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banqanas

doodles requests for @thistaleisabloodyone @ashrocker123 @hopkei

Thank you for the help in supporting SekaKeto!!!!! 🙏🌎🐸❤️

Feel free to use with credit :)

ashrocker123

These are so cute thank you @banqanas 😭🫶🏼❤️

linolinoing

BANG CHAN — 'THIS & THAT' TEASER IMAGES

secretjeon

Zoro zoro zoro!!!!!!!!! Just anything please 😫 i cannot get enough of him.

Maybe something along the lines of having to do the chores on the ship but he's extremely "distracted" by the reader doing the work and gets caught staring.

Maybe with a little smutty ending?

STARVING; RORONOA ZORO

pairing: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, smut, cunnilingus, unprotected sex

a/n: send in requests!

voidreynolds

the meaning of maroon - roronoa zoro

summary: the crew wonders why miss goldenweek painted two of the same colors. and why there is only two sets of handcuffs, fixed on opposite sides of the room.

warnings: nsfw themes– no smut, tension, hormones, zoro goes slightly feral, language, not cannon but idc, some sort of established relationship

secretjeon

Can you write for more Zoro x reader loved what you did with starving, just ugh........

Zoro is giving mister "I don't do romance" energy until he meets reader. He just becomes so down bad and is constatly trying to control himself yearner eyes, shaky breath, the nervousness, the constant stare, when around them.

Reader is such a baddie that a man who has never thought about romance in his life is so transfixed on us. Zoro only thinks about swords, booze and training.

FIGHTING IT; RORONOA ZORO

pairing: zoro x fem!reader

warnings: flirting, fluff, zoro is down bad, smut, i may have gotten carried away

Roronoa Zoro was a man of focus. He took pride in it. Which is why it was so bizarre when you joined the Straw Hats. You distracted him constantly. Whether it was when you winked at him, or just simply walked past. Today was no different. Zoro was in the middle of training, a massive weight in his hand as he lifted it.

romerona

All Y/N ever wanted to do was sing her songs and be free. Yet somehow, after offering to pay for the meal of a certain boy in a straw hat she finds herself causing havoc through the East Blue.

Masterlist

Trigger warnings: violence, death, one mention of SA, torture, trauma.

Word count: 11K

Disclaimer: The songs I will be using in this fic aren't mine bc I have 0 creativity. I'm sorry.

It began with the sea.

Y/N had always loved it—its wildness, its freedom, the way she belonged to it until it didn't anymore.

Her father.

One moment, they had been laughing beneath the mangroves, her tail brushing his in the soft sway of the tide. He had this deep laugh, the kind that made you feel like the sea itself was smiling, the one that made you feel safe. The next, she was being pulled through the water by her mother's hand, frantic, terrified, forced to hide behind a jagged coral outcropping.

The Marines had come.

mim16s

Way back home

Zoro x Reader

Summary — Roronoa Zoro never truly understood what home meant, until he met you. Between diverging paths, inevitable goodbyes, and the distance imposed by the sea, he learns that home is not a place you return to, but someone you always find your way back to.

You and Zoro were lying together, your naked bodies joined.

You closed your eyes, wishing—if only for one selfish instant—that time would stop right there.

Not because of the touch itself, but because of the rare quiet that existed when you were together.

Zoro kept one firm hand wrapped around your waist, the other resting on your thigh, as if that simple gesture were enough to make sure you were still there.

You knew that moment had an expiration date.

His world did not allow permanence.

He was a pirate hunter. Blood debts did not wait.

You wanted to go with him.

You wanted to say you would find a way.

But you couldn’t.

Your village needed you—you were one of the few warriors. If you left, the village would be left defenseless.

And you would not abandon your home like that.

Zoro understood.

He always did, even when it hurt.

He didn’t try to convince you.

Didn’t argue.

He accepted it in silence, because to him, respect meant exactly that.

You fell asleep together, as if sleep itself could delay the inevitable.

But morning came.

When you woke up, Zoro was already dressed, yet he remained lying beside you, admiring you in the few minutes you still had together, until he felt you stir.

Your eyes met.

Nothing needed to be said.

You buried your face in his neck, breathing deeply, feeling the weight of that moment. Tears gathered, burning, but you didn’t let them fall. Zoro didn’t ask you to be strong. He simply stayed there.

At the port, the wind carried the scent of salt and farewell.

You didn’t want to let him go.

But you knew you had to.

Zoro raised his hand and touched your face with unusual care, as if that gesture demanded more attention than any fight. He looked at you deeply—not like someone saying goodbye, but like someone carving a destiny into memory.

— I know the way back.

You nodded, a fragile smile appearing even as silent tears finally slipped down.

— I know… you always come back to me.

He wiped away each tear with his thumb, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. Then he held your face and rested his forehead against yours before pressing his lips to yours in a calm, steady kiss—a wordless promise.

When he left, you stayed there.

And your mind returned to the beginning.

To the day you met by chance.

Two opposite paths.

Two lives that were never meant to cross.

And yet, it was there that something inside Zoro—something he had kept empty by choice—began to fill, effortlessly, without warning.

---

You entered the bar almost on impulse.

It wasn’t a place you usually went to, but lately the routine of the village felt unbearably heavy. Identical days, identical responsibilities. You needed to feel something different, and alcohol helped quiet the thoughts that insisted on returning.

You sat on a stool at the counter, ordering a simple drink.

You were too distracted to notice when someone took the seat beside you.

You only noticed his presence when a glass was slid in front of you.

You turned your head and, for a second, forgot how to breathe.

The man beside you had a presence that was impossible to ignore. Relaxed posture, attentive gaze, scars that didn’t ask for explanation. Handsome in a rough, almost dangerous way. It made you uneasy.

— You look like you need this more than I do — he said, his voice low and deep. — Whatever’s troubling your mind… it doesn’t seem small.

You blinked, surprised, and carefully took the glass.

— Thank you — you murmured, feeling your face warm slightly.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye for a few seconds before speaking:

— You’re not from here.

He shrugged, simply.

— Just passing through.

That should have ended the conversation.

But it didn’t.

You talked about small things—the village, the weather, vague stories that didn’t demand details. It was strange how natural everything felt, as if the conversation were merely resuming something that already existed.

When you said you needed to leave, he felt something he hadn’t expected: discomfort. A quiet resistance in his chest.

He wanted to ask your name.

Wanted to say anything to make you stay.

He didn’t.

You left through the door before he decided.

The streets were dark. The village was small, and the streetlights failed more often than they worked. The alcohol made your steps lighter—you weren’t used to drinking.

That’s when you saw them.

Two men blocking your path. Familiar faces. Worse reputations.

Meanwhile, back at the bar, Zoro stared at the empty glass in front of him, irritated with himself.

He stood abruptly, tossed a few bills onto the counter, and left—telling himself he only wanted to know your name. Nothing more.

When he heard noises coming from a nearby street, he considered ignoring them and continuing his search. But his conscience wouldn’t allow it. He changed direction.

He turned the corner and the world stopped.

And that’s how he found you.

Fast, precise movements. You took down one of the men—twice your size—with a sharp strike. The other tried to react. A grave mistake. In seconds, both were on the ground.

Zoro stood frozen, watching, his heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with danger.

When you twisted one of their hands against the ground, your voice was firm, unwavering:

— I’ll teach you never to try to touch anyone with those filthy hands again.

There was a crack. A scream.

Zoro felt his face heat—rare for him. His heart pounded far too hard.

It wasn’t just attraction.

It was admiration.

You turned then, noticing his presence. Your eyes met.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Zoro took a deep breath, one corner of his mouth lifting in a faint smile.

— …I should’ve asked your name.

You looked at him, still breathless, and smiled.

And there, in that poorly lit street, Zoro understood that something inside him—something he had kept empty by choice—had just been filled without asking permission.

He was in love.

---

You knew, with a certainty that tightened your chest, that after so much time beside Roronoa Zoro, you couldn’t bear to stay away from him much longer.

Distance wasn’t silence—it was constant noise. His absence echoed in every detail of the day, in every restless night.

And deep down, you also knew you had never wanted to stay in that village forever.

Since childhood, you dreamed of the vastness of the world, of endless seas, of paths that didn’t always lead back to the same place. But being the strongest warrior on the island turned that dream into something almost forbidden. You weren’t just someone from there—you were necessary. Always necessary.

To protect.

To decide.

To stay.

Even leaving for a few days became a risk for everyone.

So if you wanted to leave—if you wanted to finally go meet Zoro and the world he crossed—you would have to teach others to take your place.

That’s how you gathered ten students.

Ten people willing to train, to fail, to bleed if necessary, so the island would no longer depend solely on you.

The training was exhausting.

— Straight posture — you said, placing a hand on one young man’s shoulder and forcing him to align. — If you drop your guard now, there won’t be a second chance.

He tried again. Failed.

You sighed, controlling your impatience.

— Watch the opponent’s shoulders, not the weapon — you explained more calmly. — The body always reveals the next move before the strike.

You corrected and demanded, but never diminished them.

Because you knew—they would only learn by failing, the same way you had.

The days passed the same.

Training at dawn. Training at dusk.

A tired body, aching muscles, a mind always alert.

And still, what exhausted you most wasn’t physical—it was the constant weight of being everyone’s support. The feeling that if you failed or left too soon, everything would collapse.

At night, when you were finally alone, exhaustion came paired with longing.

Zoro appeared in your thoughts without permission.

His blunt way. The comfortable silence. His steady presence.

Thinking of him hurt, because it made everything around you feel too small. The village felt narrower. The days, longer. Being far from him felt like fighting without a sword—possible, but wrong.

That was why you kept going.

Every correction, every fall, every small step forward from your students brought you closer to something greater.

Over time, they began to take on small responsibilities:

• standing watch,

• training on their own,

• protecting one another without relying on you.

Nothing grand.

But enough.

They were still your students. The lessons continued every day.

But for the first time, you felt something different in your chest.

Not relief.

Hope.

You were still there—but you were no longer the only thing holding everything up.

And as you watched your students train without your direct intervention, you thought of Zoro again.

This time, without pain.

With promise.

You were tired. Exhausted.

But finally, closer to the path that led to him.

---

Roronoa Zoro had always believed he didn’t have a home.

That was before you.

Before, home was a useless concept—places were temporary, people too.

Now he knew: home was where you were.

The island didn’t matter. The port didn’t matter. The name of the place didn’t matter. If you were there, that was where he belonged.

And that was why, every time he went out to hunt pirates, something in him resisted.

Not fear.

Desire.

He wanted you beside him. Wanted to share the silence, the danger, the road. Not because you needed protection—but because the world felt more right when you fought side by side.

Distance made him slip back into old habits.

Zoro started drinking more than he should.

Not enough to lose reason—he would never allow that.

But enough to dull the edge of longing, as if alcohol could soften absence.

Sleeping became another battle.

Sleep was light, broken. Hard ribs, cold ground, interrupted dreams.

Nothing like when you slept curled against him, breathing softly, and the world felt—if only for a few hours—finally quiet.

He passed through villages like yours—narrow streets, dim lights, simple people.

And all he could think about was you.

If you were eating properly.

If you were sleeping.

If you smiled the way you did when he was there.

When he joined the Straw Hat Pirates, something changed.

He was still Zoro—direct, closed off, focused.

But he no longer felt so alone.

Having crewmates around, hearing laughter on deck, sharing battles he didn’t have to face alone—it all made him steadier. More whole.

The crew didn’t replace you, but it kept him standing until he could return.

At night, lying on the deck, he stared at the star-filled sky and thought that maybe you were looking at the same stars at that very moment.

The thought didn’t lessen the longing.

But it made it bearable.

Every day, he watched the ship’s course.

Each island passed. Each mile conquered.

The path always led to you.

And that kept him steady.

Once, someone commented on how he was always staring at the horizon, as if waiting for something.

Zoro didn’t answer right away.

Then he murmured, simple and final:

— There’s someone waiting for me.

And for the first time in his life,

he was certain he would return home.

---

Watching her students train among themselves was when something finally shifted inside you.

Their movements were firm.

Precise.

There was no more hesitation in their strikes, no more glances seeking your approval at every step. They corrected themselves, protected one another, learned from their own mistakes. You recognized everything you had taught them—discipline, reading the opponent, responsibility.

Your hard work was there, alive, breathing without your intervention.

And for the first time in a long while, you felt at peace.

You had always been necessary. There was always someone calling your name, someone depending on your strength, someone expecting you to fix things. Being the island’s pillar had become a silent prison.

But now… now they were ready.

Independent.

You were no longer the only line between safety and chaos.

And that meant you could finally choose for yourself.

Your chest tightened as the thought formed clearly.

Now you could go.

Now you could see him.

The idea of Roronoa Zoro wasn’t just longing—it was a deep, almost physical pull. Being far from him had always made everything feel misplaced, incomplete, as if you were living in the wrong place.

With him, you didn’t need to be strong all the time.

You closed your eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, feeling something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Certainty.

Wherever he was…

that was where you would feel at home.

---

The crew had just docked at another island when Zoro stepped away from the deck without a word.

He found an old public phone, leaning against the wall of a building worn by salt and time.

He stood there for a few seconds before dialing.

Fighting was easy. Cutting down enemies too.

But talking to you… that always disarmed him.

The ring echoed once.

Twice.

His heart raced in a way no battle ever had.

— Hello?

Your voice crossed the line and Zoro closed his eyes for a moment, as if grounding himself.

— …My love.

On the other end, the world stopped.

— Z-Zoro? — your voice broke. — Is it really you? I… I missed you so much.

He tightened his grip on the phone.

— It’s me. I missed you too. Every day.

A brief pause.

— How are you?

— I’m fine… — you took a breath. — I’d be better with you. But I’m fine.

That drew from him a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

— I’m relieved to hear that. — Silence. — I called because… I have something to tell you.

— Funny — you said, trying to sound light. — I do too. But go on.

He inhaled deeply, as direct as ever:

— I became a pirate.

Silence on the other end.

— …A pirate? — you asked, confused. — Didn’t you… hunt pirates?

— I did. — he replied plainly. — But I met someone who made me see the world differently.

Your heart clenched.

— Someone…?

Your voice was low, uncertain, and Zoro immediately heard the weight of it.

He frowned, as if you were right in front of him.

— Hey. — he said firmly. — That’s not what you think.

— Zoro…

— It’s the captain. — he interrupted. — Luffy. He gave me a different purpose. Joining the crew… it just happened naturally.

You let out the breath you’d been holding.

— You scared me.

— Why? — he asked, genuinely confused.

Then he understood.

— …You thought I’d found someone else?

His tone hardened—not with anger, but conviction.

— Listen to me carefully. — he said slowly. — I only have eyes for you. Always have. You’re the only one in my life.

On the other end, your tears finally fell.

— That just gives me more courage to tell you then… — your voice trembled, but something new lived in it. — I can finally leave the village.

His world stopped.

— …What? — Zoro straightened. — Are you serious?

— I’ve never been more serious. — you replied. — While you were gone, I trained others. The warriors are stronger now. There are enough people to protect the village.

A pause.

— I can go with you now, Zoro. Where I always wanted to be.

He ran a hand over his face, letting out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

— You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that. — his voice was heavy, sincere. — These months away from you were torture. I think about you all the time.

Then he said it plainly:

— Pack your things.

— Zoro—

— This ship is changing course now. — he stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. — I’m coming to get you.

On the other end of the line, you smiled through tears.

And for the first time in a long while,

his path didn’t feel like just a journey.

It felt like going home.

---

When you saw the unfamiliar ship approaching the port, something inside you simply knew.

It wasn’t logic.

It was instinct.

Your heart raced, air caught in your lungs, and before you realized it, your feet were already moving. You ran toward the pier, the sound of waves mixing with your uneven breathing.

When the ship docked…

when you saw him…

The tears came before you could stop them—hot, free, carrying everything that had been waiting, longing, and love. A smile spread at the same time, unstoppable, as if the world had finally settled into the right place.

Zoro stepped off the ship and the instant his eyes met yours, everything else ceased to exist.

He walked fast—almost running—toward you.

You did the same.

The impact of the embrace was strong, urgent. You clung to him like someone finding solid ground after being adrift too long, your face buried in his chest, feeling his heart beating just as fast as yours.

— I told you I’d come — he murmured, his voice low, steady, full of promise. — I’d turn the world upside down just to find you.

You laughed through tears, holding him tighter.

— I never doubted it.

You held his face between your fingers, rising onto your toes. Zoro leaned down at the same time, meeting you halfway, as if he knew exactly where he belonged.

The kiss was intense.

Deep.

Filled with accumulated longing.

There was no port, no people, no noise—only the two of you, bound by something that had never broken, even with distance.

— So it’s true you have a girlfriend! — Monkey D. Luffy’s loud voice broke the moment, making you start slightly.

Zoro didn’t pull away.

Didn’t let go.

— Yeah. I do. — he answered without taking his eyes off you, his hand firm at your waist, his gaze overflowing with a love that was simple, intense, unquestionable.

You met the Straw Hats soon after—easy laughter, obvious loyalty, an energy that made sense around him. Seeing Zoro among such good friends warmed your chest in a new way.

And there, beside the crew…

beside him…

You knew the adventures ahead would be incredible. But above all, you knew one thing with absolute certainty:

All you needed…

was to be together.

Taglist Opla:

@amande0907 @fandoml0vers

lisawoogafics

𝔟𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡: roronoa zoro/reader

summary: after being rescued by zoro during a raid in whisky peak, you find yourself joining the straw hat crew. slowly you begin to notice the quiet, unconventional ways zoro shows he cares — whether he admits it or not. when he takes it upon himself to teach you how to fight, you never expected to need it so soon. and when things go wrong, it turns out you weren't the only one who had caught feelings along the way.

cw: live action!zoro. slowburn, hurt/comfort, violence, blood & injury, town raid, canon divergence, slight angst, fluff

You found yourself craven into a dark corner in your room. pirates invaded your town and you were preparing for bloodshed. screams and chaos could be heard from outside your small cabin and it only seemed to be getting louder as the rogue pirates approached the cabin

Thud the cabin door came flying down and a body thud onto the floor above the door. a rogue pirate knocked out. and a mysterious figure behind him stepping in. Green hair. three swords attached to his hip. sharp jawline and dark, concentrated eyes.

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked around for something, someone. As his eyes trailed around the room they finally landed on a figure, you. He walked over with determination and confidence. I cowered even further if that was possible, trembling as he stood in front of me, towering over me. As he crouched down, I clutched my chest. That's when his voice spoke.

"Get up, it's not safe here" His deep, commanding voice echoed.

I looked at him confused, wasn't he also a rogue pirate?

"What?" I spoke in a soft, meek voice.

"Get up." His voice echoed more assertively.

I blinked once, twice. "Okay.." Pause. "Who are you?"

His mouth quirked ever so slightly, almost amused by the comment as if he was used to people knowing who he was. He extended his arm as an offer of help. I hesitated for a moment, cautious of his intentions. Still not knowing if he was a rogue pirate. But something in my gut told me I could trust him.

So I did.

I followed behind him, staying as close as possible. As we stepped foot out of the cabin I looked around and destruction was visible everywhere. Rubble was piled on top of broken houses, people crying everywhere. What caught my eye was the bodies, I was mentally preparing myself to see my neighbours, friends. I wanted to close my eyes. But the more I looked around, the more I realised the bodies went of people I knew. It was the bodies of the rogue pirates.

My train of thought was interrupted when a surprisingly joyful man came rushing over "Zoro! Are you ready to go?" The cheery voice spoke. Zoro stayed silent and looked over at my direction. "The rest of the civilians are gathered over there" He nodded towards the area.

I turned towards the group over civilians huddled near the edge of town. I looked towards Zoro, before walking towards the group. But a voice interrupted my movement "Hey, you're coming with us right?" The cheery man spoke, his eyes filled with complete sincerity I turned around surprised. I opened my mouth slightly before closing it.

"Coming where?"

"We're leaving soon" He spoke again, already seeming distracted as he turned towards the ship. "Actually— Sanji is probably cooking up a meal right now—"

"Luffy." Zoro's voice, flat.

Zoro didn't say anything else, he looked at me once, briefly before heading back towards the ship. Luffy gestured a "let's go" and that's how I found myself following the straw hat pirates.

Months went by since my town was raided by rogue pirates. It was the worst time of my life, my village was destroyed and many lives were lost, it took weeks for my people to even restore an ounce of their once trusted economy. But while there was many bad things that happened, the best thing happened to me as-well. Meeting Roronoa Zoro and his crew.

His captain Luffy and Usopp—still confused about that—invited me with open arms, Luffy is so charismatic and made me feel right at home. His other crewmates Nami and Vivi felt like the sisters I never had, they taught me everything I needed to know about navigation and especially how to stand my ground.

Nami gave me lesson on the dynamics of a ship and I tried my best to contribute to the crew, although I was mainly in charge of caring for the ship while they went out to islands. Sanji, oh Sanji, he is such a romancer but he is a damn good cook, he is able to whip up the most delicious meal possible from scraps. One time when we were lacking in supplies he made the most incredible soup. I'm still craving it as we speak.

And chopper, the most sweetest little deer. He is quite the emotional character but he can make anyone's day better. And Usopp tells the best stories, the crew are lucky to have a brave warrior like him on board.

Lastly, Zoro. He's very nonchalant. He keeps to himself, doesn't talk much but he's around. Whether training or bickering with Sanji he's always close by. We hadn't spoken much since he had found me but I feel his presence near me when we're around.

Nami had instructed me to tie a knot near the deck of the ship as the crew were on a nearby island scouting for supplies. She had helped me previously, giving me step-by-step instructions but I had always fumbled on the last part, the actual tightening of the knot. I sighed frustrated, my fingers kept getting caught in between the rope. I could feel myself getting more and more frustrated but my train of thought got interrupted when someone grabbed the rope and tightened it in one swift motion, I looked up it was Zoro. Before I could even have a chance to thank him he walked off as the other crew boarded the ship. Nami made her way over, her face gleaming with proudness. "This is a really good knot, you're learning well"

Another incident was with Sanji's cooking, he handed the crew his new recipe including some new exotic fish from the deep blue. I looked down at the bowl, and gave a polite smile thanking Sanji for his efforts. I stared at the bowl and there was a beat, then two, I've always had a distaste towards fish. Just as I was about to pick up the fish, my bowl was removed and then replaced a bowl of chicken. I smiled and looked up to Sanji to thank him for remembering but it wasn't Sanji, it was Zoro. He didn't even provide acknowledgement of the situation, just prodded the fish and ate it in one go. My shoulders slumped in relief as I ate the chicken.

Sanji walked around and noticed Zoro's bowl and uttered a small "Hey, Mosshead. I thought you hated Fish?"

I was training with the mast of the ship, using a wooden stick and smacked the mast with the most inexperienced skill. I tried to use Nami's fighting technique but I was no where near flexible enough. I was panting and sweating as I hit it over and over again but I was exhausted.

I had my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath when a small cough alerted me. I stood up, sweat pooling down the side of my forehead.

Zoro.

I gave an awkward smile as he had his hand on one of his blades.

"Training?" He spoke, his eyes darting away before returning to me.

"Attempting" I lightly joked. He didn't smile though, just acknowledge my poor attempt at humour. He stepped down from the ship and walked towards me.

"Your posture is wrong. You need to straighten your back, like this" He walked over boldly and gently placed his hands on my back straightening it. I froze as I felt his hand on my lower back adjusting my posture. I could feel the warmth spread from his hand and I furrowed my eyebrows, a nervous habit and planted my feet down, my back now straight. He stepped away, eyeing my new posture.

"Try again this time."

I paused for a second, losing train of thought before adjusting my wooden stick clumsily, it felt stupid. I struck the mast, swinging the stick left and then right after I felt like the demonstration was over I turned around and gave a something smile.

He cocked his eyebrow and looked away before returning his gaze, he unfolded his crossed arms, grabbing one of the other spare wooden sticks nearby. "You're doing it wrong." He spoke plainly. "You're pulling from the wrong place. Loosen your grip, stop acting like you're afraid of dropping it. If you're using all your strength just on the swing you'll be useless in ten minutes."

"Like this." Zoro swung with precision, his skills were unmatched as he swung the wooden stick. I watched in awe as the stick thumped and thumped. The stick hit the mast, sending a vibration across the ship. My eyes began to drift from the stick to his bicep, the way the curve of his shirt would crinkle as his muscle flexed every time he struck. I felt my mouth dry slightly as I gulped. After he felt like it was enough he withdrew the stick.

Incoherent words mumbled as I lost track of focus. I blinked before looking back up at him. Oh god, was I staring? "Sorry, what did you say?"

He shook his head slightly before speaking again "Spar with me"

I did a double take. "Spar? with.. you?" I let out a nervous chuckle politely declining. "I couldn't— I can barely hit the mast properly there's no way I can keep up with you"

"Prepare your sword" My stomach flipped as his deep voice rung assertively, leaving no room for an argument

"Okay." I spoke ever so softly.

As I prepped my sword, I straightened my posture and positioned it, mirroring Zoro's position. Then our swords clashed, I stumbled back a bit from the intensity of his strength. "Woah—"

He seemed to notice he went a bit too rough before speaking

"You need to hold your ground more." I blinked for a second before nodding my head.

"Hold my ground, okay, yeah."

Our swords clashed again and I was able to parry some of his moves, but as he manoeuvre around me I lost my footing and tripped. I was almost convinced I was about to faceplant onto the ground but a tight grip held around my waist, pulling me up. His grip didn't loosen as I stood there, his around still wrapped around my waist as we regained our breath. I could feel the panting of his chest pressed slightly against my back. After a what felt like a long silence I finally mumbled. "Thank you" I stood there slightly frozen. The stillness of his breath unphased "should've held your ground"

We headed towards a new island, a marine base, to restock for supplies before heading to Alabasta but things went south. Our crew got split up when we were attacked by some Baroque work agents, Nami and Vivi were split one direction, Sanji, Usopp and Luffy and Chopper and Zoro. I was left alone to fend for myself. It's not their fault, there was a big explosion blast and none of us could see through the thick cloud of smoke. I was just unlucky enough to head into a direction no one else was going.

I found a nearby cave and stumbled inside, still coughing from the heavy cloud of smoke. My hand held onto the wall of the cave as I steady my breathing but that wave of calm was shortly interrupt. "Well, well, well, what do we have here? A straw hat pirate coming right into my cave?" A Baroque Agent? Great, just what I needed.

I grabbed onto the sword holstered on my belt, before he could speak another word I swung immediately. First rule, don't let them strike first, catch them off-guard. My sword skills were still new, I was no where near good enough to hold against my own but I was somehow doing okay. My sword clashed against their own.

I felt him stumble slightly, it wasn't much but it was something. Our swords met against with a harder clash. He was stronger than me, I could tell from the first clash. I planted my feet on the floor, trying my best to regain my balance and hold my ground. I spread my feet a bit wider, adjusted my posture and lowered my weight. If I couldn't defeat this pirate with strength, I had to use my wits instead. I moved around instead, parrying his heavy attacks. I let him come forward, so I could try and redirect his attack elsewhere.

It was working. Until it wasn't.

He feinted left, and I went with it until he caught onto my strategy and before I could defect, his blade struck. I hissed through my teeth, losing my balance. But I couldn't stop, there was no room for error here or I would be dead. So I used my remaining energy and struck. This seemed to catch him completely off guard as I knocked the weapon out of his hand. My eyes widen when I watched it hit the floor and that's when I landed my final swing, slashing it against his chest. I watched his body immediately slump to the floor.

I held onto my fresh wound as I glared at them on the floor, I groaned from the burning sensation. I should've seen that feint coming, Zoro had used the same move on me twice prior and I had fallen for it both times. I looked down at my hand and it was covered in blood, I cursed myself for being stupid enough not to see it coming.

I put my sword back in the my holster and limped to the entrance of the cave. That's when I heard the bushes rustle. I mentally prepared to either fight or flee, if that was possible. As I was contemplating my options a familiar green haired man appeared. My body sighed with relief as I stumbled forward. "Zoro—"

Zoro's eyes widened as he rushed towards me. "What happened?" He held onto me, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist keeping me upright. Chopper followed shortly after sprinting over to inspect the wound, Chopper opened his pouch, shuffle through his medical supplies without hesitation. "You should of waited for back up." He scolded. I held myself together for as long as I could but the wave of tiredness hit me and before I knew it, I passed out.

I woke up in the familiarity of the ship, I groan slightly looking down at the patched wound. I looked to my left and there was a beaming chopper. "You're awake!" He beamed, he grabbed my hand with his tiny ones, staring at my through glass eyes. "Zoro, she's up!" before my eyes could even adjust to the light I watched Zoro sit up, scooting the chair across the wooden floor bringing it closer to the bed.

The chair was close enough that it must have been there for a while, there was no other explanation for where it ended up. Chopper was already rambling, lifting the edge of the bandage to inspect the his work, a concealed sense of pride gleaming through him. I sat up slightly uncomfortable as readjusted the bandage. My eyes slowly trailed to Zoro as I noticed his eyes staring intensely.

Chopper's rambling continued "It was deep but clean, you're going to be fine, you just need to rest and not do anything stupid—"

"So tell Zoro that too" I murmured, still feeling his intense gaze on me.

Chopper giggled at the sentence, Zoro's expression didn't change but something shifted slightly around his jaw.

"I should go tell the others you're awake" Chopper announced, already halfway to the door on instinct, the way Chopper always seemed to know when to leave a room even if he didn't know why. The door clicked shut behind him.

The silence settled.

"We checked the cave." Zoro finally spoke. His elbows were on his knees, eyes on the floor somewhere near the bed. "You handled yourself."

I smiled despite myself. "Was that a compliment?"

"Don't make it weird."

"I would never."

Another silence. This one was different from the first — it had weight to it, the kind that meant something was sitting just underneath the surface of the conversation. I watched him turn something over in his head, the way you could always tell with Zoro because he went very still.

"You should have waited." He said it quietly. Not a scold this time. But an undertone of something else.

"There wasn't exactly a waiting area in the cave."

He looked up at that. Held my gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Then he looked away.

"The feint." He said. "You fell for it."

I blinked. "...how did you know that?"

"Because you fall for it every time." His voice was even. "I've done it to you in sparring. Twice."

I stared at him. He'd thought about the fight — reconstructed it, figured out exactly how I'd gotten hurt, traced it back to something specific he recognised. He'd been sitting in that chair running through it while I was unconscious.

I didn't know what to do with that so I said nothing.

"Next time" He said, standing up slowly, like the conversation was concluding on his terms. "Don't fall for the feint."

"Zoro."

He stopped.

I didn't really have a plan for what came after saying his name. I just knew I didn't want him to leave yet and it had come out before I could stop it. I could feel my own heartbeat doing something inconvenient.

"Thank you." I said. "For staying."

He didn't answer right away. He looked at me for a moment — that long unreadable look — and then something in his expression did something very small and very brief that I almost missed entirely.

"Get some rest." He said.

He left the door slightly open behind him. He always closed doors fully.

I stared at the ceiling for a long time after that.

Author's note: hii everyone!! this is my first fanfiction & i'm very nervous about how it's going to turn out. if this goes well i'll end up making more! any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated as i'm open to learning and perfecting my craft. as many new writers know, so many drafts have been made and deleted so being able to even just post this is achievement yay. semi proof-read

oc3anlvsu

Annoyed..but never far away

Roronoa zoro x bubbly!reader

Summery-The reader is bright, bubbly, and always following Zoro around He acts annoyed and calls her irritating, but his actions say otherwise he protects her, helps her, and clearly adores her, even if he won’t admit it.

Ps-i’ve seen your request’s don’t worry I just have to get through all of my ideas first.🫶

hanscheesecakeuh

pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro × reader genre: romance, hurt/comfort, emotional confession summary: Miss Goldenweek’s paint exposes Zoro’s buried love, forcing confession, heartbreak, and a long-awaited kiss aboard. word count: ~4.0k c/w: intense kissing, suggestive dialogue, emotional distress, panic a/n: Hiii! SORRY FOR NOT POSTING!! This fanfic was requested by @j1c1c666 . I originally thought about them being at the start of their relationship, so enjoy!!! ➤ opla masterlist 𑣲 taglist

hanscheesecakeuh

OMG! the most random request idea popped into my head and who better to ask that the GOAT sooo live action!zoro x fem!reader that is based off of tangled where the reader is forced to stay in a hidden tower in little garden by whoever would have a motive maybe Mr. 3 or something like that but maybe while Zoro is “painted” lol he stumbles upon is and climbs up and if you’ve seen the movie the maybe go from there.

pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro × reader genre: action, romance, tangled inspired summary: A swordsman shatters his wax prison to rescue a hidden healer. word count: ~2.7k c/w: canon-typical violence, captivity, kidnapping, gaslighting, emotional manipulation a/n: I love this requesttt!! I change it a little but I hope you enjoy it!! ➤ opla masterlist (REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!) 𑣲 taglist

blueberrypancakesworld

In celebration of OPLA season 2 coming out, can you write for OPLA Zoro x reader.

You've heard of love at first sight, but what about love a first fight. Zoro falls for reader when they have their first sparing season together and she wins against him and that's when he falls inlove.

Love at first fight

Roronoa Zoro x fem!reader

warning: fluff, kiss, no use of Y/N

Summary: The pirate hunter was known for his success rate, his love of alcohol...and the fact that he never says no to a fight. Well, when swords clash and Zoro becomes aware of his opponent, his heart isn't racing with excitement - it's racing with love.

Word count: 1161

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was high above the summer island, a tiny speck in the middle of the vast ocean that seemed to stretch on forever.

An island whose main attraction was its small town center, a place with several hundred residents—but exactly what the Straw Hat Crew needed.

Not only did they need new food supplies, but they also had to restock materials for repairs and medicine—the perfect time to explore the island a bit and then set sail again.

At least, that was the plan.

justauthoring

This is the Beginning [6/?]

Summary: You never thought you'd be able to escape Buggy, and yet, a boy with a straw hat, a man with three swords and a girl with orange hair somehow manage to free you. The journey that follows afterwards is your chance at freedom and maybe something more.

A One Piece Live Action Rewrite

Season One.

Season Two: Part One - Part Two

Pairing: Live Action!Zoro Roronoa x F!Reader

TW for this chapter: canon typical violence, self-doubt, intense making out lol, thats really it.

Word Count: 10,502

A/N: HEHEHE second part of season two!! I planned on posting this later but I'm way too excited, I couldn't help myself.

Tag List: @emmaiscool22 - @bethleeham - @veryunoriginal - @sun-rae04 - @medievalfangirl - @sylum - @academiq - @disasterousdangerousbi - @stitchattacks - @ateez-atiny380 - @hanscheesecakeuh - @adidistupipi - @bache3 - @foppishitudinality - @mellifluousroses - @wettbaby - @coldpinguinsstuff - @cantbecreative - @xinfinityx Please let me know if you'd like to be added!

Chapter Six - Vulnerability

Something was wrong, you could tell.

justauthoring

This is the Beginning [5/?]

A One Piece Live Action Rewrite

Season One.

Season Two: Part One - Part Two

Pairing: Live Action!Zoro Roronoa x F!Reader

TW for this chapter: canon typical violence, self-doubt, that's really it

Word Count: 9,097

A/N: Surpise! I ended up taking the day off and got this done early!!! Let me know what you think, I'm really excited two write this full season!

Chapter Five - Is It Fair?

"Y/N! Zoro!"

cutehoons02

Closer To You

Jay story (Batman)

*pairing: frat boy Spiderman Jake x student Girl

*trope: she fell first, he fell harder

*synopsis: Jake Sim isn't just the sexy next-door neighbor, the captain of the varsity soccer team, and the older brother of your best friend. He’s also the guy who broke your heart at fifteen… and has enjoyed teasing you whenever he can ever since. Too bad that now you live in the same building, you attend the same course, you share the same project at the university and that every cheeky joke, every golden look to hold back every damn random touch makes your knees tremble. Jake has a secret though..one big one, one about cobwebs, nights in red overalls and mysterious bruises appearing out of nowhere and you have a problem: you're still in love with the guy you swear you hate.

*tags: fluffy, clingy Jake, he's obsessed with the protagonist, secret, at first the protagonist finds it annoying, they like each other but are afraid to admit it, Jake loves physical contact, kisses, masturbation (F.M) unprotected sex (don't horny ppl) vulnerability, Jake cries and also the protagonist, they are truly in love, presence of a scene where there is blood, cure, pet names (baby, wren) (jakey) double personalities, +18

You thought, deep down, that it would be a summer just like all the others: the kind that began with suitcases packed to the brim, ready to head to the airport and fly to the Sims’ beach house on the Gold Coast, the ocean breeze rushing in through the car windows, a smile plastered on your face as you drove along the Australian coastline to reach the Sims’ place just like every year. Every summer was like that, a kind of ritual that for over ten years had given you memories of endless, beautiful days, and every time you returned, it felt like coming home. The Gold Coast was a breath of fresh air compared to the hectic life back in Sydney. You and Mia, your best friend since your very first year of elementary school had grown up side by side: shared lunches in the cafeteria, losing your baby teeth almost in sync, school trips to see kangaroos or sailing out on boats, swapping those long, colorful sugary candies and the twisted strips you refused to share with anyone else. Sticky fingers full of sugar were always part of the deal. Then came middle school: longer afternoons, your first movie dates, your first nights out biking through Sydney neighborhoods, hamburgers eaten while watching the ocean waves, an endless stream of photos taken with Retrica only to be posted on Instagram with captions stolen from Tumblr. And then… boys. First crushes, whispered secrets under the stars about who was the cutest guy at school. And among all of them, there was one who never really left your mind: Jake Sim. Mia’s brother. The first time you saw him was at their house: chubby cheeks, crooked buck teeth, and a tacky haircut for a seven-year-old but there was already something about him that seemed to shine. From that moment on, Jake was always there, like an unwritten constant of the universe. He showed up in every photo from the beach or the amusement park, in every story Mia told you about how smart he was at school, how good he was at sports, how popular he was with friends, or how reckless he could be. And with the years came his reputation as a heartbreaker. Love letters slipped into his locker by girls, eyes following him during soccer matches as if the golden boy was destined to become team captain. What made you frown most was that he seemed to excel at everything, especially in science and math, as if a scientist or mathematician lived inside him. On top of that, he could play almost any instrument you put in his hands: from guitar (easy for him, though not for you!) to piano, even violin. Compliments seemed to follow him everywhere, along with stolen smiles and laughter.

That evening, you saw him sitting high on a small dune, staring out at the ocean with Layla curled up beside him, as always. Layla seemed like the only one who truly understood him, maybe because she was faithful, silent, and asked no questions. You pulled his hoodie tighter around you and felt inside the front pocket the fizzy candy he loved to share with his friends and with you. With your heart beating harder each day for that boy, and with the hope of finding a fragment of the old Jake, you walked over and sat down beside him. The ocean breeze tangled your hair as you broke the candy in two. “I bet this one will cheer you up: it’s the new fruity mix edition, a little sour but fizzy on the tongue, just the way you like it…” You said with a smile. But he didn’t move, didn’t even look at you. You lowered your eyes—it was strange for Jake not to notice you. The silence was painfully awkward, especially for you, the more introverted of the two. Even Layla looked at you, as if to say she didn’t understand what was happening to the boy she was leaning against. Timidly, you brushed his arm with your fingers. Jake flinched, as if your touch had burned him, then stood up and towered over you. When he spoke, his voice was pure venom and you had never heard him speak to you that way before: “Stop acting like you mean something to me.” He looked at you as though you were the last person in the world he wanted to see, and your heart broke in silence. “You’re just my sister’s best friend, that’s all you are… God, you’re always there, always everywhere I turn at tutoring, in my house, at school, at every single one of my friends’ parties, every damn family dinner, and even at my games. It’s like you think you have the right to stick around me all the time.” His words cut through you like knives, making you feel so small and wrong that all you wanted was to run away and wake up from the nightmare. But Jake kept going: “You know what you are? An annoying shadow. You’re not special, you’re not interesting, and stop trying to get my attention because I don’t like you, Y/N. And stop looking at me like I’m something good, because I’m not.” You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. You watched him walk away, leaving you there with the candy still in your hand, melted, sticky, useless. The tears came slowly at first, then faster, streaming down your cheeks in silence. You never turned to look at him again, and you certainly didn’t chase after him to ask why he had said such cruel things. But deep inside, you swore that no boy would ever make you feel that way again… especially not Jake Sim.

Jake pulled out his notebook with apparent calm, though inside he was a storm, forcing himself to focus on formulas, graphs, and variables. He was too good to pretend to struggle in science subjects, and within twenty minutes, he had completed all the drafts for the project. You, still stuck on the second step of the first exercise, looked up at the snap of his fingers in satisfaction, mouth slightly open in mock offense. "Not fair…" You groaned. "How did you finish that so fast? Are you even human?" Jake chuckled, pride barely hidden, and twirled a braid of yours between his fingers the same gesture he’d done for years, but now charged with a different meaning. "You should know I’m a math wizard. I used to tutor you and my sister when we were kids, remember?" You nodded, feeling a pang of awkward nostalgia, then returned to your paper, torn between pride and a desperate need for his help. Jake scooted closer, his chair scraping the nearly empty library floor, his leg brushing yours. Without a word, he took your pencil and pointed to the exact spot. "The step was right, but you swapped x and y," he murmured gently, pointing out the small mistake. "And it should’ve been negative, tiny one." You held your breath, watching his hands move with precision—veins along his forearm, elegant knuckles, the way he gripped the pencil like a scalpel. Then his eyes met yours. "Try the next one yourself and read carefully. This is a quadratic equation—pay attention." You inhaled deeply, focused, and after a few attempts, solved it. You glanced at him shyly. "Thanks," you whispered. Jake leaned in a little too close. "For you? Anything, tiny one." Your eyes drifted to his hands, cold rings glinting under the library lights. You bit your lower lip without realizing it, and Jake noticed. He leaned even closer, invading your personal space. His knee brushed yours, his fingers touched the edge of your notebook, and his scent. sandalwood, lime, something dangerously masculine enveloped you.

“Good…” he said, then added with a hint of annoyance, “…too good. The legendary Spider-Man did all the dirty work, everything that should have been the police’s job, and especially the firefighters’!” You still had the spoon in your mouth and asked, “And you’re not happy about that, Dad?” You looked at him with an innocent expression, but your heart was racing inside, and he huffed. “Happy? No. People study for years, train, break their backs to serve the state… and then this kid shows up with his webs and saves everyone… everyone clapping like he’s some god come down to Earth.” You let out a small, amused laugh. “Are you jealous? Do you want superpowers too?” He gave you a look that wasn’t exactly angry but wasn’t light either. “I’m not jealous at all. But if that kid ever gets caught, they’ll experiment on him more than a lab rat. They’ll open his skull, his chest, isolate every fluid inside him… and what’s in there isn’t human.” A shiver ran up your spine, because that kid… he saved lives, threw himself into flames, thought of others before himself. In your mind, he had Jake’s smile, and you didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. “But if he doesn’t hurt anyone, then even the police shouldn’t hurt him.” Your voice was sterner than expected, and your father shook his head. “It’s all a facade, sweetie. He has poison in his veins, and maybe he doesn’t show it, but it’s there. His webs? We brought samples to the lab. You know what we found?” He looked you straight in the eyes. “They contain a very fine toxin, slow-releasing. It’s not lethal… but it can alter mental states, inject confusion, excite you through physical contact, and it almost becomes addictive. It’s like his own biology… manipulates him. That kid is a monster, Y/n.” You looked at your father, slightly frightened by his words, and you didn’t fully believe everything he was saying. But if Spider-Man were in front of you, you wouldn’t lock him up, you wouldn’t tear his mask off by force, you wouldn’t hand him over to anyone. You would let him into the house, clean his wounds, gently stroke him, and when he let himself collapse in your hands… You would tell him it was all okay. With you… He would be safe.

Then… a woman’s scream made everyone turn, and at the end of the car, there were three masked people, dressed in black with ski masks and knives in hand. One was banging the knife handle on the metal of the train, producing a sharp, terrifying sound, while another had a baseball bat behind his back. You swallowed hard because this was nothing like what you had expected after hours of studying. “Everybody shut up! Empty your bags, backpacks, phones, watches, and wallets. If you do exactly what we say, no one gets hurt!” You held your breath, feeling anxiety wrap around your body and mind as a woman in front of you started crying, a man tried to protest, and was shoved to the floor. One of the three came toward you, black eyes behind the mask watching you carefully, and you lowered your gaze to the ring on your finger. A simple white gold ring with a small daisy in the center—it had belonged to your grandmother while she was alive, and after she passed, your dad had given it to you. You slipped it off gently, hiding it in your palm, but the man suddenly turned and looked at you. “What’s that?” he said, eyeing your hand tucked behind your jeans. You stammered, “N-nothing… it’s just my university bag.” He stepped closer, and though he didn’t see the ring fall into your jeans pocket, he grabbed at your bag, yanking it. “Give me the bag!” he shouted, but you held onto it tightly because it contained your laptop, phone, portfolio with money, your glasses—both prescription and sunglasses. “I swear, I have nothing… I’m just a student,” you said, but the robber looked you up and down and raised his voice even more. “Spoiled little brat. All of you walking around with thousand-dollar phones, pretending to be poor, give it to me now, or you’ll regret it!” You didn’t let go of the bag, your hands trembling, and you replied, “I’m not spoiled. There’s only math notes and my laptop in here, what do you want with it?” But you didn’t even finish speaking before he yanked you and shoved you to the ground, your back hitting a subway seat. They grabbed your bag forcefully. You tried to get up, but he gave you a look and brandished a knife. You swallowed hard in fear. One of the robbers shouted at another to hurry, while passengers surrendered their phones, earrings, wallets… until you heard someone scream from the back of the car.

“From kicking,” you said softly, “you don’t get hurt like this.” Jake let out a faint laugh, then lowered his gaze. You watched him, one hand still on his side while your other caressed his face gently. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you whispered. But he shook his head, and you could see he wanted to pull away from you. “You don’t understand… You should stay away from me. I’m not just Jake…I’m something people chase, destroy, or idolize. Sometimes I’m a hero, but at the same time, I’m a criminal. It’s not just me… inside me… there’s also… something else… a part that…” You saw his eyes grow wetter, and honestly, you didn’t know what to do. “That isn’t human.” You took his face in your hands and, without hesitation, pressed your forehead against his. “So inside you, there’s both Jake and Spider-Man?” Your breath brushed his, and he whispered, “You found me out, shrimp.” He gently wrapped his arms around your waist, his fingers clutching your sweater, holding you close as if afraid you’d slip away from him. “Exactly,” he whispered. “Inside me is Jake the one you know, the one who laughs, makes mistakes, gets lost in your eyes but there’s also… that part. ‘Alien,’ so to speak. The part that can do things it shouldn’t, that saves people, but every time drifts further from itself. And…” His breath trembled as he buried his face in the hollow of your neck. “I’m not afraid of myself, but I’m afraid of that part. I’m afraid that one day it might grow too strong, take everything… even you.” His words tore through you—they were so simple, yet unique. You rested your head on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, and he shivered slightly. “I’m sorry for all of this,” he murmured against your skin. “For not telling you, for hiding everything, for putting you in danger… I’m sorry, shrimp,” he said, holding you tight. “Jake…” you began to tell him he didn’t need to apologize, but he lifted his head, and you saw his face streaked with tiny tears. “No, listen to me. I… I have to, because I know it’s not right. You didn’t choose this, and I… I’m dragging you into something bigger than myself.”

You rolled your eyes and said with a wry grin. "And who said I'd be okay with it if you asked my dad?" Jake looked at you with narrowed eyes, his hand slowly sliding up your thigh and leaning towards your ear. "No one… but your body's telling me a whole different story, baby." You huffed, your hands still fidgeting with those laces, and you looked at him with a crooked half-smile. "You're showing off too much, you know that?" Jake chuckled, leaning back a little more against the pillow behind him, his gaze glued to you as if you were about to explode in his hands. "I can afford it, little one. Look where you are," he said, pointing to where you were, a smile plastered on his face with that confidence that drove you crazy and made you want to throw pillows at you at the same time. Jake bit the inside of his thigh gently and swallowed, his Adam's apple visibly moving beneath the skin, and then he heard your voice give him an order. "…Lift your hips a little." His pupils dilated, but he didn't say anything, and he obeyed. He slowly raised his hips, and your small, trembling hands grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down, sliding them down his thighs. When he was down to his boxers, Jake grinned. You were there, in front of him, kneeling astride him, and a lock of hair had fallen in front of your eyes, which you tucked behind your ear with such a sweet gesture that he wanted to kiss your hands. He could see you: small, red-faced, and staring at his erection pressing hard against the fabric. "Is something wrong, little one?" You didn't look at him and just shook your head. "No… it's just…" You licked your lips at the sight of his V-line and his boxers. "Your V-line is… damn sexy, and that strip of hair… that starts from your belly button and… goes underneath… is the hottest thing I've ever seen." Jake's eyes widened for a moment, and then he laughed that low, chuckling laugh because he knew the effect it had on you. "I'm a little surprised… You're paying me a compliment." He leaned his head back against the headboard, his cheeks slightly rosy, and then turned to you. "…Want to see where that trail of hair leads, little one?" You looked up, and your yes was silent but unmistakable, so you lowered your hips a little, your knees slightly trembling, and then you touched his penis, still covered by his boxers. Your hand slid slowly along his entire length, feeling the heat, and Jake moaned at the sensation of your hands touching his length. You smiled slightly as your hand repeated that slow, careful motion, then took the initiative and looked at him with eyes filled with both desire and sweetness. "Lift your hips again." Jake couldn't wait, so he raised his hips with a shudder, and the spider inside him exploded.

Evenings together were your favorite moments, especially in his room: dim lights, pillows everywhere, endless piles of Lego sets you two would never finish, and instant ramen that was somehow worse than either of your cooking skills combined. You’d sit on his lap, face resting in the crook of his neck, while he played online with his friends. “Jake…” you murmured, curling closer to him. “Just a sec, I’m winning,” he muttered, hands moving over the controller and even that, the way his fingers moved, turned you on. Everything about him drove you crazy. “I’m ignoring you,” you whispered, kissing behind his ear, then again, then a tiny playful bite at his neck. He dropped the joystick and shot you a look, but when he saw your pout, he sighed. “Okay, okay… I’ve been playing for two hours, I should probably give my girl the attention she deserves.” With that, he scooped you up effortlessly something that always made your heart race and tumbled onto the bed with you. He cuddled you, squeezed you, touched your legs, your back under your shirt, your stomach. Between touches, he whispered that he’d become addicted to feeling you. And yet… the ringtone of his phone always froze you inside. It was the call of duty. Sometimes it came at two in the morning while you slept wrapped in his arms; other times right in the middle of a kiss, or when his hand slipped under your pajamas to make you melt. Once, clinging to him, you whispered almost fearfully, “What if you don’t come back?” Jake kissed your forehead and drew you closer. “I’ll always come back, Y/N, because of you. Out there, I’m Spider-Man. But with you… I want to be Jake. Your Jake. The boy who fell in love with you the very first day he saw you, back when he was seven and didn’t even know what love was.” And you believed him. Because Jake was the only boy you had ever loved, and you knew it when he kissed your belly before falling asleep, when he woke you with a kiss at the curve of your neck, when he made you blush, when he walked into class at university with that puppy-like smile, carrying your favorite drink in one hand and his in the other.

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.

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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drkbl00d

⧼ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛᴇꜱᴛ ꜱɪɴ ⧽─── 심재윤

the priests daughter isn't meant to be questioning her faith. when sweet temptation comes your way in the sweetest form of sin, even the strongest prayers couldn't keep you away from him and his power. what you didn't expect was the secret he had yet to reveal.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: 𝓿ampire jake x 𝓹riests daughter

⤷ (5.1k) smut, religious setting, vampires, religious doubt, mind possession, guided masturbation, oral (f!receiving), missionary, sex in a church lol, biting, mention of blood, lowkey blasphemous, not proofread ! ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ

ʟɪɴ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: it's finally here :') it took me way too long to get to this, but i hope she was worth the wait ! i missed writing for the vamps so much and i had so much fun writing this. in case you want something to listen to while reading, i kept listening to this song while writing :p

dust particles circle around the humid air before gathering on the floor, on your shoes. rays of sunshine peaking through the crack of the heavy wooden door of the church, illuminating the dance of dust. in front of you lays a heavy book. a familiar book. its pages thin, yet don’t mistake it for being frail. over the past decades it has served your family. your great grandmother, your grandmother, eventually falling into your lap.

this all should mean something to you, strengthen you, yet it leaves you with more questions every time you read it. doubt oozes out of every single one of your pores, weighing down on your heart and conscience. out of all people the preachers daughter. beloved preachers daughter who feels so utterly alone. living a lie of finding purpose between these thin pages, this holy building of worship. you’re absolutely alone.

evening sermon. not the busiest it gets, especially considering it’s a random thursday. soon the benches will fill, quiet whispers to the holy will be made and your father will speak with so much conviction and devotion it could leave the pope jealous.

you start spotting the first familiar faces coming in, a warm nod your way, sometimes even a wave of the hand. but not because they knew you. no, they knew your father. his approval is what they want to get first row at the pearly gates. it makes no sense to you. isn’t this idealisation exactly what is against their beliefs? not that you shame them for theirs sins, you feel like your entire life is one big sin with these wavering thoughts you’re having.

soon, the expected crowd has settled. your father has firmly shaken every hand and gave his reassuring smile to any troubled soul. “nothing a good sermon can’t fix”, he always says. if only it were this easy.

your father stood in front of the big cross, arms spread open as if to hug the awaiting crowd in front of him, when you heard the noise of footsteps. heavy, slow and deliberate. you turn to the sound. he stood against the sinking sun, causing you to squint. there weren’t really words to describe his beauty. he was striking, both in the soft and the scary way. both sharp and round features adoring his face. broad shoulders, but not yet bulky. lean. intriguing. new.

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