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your teeth in my neck (vampire john price x f!reader)

tw: is a blood kink if he's a vampire??? the plot is threadbare at best. just an excuse for biting and smut. warning for blood but i hope that was implied. degredation but its reader being referred to as a blood bag...

John Price was the worst kind of vampire. The one who looked almost-human, just the side of attractive to pique your interest, all for him to flash a fang or a pointed ear and remind you just exactly how much blood he could draw from your veins in a matter of minutes.

The meeting with Laswell dragged on longer than expected. She droned about the new vampire-human treaty, the fact that the 141 had been vamp for years and hid it, that this new mission was purposefully easy as to prove vampires could work with humans (even though this team had been doing just that, and quite successfully).

Quite honestly, the whole vampire thing was starting to get annoying.

Fun Secrets to Take to the Grave

You're pretty sure the couple next door is keeping someone locked in their basement, but that's Johnny and Simon's business, not yours.

Your neighbors are calling.

Johnny’s name lights up the screen, though you’re certain Simon will be on the other end of the line as well. Another vibration from your phone reminds you that you’ve kept them waiting.

In a frantic, scrambling panic, you fumble putting down the paring knife you were using, and the blade nicks the side of your index finger. Blood mixes with peach juices, but it’s not a priority when you’re about to miss the call. You hastily tap the answer button with a non-bleeding finger.

“Hi, Johnny,” you greet, cheek muscles automatically pulling your lips into a quivering smile. One hand holds your phone to your ear, the other trickles blood onto your cutting board.

Ptolemaea; Golden Age I

f!reader x john price

cw: ddne, medical inaccuracies, kidnapping, dubcon/noncon, gore, cannibalism

“what fear a man like you brings upon a woman like me”

Late autumn was the perfect time for hunting. The cold air brought the quiet you struggled to find in the warmer months. There wasn't much left in terms of game, but you weren't too worried about it. Even if something did come by, you didn't have much desire to kill. It was about the calm you found in being secluded in a tree stand, wrapped in thick layers and sipping on coffee from a thermos. Solitude. That was all you wanted these days.

Eventually, you ran out of coffee and lost interest in the book you brought out. The sun would set soon and you decided to get back to the little cabin you rented before it was too dark to find your way back.

As it turned out, you could get lost in broad daylight just as easy as darkness.

you can actually still find porn on tumblr as long as ur at work or in public or with your family or trying to find something else or when youre trying to make a post or search your archive or check a tag or your dms or your followers or

we’re now in the depression and despair phase (january and february)

Just got a chatgpt ad where the use case was "can't decide a new years resolution". I can't think of anything more sad than needing a robot to tell you what your own ambitions are. Loser shit.

Wolf | Part Eleven: Do you not have manners?

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You were used to seeing John at the far end of the bar, occasionally accompanied by the butcher, but never before had you seen the butcher alone. Today was the first time you saw the hulking shadow of a man hunched over the rear booth, sipping whiskey alone. You would have continued to ignore him the way he had ignored you any time you had seen him around the village and tried to say hi, but you caught him staring, gaze heavy, those honey brown eyes snaring you.

When he nods his head towards the empty space in the booth you look to your right and left, certain there was no way he was inviting you to sit with him. You still hadn't even officially met, most of your interactions were him grunting at you when you came in to pick up scraps and sometimes splurging on fresh cuts of meat for yourself. You would whisper his name to yourself, Simon, like it was a secret. Like he was some kind of fae being, his name giving you some kind of power over him.

However, it very much seems to be the other way around because all it took was a roll of his eyes and a crooked finger pointing in your direction for you to be slipping off the barstool you had claimed for yourself, grabbing your pint with one hand, jacket in the other, and walking towards the back of the bar. Not a single word of instruction but you had understood the request implicitly.

It should be unsettling, it is unsettling.

reblog to give prev a fUCKING BREAK in 2026