big deal out of it yet his touch burnt you— it seared through the very fabrics and found its way to your heart. neck warmed, heart thudded— your breath stuttered for a good second, but it wasn't noticeable enough, you hope.

it was to him.

he looked different, maybe its the lights or the suit, but he looked different, dashing. beautifully so. you couldn't help the subtle way your eyes lingered on him, not stagnant on a particular point but all of him. eyes, cheeks, scars, neck, lips—

"i really want to apologise. for not texting." he said, making your eyes snap up and you hoped he didn't notice how sweaty your hands got, or felt the heat searing your body.

he did.

of course he noticed, he noticed everything— he sees everything. but you don't, and for that he's thankful. he's entirely thankful that you didn't feel the twitch of his hand on your waist, simply to bury the need to pull you closer. you didn't notice the way his eyes softened when you let him be close, the way his lips parted. he could finally let his eyes be, admire you in your beauty while being jason and not red.

"can i know why?" he twirled you and gently tugged you back in his arms, they didn't feel cagey. for some odd reason something about him felt... familiar. the proximity was less than it was with dick, yet it didn't raise any flags in your head.

"i mean i wasn't hitting on you. just wanted to return your money." you shrugged and that tone was enough to drag him out of his happy reverie, plunge him in ice cold water because you do not sound very pleased right now.

"i forgot about it— im so sorry." he winced out a smile as he swayed you a bit more, more snug and your eyes narrowed amusingly, " i forgot about it and since i don't bother with unknown numbers—"

"i mentioned my name. and i think i even added that im the person from the cafe." you cut through, faking an innocent tone but your eyes conveyed all the skepticism you felt , "the very same day too. so unless you've got amnesia— which you clearly don't— i don't see how you forgot about it." your smirk was challenging, taunting and his heart roared. it fucking roared in his chest. he should feel even a tiniest bit guilty but he doesn't. his mistake did lead to seeing you being mean and scathing— he loved that.

and as if some higher power (dick) was helping him, the tempo changed. it was faster than before, it had more tension.

it got his blood rushing, putting his rational side on the bench and letting his heart dictate every move. it was dangerous, it was stupid.

but did it matter?

one look at you, the slight pull of a smile on your lips and he doesn't even have to answer.

nope.

legs worked faster, his hands gripped yours harder, twirled you faster— till your back collided with his chest. you felt the slight brush of his jaw on your cheek, the smell of aftershave. the man you met in the cafe was gentle, reserved but nice. the man you're in the arms of is far more than that.

"anyway i can make it up to you?" he twirled you back around and pulled you close, his hand flat on your back. he tilted his head, and suddenly the gap lessened even more. you could see his eyes— the deep blue, the green. his pupils were dilated, depths that seemed to snatch you in them.

"by taking back the money i guess— you're good at this." you huffed out in slight surprise, your brows furrowing and he chuckled, deep and low enough to reverberate through you. "glad i could impress you."

"you were impressing me?"

"thought that was obvious?"

"no i thought you wanted to forget about me—"

you let out an inaudible gasp as he dipped you suddenly. you didn't know whether to be shocked or mad at him. but your heart didn't care for either, thudding so hard you wouldn't be surprised if the whole fucking room heard it.

"let me take buy you a coffee as an apology?" he whispered, smiling so smugly you scoffed at his audacity as he pulled you up.

"are you asking me out after ignoring me for weeks— no, months?" you questioned cheekily and he laughed, "im never gonna hear the end of it won't i?"

"you sound like you're already sure i agreed. i didn't yet."

"you didn't say no either."

"but i can."

"you won't though."

you glared at him but the smile on your lips gave away your amusement. your eyes caught kira in a distance, wiggling her brows at you.

you stopped before taking a step back, your body didn't appreciate being robbed of his warmth though. "it was nice meeting you again, jason."

suddenly grabbed your hand as you were about to walk past him, "the earrings look beautiful on you by the way." he smiled before walking away, the tip of his ears suddenly red despite the confidence he presented. your hand instinctively touched your earring and you smiled, yeah they are.

Jason's world was crashing down, hands twitching, curling and uncurling as it lamented the loss of you. he got a taste, and now he wants more. he already thought he had enough as red, meeting you in those little stolen moments were enough. but now he saw how you'd look in his arms.

his heart craves that.

its a storm in him, he should keep his distance. sever all ties all together, both as red hood and as jason. that would be the smart thing to do, the right thing. he shouldn't entangle his personal and vigilante life together, not that they weren't already. but at least to you, red and jason were different. and he thought both were undeserving of the warmth of life, all until you.

so why won't his heart want you? selfish, greedy— whatever his heart was it didn't matter, he didn't care. there was more than just a pull towards you, you had already made a snug little home in his heart and he couldn't find it in himself to evict you out. his mind and heart were yet again in a clash.

his phone vibrated. his brows furrowed as he looked down at it. immediately he scoffed out a laugh, you wired back the money. and texted him a lil something.

i don't like owing people. also i'm only free on weekends.

he shook his head. what storm, what clash? it didn't matter. it never did. you were already carving a you shaped hole through the walls around his heart.

"why the hell you didn't tell me you danced like that?!"

jason rolled his eyes at dick. he forgot how both him and bruce must have seen it all.

"i didn't know i could either." he muttered under his breath but dick didn't care, he wiggled his brows again.

"you guys looked snug and cosy."

"that you did." where the hell did Alfred come from?

"we were just dancing!"

"why didn't you tell me you were coming jason? and who was that lady?" great now bruce spawned out of nowhere.

"is this an interrogation?" he grumbled under his breath but dick only grinned.

"did she say yes?"

"to what?" jason frowned in frustration.

"you asked her out. did she say yes?" now he frowned for a whole different reason.

"i didn't—"

"you're dating?"

"excellent choice, master jason."

"im not—"

"oh he is. oh i wish everyone could see it." dick sighed exaggeratedly.

"you will tell no one—"

"already did."

jason rubbed his face as he looked up at the ceiling.

"i will shove your face in that horrible cake."

"....it wasn't horrible :("

taglist: @itzmeme @bmyva1entine @sept3mberchild @lightthatgoout @satan-s-ass @deadbeatphobos @starshinegrl @ttdamian

reblogs are appreciated :D

[jinwoosungs]

03/30/25; 08:55pm

sylus x fem.reader

notes: solo sylus fic solo sylus fic solo sylus fic bc i saw his washboard abs and got thirsty (⺣◡⺣)♡

once a sylus girlie always a sylus girlie

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

thinking about catching sylus the moment he steps out of the shower.

you had woken up just minutes later, stepping into the bathroom to begin your morning routine when the sight of your beloved standing naked in the middle of the bathroom successfully distracts you. he notices your awed gaze and tilts an eyebrow up at you in response, “like what you see, sweetie?”

your mouth was practically salivating now, gaze following a single droplet of water that travels from his sharp collarbone before descending even lower, taking in the perfect view of his muscular abdomen.

acting purely on your desires alone, you take shaky steps toward him, feeling as though you were in the presence of a man made perfect by the gods themselves. his pale skin appeared to have been carved out by marble, without a single flaw to be seen. you were dimly aware of how your name falls from his parted lips in an almost reverent manner-

yet all you could focus on was the divine beauty settled before you.

your lips latch on to his chest, tongue curled over his hardened nipple. the sensation of your hot mouth on his skin sends pinpricks of pleasure coursing through him, making the onychinus leader weaker to your touch. sylus tosses his head back, bracing himself against the marble counter when he feels you littering heated kisses across the expanse of his chest.

so lost in the pleasure you had oh so graciously gifted him, sylus remained blissfully unaware of how you began trailing your kisses lower and lower on his body, not stopping until you were fully kneeled as your eyes were met with the noticeable tent within his towel.

licking your lips at the sight, you place both hands on the damp towel before tugging it off of him. the cold air felt hitting at the base of his cock makes sylus hiss in response, his eyes no longer having its ruby-red quality as an endless void of darkness stares down at you. you take a moment to admire his pretty erection, hands already coming around the base of him as you began your steady strokes. beads of precum escapes from his cockhead, allowing you to further tease him when you used the cloudy fluid as lubrication to help with stroking him to full hardness.

“fuck, kitten… you really must need me if you’re acting like this this early in the morning.” you give him a sly grin in response, “and would that be a problem, sy?”

you knew that sylus had a smart reply on the tip of his tongue, yet the moment you surged forward and engulfed his cock within your mouth, all sense of coherency was lost on him. sylus bites down on his bottom lip, nearly drawing out blood when he feels the way your tongue curls around the length of his cock. even more blood was felt pounding out from his heart and into the area that needed you the most. had your mouth not been so busy with giving him the best head of his life, you would have smiled upon feeling the way his cock pulsates from within you.

clenching your eyes shut, you focus solely on sylus, wanting him to release everything he had as you drank up all that you had to offer. your mouth works on coating the entirety of his cock with your saliva, hoping that it would help with bringing him further down your throat.

your hands gently play with his balls while you bob your head back and forth, moving up and down his length as you tried to coax a release out of him. when you felt the familiar twitch once more, you were ready to lock his cock in place for a brief second-

only to be harshly pulled away from him. you were still in a daze, whining and whimpering at the sudden loss of him when sylus manages to place your pliant form on top of the marble counter. he grips at your chin with one hand, allowing the other to travel down your body to help with removing your clothes.

your shirt was the first to land on the marble floor, along with your shorts and panties, leaving you utterly bare for him. your lover grips at one of your breasts, playing with it while allowing his thumb and pointer finger to roll your hardened nipple. “i apologize, but you have been spoiling me as of late. for i refuse to cum anywhere that isn’t…” he purposely trails off, spreading your legs slowly before cupping your aching center within the palm of his hand, “here.”

your breathing hitches in response to his touch, feeling your arousal already sticking to the palm of his hand when he crashes his lips into yours. giving your breast one last pinch, sylus steadies himself against the counter while leading the tip of his cock toward your slick heat. your breathing becomes labored in response, body sweating with anticipation when you finally felt sylus slowly pushing into you.

the ache began to disappear immediately, with your cunt eagerly taking in all that sylus had to offer before eventually bottoming out. a low growl escapes from sylus when he grips at your hips before setting a rapid pace, feeling his balls hitting at your entrance as you nearly screamed in response to the intense pleasure you were feeling.

you would never get used to the sensation of his cock nestled so deeply within you. it felt as though this man was made for you alone, with you fitting him so perfectly (like a puzzle piece). while keeping you pinned against him, sylus manages to draw out even more of your hedonistic moans, succumbing to his desires immediately.

you were suddenly lifted off of the counter, with sylus holding your body like you weighed nothing to him. he bounces you up and down his cock, staining every inch of him with your arousal as the mere sight of it was enough to set him off. with a few more upward thrusts and a single hard pinch felt against your swollen clit, you came instantly-

your release felt flooding out of you in waves as you tossed your head back. you had nearly hit the wall had it not been for sylus’s gentle hand settled at the back of your head, remaining stiff and taut as he focused on your pleasure alone. the sheer intensity of your release was enough to make tears fall from your eyes, with you sobbing at how good it all felt and how you couldn’t take it anymore.

yet through it all, sylus remains by your side, giving you reassuring words and whispered praises while he coached you through your climax, “that’s it, sweetie, my sweet girl, that’s it. you’re doing so well for me…”

several minutes later, you manage to calm down, your slick walls feeling achingly sensitive now thanks to the mind-blowing orgasm sylus had just gifted you. as you came down from your high, you realized something that made your eyes go wide with both excitement and terror-

and that was the fact that sylus was still hard as a rock.

catching your wide-eyed expression, he takes a hold of your hand, giving the back of it a gentle kiss while flashing you a wolfish grin. “i hope you don’t mind… entertaining me for a bit longer, sweetie, since i have yet to cum…”

with sylus now pressing you against the wall, you were given little choice but to cling to him, wrapping both your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck as he drew his cock out of you before slamming it back in, the sensation nearly causing your eyes to roll back within your head as your toes curled.

end notes: brain go brrrr each time eyes see sylus’s naked body 🤤

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[hearts4sturn]

BABY FEVER – MATT STURNIOLO

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader synopsis: babysitting your three year old niece with your boyfriend is not for the weak warnings: lowercase intended, use of y/n, mentions of having a child ???, fluff!!

“auntie y/n!” ruby’s voice rang out across the yard, the little girl’s excitement practically vibrating through the air as she came running toward y/n. her tiny feet barely kept up with her eagerness, and she almost tripped over them in her rush. but before y/n could even fully step inside, ruby was already in her arms, wrapping herself around y/n’s legs in a tight, exuberant hug.

“well, hey there, rubs!” y/n laughed, grinning as she bent down to scoop ruby up into her arms, easily lifting the toddler into the air. “how’s my favorite niece doing today?” she asked, her voice soft with affection.

ruby beamed up at her aunt, holding y/n’s face in her small hands, her fingers gently pressing into y/n’s cheeks as she looked up, her eyes wide and sparkling with pride. “mommy let me have stra-bees today!” she said, her little mouth stretching into a huge, toothy grin.

“oh really? strawberries, huh? that sounds yummy!” y/n replied with a teasing smile, her heart warming at ruby’s excitement.

“i got lots and lots of stra-bees!” ruby said, her words tumbling out in a rush as her enthusiasm made her talk faster than usual. but her smile said it all, clear and bright.

“lucky you,” y/n said, brushing a lock of ruby’s hair from her forehead, her fingers lingering on the toddler’s soft skin. “you’re going to be all bouncy with all that sugar!” she teased, her eyes dancing with amusement.

ruby nodded vigorously, her eyes wide with the thrill of her treat. “yeah! i got so many, auntie!” she exclaimed, her little hands still holding onto y/n’s face as if to make sure she heard every word.

just as y/n was about to respond, a voice from behind them broke in, teasing but full of warmth. “hey! there’s no hello for me?” matt’s voice rang out, and y/n turned, laughing as she saw him standing there with his arms crossed in playful mock offense.

ruby’s face immediately lit up at the sound of his voice. she kicked her legs in the air, her little hands reaching for y/n’s shirt as if she couldn’t contain her joy any longer.

“uncle matt!” she squealed, her face lighting up like the sun. she wiggled in y/n’s arms, signaling that she was ready to be handed over to him.

y/n chuckled, lowering ruby gently to the floor. the moment her feet touched the ground, the toddler took off running toward matt, her small feet barely touching the ground as she practically flew toward him.

“hey, rubs,” matt greeted her with a grin, crouching down to scoop her up into his arms. ruby’s delighted giggles filled the room as she clung to him, her tiny hands grabbing at his shoulders with all the energy she could muster.

y/n smiled at the sight of them, her heart swelling with affection. there was something so simple and pure about the way they interacted, so effortless and full of love. watching them together made y/n's heart ache in the best way, and she couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment.

just then, y/n turned to her sister-in-law, who was hurriedly gathering her things as she prepared to head out. “thank you so much for agreeing to look after her,” she said with a sincere smile. “i’m really sorry it’s so last minute—my work called me in unexpectedly and our babysitter was already busy and—”

y/n cut her off with a gentle smile and a wave of her hand. “it’s okay, really. i understand.

“thank you again, both of you. i just have to rush out now, but seriously, i really appreciate it.”

y/n smiled and gently placed her hand over her sister-in-law’s, reassuring her. “hey, it’s no problem. sometimes life just throws things at us, but matt and i are always happy to look after our favorite niece. you don’t need to apologize.”

her sister-in-law sighed in relief, visibly relaxing now that her mind was at ease. “thank you again, from the bottom of my heart. and ruby…” she turned to her daughter with a smile, crouching to her level. “you remember what i said, right? behave yourself, okay? don’t make things too hard on auntie y/n and uncle matt.”

“yes, mommy! see you later!” ruby chirped happily, her voice a little squeakier with excitement. she waved enthusiastically as her mother made her way out the door, her small body practically jumping with joy.

y/n crouched down to ruby’s level, giving her a gentle smile as she brushed a stray strand of hair behind the toddler’s ear. “alright, sweetheart…” y/n began, her voice soft and coaxing. “how about we go to the park now? sound good?”

“yes!!” ruby’s face lit up like a Christmas tree at the suggestion, and before y/n could say another word, she grabbed her aunt’s hand, tugging her toward the door with all the energy she had.

“hey, hey, rubs, slow down a little, okay?” matt called from behind them, his voice warm with amusement. “we’re not in a hurry. no need to rush.”

ruby paused for a split second, glancing up at matt with a sudden serious expression. then, without missing a beat, she broke into a giggle, her tiny shoulders shaking with laughter. “okay, uncle matt!” she said in her sing-song voice, still holding tightly to y/n’s hand as they made their way toward the door.

“okay, go put on your shoes, and let’s get going!” y/n called to ruby, who immediately dashed over to her shoe rack. she excitedly picked out her favorite pair of pink light-up sneakers, practically bouncing as she put them on.

“let’s go, auntie!” ruby exclaimed, her words tumbling out in her usual burst of excitement. she was already back at y/n’s side, her hand once again grabbing y/n’s as she tugged her toward the door. matt followed closely behind, his steps light and easy as he kept pace with the two girls.

once they arrived at the park, ruby didn’t waste a single second. she immediately let go of y/n’s hand and ran straight for the swing set, her little legs carrying her as fast as they could go. “uncle matt! push me, please!” she called back over her shoulder, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“alright, rubs, i’ve got you,” matt said with a chuckle, walking over to the swings with a grin. he was already getting ready to push her when y/n stepped back, watching from the sidelines, content to simply enjoy the moment.

y/n leaned against a nearby bench, her heart swelling with warmth as she watched matt gently push ruby on the swing. ruby’s delighted giggles filled the air, her hands gripping the chains as she soared higher into the sky. matt’s face was lit up with joy as he pushed her, and for a brief moment, y/n’s heart ached in the best way. she had always dreamed of being a mom, and watching matt with ruby was a constant reminder of how natural and beautiful he was with kids. sometimes, it made her wonder what it would be like to have a daughter of their own.

“auntie y/n!” ruby’s voice snapped y/n out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see the little girl waving at her from the swing. “come here, auntie y/n!”

y/n smiled warmly and walked over, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “yes, sweetie?”

“get on the swing too!” ruby said excitedly, pointing to the empty swing next to hers. “uncle matt will push both of us!”

y/n chuckled at ruby’s enthusiasm and nodded. “alright, alright, i’ll join you.” she sat down on the swing next to ruby, and as soon as she did, she felt matt give her a push. but it wasn’t just any push—it was a little too much.

“matt–!” y/n yelped, her voice a mixture of surprise and mock indignation. “too high!”

matt laughed along with ruby, clearly enjoying her reaction. ruby giggled uncontrollably, her small hands gripping the swing’s chains as she kicked her feet in the air.

“auntie y/n, you’re so funny!” ruby laughed, her bright eyes sparkling with amusement. “okay, uncle matt, i want off now! let’s go to the next thing!” she said, pointing excitedly to the rest of the playground.

“alright, rubs,” matt said, laughing as he helped y/n down. the trio made their way toward the slides, with ruby already running ahead, eager to explore the next adventure.

when they returned home later that afternoon, ruby was practically bursting with energy, eager to tell her mom about everything. “mommy!” she shouted as she burst through the door, still riding high on the excitement of the day. “mommy, i had so much fun!”

y/n’s sister-in-law, who had been waiting by the door, crouched down to scoop her daughter up into her arms. “hey, sweetie. how was your day with auntie y/n and uncle matt?” she asked, her smile warm as she hugged ruby tight.

“was so fun! we went to the park, and uncle matt pushed me on the swings, and auntie y/n too!” ruby said excitedly, her words coming out in a happy rush.

“oh really now? sounds like you had a blast. now, how about you take off your shoes and wash your hands, okay? mommy’s going to chat with auntie y/n and uncle matt for a minute,” her mom suggested, giving ruby a gentle kiss on the cheek before letting her go.

ruby nodded eagerly and scampered off to do as instructed, her little feet pattering across the floor as she removed her sneakers and headed toward the bathroom.

once ruby was out of earshot, y/n’s sister-in-law turned to the couple with a grateful smile. “thank you so much for looking after her again,” she said, her voice sincere. “i really appreciate it.”

y/n waved it off with a smile. “hey, you don’t have to thank us all the time. we’re family. we’d be happy to look after her any time,” she reassured her, her voice warm and comforting.

her sister-in-law smiled back, her eyes filled with gratitude. “thank you,” she repeated, a soft laugh escaping her as she made her way toward the door. “i’ll see you both soon.”

“take care!” y/n and matt called in unison, waving her goodbye. as the door clicked shut, the two of them shared a quiet smile, content with the simple joys of the day.

after a peaceful moment, they both climbed into matt’s van, letting out a simultaneous sigh as they settled into the comfortable silence. the weight of the afternoon's activities had finally caught up with them, and the car felt cozy and familiar.

“do you have it too?” y/n asked, her voice soft as she turned to glance at matt. there was a slight catch in her breath, a tender look in her eyes as she searched his face for an answer.

“baby fever?” matt said with a knowing smile, his eyes softening as he looked at her. “yeah, i’ve got it. bad.”

y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping as she stared out the window. her fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of her shirt, a little frown tugging at her lips. “we’re too young though. i know we are... but she’s just so cute.”

matt chuckled softly, his gaze warm as he met her eyes. “i know, baby. i want one too. believe me. but we should give it a few more years. we’re not exactly in the right place yet.”

“but matttt,” she whined, her voice taking on a playful tone. “she’s so tiny and perfect. i just wanna take her home and keep her forever.”

matt smiled at her, his thumb gently brushing over her hand as he reached out to take it. “i know, babe. i get it. i really do. but we’ve got time. a lot of time. no need to rush into it. we’ll get there, i promise. just a few more years, okay?”

y/n let out another sigh, this one a little heavier, but she nodded, knowing deep down that he was right. “just a few more years, huh?” she repeated quietly, as though trying to convince herself.

“yeah, just a few,” matt confirmed softly, his voice soothing as he leaned over to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. his lips lingered there for a moment, his eyes closing in contentment. “we’ll be great when the time comes, i know it.”

y/n rested her head against the seat, closing her eyes for a moment. the idea of waiting was hard, but she trusted matt. they had their whole future ahead of them. “okay,” she whispered, finally relaxing into the comfort of the moment. “just a few more years.”

wc: 2.2k

author's note: hai please tell me this isn't cringe ty

dividers: @cafekitsune

taglist:  @courta13

© HEARTS4STURN 2025

[mountaesan]

of pomegranates and love stained fingers ; p. sungho 

pairing. idol!park sungho x reader genre. fluff , est. relationship , lots n lots of domesticity ! synopsis. in which sungho shows you that love could be found at an ordinary kitchen table , amidst a mess of pomegranate peels and love stained fingers word count. 1.9k warnings. nudity and bathing in a non-sexual context , a lot of inner dialogue , sungho is… such a gentleman i actually might have fallen in love with him while writing this (yes this is a warning) playlist. the way that i am by abby powledge  notes. this is. so. so. so. self indulgent. but oh to be loved and to be seen by park sungho (◞‸◟)

Pomegranates are a contradiction wrapped in a tough, leather-like skin. 

On the outside, they’re unassuming. Their ruby-red hue is muted by a dull, almost dusty sheen, like they’ve been brushed by centuries of history. But break one open, and it’s utter chaos. Vivid, gleaming seeds spilling out in clusters, their translucent walls catching the light like small, blood-red jewels.

The juice is relentless. It stains fingers, clothes, and countertops with a color so intense that it almost feels alive, impossible to tame. 

And it doesn’t simply mark, it claims. Eating one is an exercise in both patience and surrender. Each seed is a burst of a tart sweetness that’s worth the mess, but it leaves you wondering how something so beautiful can also be so unruly.

That was exactly why you loved pomegranates. They were a little wild, a little untamed. It was in the way the juice stained your fingers, leaving behind traces of something alive and uncontainable. It’s how every seed is a burst of flavor: tangy, sweet, and unapologetically bold. For you, pomegranates were a reminder that the best things in life aren’t always neat or simple; they’re messy, vivid, and unforgettable.

Back in your adolescence, when you were still a hopeless romantic and believed in fate and soulmates and such, you had a theory: that anyone willing to peel a pomegranate for you was to be the one. The one the universe had assigned you—your soulmate. The person you’re meant to share the messiness and beauty of life with, because, let’s be honest, peeling a pomegranate isn’t just an act, it’s a labor. 

It’s tedious, requiring patience and precision to carefully break apart the tough skin without crushing the delicate seeds. The juice inevitably smears, the tiny ruby jewels scatter, and by the end, it looks like a small battlefield in the kitchen. 

You thought of it as a test of devotion. Who else would endure the sticky fingers, the risk of stains, and the painstaking effort, all for the sole purpose of handing over a bowl of gleaming seeds? Your theory wasn’t about the pomegranate itself, it was about what it represented: the willingness to take on something cumbersome and time-consuming just to bring joy to someone else.

In your teenage mind, peeling a pomegranate was love distilled into action. A quiet, unspoken declaration that said, ‘I see the things you cherish, even the messy, difficult ones, and I want to be a part of them.’

So you used to wait, watching the people in your life with a careful eye, jokingly tossing your theory at dinner tables and gatherings but secretly hoping and wondering if someone might one day sit down, pick up a pomegranate, and show you that love can be as simple, and as profound, as peeling fruit. 

But as you grew older, your pomegranate theory began to feel like a relic of a softer, more naive version of yourself. You used to imagine someone peeling away the tough, leathery rind, their hands stained red with love and effort, and thought to yourself, ‘that’s love.’ But with time, the weight of practicality started to take hold. 

Your theory about pomegranates, something you once held close with a spark of whimsical belief, soon became just another one of those silly little things that poets and hopeless romantics dreamed up.

So, you tucked your silly theory away in a dusty corner of your mind, dismissing it as an innocent fantasy of your youth. You searched for love that was grounded, sensible, and serious about the practicalities of life. You looked for someone who could handle the demands of life without the weight of romantic idealism like yours clouding their judgement. 

There was no room for mess or chaos anymore, certainly not for the kind of love that required peeling pomegranates, both literally and metaphorically.

A loud slam of your front door made your ears perk up and you heard the familiar rustling of your boyfriend’s clothes as he shuffled through the living room. You could almost envision the way he shrugged off his outer coat before neatly hanging it on the coat hanger by the entryway.

“Baby? I’m home!” 

“In here!” you called out. The bathwater lapped at your knees, forming small waves that crashed and fell against the porcelain wall of your bathtub. Sungho knocked on the bathroom door, but only out of courtesy, before he pushed it open and greeted you with a bright smile.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he knelt by the side of the bathtub to press a warm kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re home early.” you pointed out. A hand reached out to stroke your boyfriend’s cheek, a single droplet of water running down the slope of your arm and landing back in the bathtub with a small plop. 

“Mastered the choreography first so I could come home to you,” he replied, ever so gently leaning into the warmth of your palm. “Did you just start your bath?”

You nodded, the corners of your lips lifting at his sweet words. “Just a few minutes ago. You don’t have to keep kneeling like that, you know. Your knees are going to hurt.”

“I’m fine,” he said with a chuckle. His gaze softened as he noticed the way the water cradled your form, the steam rising in delicate swirls around you. “Want some help?”

You tilted your head, teasing. “Are you volunteering to join me?”

Sungho laughed softly, shaking his head. “Maybe next time, but I can still take care of you from here.”

Before you could respond, he reached for the loofah sitting on the edge of the tub and dipped it into the warm water before lathering it up with your favorite body wash. His movements were slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second of this small, intimate moment. 

“You don’t have to, you know,” you murmured as he started gently running the loofah along your shoulder. His featherlight touch sent a slight shiver down your spine.

“I know,” he said, his voice steady and warm. “But let me.”

His voice was so soft, so filled with love, that you couldn’t bring yourself to argue. You let out a small sigh of defeat and leaned back against the tub as he started gently running the loofah over your arms. 

Sungho’s touch was delicate, as though he was handling the most fragile thing in the world. The loofah glided over your arms, his hand following to rinse away the bubbles.

“You work so hard,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he moved to your legs. “You deserve this.��

The words made your chest tighten with emotion. “You’re too good to me,” you whispered.

“No such thing,” he said with a soft chuckle, his hand brushing the back of your calf. “Taking care of my partner is the easiest thing in the world.”

You let your head rest against the edge of the tub, closing your eyes as his hands continued their tender work. The care and love infused into every motion, the way he poured his entire being into making sure you felt safe, cherished, and adored made your heart squeeze tightly.

As he finished, Sungho pressed a soft kiss to your damp shoulder, his lips lingering for a moment. “All done,” he whispered, and you noticed a hint of pride in his voice.

“Thank you,” you said, meeting his gaze. 

Sungho smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Anything for you, gorgeous. Always.”

He stood up and grabbed the big, fluffy towel from the nearby rack, shaking it out to fluff it up. “Alright, come on, let me help you out.”

You shifted in the tub, the water sloshing as you moved to stand. Sungho reached out instinctively, steadying you with his strong, gentle hands. His fingers pressed lightly against your arm and waist as he guided you to step out of the tub.

“Careful,” he murmured, his brows furrowed in concentration. 

The moment your feet touched the bath mat, he draped the towel around you, cocooning you in its warmth. You couldn’t help but giggle as he adjusted the plush fabric, tucking the edges around your shoulders like a protective shield.

“There we go. Let’s go get you dried up, and then we can go see the present I got you.”

The kitchen table was a mess—juice stains spreading across its surface, pomegranate seeds scattered among paper towels and discarded bits of rind. Sungho sat across from you, elbows resting on the table as he carefully pried apart another piece of fruit. His fingers were stained a deep crimson, the juice clinging to his skin and pooling in the small creases of his knuckles. 

“You’re making such a mess,” you teased, watching as he plucked a cluster of seeds free and placed them in a bowl.

He grinned, unfazed. “Worth it.”

He picked up a few seeds between his stained fingers, flicking away the stubborn bits of membrane, and brought them to your lips. “Here.” 

You let him feed you, the tart sweetness bursting on your tongue as he watched you with unspoken fondness. It wasn’t until you noticed the way his brows furrowed in concentration, focusing on getting a particular seed unstuck from the membrane, that it struck you how absurdly thoughtful this was.

“When did I even mention that I like pomegranates?” you asked, your voice softened with wonder and adoration.

Sungho glanced up briefly, his lips quirking up into a sheepish grin. “You told me once, when we first started dating. You were talking about how much you loved them as a kid. Said they were your favorite fruit, even though they’re a pain to eat.” 

You blinked, stunned. The memory was hazy even to you—just a passing remark in some forgetful conversation. But he’d remembered.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you murmured, feeling your chest tighten with an unfamiliar mix of emotions.

Sungho shrugged, returning his attention to the pomegranate in his crimson stained hands. “It’s no trouble. Besides, I like seeing you happy.”

You looked down at the table and took in the chaos of it all: the stains, the mess, his juice-streaked hands, and something deep inside you shifted.

Suddenly, you were seventeen again with your heart wrapped in whimsical theories about soulmates and love.

This was it. This was what you had been searching for back then but had long stopped believing in. This was the kind of love you’d once dreamed of but had dismissed as a silly, adolescent fantasy. Yet, here it was, sitting across from you with juice-stained hands and a soft smile, proving you wrong in the most beautiful way.

Your teenage self had been right: peeling a pomegranate wasn’t just about the fruit. It was a quiet act of devotion, a willingness to embrace the mess and the effort for the sake of someone else’s joy.

Sungho broke your reverie by holding up another handful of seeds, his smile so effortlessly warm that it sent a pang through your chest.

“You don’t have to feed me,” you said with a small laugh, though your voice wavered slightly.

“I know,” he replied. His tone was gentle but resolute. “But let me.”

And as you opened your mouth for the next bite, you realized that love didn’t have to be a grand, sweeping gesture.

Sometimes, it was sitting at a messy kitchen table with stained hands and sticky fingers, peeling pomegranates because someone mentioned, just once, that they liked them.

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[banyangulf-if]

PLAY THE DEMO | PATREON | KO-FI

"Feed on life as it feeds on you."

Answering a house sitting advertisement for a wealthy family friend, you make the journey to Southern Florida to fulfill a contract of seven weeks in exchange for enough money to float you comfortably through your final year of university. With keys to a mansion just a few hours from the beach and the promise of solitude under the Florida sun, you’re set for the summer of a lifetime – until you show up to the house and find out your employer is dead. 

Unbeknownst to you, something hidden in the mansion calls for your claim – something many are willing to kill to possess, regardless of if you are caught in the crossfire. Attempt to leave and live ignorantly, blissfully under a veil of paradise, or capture what riches live hidden in secret. 

Banyan Gulf by V. Lovisa @vlovisa

Customize yourself, the Main Character. Choose your name, appearance, gender, pronouns, and a variety of other factors throughout the story. 

Interact with and influence your relationship with a cast of five main romanceable characters and other side characters. 

Form alliances, or work on your own to uncover the secrets that await you. 

Decorate the room you stay in at your employer’s mansion. Choose wall color, bedding, decor, and special personalized elements to help you feel at home during your stay. 

Choose your attire for formal events and other select scenes. 

Determine your motivations – does money, fame, love, or something deeper drive you to find what lies hidden in the mansion? 

Luisa Morales (she/her) – Ambitious as she is brutally honest and determined, Luisa is an entrepreneur at heart. She aims to someday open her own tattoo shop, she’s been practicing tattooing since she turned 18. Her best friend Drew has become her practice canvas, since she’s run out of room for more work on her left arm and can’t tattoo left-handed. Luisa intends to make it big on her dreams, no matter the cost, and desires to create a sturdy and steady life for herself doing what she loves. She is 24 years old and 5’2. Luisa is Mexican, with brown eyes and long wavy hair that she has dyed dark cherry red.

Drew Robins (he/him OR she/her) – When they are not working at their family’s restaurant or deliberately annoying their best friend Luisa, Drew is a recreational hobby addict. From drawing to sports to drink mixing to mountain climbing, Drew has tried just about everything. They aspire to create a life where money isn’t a concern and they can pursue every one of their passions freely. Drew is 23 years old and 6’1. Male Drew has relatively short curly blond hair, and female Drew has long curly blonde hair that reaches the middle of her back. Drew has pale blue eyes and is white.

Lorelei Wildes (she/her) – Once the most popular person in Banyan Gulf due to the extent of her family’s riches but now socially disgraced due to a family scandal, Lorelei is burnt out of the city. Her one aspiration now is to escape, buy herself a house so grand it’s a step short of a vacation resort close to the beach, and live in the most luxurious way possible. Lorelei is drawn to everything beautiful, everything restful, everything perfect. She is 24 years old and 5’8. Lorelei is white, with green eyes and light brown hair that almost reaches her waist.

Oscar Carter (he/him) – An aspiring screenwriter and film director, Oscar has his sights set on becoming the most renowned filmmaker in the world. It’s a sizable ambition, one many have told him is impossible, but through it all Oscar has remained a dreamer, an artist, and is making progress on his aspirations through directing music videos and short films. Oscar is 23 years old and 5’11. He is Black, with dark eyes and black locs that reach just below his collarbones.

Ronan/Ruby Hall (he/him OR she/her)– With their eccentric sense of humor and work as a chef and part-time graphic designer, Hall is known for their individuality and drive to live in their own way. In the back of their mind they hold the goal of being a full-time artist someday when they have the time and focus to give to creating. For now, they’re content to live in their own chaos. Hall is 25 years old and 5’9. They are mixed Thai and white, with light brown eyes and black hair (an overgrown mid fade for Ronan, and hair that reaches just below her collarbones for Ruby). 

POLY ROUTES:

Lorelei & Oscar – The love they once shared has faded, but is not yet lost. Only you might ignite what lies dormant between them, if you so wish. 

Luisa & Ruby/Ronan Hall – Their relationship could never feel complete without the warmth you bring to unite them.

Banyan Gulf is an interactive fiction game that is intended for mature audiences. The game includes many potentially upsetting themes, such as foul language, smoking, drinking and recreational drugs, general violence, weapons (knives, guns, etc), death, murder, suicide and suicidal ideation, cannibalism, gore, and optional romantic and/or sexual content. Please be mindful of these warnings when considering if Banyan Gulf is right for you. 

DEMO — BUY ME A COFFEE WHILE I WRITE — PATREON

asks always welcome :) reblogs and comments appreciated!!!

[wetforsylus]

– best friend!sylus teaching you how to kiss before going on your date ༯ 

"are you sure this is alright?" you ask, standing in front of sylus and looked up at his face, eyes darting from his ruby iris to those lips.

"mm well are you gonna say yes if he asks to kiss you?"

you stay silent and glance at his lips again before leaning in. he chuckled and ducked down to your level, sliding his fingers on the side of your face before pulling you close.

his lips hovered over yours and he let out a breathy sigh before pressing them on yours. you slightly part your lips and sucked on his bottom lip, soon sliding your tongue against his rough pads.

sylus gulped and pulled away, staring at you with a breathy look, fingers sliding from the sides of your cheeks, down to your neck as he held on you with a firm grip.

"that's how you're gonna kiss him?"

"n- ngh!" before you could finish what you were saying, sylus crashed his lips onto yours again, this time filled with desperation and hunger. he slid his tongue in your parched lips, sucking and practically devouring you.

"skip..." he panted, pulling away from the kiss to look at you then crashed his lips on you again.

"skip the date, and stay with me, how's that?"

a/n: gladly will