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risuola · 7 months

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I — NOT YET // When a guy in the club tries to assault you, you ask a random stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend. Little that you know that out of all people, you chose a mob boss.

contents: smut, mafia!au, briefly mentioned assault and tiny bit of violence, Sukuna (yeah, I consider him a warning), reader discretion is advised — 2,7k words

a/n: mada... mada mada~ the very second I heard this menace toying with Panda, Kusakabe and the rest in Shibuya, not allowing them to move unless he say so - my head went straight to the idea of him playing the same game in bed.

ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist

Sukuna never had to get used to being interrupted. Never. Anytime it happened in the past, all he had to do was to glance at the person and it usually got the message across. His gaze has enough power in it to quickly inform the intruder why invading his personal space or cutting him half-sentence is a damn bad idea. One look from him usually was enough to make anyone reconsider if they really want some problems. Sukuna had his eyes trained to be sharp and cold, his body strong and intimidating and his aura dangerous. He spent years building his reputation, earning a position in his world that now guaranteed him calm.

Now everyone and their mothers know that he’s not the one to cross paths with. He’s a VIP, he’s allowed everywhere and he has no qualms about killing someone. Ryomen Sukuna is a brand, he’s a threat, he’s untouchable, invincible. No one in the right mind would ever try to start anything with him at this point. That’s why, when he tried to relax in one of many clubs that he owns in Tokyo, he couldn’t believe someone had the guts to push onto him at the bar.

“Hey, sorry, can you please pretend to be my boyfriend for a second?”, he heard near his ear and following the sound and the soft tug on his elbow, he turned his head towards you. Lucky girl, he thought while quickly assessing the view. You were too god damn pretty to be killed, looking at him with those pleading eyes that glistened in the harsh artificial lights. You were visibly scared of something, or someone, and oddly enough it wasn’t him who brought you to the verge of tears.

“Your boyfriend, huh?”, he mused, allowing his eyes to trail down your figure. The dress you had on left little to imagination and yet he wished to tear it off to see more of you. It hugged the shapes of your body perfectly and the silky fabric betrayed the lack of bra underneath. You were attractive, but clearly not smart enough to think twice before approaching a stranger.

“Please, I beg you, this guy—“, you tried to explain, squeezing your perfectly manicured fingers around his veiny forearm, but your sentence was cut in half when a man grabbed you by the waist, pulling you away just a little and harshly pressing your back against the bar. Sukuna watched as you winced when your spine hit the edge of the wooden countertop, he watched for a moment how you tried to push the guy away. With no effect, you weren’t strong enough to stand against him, you were trapped between the unwanted body and the furniture behind you, fighting the hungry hands that were groping your figure.

“Naoya, get off of me—” you tried, pushing his face away from where he was trying to suck a spot onto your neck.

“Oh, shut up woman, I know you want it,” the blonde-ish idiot grinned, twisting your arm enough to make a space for himself. He wasn’t bothered in the least with the fact he was trying to get between your legs in the very center of a club. Sukuna’s club.

Ryomen zeroed the whisky in his glass and got up from the chair. Usually, he would ignore situations like this. Other people’s problems were none of his business and he had enough his own things to take care of, to bother himself with anything else, but you. You were a problem he was willing to explore.

“Zenin, huh?”, he asked, connecting the name he heard falling from your lips with the wannabe gangster he heard about many times before. There was a certain reputation tied to Naoya’s name, mostly regarding his treatment of women but as long as he wasn’t touching his women, Sukuna couldn’t care less about this trash of a man. You definitely were not his woman. Yet.

“The fuck you want, I’m busy,” Zenin groaned, pulling his nasty mouth away from your shoulder for just a moment, only to shot a glare to the club owner.

“I can tell that you’re busy,” Ryomen grabbed one of Naoya’s wrists. It wasn’t looking like a hard grip, but the face of the blonde betrayed the sharp, bone-breaking pain he felt.

You felt some kind of relief when the stranger you just met stepped between you and your unwanted date. The large body of him towered above you completely, he was bigger than you thought when you approached his sitting form, but you couldn’t think about it for too long when he dealt with Naoya so easily. Once the blonde was gone, he turned to you.

Your heart skipped few beats once you took the image in. The man was huge, way taller than you and built like a greek god. The sharp outlines of his muscled torso beautifully showed through the dark graphite dress shirt. Looking up, you could finally see his face clearly. His features were attractive, dangerous with the black tattooed lines around them. He could easily be a gangster or something.

“T-thank you,” you spoke finally, snapping out from the initial impression of him. He was a red flag, you knew that. If not for the circumstance, you’d probably be the first to run away from him. He was hot. An absolute smokeshow, but he was certainly bad news.

“Was he your date?”, he asked, pulling a chair that he was sitting on previously and twisting it to position, before his large hands landed on your hips. There was no effort whatsoever when he lifted you and sat you down on the seat. He opted to stand next to you.

“No… I came here with a friend, but she left earlier. I was just about to leave as well, but this guy stopped me,” you sighed. “He wouldn’t let me go, I was afraid that he’ll just walk after me to my home. I’m sorry I interrupted you.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture in itself was soft, but you shivered underneath his touch nonetheless. You couldn’t quite tell what made him so… scary. Was it his overwhelming frame? Or maybe the calm, distant demeanor? He had authority, he was expecting submission and when he was looking at you, you felt like a prey of him. Strangely, you were quite fine with that. You had no wish of doing anything with Naoya, but this man… he was different, he was interesting, he made you cross your legs just to feel any kind of pressure between your thighs. “Your name?”

“Y/n,” you replied.

“Y/n. Nice,” he gave it a soft nod and ordered two drinks. “Ryomen is my name. Sukuna Ryomen. Memorize it.”

“Sure…”

At this moment, you had no guts to ask why was it important to imprint the name he told you into your brain, but it all became clear just barely two hours later. You couldn’t exactly recall the moment Sukuna led you out of the club and into his car. There was something so enticing about his entire aura that made you lose your ability to think. He made you break every rule you ever had for yourself – to not talk with strangers, not go with them anywhere. Before that night you were doing exceptionally good in avoiding danger, you somehow slipped through your life up until that point without any major problems, but once you faced the problem, it was a big one.

The talk was good, it flowed easily and the menacing aura that Ryomen had all around him kept you interested. You had no idea that you’re attracted to bad boys, and maybe you were not exactly into school hooligans. Turned out, you’re aroused by the much worse kind – the kind that keeps a gun behind his belt, drinks pure whisky and makes people run away just by shooting them a glance. Yeah, that seems to be the kind of men you are into, because if there was any common sense left in you, you’d be out the door and running towards the safety of your dormitory. If there was any self-preservation instinct in you, you’d be probably anywhere else, rather than in here.

In the most luxurious house you’ve ever seen, not to mention been inside of; somewhere in the outskirts of Tokyo where you were not even sure how you can get back to your home from there. If you were just a little smarter, you’d for sure be in your own bed right now and not on the dark leather couch, with your silky dress scrunched up around your waist and your underwear torn to pieces and laying on the floor. If you had more braincells, maybe you wouldn’t be bouncing on that stranger’s dick right now, gripping onto his muscular shoulders as one of his large hands kept your hip in a dead grip, leading your moves up and down his girthy length and the other one tightly squeezed around the back of your neck, from where he was keeping his head close so he could kiss you so hungrily it took your breath away. But that’s just where you were. And you wouldn’t change a thing.

He felt so goddamn good, filling your tight hole to the very brim, stretching you to the point of delirium and he wasn’t even fully in yet. His moves were aggressive and yet sensual; he made you feel small even if it was you who was on top of him. You had no control, he made it clear with the way he was holding you and every time you tried to dominate him in any way, he quickly showed you your place back. Maybe later, he’ll let you have your way with him, but now, he was in charge.

“Think you can take all of me?” He asked against the delicate skin of your neck, now painted in red and purple marks he nibbed onto it. You could feel him grinning at the way you squeezed your little hands on his clothed biceps. He got you all exposed and yet he only allowed you to free his dick; his shirt was still buttoned up, his pants were still on his legs. There was a certain dominance shown in the way he got you all naked on top of his suit.

“N-no,” you breathed out, “too big.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can.” Sukuna doesn’t exactly accept no as an answer and he for sure gave you enough time to accommodate to his size. “You’ll take it and thank me for it, yeah?”

“Yes,” was all you could mumble, before both of his large hands landed on your hips. The iron grip, you were sure, was going to bruise you but now, it felt grounding in a way.

“Good girl,” he praised, his purr vibrated against your skin as he sucked yet another mark along your collarbone. It distracted you for a moment before he pushed your pelvis even lower, fully bottoming into you. Your clit made a contact with his lower belly, the harsh brush of his skin against the swollen bud making you moan louder than you were meaning to. You felt like all of your organs were moved out of the way just to make more space for his dick and Sukuna couldn’t be more satisfied by the way you took him in. “See? As if you were made to take this cock.”

Something incoherent left your mouth, a tear stained your cheek and the man was happy to lick it away, tasting the saltiness before he bucked his hips up, keeping yours in place. He took full control, thrusting into you with all the power he had in his muscular body and you held onto his shoulders with your little hands. The filthy, wet sounds were filling the interiors, bouncing off the walls and mixing with all of the whines and whimpers that were leaving your lips. Some grunts added to the melody, but you barely heard any of it, too consumed by the exploding pleasure between your legs.

Sukuna’s name was leaving your mouth like a prayer, you felt so close, you felt like falling and you had no intention to stop. The man grinned, licking a long stroke along your throat, his tongue curling upwards as it reached the tip of your chin. The taste of your skin felt intoxicating to him, he wanted to devour you whole, to keep all for himself.

“You wanna cum, huh?” His voice was taunting. “You’re clenching around me so fucking hard, you’re gonna milk me as well.”

“Yes, yes, please,” you near damn begged, chasing the bliss that you could almost taste on your tongue right now. It filled all of your body cells, rushed through your veins in ecstatic waves of lust.

“Not yet,” he ordered and it felt almost painful to force yourself back from the state of climax. You could tell he was playing with you, toying with his dominance, reminding you that it’s him who pulls the strings in here. And yet, he was still rutting into you, his movements completely different to what he was saying, he was fucking you like he wanted you to cum in that very moment. “Still not yet,” he teased, feeling your little fingers digging onto his shoulders, your manicured nails nearly making holes in his shirt as your eyes fell shut.

“Oh god, Ryomen, please,” you whined. Your thighs were shaking, your spine arching and the incredible tension below your stomach threatened to burst any second now.

“Now,” he ordered and just like that, all inside of you snapped. You came all over his dick, and you came hard. It felt like nothing you’ve ever experienced, like you were suddenly shot into another dimension and if not for the way he sped up his movements, you’d probably just get lost in the lustful feeling. Ryomen came just few moments after you, wrapping his arms around your waist and painting your walls white. You felt him throbbing, spasming inside of you, the hot seed gushed out of you as he was pumping it in, staining your thighs and the bottom of his black shirt. Then he pushed you down, fully onto his cock, plugging the way out for his cum.

You found his lips, swallowing his quickened breath as you kissed him with desire and he gave in, quickly dominating the kiss. You were tired, the muscles in your legs were burning from the intense exercise, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling of still wanting more. He made you hungry, he made you unsatiated and you were sure, you won’t be able to recognize yourself after you’re done with him. You were never such a greedy lover but frankly, you never had a chance to feel that good with anyone. The boys you’ve been with had no skills and if not for the orgasms you gave yourself with your fingers, no one else ever brought you over the edge like Sukuna.

“Can you undress?” You asked him, your lips brushing against his as you mouthed the question and he chased your kiss with his head, grabbing your lower lip between his teeth. There was a certain expression painted all over his dangerously handsome features, the menacing aura amplified as he took his sweet time before replying.

“I can undress,” he began, yet there was a but hanging in the air. He had conditions and you were open to hear them. “I’ll give you two options, little kitten. Wanna hear ‘em?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t undress. You can pull yourself together and I can drive you back to your home now. But I can also take the suit off, carry you to my bed. Then you’ll stay with me till morning, but don’t have any hopes for a calm sleep, no. The night will be as filthy as it can get. You’ll be sore tomorrow, most likely exhausted.”

You blinked hearing the options. It was clear as day, stop there or continue? You knew the answer already, your body decided for you even before he came up with an offer.

“Will you drive me home as well if I pick the second option?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s get you naked.”

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bambiesfics · 3 months

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Cock in a Gloryhole - Ellie x reader

𝜗𝜚 Author’s notes ✦ public sex, reader deepthroating Ellie’s cock (strap-on), Ellie cums untouched, Ellie yearns for readers lips, very hyper-sexual descriptions. Ellie’s strap is almost exclusively referred to as a cock/dick/etc, pining, missed connection. This is a filthy fic.

Ellie’s a slutty gay and very judgmental.

!!! [please help palestine] !!!

kisses u. ⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡.

Ellie slid her converse off of the toilet handle. The brazen girl fished for her pants’ zipper. She held her cock in one hand, and fought with the zipper with the other. The cheap metal wasn’t fastening over the straps on her hips, it was catching on her harness. “Jesus fuck. Now? Seriously?”

She rolled her eyes and smoothed her bangs down. After a few beats, the bored brunette circled the stall, then slumping against the chipped navy door. Cock in hand, balls barely zipped up. She chuckled to herself, there was probably some stupid fucking metaphor for that out there somehwere. She wasn’t going to step out like that, with the veins of her dick saying “hi” over her half zipped pants? Fuck. No. It wasn’t in the cards. But the zip wasn’t budging. Ellie felt a scowl forming; The kid was pissed. She didn’t have time for this, not now. Not when there was a gorgeous service teller at the center that she’d been mentally undressing for the better part of her visit. A woman who belonged on her knees, in front of Ellie. A woman with the perfect mouth to suck dick clean. Ellie toe’d her converses on the dirty grout lines hatch marked across the tile floor. The repetition of it lulled her into a meditation as she contemplated how to escape this awkward mess she somehow tripped headfirst into. Getting into awkward shit like this was her forté, but the benefits of packing far outweighed the headaches.

The stall next to her swung open, the clacking heels were rhythmic and sharp. Feminine little steps. A woman sat down, and did her business as she hummed. Ellie scaled her eyes along the bathroom wall that separated her and the lady. The wall was grotty. Old and well worn from years of servicing and decades of business. The maintenance was abysmal on its best day, and it made for a pleasant surprise when Ellie’s eyes zero’d in on the hole carved out haphazardly. There were still pieces of drywall sticking out past the lament of duck tape all around the hole. Ellie chuckled grimily, just high enough that the woman paused her rustling once the realization that she wasn’t alone had settled. The prick-fucking developers who were responsible for this project definitely forgot to remodel this bathrooms stalls’ when they added a new male bathroom to the bottom floor of the building. The little glory hole had a glaring missing chunk of ‘wall’ from its separation of the two stalls, and it’d had that for years from the looks of it. It had a bunch of old thin splinters of amber oak and drywall sticking out. The eyesore pointed to the empty hole like a pair of flashing neon arrows pointing to a seedy Las Vegas strip club.

Ellie doubted it got used much, if at all. If any of the prissy women who sat down to release themselves understood why there was a giant fucking hole the size of a two baseballs stacked vertically in their bathroom stall. Nah, Ellie mused. They definitely just kept their gaze straight ahead if they noticed anything amiss. A prim attempt at respecting the other woman’s privacy. Except, the irony was in the fact that, the point of that hole carved in the wall, the hole yelling “FUCK ME,” was to trample all over another stranger’s privacy. To proclaim yourself a king with a heavy cock and see if they’d submit to it.

Ellie stroked her cock, squeezing the base then working her way to the tip, warming it up in her hands. She unzipped the rest of her pants, and let the balls spring free. The balls dropped a little past the zipper, it took the edge off the pressure in her leather jeans. Mmm, now this felt right.

She took a tentative step forward, debating her next step. But then she rolled her anxiety off her back. Undulating those fast twitch muscles that lined her back to stretch and warm, to relax. It wasn’t that serious. Call it “part of the plot,” call it whatever you want. But what Ellie wanted to do was going to be insanely amusing. She needed the amusement if she was gonna be stuck here until her zipper decided to cooperate. Ellie’s converses padded to the wall, it’s toe box lined up with the bottom of it. Nosing against the edge. She lined up her cock with the glory hole and slowly fed the hole inches of her cock, until she bottomed out and her balls were trapped between her hairy pelvis and the wall. She held her breath. Her palms scaled the wall. The woman on the other side gasped, Ellie could only imagine how she clutched her hand to her chest and scrambled to pull her bag up over her shoulder. Ready to run to building security and report the “creep” in the ladies bathroom stall. The creep was Elizabeth “I <3 pussy” Williams with her cock fucking a glory hole. This would make for a hilarious prank to joke about with Jessie later. Jesse would think Ellie was bustin’ his balls, making up some new lie to fuck with his head. And she’d revel in the way his face would drain of colour once he realized she wasn’t.

Ellie grasped the base of her cock and lifted it up a little bit, practically taunting “yoohoo!” With the motion. Letting her heavy shaft say “hi” to the poor woman who was facing it head-on. She grinned again, and prepared herself to tuck her dick back in her pants like a good boy and behave.

But then she heard clothes rustling, and the tug she felt on her harness made her eyes fly open. Her heart rate picked up. Blood was rushing in Ellie’s head. She didn’t actually expect a sweet lady to open up her lips and suck her off. But the eager lips on the other side, started sucking her cockhead before she could process it. The woman bubbled saliva onto Ellie’s tip to aid in the lubrication. Then the lady sucked Ellie’s fat cock in all the way to the hilt, until her nose bumped the soft skin shove Ellie’s groin. All that could be seen were puffy red lips and the tip of the girl's nose. But it made Ellie fucking sprung. Her mind was clouded with raging lust as the moans of “…fuck baby..” whimpered from Ellie’s lips. The rest of the sentence would’ve concluded with “…I didn’t expect you to actually blow me.” If Ellie could think straight.

The girl on the other side of the stall was enthusiastic to have cock in her mouth. She was sucking up and down Ellie’s full length. Using her sloppy saliva to help her lips slide up and down the length. Ellie shoved her pelvis into the wall until both of her hip bones were bruised and beat grinding against the wall. She was greedy to feel more suction. Ellie’s chubby cock had a puffy head, and a fat veiny shaft. Her cock was the color of obsidian, just like Ellie’s harness. And her wrinkly fat balls held her squishy testes. The ones she forced all girls to palm for reality’s sake. For all intents and purposes; this was Ellie’s fucking cock. And so she could feel it when the woman on the other side gagged on her dick so eagerly, it was as if she was desperate for Ellie to paint her throat in warm cum.

Ellie started moaning the more she heard the woman on the other side gag on her. She could just imagine the way her dick was creating an imprint in her throat, sliding down and bulging. Ellie was large, she’d seen her do that to a girl before. She couldn’t help but whimper at the image of a sweet girl impaling her dainty throat around Ellie’s thick piece, in a seedy business bathroom. God what a beautiful fucking piece of ass must on the other side of the stall. A girl with the lips of a killer, sloppy and greedy. Hungry to suck off a creep. Probably with a perfect vagina to match; a hole just as sloppy, just as greedy. A hole only fit for a King to thrust into. Good thing Ellie thought of herself as a King too. Ellie decided, as she watched your red lips deepthroat her length, that the very moment the girl on her knees was done digging her tongue into Ellie’s cock slit, she’d knock down the door of the stall you were in, and ram into your glossy pussy over the toilet. You would coat Ellie’s cock in the sticky saliva held inside your puffy little hole too. Two sets of lips for Ellie to abuse.

Ellie bit her fist to prevent herself from choking out a moan. God. You popped your lips off, and stroked up Ellie’s dick with your little fist. Up and down and up and down, before you put it back in your mouth to deepthroat one more time. You wanted to nose against the pale girl's skin again, feel her bush tickle the tip of your nose. Smell the soft patch of hair, the salt of her skin. The sexy art of her bush and happy trail. Ellie yelled out a hoarse “Fuck-k!” And you could tell she came. She soaked her black Klein boxers. Maybe she came from those eager motions grinding her harness against her swollen pink clit. Or maybe she came untouched, hole spasming scarily just because of how aroused Ellie was by you. You placed a gentle kiss on her cockhead with your red lips. Ellie bit down her fist, hard. She broke skin, and drew blood.

If you could’ve, you would’ve loved to have Ellie’s real cum dribbling down your tongue instead. You stood up to pull your panties flush against your plump cunt. Finished with your prior business. There was slick dripping in between all of your puffy folds, and you knew your panties would stay wet the entire rest of the day from just the way they were suctioned to your cunt alone.

You stepped out to wash your hands, heels clacking with an air of comportment. You waited for the girl whose cock you inhaled, to come out of the stall and address you. But she never came. Her back was pressed against the wall. Instead she slid down to collect herself. So you fixed your blouse, hid your cleavage, touched up your smeared lipstick after rubbing it all off on Ellie, and massaged your nipples so they wouldn’t poke so prominently through your blouse. You shimmied in your tight skirt and clacked out of the bathroom. Leaving the girl hiding in the stall, to catch her breath and will the staccato of her heartbeat away. Ellie wasn’t new to coming untouched, but coming from the visuals and motion of a stranger sucking her cock clean? That — that was a new one. She gulped and adjusted her boxers, because fucking Christ, they were heavily soaked from her own slick. With shaky hands the pale girl fished for her leather pants zipper. Pleading with the bitchy, cheap, metallic hardware over and over, until it finally pulled all the way up.

A rapid river of relief washed over Ellie, she couldn’t afford to be stuck in there anymore. Ellie stumbled out of the washroom, hoping to find you. She snapped her head back and forth, then stumbled around in circles trying to catch a flash of sloppy red lips. She thought of going to people and asking if they’d seen a lady with puffy red lips strut by. But then thought better of it. The idea sounded dumb as rocks, even to her own horned-out brain. Ellie rubbed her cock through her pants, feeling phantom sucks from memory. You were burned in her brain, forget the cute teller from earlier. You were her new Madonna, her new whore.

In your honour, she’d stroke her g-spot to a hot strap blowjob video tonight, to keep the memory of your filthy cocksucking mouth fresh.

Ellie hoped if there ever was a next time in that glory hole for her, that you’d line your little greedy hole right up in front of the glory hole in the stall, so Ellie could make you drip your cream down her cock. She’d love to pull her dick out of you, just to marvel at the beautiful rings of milk wrapped around her veiny shaft from your own sopping cunt. Ellie savored the idea of the screams she’d rip out of you, the cries and pleads you’d wail for her ears only. She’d rip you apart, and that would be the fucking cherry on top of her fucking birthday cake.

If she got the cake, she’d love to write “Ellie ‘Hung’ Williams” on the face of it just for shits.

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missydior · 7 days

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CINNAMON GIRL ୨୧ (part i)

♡: when nobody suspects, you deliberately try to offer hints of the truth – aka. you & charles slowly launch your relationship when everybody is convinced you’re untouched.

notes: charles leclerc/singer reader, secret relationship, releasing & soft (?) launching, engagement, i’ve used song & album names from other artists here !

– based on this request ☁️

type: smau ・ face claim: madison beer ᥫ᭡

part ii: here !

a/n: my first smau on this blog </3 honestly not as proud of this one bc i had difficulty trying not to make it too long or awkward but i adore any excuse to look for pretty pics on pinterest, ily all

liked by honeymoon, franciscagomes and 555,116 others

yourusername: “there’s things i wanna say to you, but i’ll just let you live.” cinnamon girl out now ! i had so so much fun producing this song, love from me to you all <3

6,325 comments

user1: will be listening to this song on repeat for the rest of the year now

user2: literally obsessed 🫶🏼

friendusername: you deserve the world

yourusername: i <3 you

user3: can’t wait for your lover era one day, the songs will be lushhh

user4: girl, y/n already produces perfect music & lyricism without a man in her life, she’s doing just fine on her own

3,698 likes

newsofy/n: in a recent interview following the release of her new single ‘cinnamon girl’, y/n said “I am always inspired by those around me […] the support of my friends, family are the foundations of my work, every lyric and song is so personal to me – from experiences or those so dear to my heart…”

913 comments

user1: she is such a sweetheart, we must protect her.

user2: did anybody else notice that smile when the interviewer asked if she has any romantic ‘muses’ or inspiration?

user3: you’re taking it out of context, i’m pretty certain y/n is still as single as all of us </3

user2: ouch true, but you never know

user4: oh to be the muse of one of yourusername’s songs

liked by friendusername and 7,171 others

f1gossip: the monaco grand prix annually attracts all kinds of faces from the glitz & glamour, this year including the music industry’s sweetheart yourusername who had claimed she wanted to “return” to the place she has always adored, in person.

1,311 comments

user1: I wonder who she’s supporting 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

user2: probably charles leclerc, like every single girl who breathes.

user1: be quiet, I wouldn’t blame her anyway

user3: she looks like an angelll, paddock princess here she comes

user4: omg, didn’t she mention once in an interview that her father’s a lover of f1 too?

user5: I think I saw some old pics of her when she was like five with him at the belgian grand prix

user1: my two favourite people ever have MET EACH OTHER? crying inside currently

user2: they would make the most iconic couple

user3: girl bffr, they have just met

user2: let me be delulu, okay?

user4: no he has heart eyes

liked by friendusername, charlesleclerc and 591,132 others

yourusername: monaco, you were a blessing this weekend and i can’t wait to see you again soon, je t’aime <3

5,139 comments

user1: please, please, please come next year too, the paddock needs your fashion sense

user2: not charles lurking in the likes haha

user3: she’s got him interesteddd

user4: y/n and f1 was honestly the collab i never knew that i needed

user5: soon? what other business do you have in monaco?

liked by friendusername and 5,396 others

f1gossip: in a recent interview, when asked, charles leclerc revealed that he has listened to yourusername’s recent single ‘cinnamon girl’: “i’ve heard it a few times on the radio or shuffle, i think whoever is on the receiving end of her love songs now or in the future will be a lucky man, for sure.”

1,111 comments

user1: he’s definitely in love

user2: they’ve literally met once

user1: okay? i’ve never met him and i’m in love with him. anyway, we don’t know what they do away from the cameras and stuff

user3: he knows something we don’t.

user4: y/n’s friends are alwaysss on the gossip and i love it, they probably tell her all about it lol

liked by friendusername, pierregasly and 539,333 others

yourusername: from a secret admirer xoxo

5,692 comments

franciscagomes: finally?

yourusername: don’t pretend this is the first time

user1: y/n what does this meannnn?

user2: do you finally have some chance in your love life?

user3: that sounds so backhanded help

user4: whoever they are, i hope they treat you well y/n <3 our angel

♡ ✧ 。*・.

a/n: this feels a little rushed and awkward but i loved doing it nonetheless with my fun, little aesthetic </3 i’ve decided to divide it into two parts simply because it was getting long lol.

part ii: here <3

#୨୧ my works #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smau #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #formula one imagine

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mischiefmanagers · 4 months

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Azriel Fic Rec Library pt. 2 🦇💙

I'm back with another list of one hundred Azriel x Reader and Azriel x OC fics for the Azriel lovers out there! these are in no particular order. enjoy!! ✨

🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut

by @ellievickstar

River Side Confessions 💞

by @itsphoenix0724

Peony 💞

Gardenia 🥀💞🌼

Hold Me Gently 🥀🔥

by @azrielslostshadow

I see you 💞

lemon tart 💞🌼

by @imaginesmai

i love you 🥀

right around the corner 🌼

Something new 🔥

by @daycourtofficial

Cassian is a Nosy Busybody Who Can’t Keep to Himself 💞

We’re Bumping Booties, Having Us a Ball 💞

Prophesize Me 💞

Love Potion No. 9 💞

Everything is Not As it Seems 🥀

Your Love is My Drug 🔥💞

by @lidiasloca

even in sickness 💞

by @bubbles-for-all-of-us

only you my girl 💞

Pretty like the wind 💞🥀🌼

by @gothicbabydollz

more than a distraction 🥀🔥

by @azrielslightintheshadows

Princess 🥀

Best mistake 💞

Scary mate 💞

Failed proposal 💞🥀

Oops 💞

by @thesunloveschips

Eye of the Storm🌼

by @azriels-shadowsinger

Confessions 🥀

by @writingcroissant

As a Trophy 🥀🔥

by @tadpolesonalgae

Milestones 💞

The Secret World of Borrowing

Unchained 🔥

The Dregs of Tragedy

by @spellbookd

Little Mouse 🔥

by @serpentandlily

Untouchable 🥀

Mystique 💞🌼

Arcane 💞🌼

Scared to be Happier 🥀🔥

by @angelshadowsinger

Assistance 🔥

by @batboylover

mating bond snaps with a stranger 💞

Rhysand's Sister 🥀

protective w/ pregnant mate 💞

degradation gone wrong 🔥🥀

by @sxnktaalxna

Threads

by @mika-no-sekai-blog

Mirror, Mirror 🥀

Not my cup of tea 🥀💞

by @florencemtrash

The Artificer 💞

by @readychilledwine

Losing Forever 🥀

Love and 100 Other Lies 🥀💞🌼

Cat and Mouse

Whispers in the Dark 🔥

Lollipop

The Last Cabin on the Left 💞

Past and Future - Threefold 💞

Breathe 🔥

by @sarahs-library

Forgotten 🥀

by @parkerslatte

Drawn to You 🥀💞

Strings That Bind Us 🥀💞

Not Fated 🔥🥀

by @fieldofdaisiies

Just a Little Bit of Your Heart 🥀💞

by @fairydustblossom

losing control 🥀💞

encroaching promises 🥀🌼

by @mxigo

soul sick 🥀

by @leafsandstarlight

Bad Idea, Right? 🔥🌼

Never the One 🥀

Inadvertently Yours

by @jeannineee

Resolve 🥀

by @lure-of-writing

forgotten anniversary 🥀

by @danikamariewrites

Binx 💞

I Just Feel You 💞

Back Off 🥀💞

Alone? 💞

I'm Married 💞

Combined Aesthetics 💞🌼

by @theostrophywife

in my head. 🔥

by @cosmic-whispers

Control 🥀

by @artists-ally

Only Me and the Devil Know🔥

Train Wreck 🥀🌼

Smoke on the Water

by @soulessjourney

Autumn's Whispered Secrets 💞

by @aroseinvelaris

Guardian Angel 💞

by @pricklepearbloom

Late for Dinner 🥀

Baked With Love 🥀💞

by @moonlightazriel

Fake it until you make it… 🥀💞

by @lalacliffthorne

sleepy in the library 💞

sunday mornings 💞

when Azriel has a nightmare 🥀💞

by @whisperingmidnights

To Long-Forgotten Gods 💞🔥

by @sapchat

We Are Not Our Fathers 💞

by @thelov3lybookworm

Don't grieve 🥀

Babysitting 💞

by @throneofsapphics

bad idea 💞

by @throneofsmut

Size Difference 🔥

Hunter/Prey 🔥

by @shadowdaddies

The Greatest Casualty 🥀

by @fever-fluff

Home

Cats Out of the Bag, Claws and All 🥀

Take my Hand 🥀💞

by @thevanserrras

Tricks For Treats 💞🔥

by @moonlightazriel

Mask Off

by @azsazz

Midnight Muse 🥀💞🌼

by @acourtofmenandthirst

Love You In The Dark 🥀

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softbeej · 4 months

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Rule Number One (You Gotta Have Fun) (Part Two)

Part two, Alastor takes you to his room :3

U suck the soul out of him, of course. Request r open!!! for all Hazbin characters yay

You stood awkwardly in Alastors room as he ushered you in. You weren’t sure what to really expect from his room, but this wasn’t it. It felt homely, and lived in. Knick knacks and trinkets scattered around, a half drank mug of tea from God knows how long ago. You turned to Alastor as he was slowly taking off his coat and hanging it up like he had all the time in the world. He had you where he wanted you now, what was the point in rushing?

He looked at you, slight confusion on his face, “Up on the bed whenever you’re ready, Darling. And feel free to take off those panties, I’m sure they’re dreadfully sodden...” You hadn’t noticed through his fussing but he’d helped you step out of them and tossing them aside. You hopped up on his bed, it smelt just like him. Musky and woody. You could get used to sleeping here, you thought.

He got on the bed with you, still fully dressed aside from his shoes and coat. He was propped up against the pillows, you in-between his legs. You’d noticed his hooves and wondered if he had a tail too... He was almost erect again, you could see his cock tenting in his pants, a wet patch from where he’d cum untouched earlier.

Your mouth watered at the sight.

“Can.. I?” You gestured to his crotch.

“It’s ‘may’, dear, as in, ‘may I’. But yes. I’m all yours.”

Hands shaking with eagerness, you struggled with the buttons before popping them open, instantly relieving some of the tension in his pants. Big wet eyes, you nuzzled up against his hardening cock over his underwear.

“Slowly, now. You want to make sure I’m nice and hard for you, hm?”

“Aren’t you always?” You teased, giving the head of his cock a kitten lick over the fabric.

He chuckled at that, shimmying his pants and underwear off completely, and started working on unbuttoning his shirt.

You think your pupils must of doubled in size when you took in the sight of that cock of his. Gentle hands, you grasped him from the base using light touches as he was clearly prone to cumming rather quickly.

“Good girl...” He murmured, voice a mix of approval and lust. You didn’t need telling what to do next, because Alastor had already worked his fingers into your mouth. You couldn’t look away as he ran the pads of his fingers over your teeth, saliva dripping down your chin.

“Open wide, daring...” He mused.

You did, of course. And Alastor took advantage of your warm wet mouth immediately, hips thrusted forward to push his cock inside. He let out a staticky crackle, “That’s it... There’s a good girl, now...”

You hummed around his cock.

"Ffffuck," he groaned, his hands finding your hair to grip tightly. He began to thrust harder and faster, taking what he wanted without hesitation. His hips slammed against your face as he lost control further, grunting and moaning in pleasure. Your nose was pressed up against his groin now, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation.

He was close and he knew it. He felt that familiar tightening in his gut. He pulled you back by your hair, just enough to look down at you, and muttered out “...May I?”

You nodded, almost begging. That was all it took for him to push himself back down your throat. When he came, he didn’t moan or grunt, instead it sounded like fifteen different radio stations had been turned on at once, a horrendous cacophony of noise and static. It only lasted a second as he regained control, the volume lessened as he came, though, spurting thick hot cum into your mouth.

“Swallow it all...”

And you did, not like you had much choice. You pulled back, opening your mouth wide to show that you had indeed been a very good girl and swallowed every drop. He patted your cheek.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He purred, hand not leaving your cheek. “I do hope you’re planning on staying the night?”

Maybe you were going to find out about this potential tail of his sooner rather than later.

#alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #ill format these properly tmrw #ALSO this is very short ive never done a part two of anything

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vivalabunbun · 1 year

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Let's Look Over The Garden Wall

Summary: One wants an easy meal and one wants to play house.

Word Count: 9.9k

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Smut(r18+), MDNI, Modern AU, Vampire AU, Contract Marriage, NSFW, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Unrequited love?, Vampire! Alhaitham, Dom! Alhaitham, Human! Reader, biting, pet name? (calls you good girl) TW: Blood & Blood drinking, TW: Death, Terminally ill! Reader, slight orgasm denial, slight corruption kink, wedding night, temperature play? He falls hard, slow fic, tragedy

Authors note: This whole fic was a challenge since I wanted to write it kinda from Alhaitham’s pov. I’m not really knowledgeable about vampires, so in this fic they’re just a type of monster and not undead, and vampire blood can turn humans into monsters. Enjoy!

Side note: Here is the other side, Finale

The secretary had just arrived at the office not too long ago, shift starting at six pm and going until midnight. The typical hours for a creature of the night.

Like a sweet breeze that blew stray leaves through his office’s open window, a stranger came gallivanting through the boundaries of his door, contract in hand. Faruzan, the office receptionist trailing after you with your proper introduction.

“Secretary Alhaitham, this young lady here would like to make a blood contract with you.”

He certainly wasn’t expecting this when he walked through the sliding doors of the building. The biggest company in Sumeru, the firm that specialized in such dubious pacts.

In an age where humans now outnumber vampires, with new technologies and weapons that can now threaten the once untouchable creatures, immortal beings now have to play by mortal rules. One such rule, vampires can no longer drink human blood.

Animal substitutes were of course inferior in both taste and satisfaction, any vampire would know this. However, there’s a loophole to this law. Vampires can’t drink human blood legally unless it’s consensual by both parties, established through contracts. Business exchanges for money, power, or glory.

Of course, this practice is heavily regulated. Hunters who uphold the balance ready to rip the hearts out of those who dare make an unfair deal. Alhaitham is the simple secretary who files these contracts, not one of the agents tasked with such things.

Still, he’s intrigued. Even in this office there are many who have yet to see the face of this elusive vampire, how did this human identify him? He was looking for an excuse to stray away from dull lines of files, might as well entertain your musings.

The ashen-haired immortal pulls out a seat for you, nodding to Faruzan sending her out of his office, giving you privacy. Alhaitham ambles to the other side of the polished wood, settling down on his plush office chair.

“The process for filling a contract is straightforward, even though this consultation wasn’t planned, if negotiations go well you’ll then undergo a psychological evaluation.”

You nodded your head lightheartedly, posture relaxed in the chair.

“So,” he begins.

“What are your demands?”

“Marry me.”

Dead silence. He certainly wasn’t expecting a proposal this Monday night. Were you wasting his time with a joke?

You must’ve read his unfazed mask. Quickly pulling a pen and notepad from your pocket.

“I’m being serious, I want you to be my husband.” Hands swiftly jotting sentences down on paper.

In your graceless handwriting, you listed all your qualifications. Age, name, blood type, and financial status. You also detailed some self-prescribed personality traits.

Alhaitham skips over that section.

Marriage contracts weren’t unheard of, nor were marriages between humans and vampires. He believes such practices weren’t deemed illegal solely because of human morbid curiosity and desires.

No immortal, with their centuries of knowledge and wisdom, would waste such energy on a mortal, without a price of course. It would be a fool’s errand to not have fair compensation.

“For a fraction of your time, I’ll give you all of mine.” You point the pen toward him.

How romantic.

“I’d say you’re getting the better end of the deal, Mr. Alhaitham.” There’s a curl to your lips, resting your elbows upon his polished desk.

With a slight sigh, Alhaitham pulls out a form, pen swiftly recording the necessary information. There’s going to be a long process of straightening out the clauses, but this should suffice for approval.

“Why me?” He inquires, straightening out the proposal on his desk.

“You’re handsome, have money, and I like your voice.”

The rustling of papers and pens stopped. Dead unamused silence.

“Pfft! Too brash? Sorry, sorry, I was only joking,” giggling as you waved it off.

“Well, to be fair the real reason isn’t much better, to be honest.” You leaned in closer, creeping towards the unseen boundaries of his personal space.

“I often see you passing through the streets, guess I got enamored from there.” Your smile was shameless but your cheeks were tinted pink.

A hopeless romantic, that answer suffices him for now. He could’ve easily shown you the door, but life has been stagnant for a few decades. History repeats itself if you live long enough to see it, new occurrences are rare. As the sky deepens from indigo to midnight, two bodies sit across from each other, discussing sentences written on paper.

“I’ll contact you in three business days with the verdict, have a good night.”

“I shall await the news.” You beamed at him, warm and icy hands meeting for a handshake.

Just as you entered, you left with that same giddiness. Now left with his thoughts, Alhaitham reviewed the documents, he had three days to ponder whether or not to submit them to the legal team, and through the judgment of a certain scarlet-eyed General Hunter.

As per Sumeru regulations, all offices run by vampires must have uncovered glass windows. An attempt conquered by humans to enfeeble creatures of the night. Alhaitham’s beryl gaze traveled up the length of the building stationed across the street.

What an ironic placement for a hospital to be facing the biggest firm staffed by immortality. Or perhaps it was strategic, after all the most desperate humans are the ones who lay upon their deathbeds for one last hurrah.

The perfect scheme to keep the blood contracts flowing in.

Teal eyes observe the room right across through the glass, it seems freshly vacant. New untouched sheets, new unflatten pillow, and fresh towels.

Alhaitham can now confirm the validity of your statement, a half-truth.

When deciding on a contract, one must weigh the pros and cons, to see if they balance or if one side gives away to another. Your demands? You wanted to experience married life, all aspects of it. Your offer? Your everything.

All your assets together can’t hold a candle to the amount Alhaitham has accumulated for centuries, but it’s a decent amount. Perhaps due to a medical settlement.

Alhaitham has lived long enough to rein in primal desires, he can suffice off animal substitutes just fine. However, it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want a taste of the real thing again. You offer him a steady supply, and to give him every last drop after seven years.

Yes, all of this for a mere seven-year contract. A deal heavily tipped in the favor of the vampire, not even a mere fraction of the time immortality offers. However, what piqued his interest the most weren’t the benefits listed.

A garden wall the tall vampire can’t peer over. Insight only attainable by those who near the end of their finite paths. What’s it like to have agency? What’s it like to have such finite time?

He’ll have seven years to observe. He submits the forms on the third day, delivering your verdict over the phone. Alhaitham agrees to entertain your little daydream.

On part that it was Alhaitham who personally filed the forms, the approval process went swimmingly, skipping the paper line. Tighnari oversaw the psychological evaluation, test after test confirming the sanity of your mind, speeding up the process of getting that stamp.

–

“What flowers do you like? I’m planning the decorations.” Your legs swinging under his kitchen table.

The contract was approved, hands held and certificates signed at the town hall, your belongings moved into his house. It’s excessive to want a celebration after all of that.

“Whichever flowers you want.”

Alhaitham will hold his tongue, after all, he’s signed to play the role of a husband.

–

The venue was spacious, high ceilings with marble floors and pillars, all of which were lavishly cluttered with Padisarahs, Sumeru Roses, and Kalpalata Lotuses. Alhaitham stood at the altar just off to the side of the wedding officiant. Tuxedo crisp and hands folded together, he scans over the rows of guests invited.

Since there weren’t any in-laws, Alhaitham assumed you wouldn’t have much of a social network. No one’s correct all the time, he ignores the piercing glares of a few eyes. The all-too-loud tones of a grand piano resound through the room. The previously shut doors open to reveal your figure. Embellished dress and veil perfectly framed by the carved entranceway as you ambled your way up the aisle.

The twilight hues of the sky dye the white gown in everchanging vibrancy as you passed by the standing crowd, up the steps to the altar, and finally in front of him. The overwhelmingly floral scent of the bouquet itches his nose.

Alhaitham pays no mind to the soliloquy of the officiant, he simply follows the rehearsed procedures. Sliding the gold band onto your finger and allowing you to do the same to him, lifting the veil to reveal your starry-eyed gaze he places a practiced kiss against your warm lips.

Is this excessive ritual over yet? No.

Alhaitham stands in the corner of the reception hall, hand nursing a glass of wine. The rich spices of the buffet offered to the guest irritated his palate. Supernatural creatures with their enhanced senses, a double-edged sword. Human food serves no purpose to vampires, it’s over-seasoned and pungent. At least your species has created drinks such as coffee and wine, delicacies even immortal creatures can enjoy.

In the center of the artificially lit hall, you eagerly greeted all your guests as they beamed at you. Giggling and hugging each person as an entourage of three friends helped with that embellished gown of yours. Two pairs of eyes from said entourage occasionally glared at him, their bodies forming a barrier to separate groom from bride. Candace and Dehya were the names you introduced to him.

Your starry-eyed self blissfully unaware of the silent cold war as the scarlet-haired dancer calls the attention of the two hunters back for the bouquet toss. Alhaitham was nothing more than just a decoration, you just wanted an excuse to prance around in a pretty white dress and throw a fancy party. He’s your husband, he’ll tolerate this daydream.

–

“Did you enjoy the reception?”

Only after the send-off and closing ceremony of the celebration, when the bride and groom were behind the thick oak doors of their suite, that you seemed to remember the decoration named ‘Alhaitham’.

“Yes, it was lovely.” The wine provided by the venue was of the highest quality, it entertained him enough.

“I hope you’re not upset at me being busy with guests.” Your arms found their way around his waist.

Quite comfortable encroaching on his space huh.

“I’m not.” Better they talk to you and not him.

As his cold hands pat the exposed skin of your back, his teal eyes didn’t miss the trail of goosebumps that prickled your skin. Shall he move on to the next scene? The lacing of your dress seems quite complicated, he assumes that it must have taken a few pairs of hands to tie it. Should he be a good husband?

“Do you need help with this?” His baritone voice was right against your ear, noticing the flush on the tips.

“Yes.” For once your voice was just barely above a whisper, a blushing bride.

The lacing weaved in and out of eyelets running down along the length of your back, how troublesome. Always one for efficiency, Alhaitham simply takes a handful of the taught lace and pulls, they snapped like simple threads. Such things offer no resistance to a creature of the night. The gasp that escaped your lips feed into something deep within.

With the bonds loosened, the embellished dress of yours lost the fight against gravity, fabric pooling at your feet. Revealing to teal eyes the lacy white stockings, garter belt, and panties, all the hallmarks of a wedding night. It’s impossible to deny the hunger crawling up his throat, no force of nature could resist such a sight.

“Aren’t you forgetting something? It’s rude to not offer the groom some help, no?” His hunger enjoyed that scarlet flush on your face.

Indecisive fingers going for the easiest button, opening the tuxedo jacket allowing him to shimmy it off his broad shoulders. Teal eyes continued to survey your flushed face, the smirk on his waiting for your hands to continue. Obeying his silent command like a good bride, you loosened the bow tie next, finally freeing him from that stiff collar.

Slowly your eyes peered up, asking if the torment was over yet, the slight rise in his ash brow directing you to resume. From your lips came the beginnings of a whine to which he sternly shushed. If you couldn’t even undress him how would you be able to do the other vulgar activities?

Finally relenting, your fingers continued with their clumsy attempt at unbuttoning his dress shirt, once a small window of his chest appeared your face pressed against the cool skin, staying there until all the buttons were undone. Oh? So even you can feel shame?

“Shall we continue on the bed, my bride?”

Your face was still hidden in his chest as you nodded, where did that shameless nature of yours go? With your gaze adverted he didn’t even bother hiding the curl of his lips. Sweeping you off the ground, he could hear the flutter in your chest increasing as the distance between the bed closes.

Upon silk sheets, Alhaitham settles down with you in between his legs and back against his chest. One key difference between humans and vampires? Body heat, one creature’s cells produces warmth, while the other simply remains the temperature of the environment. Your flushed skin seared itself into his, icy and hot mending together to create an equilibrium.

Of course, a good husband would warm his wife up. Alhaitham runs his cool palms along the length of your plush thighs and leg, absorbing the warmth as his own, soothing the shivers and goosebumps on your skin. Every now and then boldly creeping up the sides of your waist to twist at your perked nipples, enjoying every jolt and whine.

“Oh? Since when was this transparent?”

A firm hand grasps your chin, directing your vision towards white lace panties, the fingers on his other hand tracing over the shape of your cunt through the soaked fabric. Another lovely whine left your lips, face burning even more as you weakly protested in his hold, too powerless to do anything.

Skilled digits honed in on the nub that made your body jolt away, rubbing the faintest of circles over the delicate fabric, your legs trapped by his robust arms standing no chance to preserve your shattered dignity. As such, you had to follow his desires tonight.

“Or are you excited just by a few fleeting touches? What a lewd bride you are.”

It seems that you were telling the whole truth when you exclaimed how much you liked his voice, his finger could feel the slick that began to seep through the lace. Brushing the fabric to the side, Alhaitham allowed his middle finger to collect the slick along your slit allowing the rest of his digits to warm up against your cunt’s soft mounds. His throat felt parched as the sweet scent teased his nose, but now was not the time, maybe later in the night.

“Will you be honest?” The heel of this palm freely pressed against your clit as his middle finger continued to run up and down your wet lips, every now and then almost slipping.

Your body couldn’t hide its eagerness, hole clenching at nothing every time his finger passed by. However, he needed confirmation from you. Communication is important in a contract no?

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I’ll be honest.” You pressed your back flat against his chest, trying to hide your face but his firm hold wouldn’t allow it.

“Good girl, then tell me what you desire.” His crisp breath provides your searing skin some relief.

Your plush lips pressed into a thin line as your eyes shut, cheeks heating up even more. It wouldn’t be good if you passed out from heat exhaustion so quickly. He grinds his palm into that sensitive nub, tormenting the answer out of you, nectar now dripping onto the sheets below.

“I want to c-cum,” You breathed out.

How direct, close but it wasn’t what he was looking for.

“You have to be more clear with your instructions, how do you want to cum?”

“Y-your fingers.”

“Good girl.” Finally, his finger breached your soaked entrance.

Pulsating walls welcomed him with unyielding squeezes, dragging his soaked digit further. Your sweet moans and whines resounded through the spacious suite, the volume of your voice directing him toward that spongey spot deep within. You were wet enough for another finger, so Alhaitham adds another, two digits stretching and exploring your soaked cavern.

“Mmmh! T-there!” Your toes were curling.

“Mmm.” The hum vibrated in his chest as his fingers went hard at work, thrusting into your quivering walls.

Each time his palm would slap against your clit your honest hole would clench down so endearingly. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, the muscles in your leg tensing up more and more. It’s obvious that you were close, but before he fulfilled your demands, he decided to be proactive and prepare for the next step.

Releasing your chin from his grasp, allowing your head to lull back against his shoulder. Alhaitham reaches between your bodies, hands never pausing their pace, swift fingers undoing the confines of his trousers. Allowing for his member to lay right against your back, the jolt of your body at the foreign object pressing against you made his hunger worse.

“Did you get more turned on? You’re clenching down tighter, did you want it that badly?”

Even if your eyes refused to meet his, the way your hips grind against his length, warming it up, told him all he needed to know. Your gummy walls constrict more around his fingers, it’s time to wrap up this scene, the next one is even more exciting. So his palm now digs into your clit, circling the now swollen bud in combination with his finger pressing against that nice spot deep inside.

“C-cummin-”

How cute, he didn’t even need to ask you to announce it. Letting your body ripple with the force of the orgasm, trembling limbs within his solid hold. If he was merciful, he would’ve continued to slide his fingers in and out, or maybe continue to caress your little nub, guiding you back to reality. However, hunger doesn’t allow for mercy.

Removing his soaked digits away from your pulsating cunt, teal eyes observing the transparent strings that clung to them with amusement. A small appetizer wouldn’t spoil the main meal, skilled tongue cleaning his fingers of your slick. Your head still limp against his shoulder, eyes rolled back in the throws of pleasure. To bring you back down to earth, it's best to use a new type of force.

Effortlessly, your hips were lifted up dripping cunt lined up with his impatient length below. In one fluid motion, your walls encase everything, drenched cunt giving no resistance as his tip kisses the spongy spot. Alhaitham lets a hiss escape him, it was as if he thrusted into the sun, your walls quickly bringing his member up to its temperature.

From your lips another moan was ripped out, oh it seems that you’ve plummeted back to reality. Your cunt trembled yet gripped onto his cock like a vice, coaxing him to go in deeper, encouraging his hunger to abuse your gummy walls even more. Barely riding out one wave of pleasure before another drowned you.

The hunters at your wedding could stick to your side the whole celebration, they could glare at him all they wanted, and they could try their damndest to keep the vampire at a distance. However, it was all efforts wasted in vain. For it was you, the blushing bride, who walked straight into his arms in the end, so open and receptive.

As he slides out just the slightest bit, your cunt protested by desperately clamping down, begging for his thick girth to stay in. In response he tightened his grip on your hips, lifting your body back up before bouncing you back down. What a glutton for pleasure you were, even as your little mouth whimpered and babbled, your walls thanked each slap of his hips with squeezes.

Sadistic hunger wanted more, to thrust deeper, to bully that poor spot inside of you over and over again with his thick tip as your walls stretch to accommodate the girth. His thighs collected the mixture of sweat and slickness from your body at each thrust. Your fingers dug into his hands, fingers white as you tried to grasp at anything to ground yourself.

“F-fast, too m-much.” There was drool escaping the corner of your parted lips, eyes barely back from seeing the inside of your head.

“Oh? Do you want me to stop?”

Alhaitham grinds to a stop, member still pressing deep inside you as he pulled you closer so his breath could ghost over your nape. In an instant, your mouth and cunt protested, you should be more clear with your instructions.

“N-noo.” Crying over the ruined tension.

“No? You wanted this.” His finger finds its way back to that swollen nub, flicking it a few times to watch the jumps of your body.

“If I let you cum, then I’ll do it my way, is that clear, my bride?” Tormenting your clit with firm circles.

“Yes! Please! P-pleasee.”

So weak against his voice, the sweet calls of a beast to lure you into the depths of depravity. Such is the fate of a shameless bride. Thus, his hips sprang back into action with renewed vigor. One hand keeps your hips still and the other remains on your clit to force that knot to reappear deep inside you.

Nothing but nonsense and moans babbled from your loose face, nectar dripping down to his heavy balls as they slapped against you with each pistoning of his hips. Your frantic hands entangled themselves into ash-mint locks as he felt gummy walls closing in tighter and tighter, your toes curling at the end of spread legs. Sinful slaps increased in frequency throughout the room as did the pace of the finger on your clit.

Your tense body held the warning of another storm, another fall off the edge into the depths. Alhaitham brushes his nose up your nape, the floral scent didn’t distract him from the goal laying just behind the skin. Your nerves were exhausted from the shooting pleasure, now was the perfect time to finally get his share. It’s only fair.

Prepping the area with a slow lick as his hips continued their brutal pace, incisors brushed against the delicate skin before piercing through. His hand shot up from your hip to your neck, a loose grip holding you still as your body tensed then violently shivered. The frenzy clamping of your cunt on his length was proof of your fall. Loose jaw uttering out broken moans as tears dripped down your chin.

The fresh scarlet flooded over his tongue and down his throat as Alhaitham continued with his slow suckling. Ah, you were very much like a flower, so delicate, so fragrant, and so bittersweet. It’s been almost a century since he last tasted the real thing, his body celebrated by filling your walls with thick release. An equivalent exchange of some sort.

A human body is quite frail, losing over two pints of blood borders on fatal territory. It’s not good to deplete a resource so quickly. Alhaitham releases your neck, running his tongue over the wound to seal it up. Teal eyes checked your complexion to ensure his measurements were accurate. Cheeks still with a healthy red flush as your chest heaved with pants, eyes glistening with tears. Such a shameless sight. He allows your head to roll onto his shoulder.

The rhythm of your heart settles back to its resting state as Alhaitham analyzes the taste he just experienced.

“I love you,” you breathed into his shoulder.

Alhaitham stiffens, the herbal aftertaste of your blood was bitter, the tang dried out his mouth causing a drawn-out pause. This is no good, he can’t miss the cue to say the line a bride longs to hear from her groom.

“I love you too.”

The choir of crickets from the world outside filled the void along with your pants.

“Pfft! Maybe let’s not say that, it’s too weird.” You shamelessly laughed, lifting your face from his skin.

What a relief, at least you seem to still have sense. Such words felt forcefully wedged into a script that wasn’t written for it. Might as well remove the line altogether. Moving on from the scene, Alhaitham lets you enjoy the warmth reflected off his body by yours.

It’s in the clauses to allow you to enjoy all aspects of marriage, so enjoy this honeymoon segment.

“Haitham, can you carry this for me please?”

“Haitham, I can’t reach, can you get it please?”

“Haitham, let’s have panipuri tonight!... Can you cook it please?”

It would’ve been better if he remained nothing more than just a decoration. It would’ve been easier if he was just a view for you to see behind glass. Perhaps Alhaitham’s acute eyes misread the contract, did you want a husband or just a maid?

Instead of sitting down in his own house to enjoy a book, he finds himself saddled with domestic responsibilities.

Must you call on him for everything?

Laundry and groceries aren’t that heavy. If you can’t reach the top shelves with the duster, then just get a chair. No ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ could prevent the downward tug of his lips every time you call him that doltish name. Your justification of a ‘nickname’ between lovers was moronic.

“Huh… Haitham how come you only use salt?”

Why do you make a creature who doesn’t consume such foods cook them? You’re more than capable of cooking for yourself every day. Although, Alhaitham would prefer it if you stopped using such overly fragrant herbs and spices.

Of course, when two breaths occupy the same space, there are bound to be pieces that don’t fit together, just as two breaths never sync. Alhaitham already factored those into his decision, but this was more proof of why a theory is always second to application. How troublesome the reality of marriage is, no wonder divorce rates are so high.

A good actor knows how to stay in character, so he’ll keep these thoughts to himself. Just as he lists your quirks silently.

One, you’re capricious. One moment silently enjoying a drama on the TV you asked him to purchase, body hogging the entire expanse of a couch. The next, you’ll be humming as plates and cups clatter in the sink, or the heavy thumps of your steps as you bound through the house with a mop. Alhaitham prefers it when you’re stationary, at least it doesn’t disturb his reading.

–

Two, you drink tea, an unfathomable amount of it. A warm cup always nestled between your fingers, bitter water mixed with honey. The herbal tang finds its way into your blood, making it taste like medicine. Thus, Alhaitham treats it as such, medicine just to alleviate suppressed bloodlust taken in moderation.

–

Three, you wanted to celebrate everything. Each square of a calender marked with scribbles. Why celebrate a celebration that’s already past? What is so special about a birthday? The past two years you purchased the same bundle of pungent flowers that made up that bouquet on that day to gift to him.

“Don’t you want a taste? I saved a slice just for you. Oh, would you eat it if I sprinkled some of my blood on it?”

Alhaitham swiftly accepts the plate from you, lifting the fork of overly sweet birthday cake into his mouth. Useless carbs take up space in his body, but such a thing causes no harm. Better to taste like pure sugar and not medicine.

–

The worst quirk of yours? You rise as soon as the sun greets the sky, adamant to not miss a single second of a day. Every day’s itinerary is filled with spur-of-the-moment decisions, such as going to a farmers market only open on Saturdays between the hours of 9 am and 2 pm. And how you drag him along.

Curses, only a human would drag a creature of the night into the day. What sadistic creatures, delighting in others' misery, you’re no exception.

“I thought you said vampires aren’t like how TV depicts them.” Curious eyes observe his slouched figure.

Vampires aren’t like how those dramas of yours depict them. No formal invitation to cross wooden thresh holds, no garlic braids as an effective shield, and no turning into a pile of ash at the mere rays of a star.

If so, then vampires would’ve been long gone by now. However, just because the sunlight can’t kill a vampire-

“It doesn’t mean it’s not unpleasant.” His stoic voice was too tired to add a bite.

You continued to stare at him with wonderment, as if what he said was the most complex theory known to the universe. Those dramas must’ve rotted that mind of yours, he concludes. You’re beyond saving.

“I see.” Gentle hands lift the excessive sun hat from your head.

Reaching on your tiptoes you place it atop his head, the straw brim providing some reprieve for his irritated skin. Shuffling the hat around until it’s securely nested along his now trussed ash locks. Satisfied, you lower yourself back down.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. We can go home..”

Tenderly, your hands clasped around his, guiding him into the shade. The whole walk your hands never left his, eyes always searching for the next patch of shadows to lead him into. For the rest of the weekend, you just watched your dramas, the sensation of guilt must’ve muted your voice.

Good. He celebrated this rare break in his library away from you.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Monday night rolled around again, as he passes the living room, he spots your loafing body napping on his couch as the TV acted as white noise. Tsk. Regardless, it’s time to get to work, he walks toward the front door.

“Wait,” came a soft command, dripping with sleep.

From around the corner, your figure comes stumbling towards Alhaitham, his hand still firmly on the knob. Hands busy trying to rub the fatigue away from your eyes, blinking away the pleasant dream you were just in.

Why did you abandon it? Alhaitham doesn’t know.

Your frame reaches his, transferring some of your warmth to him, arms outstretched towards his neck. Teal eyes don’t miss the way your drowsy legs were wobbling. To prevent any accidents, he supports your body with an arm around the waist.

Just as he feels your body steady, clammy palms encase the sides of his face. Pulling it down as your supple lips pressed against his cool cheek. Did you traverse all the way from the sofa just for a kiss?

“Have a good night at work.” Your shameless smile beamed.

A habit formed from one of your dramas, a wife bidding goodbye to her husband with a sweet kiss to boost his spirits. Curiosity must have gotten the better of you, or maybe you wanted to amuse yourself, two possibilities Alhaitham devises.

–

“So, how’s married life treating you?” Kaveh’s smug tone grated against his eardrums as the blond rested an elbow on the bar table.

Alhaitham couldn’t stop the frown from forming, nor the heavy sigh, so he took a hearty sip of his wine. Emptying the glass in one fluid motion.

“Heh, I see you’ve been enjoying the spoils of marriage very much,” Tighnari snickered.

“Sure, if you wish to see it that way.” Alhaitham’s hand found itself pouring another glass.

It seems that everyone around the ashen-haired vampire was enjoying the spoils of this odd union, everyone but him that is. His miseries fueling the chaff nature of his acquaintances, still he needed a reprieve to drink.

Not that herbal blood of yours, but something actually palatable like the fragrant wine washing the frustrations down his throat. It’s not marriage, it’s having to work overtime.

“Regardless, you signed a contract, you must uphold the clauses.” Cyno’s scarlet eyes leered over the rim of his glass.

Alhaitham sighs, he should’ve drank alone.

–

The tavern wasn’t a far journey away from his house. The deep hues of night slowly shift to the youthful flushes of dawn. He’s been drinking for quite some time, it didn’t matter, alcohol has no effect on a body such as his.

Alhaitham twists the key, the door creaking ajar just to reveal your figure with arms crossed. Disappointment ever so clear in those eyes of yours.

“Where’ve you been?” No chirp in your tone.

After a few hours of reprieve, Alhaitham is welcomed home with an interrogation. Wonderful. Why should he answer this meek creature standing in front of him? He could just walk to bed and get the rest he deserves.

‘You must uphold the clauses.’

Right, Alhaitham has to play the role of a husband, he signed a contract, too late to just burn the papers now.

“I went drinking with coworkers,” he curtly answers.

“Why didn’t you call beforehand?” Your head tilts, disappointed eyes still honed on him.

Why does he have to inform you of his every movement? Who were you to demand so much of his individuality? Alhaitham couldn’t help the frown that reappeared, directed at you, the hurdle that blocked him from entering his own home.

The grandfather clock counted the seconds in the background, two sets of eyes locked in a stare-down. One frowning and one disappointed. How long will this last?

Your shoulders slumped as a sigh left your lungs. Eyes finally finding rest behind two heavy lids.

“My life’s too short for misunderstandings and messy communication,” you huffed.

Your back straightens again as you lean in closer, eyes recentering on his towering form. They no longer held the burden of disappointment, they twinkled with something else.

“I’m your wife, and you’re my husband.” You stated the obvious.

“So when my husband, who usually arrives home at half past midnight on the dot, didn’t arrive home until dawn without a single text or call. I got worried.”

What wasted concern, why worry for an immortal creature?

“You don’t need to report every movement to me, I don’t want that either, but if you plan on staying out please give me a simple text. So I don’t have to spend hours worrying about why my husband isn’t answering my calls.”

Alhaitham scans over the discoloration hanging heavily under your eyes. An unpleasant sensation crawled up his spine. Phone shut off by habit, unaware of how you were losing sleep as he emptied bottle after bottle. He has to remedy the situation now, it’s what a husband should do.

“I understand, I’ll do that from now on,” he answers.

Is he allowed back into the confines of his own house now?

Your hands were now positioned defiantly on your hips, brows quirked up as if expecting something more.

No.

“You’re supposed to apologize, ya know. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife’,” you advised.

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife,” he parroted.

The magic words to finally open the path into the house, words that finally returned that grin to your face. Arms outstretched you wrapped them around his neck as your lips warmed up his cool cheek.

“Welcome home, Haitham.”

Ah, he knows what that twinkle in your eyes was, sincerity.

Audiences rarely see the behind-the-scenes of a movie, with directors always handpicking which mistakes are charming enough to be shown as a blooper. Audiences don’t see the multiple scenes filmed then refilmed, they can’t experience the long hours, and they don’t know how many times lines were misread. Three years is enough time for actors to learn their lines.

“Is my drama too loud?”

Alhaitham peers over the top of the journal, focusing on your face peeking through the entrance of his library. Judging by the apron, he guesses it's almost time for dinner, the dialogue playing on the TV was just above a muffle from here.

“It’s fine, remember to turn on the kitchen hood.”

“Okay, which wine did you want to baste the meat in?”

“Top left, how long will it take?”

“Pfft, famished already? 15 minutes, you won’t waste away in that time right, Haitham?”

The ever-so-adventurous palate of yours and the ever-so-drab palate of his. An unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, two existences that bend and twist each other until equilibrium. Equilibrium in the form of a steak basted in red wine, rare for him and medium for you. A dinner that could be enjoyed by both breaths.

–

“Oh?” Your bewildered eyes blink at the bouquet presented to you.

A wrapped box held tenderly in your hands. Alhaitham had taken note of a certain scribble marked on the calendar, it was he who got the fourth bouquet. Placing an order ahead of time to ensure the freshest flowers.

“You said they smelled bad.”

“I’m used to it.” A half-truth.

Your lips couldn’t suppress its toothy grin, balancing the box in one hand as the other accepts the bouquet.

“Since you have every book in existence, I got you something else.” You nudged the wrapped present toward him.

Unraveling the decorative paper his eyes were greeted by the sight of a carved figure of a… what is it? Meeting your eager gaze, the quirk in his eyebrow told enough.

“It’s a hawk, I saw in storage that you used to collect these decorations.”

Ah, you found a petty hobby he had decades ago to torment a certain someone. A figure serves no practical purpose in a home, but the eagerness of your eyes was enough to find the endearing gift a place on a shelf.

–

“How does one make their blood tastier?” You pondered into his embrace.

His tongue traveled up the nape of your neck to collect the escaped drops of scarlet and to close up the wound. Your bare skin pressed against his, rising his temperature to a pleasant warmth.

He could feel every shiver as his length shifted within your overstimulated walls, recovering the overwhelming pleasure experienced just moments earlier.

What an obvious answer, stop drinking that tea of yours. However, Alhaitham prefers when you have the energy to trot through crowded walkways at dusk with him in tow. Bittersweetness is an acquired taste, one that took him some time.

“Since you have enough clarity to ask questions, I’m assuming you’re up for another round.” His husky breath ghosts over your ear.

“Wait~ I’m still sens-Ah!”

–

Over time, something as short as five years, even a trickle of water can crave a home for itself in the rocky foundations of the earth that’s existed since the dawn of time.

The side of the polished dinner table with the clearest view of the TV was your side.

The mug left in the sink with the faint aroma of tea and sweet honey was your mug.

The couch with cushions misshapen and molded by repeated use was your couch.

Such is the lull of domestic reality, each kiss at the door to bid goodbye and each kiss to welcome him back.

Nothing, not even immortality, is resistant to time.

Due to the crowd you’ve built your circle from, hunters were semi-frequent guests at his home. Much to your delight and his dismay. A husband should get along with his wife’s friends.

“Your complexion has gotten paler.” Candace’s heterochromatic eyes narrowed, her hands turning your face from side to side.

“Mmm, I haven’t been going out during the day as much.” Resting the weight of your head within her palms.

“Bullshit, he’s been using you like livestock,” Dehya snapped.

“Mmm? Not really, he says my blood taste like leaves.” Halfheartedly lifting your face out of Candace’s warm hold.

“Don’t cover for that bastard,” the Flame-Mane hunter scowls.

“Need I remind you ‘that bastard’ is still in the room?” Alhaitham breaks his silence.

“Who said you could speak?” Sapphires clash with beryls.

“Who’s home are you currently guests in?”

Even without glancing down, Alhaitham could tell that Dehya’s hand was twitching to reach for the silver dagger hidden up her sleeve. The hand then falters back down, Candace must’ve also noticed, steadfast eyes sending a warning to the other hunter.

“Of all people, why did you have to marry this vampire?” Dehya turns to you exasperated.

“Mmm,” you hummed.

With the finger pressed against your lip and your eyes wandering up towards nothing, Alhaitham couldn’t tell if you were deep in thought or just faking it.

Your pondering filled the room with silence, three pairs of eyes intently trained on your frame. Eyelids closed as you deepened your thought. After a few beats, they fluttered back open.

“Because he’s just too handsome.” There’s that shameless smile again.

The disgusted expression that plastered itself all over the hunter’s face at your response almost pushed a quiet laugh from his lips. However, Alhaitham wanted to avoid a physical confrontation from starting in his house.

If there’s one virtue you have, it’s that you’re a fair person. You perplex your friends and husband to equal degrees.

It’s now time for the hunters to start their night, much like how Alhaitham will soon report to the office. The two women and you were now at the threshold of the door bidding goodbye, their skeptical eyes every now and then glaring behind you at the vampire.

“Oh, one more thing,” your voice perks up.

Arms encapsulated two sturdy frames, pulling them close against yours.

“I love you guys.” Your words make the two robust warriors take a sharp inhale, bodies tensing up momentarily.

“We love you too, very much.” Candace’s voice forced itself to steady.

“Yeah.” Dehya pulled you closer.

After a few beats, you pulled away from your friends. Lighthearted grin lopsided on your face.

“Alright then, stay safe out there,” you chimed, waving at them.

After their figures disappeared from view, Alhaitham shut the oak door. You still peered out the curtains, daydreaming something as the stars reflected in your eyes. He observes for a moment before he collects the cups and dishes that once held tea and sweets to entertain bygone guests.

You were already surrounded by love, genuine love. Why did you sell your soul to experience something you already had? Alhaitham will save that question for another day.

Would you try saying that line to him again? Maybe this time he read his line without hesitation.

–

Alhaitham’s heavy lids shot open. The unwelcome greetings of morning birds signaled the time of day. Keen eyes scanned over the empty space beside him, sheets still trussed in the shape of a smaller figure. The bird songs rang like sirens, heightening his senses.

For once his ageless body left the bed without protest, swift steps pattering through the dim halls until the backyard came into view. Sunlight poured in through the open door, the wooden mounts perfectly framing your slumped figure.

Tired body balancing upon the basket of damp laundry, halfway from the backdoor and clothes line, you stopped to take labored breaths.

Swiftly he was by your side, towering stature blocking you from the harsh rays. Alhaitham lifts your fatigued body from the ground, giving your aching legs relief. Even with the sun hanging high in the sky, your skin didn’t absorb an ounce of warmth.

He takes you to the safety of the dim house, settling you onto the soft cushions of your couch.

“Don’t push yourself.” Alhaitham shifts a few pillows behind your back.

“I wasn’t, the laundry needs to be hung,” you huffed.

“Just call for me.”

You sounded out a whine of protest, but your breathing steadied. Alhaitham moves to stand back to full height, ready to finish the task awaiting out in the sun.

“Wait,” came your soft call.

Plucking your favorite sun hat off, you bestowed it upon unkempt ash locks still dusted with sleep. Fussing with the oversized straw brim until it stayed in place. Once satisfied you beamed, fingers caressing his smooth cheeks before placing a peck from curled lips.

“Thank you, Haitham.”

Adamant hands smoothed over the damp clothes, ensuring that they didn’t dry on the line with wrinkles that stayed stubbornly. The morning rays felt like sand against his exposed skin, but the hat bestowed upon him made it tolerable.

–

“It’s dusk, would you like to stroll through the market tonight?” Beryl eyes inspect the curled figure of his wife among cushions and blankets.

“Mmm, maybe not tonight.” You sink deeper into your couch, drama long forgotten.

“I see.” Alhaitham moves to the armchair just adjacent to you, a frequent perch of his now.

“Come here?”

Just as you finished blinking Alhaitham was by your side again. Slowing lifting your upper body just off the cushion, you pat the now free space, welcoming him to sit. He wouldn’t be a good husband if he were to deny such a request. So he sits.

Once the ashen-haired vampire was fully situated, your head found its place upon his thighs.

“Lap pillow,” there was that giggle of yours.

Alhaitham sighs, but he couldn’t prevent the corner of his lips from curling up, so he hides it with his book. This must be something you learned from those dramas again. He’ll humor it.

His cool fingers run along your scalp as his teal eyes switched between your resting face and the words printed along the aged paper.

Maybe not today, perhaps tomorrow when the rays of a selfish star kiss your cheeks.

–

The drinks were served quietly, the tavern didn’t seem as lively tonight. Perhaps because it’s the busy season, Spring air carries with it the signs of renewing life and tax forms.

“So, how is she, the wife?” Kaveh traverses the stagnant air.

What a redundant question, Alhaitham knows they can smell the fragrance lingering on his body from you, the aroma of flowers only found in a garden beyond a line immortals can cross. The scent of an ending journey.

“I’ll send some more Kalpalata Lotus tea, one cup a day should help with lethargy.” Tighnari prescribes, making a mental note to prepare the delivery once he returns home.

“Thank you, how much would I owe?”

“None, just a gift for your wife.”

Alhaitham hums in gratitude, and the table continued to play cards placidly. Throughout the rounds, his teal eyes stole glances over to a dark screen.

The group dispersed at dawn, but it wasn’t long before Alhaitham acknowledged the presence behind him.

“Alhaitham.”

He only glanced over his shoulder at the tan vampire.

“Remember the punishment that awaits those who dare disturb the cycle of life.” A threatening crackle resounded from the curled fingers by Cyno’s side.

Alhaitham already knows and Cyno knows it all too well. After all, the privilege of a good true death was stolen away from the white-haired man many years ago. Cursing the shorter man to eternity. Thus, Cyno now spends eternity punishing those who dare break the most sacred law.

Alhaitham responds with a nod and with that the two men parted ways as the rosy hues of dawn dyed the sky. You’re probably in bed already, it’ll be his kiss to announce his return.

–

In an age where humans outnumber vampires, with new technologies and weapons that can now threaten once untouchable creatures, immortal beings now have to obey mortal laws. The most sacred of laws, vampires cannot turn humans into immortal beings. It’s illegal, it’s immoral even to curse such fleeting creatures with eternity.

However, vampires are creatures born outside the grace of god from the very start, lurking in the shadows of iconoclasm. What difference would it make?

It’s his night to make dinner, steak with red wine sauce.

What is the difference between blood and wine to the inattentive eye? The scarlet hues could be easily mixed. All it would take is a sprinkle, drops stirred into the fragrant sauce served over the juicy meat, for you to abandon your humanity. For the ticking of a grandfather clock to stop its hands.

Who wouldn’t want more time?

A scene from a night now long past resurfaces at the front of Alhaitham’s mind.

–

“Would you want more time?” Came a question that broke the silence after a moment of passion.

Your damp skin glistens under the moonlight, your chest rising and falling as the lust slowly blinks away from your eyes. Alhaitham’s hand on your back guides you down from cloud nine. You stared at him inquisitively, teal reflecting back to him as he remains silent.

Ashen hair tussled and scratches fading away from cooling skin, he awaits your answer, schemes manifesting.

You let out a hum, signing that you’ll humor his question this time, as your face rests against the pillow comforted by his woodsy scent.

–

If you had more time, he would have more time. More time to pick your brain. More time to search through the archives of your thoughts to decrypt you. More time to grovel at your feet for forgiveness after he rips the humanity away from your arms.

Alhaitham is a prideful thing, but he’s not a dense fool. He knows when an apology is necessary, insight gained from his time shared with you.

Teal eyes glance back behind him towards the living room, where your figure sat quietly, attention distracted by the pair of lovers on screen in the midst of a tense argument. Never once turning behind to glance into the kitchen, not one ounce of suspicion. The scene finishes.

–

“I was born a human.” Your lids opened again, meeting his beryl-like eyes.

Irises pure like the moonlight reflected in them. He hums in acknowledgment, fingers tracing mindless scripts into your tender back.

“I will die as one.”

He hums in confirmation.

–

A riddle he couldn’t quite solve to bypass the sphinx who guards the sanctuary of your mind. Humans are greedy creatures of conquest, always wanting more, always hungry for more. That’s why creatures like him exist and thrive, feeding into the natural greed of humans.

Every human wants more power, more money, more wisdom. Every human wants more and more and more. Every human, so why can’t you want more? It seems that the breeze who gallivanted into his office, proposing to him with a contract, won’t reveal her secret.

As it was outlined on the paper signed by two names, he shall honor your wishes for now until the end, such is the character of a husband.

Alhaitham runs his hand under the kitchen sink, shameless eyes watching as the water turns clear again, and as the skin closes up. A feature only a creature born outside the jurisdiction of god would have.

He finishes the meal with a few sprinkles of freshly cut herbs, serving the untainted sauce over juicy cuts of steak, one cooked medium and one cooked rare. He calls you over to the dinner table.

The average human life span has increased drastically in the past centuries, it’s now about eighty years give or take.

Still a mere fraction of the time held by vampires.

Eighty years, and yet you could only have a fraction of that. You could only offer him a sliver of a fraction.

–

“It’s been a while since you’ve fed, aren’t you hungry?” Your eyes peered over at him.

Alhaitham wipes the washcloth along your back from beside the porcelain tub, steamy water carrying the fragrance of Nilotpala Lotuses. The humidity of the bathroom made the shirt cling to his skin like a wet rag, but the moisture helped with your coughs.

“I’m satisfied.” Another half-truth, teal eyes scan for any signs of discomfort, he can bare it.

“Really? I’m sure my blood doesn’t taste like leaves anymore.” You rested your cheek again on the warm washcloth, eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lights as you looked into his.

The gift by Tighnari sitting untouched in the corner of a cabinet. Perhaps you’ve gotten tired of the bitter herbal taste, or maybe because there wasn’t a point in drinking it anymore.

Alhaitham fought the urge to click his tongue at your brash humor, only you would worry about how you taste during the closing days of a contract. However, his lips couldn’t form a frown when you beamed at him like that.

–

On the path to work, beryl eyes landed upon a bouquet arranged with familiar flowers, the petals dyed by the rich hues of dusk. The florist was busy gathering up the displays to bring them back inside for the night.

“Excuse me, I’d like to purchase this bouquet.”

That night at the office, the staffed vampires crinkled their noses at the overwhelmingly floral scent that plagued the floor. Alhaitham just shut his office door, bouquet resting in a hastily prepared vase, such a thing won’t kill a vampire it’s such a minuscule issue.

“I’m home.” He locks the door after him.

Keen hearing not picking up the pattering of feet along the hardwood floor. Placing the flowers on the entranceway table along with his dress shoes, the ashen-haired immortal trekked through the halls, silence ringing in his ears.

Behind the solid bedroom lay his answer, turning the knob, Alhaitham feels tense muscles loosen as the steady melody of breaths resounded through the room.

You’ve been here since this afternoon, body now imprinted into the plush mattress. Still, your blood still runs and your chest still rises, even if there were faint hints of wheezing it was good enough. Quiet as a shadow, Alhaitham removes his blazer and tie before joining you under the sheets. He’s been craving sleep.

A timeless body doesn’t need sleep, ageless cells don’t require such downtime to recover. However, claiming that vampires don’t enjoy sleep would be a blatant lie. A calm way to pass the endless time offered by eternity, a nice way to escape boredom.

Or maybe it’s because sleep gives immortal creatures a taste of an experience they’ll never have. Peaceful expiry.

Teal eyes observe the ever-present curl of your lips before cool lips are pressed against your plush ones. A habit formed after six years. The flowers were still left at the door, but they’ll survive the night. Alhaitham will show them to you in the morning, and you’ll beam that grin at him in the morning.

–

Fresh flowers rested in a vase gifted by friends on the nightstand, the last flowers of Spring. The delicate blooms give way to the vibrant greens of Summer. Such a cruel season for vampires, with days so long and nights so short. A cruel season that offered your body no additional warmth.

Alhaitham’s hand brushes against the apples of your cheeks, your unconscious body protests in an instant with shivers and curls away from the thief stealing what precious heat you had. As if burned by fire, the vampire retracts his hand.

Right, he can’t be greedy. Teal eyes watch every tremor until his legs finally remembered how to walk. Pacing to the closet Alhaitham pulls the Winter covers out from storage, insulating your body with the thick duvet.

The layers form a barrier protecting you from icy touches as he smooths out the wrinkles.

When humans walk into a garden, their eyes are immediately drawn toward the most beautiful blooms. Watching intently at how the petals of the young blossom unravel, their senses enjoying the heavenly fragrance. It’d only be a matter of seconds before their inevitable greed takes over, and they wish to claim the flower as their own.

In this sense, the gods are no different than the mortals who were crafted in their image. Greedy to pluck the most beautiful blooms from the garden for their mere amusement.

Is that what went on behind the garden wall those born outside the jurisdiction of god couldn’t peer over? Alhaitham wonders if you’d answer this inquiry of his. However, if he wants answers, he’ll have to ask soon.

How should he say the last lines of this script?

Alhaitham ponders. There wasn’t a director to give a cue, no parenthetical to follow. Perhaps he’s entertaining such futile thoughts to distract himself.

With each wheeze of your chest, the itch in his palm grew unbearable. His thumb begged to dig its nail into the smooth skin until scarlet droplets trickled out. However, it never got its chance for soon your ailing fingers occupied the space, interlocking to halt its motion as gold rings clinked together.

“My husband is such a handsome actor.” Breathy voice babbling with a giggle.

Alhaitham’s cool skin hogged your warmth, trying to permanently sear the temperature into itself.

“You don’t have to play this role anymore.” You craned your neck away with a deep exhale, exposing the vulnerable skin to him.

There’s nothing viler to a vampire than stagnant blood. Blood that no longer runs tastes rotten, cold blood is worst than bile. Your blood still ran warm, he could sense it. This time it was his incisors that itched.

Keen eyes don’t miss the way your nape prickled at the breath that ghosted over it as his lips parted. Your lids gently shut, bracing yourself. The incisors brushed against your exposed jugular, but they couldn’t break through the delicate skin. They wouldn’t. They just wouldn’t.

Like the cowards they were, they retreated. Alhaitham closes his lips, deciding to press a tender kiss on the spot instead. His free hand guides your head back into a comfortable position on the plush pillow.

“You don’t have to hold yourself back.” Your eyes were open again.

“I’m not holding myself back,” he spoke the truth, the whole truth.

You were born with blood, it’s only right that you die with it, Alhaitham concludes.

The ending clause of that contract be damned.

“What a silly vampire.” Your bell-like laughter twinkled in his ears.

Yes, he is. Even after all these centuries, Alhaitham realizes he’s still no better than a fool. A shameless fool. An idiotic hypocrite ready to stray away from the principles he thought he held firm. He’ll accept this verdict, he’ll continue this fool’s errand, if and only if you continue to giggle at his antics.

Outside the window came the dirge of Summer crickets, gentle crips accompanying your fleeting wheezes. Alhaitham shifts the thick comforter up your body, smoothing out the wrinkles as the soft warmth lulls you away.

Your still fingers in between the spaces of his, your head curled within the space between his nape.

Under the moon’s pure rays, lay two bodies atop soft sheets, curled towards each other, the fleeting warmth long dissipating. Atop silk sheets, one body envisions the two buried under cold dirt and not clean comforters with hands somehow still locked together. Deep under the garden wall.

Once the cruel sun creeps into the sky, and the night flees into hiding with her stars, Alhaitham will have to make a call.

He’ll have to speak with the receptionist on the other end, with their bright customer service greeting, and get a legal pronouncement of death. Then soon after that, he’ll have to arrange the transportation of your cold husk. He’ll have to lower you into the ground alone.

However, the morning is still hours away, the moon is still here to lend her quiet sympathies. So tonight, just for tonight humor his little daydream.

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

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sugar-coat-it · 2 months

Text

Touch Tank

He’s so pretty when he goes down on me… <3

THE MAKEUP FIC LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND EVERYONE IN BETWEEN

Fluff into smut because I am a sappy bitch. It’s actually quite soft despite being dirty.

Fem! Reader

Contains: Sub! Matty, him being a sweetie pie and guiding her into it, facesitting/riding, makeup ruining, praise kink (good boy, pretty boy, etc.), Matty cumming in his pants, hair pulling, Matty Healy worshiping that cunt idk what else to tell you

WC: ~4,600

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Matty asks you to do his makeup for him… and then ruin it by sitting on his face

—---------------------------------------------------

You glance at Matty through the reflection in the mirror, your heart swelling in your chest at the adoring look plastered on his face. He looks so incredibly gentle, his eyes soft and practically sparkling as he watches you apply concealer onto your skin. Only a few minutes ago, he’d plopped himself down on the lidded toilet near you and insisted that you show him how you do your makeup while you get ready for your girl’s night out. His longing gazes have proven to be very distracting as your working hands almost slow to a stop.

“Just pretend I’m not here! What comes next?” he urges, leaning his chin against his hand casually.

“Alright, alright! Next is the powder,” you explain, starting to refocus as you run the brush through the pan of skin-toned pigment.

Matty’s eyes can’t seem to stay focused on one thing, flicking between the product you’re using (taking note of the brand you use), your pretty face, and the way your steady fingers curl around the makeup brush. He murmurs the word “powder” to himself like he’s trying to commit the steps you take in your routine to his memory. Boyfriend training, if you will.

“Right… so, do you really need the primer, the concealer, and the other thing? Why haven’t they just combined them all? It’s an awful lot of work for you makeup users,” he muses, talking as if he knows what any of them are really for.

“I have no clue, babe. You should really get on that,” you chuckle, stealing another glance at him through the mirror.

“Yeah, I should, shouldn’t I? What’s that one for, then?” he asks, reaching out and pointing at the powder in your hands.

“This? It’s to set everything in place that we just put on,” you explain, finding it quite sweet that he’s so curious about this little piece of your life, as mundane as it might be.

Matty hums and nods thoughtfully, seeming satisfied with knowing more about makeup than he did before. Not just any makeup, but his girl’s makeup that she takes so much time to get right. There’s something very domestic about this moment, everything feels a little softer when it’s just you two like this. Even the moonlight seems to seep through the window gentler. Matty’s life is irregular, there’s no denying that. It’s what makes these moments of calm feel so sacred, so untouchable.

You continue carrying out your routine, going a little slower than usual to prolong it all, your brush strokes lingering a little longer than necessary as you brush a tastefully shimmery shade on your eyelids. Your boyfriend is unusually quiet as he admires you with those sleepy eyes. It’s not often that he isn’t either speaking or waiting for someone to finish talking so he can get a word in. The silence feels comfortable for both of you, it settles over the bathroom like a blanket.

“Ah, wait, I know that one,” he interrupts, suddenly sitting up straighter as you take out your next product, snapping his fingers and pointing at it, “that’s mascara.”

Matty looks absolutely triumphant, crossing his arms over his chest with a slyness plastered on his face. You let out a breathy little chuckle, only managing half of an eye roll before a warm smile tugs at your lips.

Once you’ve finished, Matty clears his throat to get your attention, looking as though he’s mulling over asking you something.

“Hey, I know you said you liked those pictures you saw of my stage makeup. I haven’t really done it in a while… y’know, if you wanted to do some on me… before you go to your party,” he offers softly, trailing off as he looks up into your eyes.

“Wait, are you serious!?” you exclaim, your eyes lighting up with a grin on your face that could rival a kid’s smile on Christmas morning.

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs, chuckling as you already scramble to grab all your supplies, sliding them towards the closer end of the counter, “I’m going to trust you here, but you’ve got the perfect chance to fuck me up good, making me look like a proper circus clown.”

“I would never!” you gasp, feigning offense at his comment with a dramatic hand over your heart, “why on earth would I do that when I have the opportunity to make you the prettiest of princesses?”

“The what? Nah, never mind that, you’ve just lost the privilege.”

“No, no, no I’m sorry, I’ll behave!”

Matty eyes you suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at you like he’s assessing whether or not you’ll be calling him “baby girl” or something next. Out of the goodness of his heart (and because he does really does want you to do this), he nods at you, crossing his arms over his chest. You just smile giddily, leaning down to kiss his forehead while he mumbles “Yeah, yeah, c’mon do me up”.

You’ve decided to go easy on him and not do a full face, just his eyes and lips. With that, you crack open your makeup pallet reserved only for fun occasions, it’s filled with shimmery, bright colors that immediately attract Matty’s distractable eyes. You hold it up to him for him to get a better look, his brows furrowing as he no doubt contemplates what he thinks would look the coolest.

“What are you thinking?” you ask, still very excited that he’d not only agreed to let you do this but was the one to suggest it.

“Maybe this blueish one? I dunno, is that what any basic straight guy would pick?”

“You’re overthinking it. I think it would look really nice on you.”

You dip your eyeshadow brush in the pan, instructing him to close his eyes for you and stay still the best he can (not the easiest of feats for one Mr. Healy). He does, his gaze softening before he lets his eyes flutter shut. With your free hand, you reach out and gently tilt his face to be angled properly. You feel a little warmth blossom in your chest as you realize how intimate this feels, especially with how serene he looks as he closes his eyes. Even though it feels silly because it’s just doing his makeup, your heart still thrums a little faster at the little display of trust.

When you touch the brush to his eyelid, he lets out a short, very Matty-sounding giggle as he tells you that it feels “quite nice”. You chuckle along with him, switching to the other eyelid once you’re sure the other one is evenly applied. Your touch is delicate as you hold the side of Matty’s face, your eyes squinting with concentration as you work. He’s warm under your fingertips. You notice how soothed he seems by you handling him like this, almost hypnotized by the brush strokes. He looks so soft. Unjaded. Untouched.

While his eyes are closed, you reach for your eyeliner, warning him before you touch the point of it to his lash line. Still, he flinches slightly when the liner touches his eyelid, his nose scrunching up a bit as you do your best to trace a steady line, despite the way his eyelids flutter.

“You’re moving, Matty.”

“M’not!” he insists (he is).

With a bit of fixing, you’d managed to draw out two almost even wings. At your permission, his eyes blink open again and the sight almost steals your breath away. The blue is bringing out the honey tones of his irises, his sleepy eyes defined by the complimentary liner. He’s beautiful.

“Do I look hot?” he asks, blinking faux seductively.

“Very hot,” you grin, inspecting your work as you keep a tender hold on his chin.

It’s not even a joke, he does look hot. You’ve always not so secretly adored his more feminine side, getting absolutely giddy whenever he wore a skirt around the flat or painted his nails. You rub your thumb over his cheek affectionately before reaching back over to the counter for your mascara wand, holding it up to him before you unscrew the cap. It’s the only one he’d recognized from earlier, so of course you’re going to tease him a little.

“Time for your favorite,” you joke, moving to position yourself in front of him.

Matty glances at the wand for a second before nodding slowly, smiling with his tongue between his teeth boyishly.

“Mascara,” he recalls smugly.

It quickly becomes his least favorite when he painstakingly can only blink when you tell him to, this wand object being far too close to his eyeballs for his liking. He groans dramatically between the blink breaks that you give him, pulling all sorts of odd, exaggerated faces.

“That was god awful, hated that,” he broods, shaking his head at you.

You make up for it with an apologetic kiss to his cheek, then wipe away the pink trace of your lipstick on his skin. You reassure him that you’re almost done, now retrieving the same shade of lipstick that you’d done on yourself. You slowly ease his lips apart with the hand on his jaw, Matty being totally pliant while he gazes at you quietly. You start to apply the color to his lips, swallowing thickly as you try not to get distracted by his mouth. Despite your best efforts, your face feels a little hot as quiet tension blooms. His pupils have practically doubled in size at this point from how enamored he is with you in this moment. The tension only grows stronger when you finish, standing behind him as you lead him to the mirror.

“Oh, shit. I look… I look really good,” Matty gawks, his lips parting as he eyes himself in the mirror.

“You do. I’d go as far as to say that you look fucking stunning,” you whisper near the shell of his ear, feeling the hairs rise on the back of his neck.

The two of you stay like that for a bit longer, both admiring him in the reflection of the mirror, your hands settled on his shoulders and your lips brushing against his ear. With a smile, you place a tender kiss on his neck before leaving him to gaze at himself some more while you finish getting ready in the bedroom.

It’s not long before Matty is trailing after you, finding you slipping your “style over comfort” heels on as he frowns at you from the doorway. The fact that you’re not still fawning over him while he looks this good is pure absurdity in his mind.

“You’re really just gonna leave me here while I’m all dolled up for you? Shame,” he pouts, tilting his head at you as he juts out his bottom lip. Such a drama queen.

Matty comes closer and sinks to his knees in front of you at the foot of the bed, his calloused fingertips running up the expanse of your smooth legs. He looks up at you with lidded eyes as he reaches for the ankle straps of your shoes that you’d just put on, leaning his cheek against your knee as he starts to unclasp one of them with nimble fingers. You don’t stop him. He knows for a fact that he’s putting you in a position where you couldn’t possibly say no to him, not when he’s looking at you like that, his naturally gorgeous features only further accentuated by the makeup you’d done. Maybe being fashionably late isn’t such a big deal… Sarah hosts girl's nights all the time. Besides, Matty seems to have other plans for convincing you that the party is hardly a priority. You swear if you squint, you can see a plan racing to come together in his head as you gaze down at him, drinking him in while he’s on his knees.

“We don’t really have the time…” you murmur, reaching with one hand to card your fingers through his hair, holding it away from his eyes while he undoes your shoes.

Sex with Matty is never a casual affair. He takes his sweet time with you, taking you apart with his mouth and his fingers before he even thinks of being inside of you. He doesn’t just please, he satisfies. Matty’s devoted appetite cannot be given a time constraint.

Once he’s finished sliding both of your shoes off, carefully setting them to the side, he clambers up onto the bed and lays down behind you. His head is tilted in your direction as he reaches his hands out to you in a grabbing motion, urging you to come closer.

“You could sit on my face,” he suggests, not a trace of hesitation in his blunt tone.

“What?” you gape, your eyebrows knitting together.

“You heard me,” he quips, swallowing thickly before speaking again, “Stay. Use me.”

You shake your head in disbelief, letting out a chuckle at his wanton request. Forcing yourself to swiftly regain your composure, you turn and slink towards him, sitting on your knees at his side. It would probably be faster than sex… right?

“Where is this even coming from? Is that something you think about a lot, babe?” you smile teasingly, reaching over to cup his face, scratching your nails under his jaw.

Matty’s gaze shifts to the side and he shrugs, a coyness playing on his face as his cheeks become rosier. No one gets to see him like this but you, this is your Matty.

You sigh, your eyes flickering down to his painted lips that curl up with a mischievous quirk.

“You’d hardly be able to breathe, Matty- no, stop, don’t look at me like that, I’m serious! These things don’t always work out like they do in your pornos,” you laugh, but you are genuinely concerned about hurting him.

“The fuck do I care? If I can breathe, I’m not doin’ it right,” he huffs petulantly, his greedy hands reaching for your hips to guide you into straddling him, “Literally crush me, I can take it, I’m a big boy.”

You shoot him a look and he just offers a wide, toothy grin, reaching behind you to grab handfuls of your ass through your dress. The fabric rides up your thighs higher with every little movement, feeling a lot shorter when it’s barely covering your panties.

“I dunno about a big one, but you definitely are a boy sometimes, Healy,” you tease, leaning over him with your hands splayed on his chest for support.

“You love it. Are you gonna sit that sexy ass down on me or what?” he smirks, only proving your point further as he waggles his eyebrows at you.

You can tell he’s not going to let this go, not till your thighs are locked around his head. Just as you’re about to open your mouth again, he’s easing the fabric of your dress further up your legs, letting out a satisfied hum as it bunches around your waist. He avidly smooths his hands over the newly exposed skin, need seeping through his touch. Matty’s voice is breathier when he speaks again, his fingertips digging into your hips.

“Please, darlin’, want you to ruin the pretty makeup you did for me so nicely,” he whispers.

Instantly, heat surges under your skin, your breath catching in your throat at the way he spins his sugary words. That’s something you hadn’t considered. The image that flashes through your mind: Matty between your legs with his makeup smudged down his flushed cheeks. It makes a pang of want rip through you. Suddenly, it looks like your girlfriends will be taking the first round of shots without you.

“... okay,” you relent, chewing at your bottom lip.

“Yeesss, that’s what I thought,” he celebrates, drumming his fingertips against your hips excitedly, “C’mere.”

The actual process of sitting down on his face seems fairly daunting to you, your limbs feel more awkward than usual, and heat is prickling at your cheeks at the idea of actually straddling his head. It’s an awfully compromising pose to be in. Matty notices how stonewalled you seem, his thumbs rubbing encouraging circles into the bones of your hips.

“It’s okay, I’m serious, I want you to. Here, let me just…” he trails off, urging you to lift your hips by easing them upwards, letting you do most of the movement.

“So gentle,” you tease, noticing how light his touch is, like you’re his most delicate possession.

“I am when I want to be.”

Matty guides you till you’re kneeling above his head, peering down at his warm, sparkly eyes. He looks even prettier from this angle, his sea of dark curls is spread around his head like a halo. The little smile plastered on his face says “See? Not so bad.”. And it’s not, not when he’s holding both of your hands, his thumbs running over your knuckles carefully. He gives one of your hands a squeeze before letting go, placing two tender fingers at the waistband of your panties. He slides them down the front of the lacy fabric till they meet the dampness that’s gathered between your thighs, only setting your skin more ablaze. Matty hums approvingly, the noise rumbling low in his chest as he hooks his fingers under the material, sliding them to the side.

“Oh, fuck me. Perfect fucking cunt,” he groans, spreading your honeyed folds and marveling at the way your arousal gathers on his digits.

You laugh lightly at how he acts as if he’s seeing you like this for the first time and he just smiles, enamored. Matty catches his lower lip between his teeth as he runs his hands over to your thighs, holding them as he nods to signal that he’s ready for you.

“Yeah?” you breathe, feeling your heart hammer against your ribs.

“Yeah.”

Matty blinks up at you eagerly, vying for your complete attention with every flutter of his mascara-coated lashes. His eyes are wide and twinkly, only shining brighter when you start to slowly lower your hips down. His needy gaze is wildly flicking back and forth between your face and your core, slicked and glistening with your arousal. There’s a slight burn simmering in your legs at just how teasingly slowly you’re sinking downward, much to Matty’s vexation. He tugs slightly at the soft skin of your thighs, a little whine escaping the back of his throat as he anticipates the lack of oxygen to come. Matty presses his lips to any skin he can reach on your thighs, hurriedly peppering pink lipstick marks till you’re totally littered with them. He smushes his cheek to your inner thigh, his muss of dark curls tickling at your skin as he pleads with you. He looks so fucked out and you haven’t even started.

“Please, please- please, baby,” he murmurs, his tongue darting out to run over his pink, plush lips between kisses to your skin.

You smile down at him warmly, feeling your heart almost burst at just how badly he’s craving this, how long he’s likely fantasized about you using him for your pleasure this way. He’s behaving oh-so politely for a man so normally fond of brashness.

“I-I need it… please, just fucking use me,” Matty whimpers, his voice breaking slightly, his tone shooting straight to your cunt.

Finally, you indulge him, inching down the rest of the way until you’re perched on his face, your knees on either side of his head. You gasp as he doesn’t waste a single moment before his tongue is working against you with practiced swirls and figures. He’s giving you no time to even think twice about being embarrassed by the lewdness of your positioning. Your hands go flying to support yourself against the headboard, feeling like your breath has been ripped straight from your lungs as Matty laps at your sopping cunt. His shimmery, blue eyelids flutter shut as he groans against you, his hands snaking up the backs of your thighs to your ass, holding you down against his mouth firmly as he devours you. Your whole body shudders as he drags his tongue to your clit, flicking the tip of it against the bud. Liquid, carnal need is filling you right to your bones.

“Fuck! That’s my fucking boy, so good for me,” you sigh out, tossing your head back as you start to reflexively grind down on his tongue “You enjoying yourself, hun?”

Matty lets out syrupy moans that vibrate against your core, only adding to the dizzying, deep-seated pleasure pulsating and reverberating inside you as he nods his head. His lashes flutter, his eyes rolling back until only the whites are visible as you start to find your rhythm, rocking your hips into his mouth to chase the climax just beyond your fingertips. You let out a quivering moan as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard to tighten the coiling heat in your belly, he knows all the little tricks to make your head spin. He hasn’t spent all this time learning your body for nothing, sometimes you think he might know it better than you do, effortlessly puppeteering you into the throws of pleasure.

Matty’s cock throbs and twitches in his trousers as the plushness of your thighs start to constrict around his head, smiling into your cunt as he truly does enjoy himself, evident in the way his hips are squirming against the mattress. The blissed-out look on your face only fuels his determination that much more, you’ve lit that familiar, insatiable fire in him. You glance over your shoulder and catch the way his thighs flex as his hips jolt upward into nothing, his dick aching and straining against his pants. You always knew Matty got off on you feeling good, but watching him pathetically hump the air while he eats you out is really getting to your head, you feel a little dizzy with a rush of power. Any sense of worry about putting more of your weight onto him is totally dissolved, overshadowed by the sensations rendering your mind fuzzy. You’re weightless.

“Tastes so sweet, so fucking good,” he rambles, his voice muffled and wavering, barely audible from under you.

The urge to own, to ruin flares up in you like a struck match. One of your hands strays from the headboard, reaching to grasp a handful of his meticulously cared-for curls (he pokes fun at the amount of makeup you have, yet his curl-care product collection is extensive). Matty whines, his eyebrows sloping, eyes squeezing shut as he feels your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling on it firmly at the root just the way he likes it. He tugs your hips down onto his face harder, like he’s trying to drown inbetween your legs.

“Oh my god… good boy, Matty,” you croon, panting as the tension compounds with every swipe of his tongue.

Matty’s hips buck particularly harshly at your praise. He’s quivering at the slight friction from the tight fabric of his pants, but he won’t allow himself to indulge in more than that, he’s far too preoccupied with satisfying you. You smile hazily at how instantly he reacts to the pet name, curious to know how far you can take this while he’s so pussy drunk.

“So fucking pretty for me like this,” you compliment breathlessly, watching as the half of his face that’s visible to you contorts with neediness.

He looks like he could burst like a horny balloon, poor thing. The bed is creaking from the way his hips writhe, rose tattoo lifting up to meet the air. He’s eating you out urgently, his brows drawn together tightly as his tongue fucks in and out of you deeper than you’ve ever felt, the tip of his nose nudging at your swollen clit. You tug at his dark tresses again as the feeling makes your whole body tense, your back arching as it all builds to a fizzling high. Matty doesn’t seem to mind one bit as you start to grind more frantically, your head lolling back with a wail.

“Close, I’m close,” you pant, your chest heaving with shuddering breaths.

“Please, please, oh, god, cum on my face,” Matty whimpers as he pauses for just a moment, turning his face to breathe before delving back in, fluttering the tip of his tongue rapidly against your clit.

His begging is what ultimately makes your orgasm crash over you, the tension snapping as you ride the white-hot waves of your orgasm out on his mouth, euphoria rushing through your veins, throbbing at your core. You can’t fully understand him, but what you can make out are garbled moans of your name and babbles of “I love you” as he watches you arch backward, his tongue unrelenting. You let out a cry as the stimulation gets to be too much, your thighs trembling as the sensations crowd you. You have to physically get up off of his face before he stops, gasping for his breath as you settle back down on his hips.

It’s only now that you get to truly see him and god, he’s a beautiful fucking wreck. Your vision is slightly hazy as you peer down at him, the afterglow pleasantly clouding your head as you simply admire him. His eyeliner and mascara have slightly run down his cheeks from the heat, blue eyeshadow smudged and shimmering under his eyes. What’s left of his lipstick is spread around his grinning mouth, glistening with your arousal. Unruly, stray curls stick to his forehead with sweat that glows in an angelic sheen over him. You’ve ruined him, and he couldn’t be happier.

“Fuck, that was incredible,” you breathe, draping yourself over him to kiss his needy mouth.

Matty lets out a dazed giggle against your lips, humming contently as you taste yourself lingering on him. When you shift forward, you feel a distinct lack of the hard-on that was against his thigh when you started. Curiously, you pull away from the kiss to find that the protrusion in his trousers is missing, and in its absence, a sizeable wet spot soaked into the fabric. Pride simmers deep inside you as it quickly clicks into place.

“Matty… did you cum?” you ask, as if it’s not obvious.

He squirms, biting the inside of his cheek as he glances off to the side like the wall has suddenly become extremely interesting. Your smile is almost wolfish as you lean over him, grasping his jaw with one hand to turn his face towards you. His eyes rimmed with runny makeup get wider.

“I-I…” he stammers, his voice cracking and trailing off into a little gasp.

“Felt so good that you came without me even touching you?”

Matty nods slowly, tilting his chin down to drag his pink-bitten lips against your hand, his breath warm against your skin.

“Say thank you,” you whisper, purposefully pressing your thigh (still covered in his lipstick marks) against his softening cock, just to get another pretty, breathy sound out of him as his eyes roll back.

“F-fuck. Thank you. Thank you, baby,” he mumbles, staring up at you like you’re some kind of deity while he kisses the palm of your hand, “don’t go yet, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweet boy.”

You capture his lips again and he smiles into the kiss, his hands tentatively knotting into your hair and ruffling it. He rolls the two of you over to embrace as you exchange murmurs of sweet nothings. You’re frankly disgustingly in love, and neither of you would have it any other way.

————————————————————————

This one has been in the works for a whiiiile

I’m dedicating this to Ace @ughgoaway , the biggest makeup fic supporter and one of my dear friends <3

#matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #the 1975 smut #the 1975 x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #I REALLY HOPE THIS WAS GOOD OH GODDD

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onlyarogue · 1 month

Text

X-Men 97 Spoilers

The way that we see Rogue turn away and hug herself in this moment of absolute breakdown is tragic. She is used to having to comfort herself - emotionally of course but even physically.

But Rogue doesn’t hesitate when Kurt pulls her into a real embrace. She buries her face, her only uncovered skin, against him. This is a level of trust and affection not very many people get from her.

This is not just a team mate or friend, this is her brother. They didn’t grow up together but family means a great deal to Rogue. With Gambit gone Kurt is the most important man (probably just person too) in her life.

#[muse/ untouchable girl]#[Fuzzy Blue Brother/ Kurt Wagner]

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princessbrunette · 7 months

Note

getting high with jj in his bed and just giggling while he tries to make you laugh and kisses your face with a goofy smirk

you’re all wired up and bubbly whilst you lie your head on jj’s bicep, laid out next to him on his bed. he always made you feel like this, blazed or not — floaty and cared for, cheeks hurting as they push up, smiling hard. the rooms a little foggy still, the blonde only having put out the joint a few minutes prior. it makes everything feel like a dream.

“no, nope, shush.” he grins, hand connected to the arm you lay on wrapping around to cover your mouth which only makes another laugh bubble from your chest and vibrate against his palm. “if you bring that up, i’ll never shut up. you know how hard it is for me to shutup, as it is.” he laughs, nearly cutting himself off to yelp when you lick his hand. “gremlin.” he adds with faux shock.

“but i wanna know, oh go on jj please. you like when i say please, i know you do, pretty please?” you roll over so you’re right in his face, eyes all glazed over, pink and pretty. his grin drops into a lazy smirk, reeling his head back a little slightly so he can get a better look at you, eyes flickering in a triangle to your right eye, your lips and then your left. how could he say no to anything you ask of him right now?

“alright. yes, i do. god.” he chuckles, licking his lips as he drops a little more onto his back, staring at the ceiling in thought. you watch his side profile. “the first time we met?” he reminds himself, lips twitching into a grin again. “nah man, i can’t tell you that shit.”

“jj, i wanna know. im serious, look at me. very serious.” your high brain locks down into focus, concentrating on looking serious. in reality, you just look adorable — lips a little pouted and eyes squinted. he raised an eyebrow, eyes shifting to look at you and he bites down inside his cheeks to stop from laughing in your face. he knows how sensitive you are when you’re high.

“well, in that case.” his hand cups the back of your neck affectionately. you’re already warm there but you don’t mind. “i’ll tell you but,” he winces dramatically. “s’gonna cost ya, pretty girl.”

“dont have any money in my pockets.” you admit shyly, voice a little slow from the way your brain is swirling and swaying very slowly like an untouched lake.

“and i wouldn’t let you give me money anyway.” he fights up onto his elbow, staring you down. “gotta pay me with a kiss.” he proposes and you smile, dopey and happy — lurching forward to do so.

“th’s easy, jayge.” it comes out muffled against his mouth and he chuckled, rolling you onto your back and attacking your face with kisses. “agh!” you squeal, his lips tickling you when he nips beneath your ear. your heart swells at the low chuckle he lets out, pulling back to run a hand through his messy hair, staring down at you elated.

“i didn’t tell you how many kisses. you wanna know my inner most deepest thoughts, the things that ran through this little noggin the first time i saw you. that’s sensitive information, babe. gotta pay up.” he taps the side of his head in gesture, goofy and loveable as ever. you stare up at him, teeth clamped into your bottom lip as if to repress your smile from stretching across your cheeks and breaking skin, scarring you like the joker.

“thats fair.” you muse, the second you realise you’re just staring silently.

“oh you’re damn right it’s fair.” he plays with you, closing in on you to claim his payment.

#anon #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank drabble

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iwaasfairy · 2 years

Text

┌─ “ ! „ ROGUE

tw. incest, spit, dom/sub stuff, reader is a textbook brat, size kink, i think i mention tummy bulge once, manhandling, jealousy, virginity, aemond is mean but pussy wipped, tiny lil bit of breeding and wifing up wordcount. 7.2k

a/n. local anime blog goes rogue and writes hotd smut. yes i know okay just look away if you only like anime boys, we will get back to out usually scheduled program soon i swear i sweaarrrrrr dont judge me i have such a fat crush, i sWear i am only doing it to stay sane iT iS MY CALLING ♡

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

The heavy cover of smoke and dusty sage circles up in slow rounds towards the ceiling, like a flock of vultures. Candles burn low in the heavy air of the room, and the long curtains allow just enough fresh air into the room for the scent not to be stifling. Aemond assesses the whole of his room for a few breaths as the chambermaid softly slips out without another word, and pulls the heavy door to a clicked close behind her. Like a fleeing animal, he muses, unclasping and placing his sword upon his desk. The girl has always fled his company as fast as a mouse in a trap. Not like he’s ever done her wrong. Not like how he knows his older brother continues to do.

A small puff of annoyance comes out of his mouth as he starts to peel back some of the layers of his daywear, and drops them over the back of the chair.

Oh well, at least he’s alone.

His room is cast in a soft, golden glow that melts every want for pretense into the floor. Slowly dripping off him like wax, it seems to reveal a bit more of himself with each heavy drop. He only really notices how tired he is of spending time at court when the time comes to abandon it for the evening. Exhausting, ‘s what it is. The mastering of every trade is the lesser of the evils, but the constant ass-sucking, the looks, the reading of the room— he has no want for it. The Queen assures this is the life of a prince. He protests that it’s a simple lie to play at royalty. And no one gets to mark their own vision correct. No one gets to grab the upper hand. Because that’s the life of a prince.

Aemond finishes undressing most of the heavy, leather garb for a looser fit. Then moves to sit into the chair beside his bed, as always, and lets his eye fall to the sets of books on the desk. Few of them are untouched. For an acquiring of knowledge that is purely showy at best, because he is only a second son. A downright shame. He rolls the tip of his tongue against the back of his teeth for a few moments, and instead pours the can of wine, holding onto the cup loosely, with slow sips. If only to have something to do.

The humming of the choir down in the bell tower reaches all the way up to his room, and gives the night an awfully dreary feeling, reminding of winter, of death, of the sniveling of people in the sept and those praying in the darkness. Not that he minds, or cares much— but he knows the sound well. Knows how it is the sign for Aegon to double the size of his own drink, the time for Heleana’s maid to start getting their children ready for the night, the moment his mother the Queen finally stops fretting for long enough to enjoy a moment of peace. And for you… He knows it’s a sound that makes you anxious, reminded that you’re alone for the next hours to come. And he supposes that makes the repeating, melodic chants the sign that he’s about to have company any second too, and for that he guesses he’s grateful.

Grateful for the warning, or for the company, he’s not quite sure. He swishes the burgundy liquid around the cup until he hears the familiar click of the door, and the heavy knock. “Come,” he doesn’t look up from the drink, instead perching it onto his lip.

“Her majesty the Princess, my Prince.” The guard doesn’t usher you inside as much as you waltz in, low dress falling every so softly over your frame as the man spares just a few looks and nods, retreats and closes the door back behind him without another word. Curt, quite unlike the older man. Aemond can only guess you’ve been at this for long enough now for the guard to have made peace with the fact that the Prince doesn’t care. And that whether or not he accepts, you’ll enter anyway.

“You shouldn’t walk around the palace after dark,” your brother says, taking a sip of the wine before his eye ends up falling onto you without wanting to. “You’re the first person to blame when people start spinning rumors.”

“I don’t care about the opinions of ladies in waiting or the small council. I am not the Queen,” you simply reply, pulling your dress up to sit down on his bed beside him, knocking knees. “If you’re worried about rumors, you should hear what they say about you, big brother.” You’re not a bold person, but somehow, when it comes to him… every smart remark is able to fall from you like it’s a game. It amuses Aegon to no end, and even dares bring a smile to your mother’s face from time to time. Any of them expecting an outburst, to be sure, a fiery bite back or a quick smack to the back of your skull. And if you were another of his siblings, he supposes his family would be right. But somehow… it doesn’t bother him as much when it’s you.

Still not enough to have him silenced, though. His lip lifts into a grimace. “Enlighten me.”

“I won’t.”

Your feet are bare on the stone floor and your untied hair sways softly with each movement, and like this you sit by his side late at night, as you’ve taken to doing ever since half of your family moved back to Dragonstone. You’ve always gotten along better with people, were able to ignore your grudges better. An admirable trait, if not a weak one. He searches for something to say back to your resolute refusal, but fails. And lets out a sharp breath, glaring.

Whatever is going on in your tepid, little mind, you slowly place your feet upon his thighs, and shuffle a little closer. And his hands follow to come grab your ankles, half to keep you steady, but the other half in warning. It is a fact of your family that everything exists in pairs. Your mother and Sire for one, your eldest brother and his sister the future Queen… and you seem to have taken that to mean that you and Aemond exist in a pair too.

Always shoving past his barriers like it’s your birthright, with those big, searching eyes and a dopey, genuine smile that seems to belong more to a story book than the stern darkness that is expected of your family. A part of him wants to hate you for it. For being so callous when the rest of them are struggling to stay afloat. Unburdened by responsibilities, or haunted by dramatics. He could tell you he hates you too, but that wouldn’t do him much good. Not with you.

Still trapped by his grip, you stretch your hands to his face and place them to his cheeks, and he groans. “Take your hands off of me.” The irony of your soft skin playing beneath his fingers doesn’t go lost on him. “If I wrestle you to the floor and belt your little ass, you won’t be able to go crying to the Queen for it. I’m warning you.” You don’t listen, or care, before your hands slide to the back of his head and start slowly unbuckling the clasp of his eyepatch.

“Your eye is hurting again, isn’t it? You always get difficult when the chambermaids don’t clear out the smoke.”

He squeezes his hands harder around your little ankles. “You’re not a Maester, don’t speak of things like you know them,” he snaps back, only to move his hands to support your bottom when you push closer and press to slide into his lap for better access. Settling so comfortably against him, he doesn’t move his hands. “Shouldn’t you be learning your rhymes and asking the septa for some hot blankies instead of fussing over me-”

“-If you didn’t make your own little sister fuss over you, maybe I could.” You stubbornly peel the patch away to reveal the brightly glistening stone in the candle light, casting blue flickers all over the room. But he’s too busy looking at you to notice, ignoring the way your weight is pressed upon his lap. He has to ignore it. You tuck the pink little sliver of your tongue between your teeth as you let out a nasally breath, and your lashes cast dark, little shadows into the depths of your eyes. Sure enough, he can feel the relief the second you take a wet towel from the jar to the side and press it to the irritated skin, scar pulling and sore.

You’re awfully gentle with it. With him.

“I told you to take your fucking hands off of me,” he repeats, softer this time, watching as you still and he titls his head back to lean atop the chair, and helping you up onto your knees on his thighs. This way you’re fully above him, and with better access to his face, and you stay so very quiet. Unflinching. You suck your lip into your mouth for a second before releasing it, and then slowly start wiping again.

“You shouldn’t speak to me that way.” If you make a sport out of prodding, he makes a sport out of making blows hit.

“I am your big brother, I’ll speak to you as I wish. And I wish you to know what an insolent little cunt you are.” It’s out before he stops to think about it, and you instantly let him know it lands. By slipping off of his lap with a huff and tossing the rag onto the table, while accidentally knocking over the cup and spilling it over the table. You don’t stop to see the damage you cause as you stomp toward the exit, and he’s up and pulling at your dress before you can get far.

“Get off of me, Aemond,” you screech as he wraps long arms around your waist and you let your entire weight hang into them, squirming to get out. “You’re so annoying! Agh-uhh—Seven Hells!”

He can’t help the grin that slips on as he clenches his jaw, and doubles down. Because that’s what he does. You know it, and he knows it— and you go round in circles. “I could tell your septa you’re a misbehaved brat.”

“You’re a gross pervert, you—Ugh, f- You get your dirty hands off of me.” You spew the words like hot venom in his face when you make it halfway out of his grip and dig your nails into his arm and go to bite at his hand, before he manhandles you to the cold floor and bars you from moving under his hard grip. “Ae- Aemond! You’re the worst!” One arm almost pressing onto your throat, and the other over the soft of your stomach, as he takes a few breaths. Your own equally winded, as you start blinking like crazy to avoid the onslaught of tears that is to follow. “Aemond, let go.”

“Pervert?” he raises his brows now that you’ve stopped struggling, and gives you a look that reads ‘really?’ as underlying question clear as day. One you’re not inclined to answer, because you bite your bottom lip as glare at him as a drop rolls down your temple. You’re hot in the cheeks, hair a mess with the struggle, and your body feels ever so small under him now. Reminds him that he’s been told you’re too small to defend yourself by his mother, his father, and even their uninvolved craven of a brother. But you sure don’t act like it. Even if they are right.

“Just get off of me, you’re heavy.” And there it is. When he invades too far and too aggressively, and you stop pushing back to win it, it’s suddenly like it's a matter of life and death in your mind. When you declare the game is no longer to be won, there’s not a single move that’ll sate you. The signs are easy to read. The way you avert your eyes from him is one of them, and the crinkle between your brows as you stare resolutely at the door like you’re hoping a guard will just burst in to save you. When he doesn’t move quickly enough, you change your tune. “Will you please get off of me? I want to go to bed.”

Aemond lets out a sound between a laugh and a huff, and rights himself a little, but keeps hold of your shoulders pressed to the floor. Making him feel bad is another of those magical traits you have, that he hates about you. Leave it up to his youngest sibling to make his stomach feel heavy and empty, like he hasn’t eaten in days. A hungry beast declaring war at seeing you this way. “Hate me again, do you?” he asks without much fire, and your eyes go hard, and mouth a thin line.

“All you want to do is try to hurt me,” you hiss back when his fingers creep up to wipe the silvery line of tears along your cheek, brushing hair away from your face and taking you in as you are. Before you finally look at him again as the hall outside the door stays quiet. You’ve gone through this same song and dance too many times, cried wolf a bit too often. The guards don’t want to risk disturbing him with that temper, he knows they whisper it behind his back.

But it’s of no difference to you, because if looks could kill, you’d have one brother less by now. You manage to worm your arm out of his grip to wipe your own eyes again, before lowering your tone. “If you hate me so much, feel free to kill me sooner rather than later.” As if he’d let just anyone do what you do. As if he’d be so close to someone he hates. He has only you. Still your chest rises and falls with a heavy motion. “At least I wouldn’t have to marry some ugly, old lord if you did.”

In moments like these, he remembers. You’re a burning wildfire with enough fuel to light up an entire city; and you have no intention of doing any less than the rest of them. But stupid. And ignorant. He gets up and takes his heavy body off of you to see the mark where his arm presses so hard into your collarbones, already starting to bruise. “You’re an idiot,” he simply says, and gets up from the floor and up from you. You stare as he does, but keep your mouth shut. And Aemond swears to himself and averts his eye from you to readjust his pants, with suddenly more interest in the canopy of the bed than the soft, warm body of his little sister. “Get out.”

You get up from the floor with slow movements, too slow for his liking, and he walks back over to grab your arm and hoist you up onto your feet as you cling onto his tunic. But though he wants to keep you as far as he can away from his sanity in moments like these, he doesn’t resist when you linger so close he can count your lashes, and feel your puffs of air on his lips. He keeps your dress sleeve fisted into his hand as you stand up onto your toes and pull his shoulders more down to your level, until you can nearly brush your noses and you press a kiss to his lips. Soft and warm, it makes his heart knot and roll around in his chest, and makes your little hands squeeze around his shoulders. “Aemond…”

He dips again, and connects that smart mouth of yours to his without second thought. Another long kiss is met by a soft rumble of his chest, and he is halfway to leaning into you further when you drop back onto your heels. Leaving his mouth tingling with heat. “Ser Arryc is waiting for me to return to my chambers.” You fix your dress and wait for him to slowly peel his fingers out of the fabric, before sucking hard on your bottom lip as you turn about here and there in sudden nerves. “Well, good eve.”

And then he’s left alone for the night, with the memory of your body pressed under him, withering, fighting, crying. And no one to plead him to stop as he twitches in his pants.

As younger siblings dare do, you have an intrinsic ability to set his nerves on end. Born and bred for it even, he’d dare say, as he lets his gaze trail after you. The dragonpit is no place for one of your disposition, and though perhaps the same could be said about Helaena, there’s a few cards laid differently between you both. Youngest sibling, and having grown up without any dragon to speak of. Blame the lack of eggs to distribute to the last of Viserys’ children. Helaena also doesn’t possess the uncanny and endlessly bothering capacity to make his blood sour in his veins with a simple look.

His older sister doesn’t really bestow a care to any of you, while you— care about being loving way too much. He can feel his brows start to pull almost distractingly as you prance around with wide eyes and flit about next in and out of the covered hall. Sunfyre is the current object of your affections, and Aegon’s glittering smirk as he watches you coo and bathe him in compliments has his hands tightening around the handle of his sword where it hangs against his side. “She’ll soon fetch a handsome collection of suitors, don’t you think?” his mother asks innocently, distractedly, as he juts out his lips in slight annoyance. She’s gone from distant and sheltering, to exceedingly fretful these last few years.

Aemond hums a vague noise, but doesn’t bother to look away from your soft shape set against the big beast— and how you shine up like a penny at his oldest brother with compliments. He clicks his tongue, and his mother distantly continues from his side. Out of all the people for you to fawn over… all the beasts to be impressed by— he attempts to focus on the conversation aimed at him, but glares around the field instead. At the guards who feel a bit too comfortable casting glances your way, or a brave squire taking a bit too fond a notice. Every second of it makes his jaw set tighter. “Your grandfather the Hand would rather see her married off sooner than later but— Oh, Aegon,” his mother suddenly speaks with a slight worry.

You’re climbing onto the dragon. No, Aegon -the fool- is making you climb up, putting his grimy hands under your bottom and just about heaving you towards the saddle himself.

“Aegon, stop that,” his mother tries again, starting to make her way down the stage as the eldest turns to look at them both, “your sister can’t be up there by herself. She’ll get hurt-”

“-I’ll get her.” For once he’s glad for his mother’s ever present concern, and hurries past to walk up to you. You, with your hair sun kissed in the evening light, and your cheeks and lips full of mirth as you glance over at your mother first, and then him. His brother’s staring up your dress by the time you’re standing fully on his shoulders, and doesn’t even bother to wipe the grin off his face, tongue peeking out in full enjoyment— Aemond doesn’t have time for this absolute mockery. “Get down,” is all he has to say, for your pretty, flushed face full of excitement to blank. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth as you stare back at him for a few seconds… before slowly starting to slide back toward him.

“Oh, Aemond, don’t be a bother—”

His hand is wrung in his older brother’s tunic before he has time to blink, glaring absolute venom his way, nostrils flaring. Alicent calls for him from a distance, but the plea goes unheeded. The fabrics of your dress are halfway obstructing Aegon’s face as you try to get down, but there’s still plenty of room for a dagger to be fit somewhere into it, a thought rings; one he banishes with some fight. Instead he simply reaches a hand for you to grab, and motions you to get down already. You jump and wobble upon landing, and he grabs your wrist tight when you try to run off. But he still hasn’t stopped glaring at Aegon, to his own surprise, chest rising and falling a bit too quickly to be normal. “You try that again-”

“-and you’ll what, little brother?”

“Don’t fight,” you quickly quip in, tugging softly on his pinky as Aemond’s mouth corners tug up, and he squeezes the fabric tight enough around his own brother’s neck to hurt. He leans in, ignoring your pulling and begging to really tower over Aegon. And Sunfyre gets restless beside them, scaring you even more. “Aemond, please. No harm was done.”

Aegon’s face turns a harsh ruddy color with each passing second, and Aemond’s never enjoyed a sight quite so much. “Shall we see how you do without your eyes, brother?” He releases all at once, just in time enough for their mother to miss how he steps back and gives you a look to keep your lips glued shut. If Aegon wants to tell, he’s at least smart enough to keep quiet, for now. The woman looks between the three of you in worry. But he has no intention of explaining. He couldn’t, really. The absolute blinding rage dies down enough for him to suck the sourness off his tongue and take your hand better, lacing fingers. “I’ll take her back to the keep.”

The Red Keep has never felt smaller as you don’t say anything until you get all the way to your chambers, staring resolutely at the floor. And though his mood hasn’t changed, there’s part — parts of him, that want you to just look his way like you usually do too much of. Your guard is quick to open your door, but stares a little too long when he lingers. “You may go see upon the King, Ser,” he says curtly, and before he can care enough to watch the man leave, closes your door behind you both. “Are you an absolute imbecile, that you’d let Aegon disrespect you in front of everyone?”

“It wasn’t anything to get upset over, he wasn’t hurting me!” you bite back as you do, making him crowd you against the door.

“Oh, no,” he rolls his eye, “he was only about to do much worse later!” You stay pressed between his body and the door as you stare up at him and hold your hands to his chest, both of you breathing hard. But you don’t back down, don’t roll over and apologize. And that bothers him. It shouldn’t, and yet… “Hah,” the sound of it is hard and sharp as he lifts your hands above your head in place with his own. Your lips are a puffy, flushed color, and eyes so focused on him that it momentarily distracts him. Before the feeling of you against him comes back full force, as always. Try as he might, he can’t escape you. “You like that sort of perversion, then?”

“I don’t know what kind of perversion you speak of.” You’re whispering now, long lashes spread over the haunting appearance of you below him. Swallowing hard, chest rising and falling. Hell, the way you look is entirely deviant, but he still leans in despite knowing better. You smell faintly of dragon, but the majority of it is still that soft, sweet innocence that drives him to grab at your chin and force your face to his. And your free hand reaches for his cheek, cold fingers brushing his skin. Your lips brush his as he allows himself to sink just a little lower, letting you moan into his mouth. “Aemond… big brother, please.”

“What do you think you’re playing at?” He lets the soft kisses be placed onto his lips in between the words, resolve growing weaker by the second. How did he get here? And why? Aemond isn’t like Aegon, so why does the sight of you all soft and needy below him have him so hot in the face. Heat burning all along his neck, chest, down to his… cock. He knows very well your poor mother would riot at his taking of your virtue. Because unlike Aegon, she knows he knows better. But you press your mouth against him again, and let your soft, little tongue push against the crack of his mouth with another moan— all while arching against him.

“Haven’t you thought about it?” He’s only half aware his hand is grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you up against his hips as your lips make those little noises against his, lifting you so you can wrap your legs around his glutes. The pressure of your body grinding up against his is entirely wanton, your eyes glossy and lips even glossier. “Taking me to wife?”

“You’re set to marry a lord—”

“I want to marry you. Don’t you want to marry me too? Have me abide by your side, call me ‘yours’?” Your hands slide into his hair, pulling at the hair at the base of his skull just enough to have his tongue push back into a kiss and take the warmth of your mouth as his own. Hotly, with a demanding rumble of his chest you’re kissed- the sweetness of your mouth and warm, squirming tongue against his. It’s intoxicating, setting every hair on his body upright. He grabs your cheeks to keep you in place even when you try to pull back, kissing longer, deeper— like he could die in it. He probably could.

When you’re allowed to pull back you roll your hips against him with a slight smile, and pant against his mouth. “Isn’t that why you love laying on top of me?” His breathing ceases automatically, chest tightening a little more. All he ever hoped was never to hear it out loud. Don’t breathe life into it and it won’t exist, right? See no evil. Your little smile grows a little more as you kiss him again, and he doesn’t pull away, though he should. Your daring tongue moves down his jaw to his neck instead, licking along his pulse as you push. Can’t help but stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, right, a family trait? “Doesn’t that get your cock hard, big brother?”

He takes a stuttered breath as he turns and you cling onto him, walking over to the bed to lay you down and place his large hand over your mouth. “Shut. Up.” You lick the inside of his hand, and he hisses before grabbing your thigh instead, tight enough for your pretty little face to turn into a grimace, and you pull his hair a little harder. Doesn’t matter. He’s nose to nose with you, his own little sister, the one who was always so fond of him it was annoying as sin— as every bit of pretense evaporates by the second. “Do you even know what you’re talking about when you say that?”

“I know what Aegon taught me,” you breathe back against his lips, and it’s this -not any of the other stuff, though that should have done it too- that has his blood turning green with jealousy and has him shutting you up with a kiss, hands sliding up your body over the tight bodice. You’re burning underneath him, lifting your back from the mattress as he crawls further up the bed and over you. You’re so flimsy and small beneath him that it should be laughable. All it does is make his cock so much harder in his pants, as your noises ring above the smacking of mouths and tongues and teeth. Your little fingers press into his shoulders hard and needy. “Mhm-Ae-mond.”

He pulls at the clothing under his hands until you squeak and it rips, one of the too-many layers you’re wearing dropping to the side. He pulls back to stare at you and the way you’re biting your lip, eyes flicking from him to his pants. His cock is chubbed up against the fabric as much as it will allow, and starting to get too tight for his liking, but as you reach out a hand, he smacks it away. Instead he slides a hand under your head to pull your hair and you make a little noise of displeasure, until he leans back in. “When you talk like that it makes me want to smack you around. You understand that?” You whine into the silence, but don’t fight back as he makes your head nod. “You know what I am?”

“B-big brother-”

“Then treat me like it. Open your mouth.” For a few seconds and deep breaths through your nose, you seem to debate it, but whatever you see in his eye eventually has you obliging. He collects a good glob of spit and has it land onto your tongue, and you cry out something unintelligible— but let him slide his thumb into the wet mess of your tongue as your lips get even shinier with all the wetness. Before he can say anything though, you wrap your lips around his digit and whimper. It’s a little too disarming, and his cock twitches hard in his pants. Balls heavy and length straining against the confines. He lets out a little breath, before pulling back out of your suckling mouth to grab himself through his pants. “Shit.”

Your voice sounds so much more high pitched and girly when you speak again, a strange sort of mockery of him over top of you, but it works. Fuck, if it doesn’t. “Please, please, please, big brother.” You whine his name and press tens of little kisses to his mouth, he feels how his balls pull against his body at the display. You get impatient though, start pulling the top half of your dress down to reveal your shoulders and then, with another little noise, your tits. He’s ahead of you though, pulling you down more and leaning in to lock his mouth around your puffy nipple to suck hard, have you curling off the bed with pitiful whimpers. “Big brother, mh-ah- big- br-brother.”

He starts working the drawstrings of his trousers to get them down as quickly as possible too, moving to the other tit and taking as much of it into his mouth to lave his tongue all over it. You sound almost beside yourself with pleasure, kneading at his shoulders and neck like you’re losing your clouded, little mind for him. He gets out of his pants enough to kick them off the rest of the way and lay his much larger body on top of you, back to your face to kiss you with slow, deeper kisses. Then he pulls back, for only a moment of true emotion, to grab your blushy cheeks between his fingers and stare. “Are you still…”

You go limp, and embarrassed and flushed with heat all at once, and squeeze his hips between your thighs like it’s meant to hurt. All it does is push your covered cunt against his rock hard cock and make him take a sharper breath. “Of course I am-” you bite out though, digging your nails into his shoulders a bit harder like you’re just wanting him to keep going. “What- that not good enough for you?”

But he’s quick to shake his head, and press a few spare kisses along your ear, finally being able to let out a little grin at your flustering. “You’ll let me take your maidenhood?” You’re back to whining his name in that overly girly, pouty voice; and he sucks at the shell of your ear for long enough to have you shivering below him. Your little breaths and noises are too fucking cute. And the way you’re pawing at your dress to get it up your body is even cuter. “Beg big brother Aemond to have you. Take you.”

“Just do it already,” you mumble though, and your eyes tear up at the corners.

So fucking cute. He shrugs the eyepatch off too, half for comfort, half at the grabbing of your hands. And pulls back just in time to see how much it pains you to admit it out loud, and rubs his fingers over your wet, pebbled nipples while your eyes flutter and your hands go open and closed at the feeling. He keeps one hand busy by unlacing part of your dress, as the other pinches each nipple until you suck your lip into your mouth and can’t stand it anymore. “Please, big brother? ‘Mond, please-uhh. Please, please do it? W-want you to.”

His lips curl up again at your admission, as he takes you in a few more seconds, grinds his center against your thigh while he’s at it. His cock is leaking enough pre to make a wet spot on his undergarments, red head twitching every few seconds. If he’ll wait any longer he might explode— until you finally give up and wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back close to you in total embarrassment. “I saved myself for my big broth-errr—” you whine like a child, burying your face into his neck, “so please! Only wanted my big brother to- I swear. Only love my Aemond.”

This way you don’t see— just what it does. This way you don’t notice it has him hook, line and sinker, and he grunts out loud as he has to grab the base of his cock tight not to shoot hot ropes of cum all over your thighs. He lets you press your tits into him as he shudders over you, and you make a little noise as he suddenly yanks the dress down your body, over your thighs and kicks it aside. “Off, get this off…” You open your teary eyes to see him plant another kiss onto your face, down your neck and to your tits as your chest heaves against him. Your panties are absolutely soaked, and he’d make a crude comment about it if he was any more lucid— but…

He can’t possibly think about anything but sliding his heavy cock inside your little cunt. “Fuck, fuck… you want to fuck me?” His fingers slide over the wet patch as your mouth cracks open a sliver, before peeling them off you with impatient yanks. You nod wildly into it in response, and let him press another kiss onto your mouth to tangle your wet, squirming little tongue with his. It’s vile, the way he thinks about fucking you like this. But it’s all that overtakes him, rutting his leaking cock against that wet little slit. And his fingers have to push in a little to make it halfway into your wet pussy, softly scissoring you apart as your mouth opens more. “You’re dripping all over my hand,” he breathes into your mouth, and you close your eyes and pull your lips into a tight little line.

“‘M sorry.”

“You imbecile.” The dry, non-humoured chuckle is unexpected even to him, as he pulls his wet fingers from between your legs to slip them straight into his mouth and his eye rolls into the back of his skull with a low groan. His fingers go back to rub at that wet slit, as you moan and whine his name like it’s a prayer. His cock bobs heavily between his legs while he fingers you in the heat of the shared bed, and you mumble noises against his skin.

“Aemond, Aemo-ngh.. big, you’re— r-big.” You’re panting, and shivering as his fingers slide in and out and get wetness to drip all the way to your ass, all over the inside of your thighs. Not even to talk about the pride burning along his neck at the way you’re clinging to him like you mean it. Your cunt stretches each time he moves them in and out and spreads them apart, staring at the way your little pussy clenches around his thick, long fingers with each pump. “Big brother—”

“Like that?”

“Mhm-” you’re nodding like a madman, and thighs shaking a little, but your tears are still glistening at the corners of your eyes, “I- f-feels good, bu-but you’re- going so- deep.” He doesn’t tell you that what you’ll be fitting in there in a few seconds will be much bigger, and only lets you drench the bed and wait for you to push back into his hand for that wet ‘pap, pap, pap’ sound and his palm can rub over your little nub. The sapphire in his eye socket makes obnoxious flickers on the walls, that only seem to cheer him on. Not for nothing, watching his baby sister cream all over his fingers like you are. “O-oh,” you say after a while, allowing him to curl his fingers all the way into you and your spongey, perfect spot to make your lower body curl so needily. “I… feel weird, Ae— feels- good- hng.”

Your little pussy is so wet everything’s glossy and needy, and his two fingers can finally slide in and out without much more resistance; though your noises would hardly convince him otherwise. Mewling and whimpering like you’re going to cry any second— it has him rock hard and so fucking sensitive. “I need you to keep that little cunt open for me, okay?” He presses the words into your mouth before rubbing his fingers over your puffy, needy clit; and you make to wrap your thighs around his glutes to keep him right to you— not that he’d go anywhere. “‘ll put it in. Have my cock filling my little sister up.”

He pats his cock against your clit a few times, before nodding at it. “Keep your thighs open, come on.” He doesn’t wait up for you to act as he pushes the leaking tip against your pretty, clenching hole and leans over you to nose at your neck, grabbing at your perky, pretty tits to pebble up your nipples more with each swipe, before kissing you again. He can’t help it, can’t get enough of your moans into his mouth, filling up the room. He pushes in, the slowest he can bare as your hot fucking pussy envelops his cockhead and you moan and whine. “Oh, dear g— goin’ to fuck my little sister for real,” he breathes back, too much to keep it in.

“Ah, ah, ah— Aemond- Aw, oh-hmn- ah.” Your desperate little noises are impossible. Sliding in deeper with each breath, over filling that tiny pouch of your tummy like he was always meant to be inside it. His arms strain not to fuck right into you hard and fast with the way you’re wiggling and curling against him, slick a soft pink when he pulls back to thrust in deeper. “Big bro—ther,” you whine it long and needy, as it has him sliding into you until he bumps up against the walls of your tight fucking cunt. So tight it’s making his balls pull up, entire body so hot it’s almost unbearable. Your one Targaryen claim to heritage. His little sister.

“Love you, big brother, l-love you.”

“Ugh, shit, you’re so tiny. So tight, hot— and wet,” he’s rambling to himself more than to you as he rocks himself into that spongy spot in you, watching your body try to take all of him in. Your eyes are a little lidded, glistening and so pretty and desperate as he pulls back and into you again, hitting your cervix once more. You shudder, and he can’t help but press onto your tummy to make the fit even tighter. It’s too much. Your clenching walls around his big, hard cock— that tight, wet little cunt clinging onto him each time he pulls back, your face as he takes you. “You’re only mine,” he hisses, “only mine, you understand? Gon’ make you my wife and make you carry my heirs. Waiting to give your maidenhood away to the better brother, right?”

“Hng, yes- yes, yes! Please!” You kiss him first, before grinding hard against him and pulling at his hand. “Aemond, Aem— b- I feel- weird-” you admit, smacking your lips and desperately curling your toes against his glutes. “Big bro-ther-agh-h—”

He can’t possibly stop now, frown instantly digging into his brows as you cling to him. He doesn’t bother to even pretend to care as his cock kisses your pussy walls and his white pubic hair rubs over your overly sensitive nub, but you keep on whining for him. “Weird how?” He pulls his face up from your neck only to watch how your cheeks are flushed and your eyes flick all over his face, your tongue jutting out. And suddenly, it doesn’t take you explaining for him to press his rough thumb to your clit and rub rapid circles into it, for you to start going all tense. “This? You want to come for me like a good, little whore?”

You can’t speak. Only clench your eyes shut as he keeps rubbing- and grabs your face with his free hand. “Look at me. Look at me as you get to come on big brother’s cock.” You physically can’t open your eyes through your tears, but he demands it anyway, and watches as you go a bit cross-eyed at the perfect pressure. Your cunny clenches so hard around his cock it hurts, but he doesn’t stop his hips and the loud sound of skin meeting skin. “No one loves you like I do,” he says it like a prayer, whispering into the silence as your mouth drops open and you let out some broken noises, “no one.”

And you desperately claw at his back and tangle your fingers into his hair to pull, your legs tightening around his thighs to get his steady, brutal pace to slow down even a little— but nothing stops your orgasm from crashing over you with a pitched squeak of his name, and your body shuddering so hard beneath him the bed creaks with the motion. Each hard bottoming out in your small cunt having you jerking and moaning a string of unintelligible explicites into his mouth, before he kisses you long and deep. Your tongue can barely do anything except take what he gives, until he fucks you through your orgasm and his balls are so, so hot, his cock twitching every few breaths.

You look perfect as you come down and let him fuck into you even more, pussy like a vice around his too-big-for-you cock. It’s a miracle really, it didn’t happen sooner. Two of a whole. As always, you take and he gives, as is your role in the family.

#hotd smut #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #tw.incest #tw.size kink

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makeyoumine69 · 8 months

Text

Call Me Babydoll

— PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: After eyeing Patrick Bateman — your dad's best friend — for so long, you finally have the opportunity to get him in your bed. But what are you going to do when you realize that Mr. Bateman is not as pure intentioned and chivalrous as you first thought?

— CONTAINS: Smut, Dom!Patrick, non-con that transforms into dub-con, light degradation (reader is called names), use of pet names (babydoll, little girl etc), Patrick is a fucking creep and goes down on her while her father is still inside the house, corruption kink, Daddy kink, oral (f receiving), nipple tugging/sucking/biting.

— WORDS: 2k

— SONG REC: Babydoll X The perfect girl (slowed & reverb)

— A/N: Well, I've been thinking a lot about returning to this concept, and the time has finally come. So, for now, I intend to make this a multi-chapters series, and I hope to bring all my ideas to life! Before you read this, I highly recommend you to read the intro (link below), please enjoy!

— LINKS: [INTRO]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]; [buy me a coffee]💓

Your heart was quivering in your chest like a caged bird, considering you had decided to take Bateman to your room while your father was still in the house doing something in his office.

As soon as you entered the room, Patrick hummed with amusement, hiding his hands in the pockets of his Armani pants. "Hmm, you like plushies, don't you?" He crooned, his voice filled with a strange excitement.

"It's none of your business, Mr. Bateman." You tried to avoid his provocation, ignoring the way your face blazed from within.

"It's Patrick, Babydoll," the pet name sent shivers down your spine. "'C'mon, I thought you already got that."

Cautiously, almost like a cat, Patrick approached you, his expensive cologne enveloping you like an intoxicating mist, messing with your thoughts in your head. Bateman couldn't deny that the more you got embarrassed, the more it fed his ego, his need for power, his primal desire.

"Why should I?" You rejoined him, pausing at your small bed, sensing his burning gaze between your shoulder blades.

He chuckled, so boyishly — you could even say it was quite cute, but this definition didn't really suit a man like him.

"Oh, dear," Patrick made that cocky sound again, before closing the mere distance between the two of you. "You know, I really like this little game of... pretending to be so fucking innocent and untouchable," Bateman punctuated the last words with a low titter right into your ear — damn, he was so close to you that you could feel his hot breath fanning along your skin. "But right now it's unnecessary, since I know how much of a slut you are for me."

With that, he suddenly grabbed you from behind, yanking your hair back to bring you closer, grazing your neck with his sharp fangs, and you didn't even have a chance to make a sound as his big palm was already flat on your mouth.

"Now, now, little girl," he cooed in a husky voice, his heart about to burst through his chest from the sweet smell of your soft skin. "I'm sure you want this," his free hand ran shamelessly over your chest, teasing your already hard nipples, which only made him more cheeky as he mused. "Ah, Babydoll... you want to be corrupted, you want it so badly."

Hell no, you were not ready for this — Patrick's strong arms exploring your body once again, but this time more possessively since he was sure that no one could see you now. The way you shivered in his embrace made his cock twitch, and you could feel its hardness pressing against your lower back.

"Pat-Patrick," you managed to squeak softly before he pulled you into a hot, hungry kiss, his tongue sliding masterfully against yours, giving you no chance to resist, even though you were still trying. "My father—"

"Your dear father won't hear a thing if you keep quiet," he growled against your trembling lips, his self-control about to collapse at any moment as your taste drove him crazy. "You don't want to get caught, do you?"

A sharp, almost choked moan escaped your lips as his warm hand snaked under your top to play with your swollen peak, twisting and pinching it, your legs giving way almost instantly and if Bateman hadn't held you tight, you would have just fallen flat on the floor. Almost affectionately, Patrick made you sit on your bed, the surrounding air electric with the fluids of lust and desire between the two of you.

"Jesus Christ," he purred, kneeling down next to you, the cold metal of his gold Rolex brushing against the bare skin of your thigh, the brisk contrast in temperature forcing your toes to curl from your own arousal. "You're so sweet and cute," Patrick murmured briefly before planting a barely sensible kiss on your inner hip. "And so innocent."

"We.... We shouldn't be doing this," your breath hitched with the strange, tantalizing thrill. It was frightening, yet so fucking seductive that you were not sure whether you really wanted him to stop or never to stop. "My dad would be so mad!"

His sarcastic laugh bounced off the walls of your room. "(Y/n), you're a big girl now," he rubbed invisible circles into your tender skin, teasing you as skillfully as if he could read you like an open book. "You can make your own choices," Bateman's walnut eyes were so dark now, they glittered with undisguised lust and thirst — no one had ever looked at you like that before. "Besides, you don't have to be afraid, Babydoll. Daddy will just take a look."

"Daddy?" You asked, perplexed, but then you practically bit your tongue from the sudden burning sensation in your lower abdomen as his thumb reached your throbbing clit, rubbing it through the soft fabric of your panties.

Your shy reaction elicited a mocking chuckle from his plump lips, now curled into a super-arrogant smirk. "Uh, you're shaking already, and I barely touched you," he parted your legs wider so that your skirt was now pulled up almost to your waist. "Fuck, I really like your skirt… did you buy it in a kid's store? It looks so girlish."

"Stop it!" You scolded and strove to close your legs, but his big palm wouldn't let you.

"Or what? You gonna cry and complain to your father?" Patrick leaned down to your mound, holding your thighs tightly, and without breaking eye contact, he swiped his tongue along your swollen lower lips, causing all your insides to cramp with unknown temptation. "I don't think he'd believe you, because you're just a little silly girl."

Enraged, you wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the tingling sensation of his hot tongue caught you off guard, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you found yourself as hypersensitive as you had ever been. Gently, Bateman stroked your inner thighs, never losing his grip as he expected you to try to fight again, but he knew how to make you surrender, because after all — sex was his territory and he was prepared to make you vulnerable and spread out for him.

"P-Patrick," you gasped as he did that motion again, this time more persistently, your lace panties already wet from both your juices and his spit. "I... I can't—"

"Can't form words?" He snickered against your flesh, sending vibrations right to your core. "That's okay, my dear," Bateman's silky voice only made the current situation worse, as you were on the verge of losing it now and then. "But believe me, this is just the beginning. And I'm curious, what would you say when I fuck you senseless, huh?" He paired his questions with a suck on your blushing bud, leaving the squelching sound behind. You had to tilt your head and grab the nearby pillow as you felt something pulsing in your womb, like a ticking bomb that was about to explode. "Fuck, if I keep going, I think I will get pussy addicted and your dad will really have to stop me."

With these words, Patrick stood up, only to throw away the pillow you were shielding yourself with, as he wanted to taste your hard nipples. Swiftly, he pulled up your top and growled as he saw your breasts popping out, his lips finding your little tip faster than you could even react. Whimpering softly, you grasped his head with how thirsty he latched onto your nipple, sucking it, trapping it between his sharp teeth, making you squeal every time he bit it, but as soon as he noticed your fingers tugging at his perfectly coiffed hair, Bateman finished his game with your tip, tugging it painfully before he mumbled:

"Keep your hands to yourself, Babydoll," he brushed your hands away roughly, but then he gave you a warm smile. "You didn't deserve to touch Daddy's hair, not yet."

After admiring the result of his work, Patrick looked around for a mirror to check his hair and fix his red tie. He didn't even say a word to you before he left. The oppressive silence hung in the air, your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as you found it hard to breathe. The only things you could feel were shame and disgust, but thank God that bastard decided to stop and you didn't have to tell him that you were a virgin, because you couldn't even imagine how cheeky and brazen he would get when he heard that information. Panting, you could still sense the heat of his tongue between your legs, and as soon as you tried to get up, you fell back from the strange, throbbing feeling in your core. Every single part of your body where he touched you burned as if you had been consumed by fire.

What did this devil, named Patrick Bateman, do to you? Did he just bless you with the curse of being possessed by him? What would you do now to save yourself?

So many questions, so few answers.

It had been almost an hour since your father and Patrick had been drinking, discussing their business matters, and smoking their cigars in the living room of your not-so-fancy house. Embarrassed, you struggled to act natural whenever your dad asked you to bring him something, whether it was an ashtray or another bottle of whiskey, all the while keeping a straight face and ignoring all the playful glances Bateman was casting at you.

"You know, I'm so lucky to have a daughter like (y/n)," your dad suddenly declared as you handed him his favorite whiskey. "She's such a good girl, always so helpful and kind."

"Oh, I'm sure she is," Bateman murmured, grinning devilishly and scanning your trembling form with his dark eyes. "(Y/n), can you please do me a favor and bring me a glass of water?" He winked at you after puffing on his cigar.

Paralyzed for a second, you cleared your throat before answering. "Yes, of course, Patrick."

When you spoke his name, your father almost choked on his drink. "(Y/n)! Where are your manners? It's Mr. Bateman to you."

"Uh, sorry," you stammered as you watched Patrick's tongue swirl around the tip of his cigar in a way that only you could see it. "Just having a busy day… I'll bring you some water!"

With that, you stormed out of the living room faster than the speed of light, your heart pounding so rapidly that you could hear every beat in your ears. This man, oh fuck... this man made you feel so strange... so excited... so cursed.

In the kitchen you grabbed the first glass you saw and with trembling hands you started to pour some water into it, splashing it around a bit as the only thing you could see behind your eyes was his fucking tongue flickering around his cigar. And worst of all, you found yourself thinking, if his mouth felt so good on you through your underwear, what would it feel like if you were naked?

A loud clatter of broken glass echoed around the house as you felt cramps in your lower abdomen, causing you to cling to the surface of the kitchen counter. Breathing heavily, you heard footsteps approaching, and you had no idea who they belonged to.

To your dad or to your 'Daddy'?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update! Chapter 2 is here!💗

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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youresodarkbabe · 2 months

Text

down on all fours (90s au rockstar a. turner x reader)

smut.

warnings: overstimulation, praise, degradation (yes, both of them), aly has dacryphilia <3, dom!al, spit :)

word count: 2.1k

everyone thank @psychedelicrocker for telling me to write this instead of f1 alex again, also it's not v obviously 90s au whoopsies

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

alex was fucked.

he had been trying to write one simple song for hours now, and nothing seemed to stick. either a lyric would be too complex for the tune or he'd dumb it down too much. there really was no in between.

in his defense, though, he was freshly free from the harsh confines of a world tour and had lost all semblance of sanity.

he kept pacing around his office until he realized something. through all of the fans and drugs and groupies, he remembered one thing that was a constant.

you.

you met alex at the new jersey show he did with his band and he was intrigued, to say the least. he brought you backstage and had his way with you, sure, but he wanted more. he needed it, or rather, you.

he got you tickets to their next show and told you to come if you could, and you did. you thoroughly enjoyed the show, just as much as you enjoyed the way he destroyed your cunt before it and the way he fucked you til you cried after. the cycle repeated, they'd finish a show, he'd give you tickets to the next one.

the boys hadn't really tried forming connections with the girls they took back to their hotel rooms because to them, it was just a one time thing, they were high and their girl of the night would be starstruck and it was a fun way to unwind post-show. alex had the same mindset for years. until you. you ruined him completely. as much as he adored tearing you apart with his cock, he obsessed over the way you'd laugh breathlessly after a good fuck. he knew he was gone the moment you kissed him, the way your lips felt against his— soft, gentle, caring— it changed him.

the feelings alex had towards you could be described in many ways. an obsession, a need, a want, a love.

he couldn't care less. as long as he had you.

he crumpled up the messy, inked sheet of paper in his hand and tosses it into the trash and runs over to his untouched suitcase and digs through it until he finds the note you gave him at the last show he'd perform before moving to the european leg of the tour. the note had your phone number along with your address and the words 'don't forget me' written with a heart.

he realizes that you only lived a few minutes down the road. he decides to take the risk and punches your number into his landline and holds the receiver up to his ear. you take your time to pick up, but he let it go, it was half past two anyways.

"um, hello?" your voice called out, almost instantly making the hairs on the back of his neck stand and his cock harden.

"hey, doll. been missin' you. been missin' your cunt, to be real specific. come over, i need my muse back." his voice is as sharp as it had always been, hearing it sending you into a frenzy. you were well and truly speechless, and he knew.

"i'll see you here, bunny."

you were still half asleep but the familiar warmth of alex's voice woke you up and you instantly got on your feet and began running around your room, scrambling around for anything to make yourself look more presentable for alex.

you quickly try fixing the mess that your hair was and apply a quick swipe of the red lipstick of yours that alex adored so much.

you threw on the first things you could find and decided you'd rather walk to his instead of driving, because all the thoughts you were thinking would not lead to a safe drive.

you showed up wearing his band's shirt and a leather jacket with spikes around the neck that almost resembled a collar.

he has to take a second to take all of you in.

he pulls you in by your waist and shuts the door behind you and gives your lips a quick peck.

"i've missed you, doll." he murmurs against your lips, "you always were my favourite from the lot."

he kisses you again, deeper this time, less sweetness and more desperation. teeth clashed, his slight stubble scratching your face, adding to the stimulation and making you hum into the kiss.

alex slips his hands from your waist to your ass, cupping the flesh and massaging it, also pushing your hips into his waist and grinding his cock into you. he pulls away, breathless.

"you know the drill. everythin' off, except that jacket. i expect you on all fours by the time i get to my room."

you open your mouth to retort but decide against it and tiptoe past him and run up to his bedroom. you get undressed and forget to put the jacket back on.

alex, still downstairs, fixed himself a drink and almost finished half of it before he was upstairs. his cock throbbing at the sight.

you were on all fours on his cozy, pristine bed, your back arched so perfectly.

"where's the jacket, doll?"

"'m sorry, al, i forgot."

alex discards his clothes slowly, leaving himself in his boxers. he crawls onto the bed and kneels in between your legs, his hands running up and down your back, pressing it into more of an arch.

"it's alright, angel," he presses a kiss to your soaked pussy from behind, "next time, hm?"

you grind against his face, trying to tell him what you need without irritating him. you hear him swear at himself before his tongue delves into your core, lapping at anything he can get. his fingers come to your front and play with your clit as he devours your dripping cunt. you feel that knot in your stomach threatening to snap as he pulls away, whining at him stopping so suddenly.

"al, please, i'm good, i need you, please—"

you moan excessively loudly when he pushes two fingers into your cunt with no prior warning, feeling your eyes rolling back into your head as his fingers thrust in and out of you, curling and hitting every spot you needed him to get to.

"what did i tell you about doubting me, sweet girl?", he asks sweetly as he spreads his fingers as far apart as he can, watching your hole gape as you scream out his name.

"never doubt you, al, never ever doubting you," you trail off as he continues his relentless movements.

alex suddenly stops all his movements, taking his hands away from you, licking his fingers clean.

"taste as good as you did the first time, doll, fuck, you're takin' me back."

alex's mind flickered back to tour, how despite you both considering your interactions as a rockstar and one of his groupies, there was something different. it wasn't just sex, at least, not to him. he constantly fantasized about taking you out, buying you anything you ever wanted and more, treating you the way you deserved.

but he wasn't sure if he deserved you at all.

he saw himself as a pathetic excuse of a man who thrives on the validation of strangers and crumbles with the slightest criticism, but that also led to him imagining how you'd comfort him in these moments of devastation.

but that wasn't important to him now, he couldn't care less.

"you ready?", he asks, finally freeing his cock, pumping it slightly while watching his pre-cum spill onto your ass and then aligning it with your aching pussy, running his tip through your folds.

"mm, yes, please, fuck—"

alex slides into you before you can finish speaking, your words turning into a choked moan. alex doesn't even hesitate and begins thrusting as fast as he can, jaw hanging open as your cunt squeezes him. his writer's block disappears, everything does. you're all he saw at that point and he didn't mind it at all.

you almost scream his name as he fucks into you with no hesitation, going as fast as he can.

"just as good as i remembered baby, god," alex groans as he runs his hands up your sides, grabbing onto your hair and tugging it so he has your back pressed against his chest. you actually scream this time, the stinging feeling of his cock stretching your cunt and the pure euphoria of the act being almost too much to handle. you throw your head back to rest on his shoulder as he keeps fucking into you, one of his hands slipping to your clit, playing with it as he littered your neck with kisses.

"takin' me like a champ, doll, so so good. perfect lil toy, aren't you? fuckin' soaked too."

his fervent thrusts get slower and sloppier as you squeeze around him. "fuck, al, 'm gonna cum, please," you beg mindlessly as he brings his other hand up to wrap around your throat, squeezing slightly as he nips at a spot under your ear.

"hm, not yet."

you whine in response, your moans getting louder and louder by the second.

"good girl, keep waiting for me, perfect lil slut," alex mutters as he slows down slightly, leaving small kisses of appreciation on your cheek as tears well in your eyes. he notices this and you can feel him twitch inside you as you tighten around him once more, unable to hold back any longer.

you scream out his name as your back arches against his chest, one of your hands flying to grasp at the back of his hair, pulling as you shake and moan until your voice is completely hoarse.

alex stills after you stop shaking and gives you a few seconds to compose yourself.

"you enjoy that? filthy fuckin' whore."

he pulls out of you roughly and flips you onto your back, almost instantly pushing his cock back into your sore cunt.

tears stream down your face as he bottoms out, you're desperate for him to stop and give your ruined pussy a break but at the same time, you can't stop yourself from wrapping your legs around his waist and trying to get him even closer. you dig your nails into alex's back as he pounds into you relentlessly, the sting of your nails scratching along his back making him hiss and go even faster.

alex's hands push your legs even further apart and he lifts them up onto his shoulders, his eyes fixated on the way he could see the outline of his cock filling you up.

"fuck, doll, you're gonna let me fill you up, aren't you? you gonna take it for me, baby?"

alex moves your hair out of your face as you nod pathetically, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. he dips his head down to take your nipple into his mouth and slows his thrusts to synchronize with tongue swirling around it, humming softly. he pulls off and latches onto your neck, his teeth clamping down slightly as he picks up his pace again, making you see stars as he fucks his cum as deep into you as possible.

alex collapses onto your chest, breathing heavily. he waits for a while before pulling out and looking at your ruined cunt, smiling as he sees the mixture of your cum and his seeping out of you.

"perfect, bunny, so gorgeous."

two of his fingers circle your aching hole once more and he pushes them into you until they only part of them he can see are his knuckles. he scissors his fingers and spits directly into you, pulling his fingers back out only to scoop up everything and push it back into you, he keeps playing with you like this until he's satisfied enough. he pulls his fingers out and taps on your lips with them and you open your mouth, sucking on them until they're clean.

"good girl, you did so well for me tonight."

he presses a gentle kiss to the space between your tits and moves upwards, leaving a kiss on your collarbone, your jaw, your cheek and finally kissing your lips.

kissing you feels liberating to him, it doesn't feel forced or purely driven by his need to fuck you. but there is something wrong.

"we can't keep doing this."

alex rested his chin on your chest and looked up at you as he spoke.

"we need to do this the right way, doll. i wanna take you out, do all that shit. let me have you, princess, please."

you open your mouth to respond but your voice barely comes out which makes you him laugh as you hide your face in his shoulder. he soothingly rubs your stomach as the laughter dies out and the silence takes over the room, alex doesn't feel awkward the way he normally would and his heart only feels lighter as he sees you nod with that smile he'd grown to adore.

"can't fuckin' wait."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

this one's been in the drafts for ages im ngl

#cookie cooks #alex turner smut #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #youresodarkbabe #sias era smut #smut

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Text

𝐏𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐲 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre!outbreak joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn

word count: 3.1k

summary: Months after the move you're trying to paint again. But you lack the motivation to do so. Thankfully, Sarah comes over and keeps you company until Tommy and Joel come over to pick her up.

warnings: brief themes of grief, tommy radiating younger sibling energy and being a menace, fluff

a/n: thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed the prologue and a special thank you to @pedrito-friskito who edited the chapter, love you! 💜💜💜

prologue || chapter two

The dust lingers in the air, a constant reminder of what once was. You see flecks of it dancing in the beams of light that pour through the window, illuminating the room with a hazy glow. The smell of dust permeates every corner, fills your lungs. There are still boxes stacked in your room. Some of them waiting to be unpacked and some of them waiting to be filled.

Looking through your grandfather’s old knick-knacks had been a harder task than you thought. You found pictures, lots of them. From his past, from his now. You even found a picture of yourself from when you were a kid; laughing in the sun with mud all over your face. You had promised him the perfect garden. At the end of the day, it was far from it but he still said that it was.

Your fingers clench around the brush you’re holding. An hour ago you decided to use the grief to make something of it. You had a heaping amount of black and red paint poured onto the pallete, untouched.

You shake your head, agitated. You really shouldn’t be wasting paint. It’s not like you can afford to continuously buy supplies.

You’re staring deeply into the blank canvas when a loud knock jars you back to reality. You can feel a burn in your eyes, taunting you for the wasted hour spent sitting idly without so much as a brushstroke to show for it.

“For fuck’s sake,” you grumble under your breath while heading to the door. Your eyes linger on the window, it’s a clear day out, which now you decide to point all your anger at. If it was raining, it would be different. You would have the proper ambiance to be inspired.

Without looking, you open the door, your eyes immediately dropping to the girl standing on your porch. “Sarah?”

“Sorry for barging in,” she says with a sheepish grin. “I forgot my keys and dad isn’t home yet. Can I come inside?”

Dad. Joel.

You blink before smiling. You take a step to the side as a wordless invite. She steps inside with grace, her shoes blinking pink and purple. It’s hard to stifle a giggle, which earns you a quizzical look from her.

You point to her feet, “Nice kicks,”

“Oh,” her eyes lit up, leaving her heel glued to the hardwood floors, she lifted her foot. “Aren’t they cool? Azra offered we trade shoes for the day.”

"Veeery nice," you nod, but as Sarah turns to head further inside, you clear your throat. "Shoes off," you remind her.

“Right, sorry.”

You make your way to the kitchen, Sarah follows closely behind, taking off her blinking shoes as she goes. You stretch up on your toes and open the cupboard, searching for Sarah's preferred brand of tea.

Since you moved in and formed close bonds with the Miller family, both Tommy and Sarah have been regular visitors to your home. You enjoy their company. It was nice to talk to people instead of obsessing over your muses that had clearly abandoned you.

You pull out the box of apple cinnamon tea and place it on the counter. Joel never stops by. You only see him whenever he comes over to pick up Sarah and that’s pretty much it. Sometimes you send cookies via Sarah and the next day she would tell you he enjoyed them. You aren’t quite sure if Joel is just reserved or if he just didn’t like you that much, but no matter what it is, the rest of the family seems to enjoy your presence. Which is all a neighbor could ask for.

The staccato drumming of Sarah’s fingers against the wooden table pulls you back. You turn on the kettle, a soft steam filling the kitchen.

“Your uncle Tommy is going to stop by too,” you say, leaning back and crossing your arms. “I’m assuming you’re dad is with him?”

“Yeah, but it’s pizza day today so my dad will probably force them to stop by the supermarket to grab some stuff,” she lets her head fall onto her hands and adds. “If he doesn’t forget, that is. You should join us,”

The water comes to a boil, forcing you to turn away from her. You place two tea bags into comically large mugs (the ones that make both Tommy and Sarah giggle, which brightens up your day) and pour the steaming water into them. You place one of the mugs in front of Sarah and slide into the chair beside her, watching as she wraps her nimble fingers around the purple mug.

“I’m a busy woman,” you tease. “I need to work and stuff,”

“Coffee shop?”

“I’m off for the day,”

A mischievous glint glimmered in her eyes, her smile widening into a cheeky grin. “Date?”

You snort into your tea, waving your hand dismissively. Sarah raises an eyebrow at that. The girl has quite a sharp intuition. If you were being completely honest, it made you nervous some days.

“Nah, I just need to work on my paintings. I haven’t managed to paint a single stroke. It’s frustrating,” you stop and take a sip, the fruity flavor makes your taste buds come alive. “Very annoying,”

“Maybe just paint something else or sketch something you like,” she states nonchalantly. “Take a break from the main thing, do a side quest,”

“Sometimes I do that, but I really need to get a grip. I’m gonna end up working at the coffee house forever, or I’m just going to have to risk starvation,”

“Don’t worry. We’ll take you in, feed you,”

Teenagers. You shake your head with an amused smile, “What am I? A dog?”

“A friend.”

You still at that, fingers curling around the hot mug, it burns to the touch. Sarah starts to look around your house as if what she just said just now wasn’t ridiculously sweet.

She hops off the chair and starts to wander with her mug nestled between her palms. Taking a sip, you smile into the porcelain rim, your heart beating fast.

When you first moved here, you were scared to be alone. That you wouldn’t be able to make any friends. After your grandfather died and left you the house, you had half a mind to not make the move. It was nerve-wracking at the time. But ironically enough it was your grief that spurred you to take the leap forward.

Sarah slows down, reaching the bookshelf. The one you have in the living room isn’t really that impressive, mostly put there for decor. She pushes a succulent out of the way and allows her fingers to trace the smooth spines. “You have a lot of children’s books,”

“What can I say, I’m a kid at heart,” you observe the bookshelf next to her. She isn’t wrong. A lot of Roald Dahl books, which are followed by a series of Nicholas and the Gang books. “If you want to see my more serious stuff, we can check the one upstairs.”

“I’m good,” Hooking her fingers around Matilda, she pulls the paperback out of its home. She flips it over and scans the back. “Can I borrow this one?”

“Sure, be my guest. That’s one of my favorites,”

“Living in a house full of dumb-dumbs sounds like my life story,”

“Oh, believe me, your dad is much smarter than he looks,” the sigh you let out attracts her attention, eyes flitting back to you. “And so is your uncle. Also, Matilda’s parents are kind of assholes,”

“Woah, spoilers.”

Another knock at the door. Compared to Sarah’s slow, more careful ones. These knocks sound eccentric, hitting the wood as if the person behind it is out to break it.

“Uncle Tommy,” Sarah guesses, rolling her eyes but smiling. “My dad’s probably with him,”

She’s spot on with her guess. Sarah peers from your side, looking over both her uncle and dad. Tommy shoots you a wide grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Joel stands tall right behind him, his arms crossed, he greets you with a small smile and a signature head tilt.

“Hello boys,” you say, returning the nod and smile. “Do you guys wanna come in?”

Joel lifts a bag of groceries, “Pizza day,”

Sarah’s ears perk up at that, her eyes wide with disbelief, “You didn’t forget!” then she narrows her eyes, sticking her bottom lip out. “Who are you and what did you with to my dad?”

“I had to remind him,” Tommy chuckles, nudging his shoulder into Joel’s. He holds your gaze. “But I’m here for you, beautiful,”

“My hero.”

Joel scoffs with a half grin and gestures his head towards Sarah, “Get your things. Let’s get going.”

All Sarah has to do is lean to the side and grab her backpack from behind the door. Joel waits for her below the short set of stairs, one hand in his pocket, eyes flicking between you and Tommy. He seems impatient, almost.

Tommy brushes past you while Sarah takes her first step over the threshold. At that very moment you feel suspended in time, your eyes finding Joel’s for a brief moment until Sarah comes into view. He slaps a hand over her shoulder and smiles at you. Sarah is still holding the book as she waves you both off.

When you close the door, Tommy is already in the kitchen, rummaging through your fridge. “You have nothin’ to eat,”

“I thought we could order out,” you offer, your gaze falling to the blank canvas. Tommy moves his entire upper body out of the fridge and slams it shut.

“You have anything in mind?”

You don’t have to think long for an answer.

“You know what? I think I’m craving pizza.”

The thing about Tommy Miller is that he’s a good listener, paired with quite the mouth.

He can talk for hours. You always comment on how that was his superpower; there RE no awkward silences when Tommy İs near. He’s also ridiculously intuitive, which makes you think Sarah got it from him.

You two are sitting on the couch with crossed legs and facing each other. Your knees press together as he tells you about his day, munching on the last slice. He’s telling you how the concrete deliveries got delayed, which meant that the rest of their schedule got fucked. His words, not yours. Joel was furious, apparently. You never would’ve guessed. He just looks tired all the time.

“By the way,” he says, swallowing and reaching for the glass of bubbling coke. “If you were cravin’ pizza so much, we could’ve gone over to Joel’s. Eat some of that good homemade shit,”

Picking up the empty pizza box, you place it on the coffee table and push it with the tips of your fingers. You don’t know how to answer him. Your brows furrow, and when he sees it, worry crosses his face.

A bitter chuckle drops abruptly from your lips, “I don’t think Joel likes me very much,”

“What?” Tommy sounds positively horrified. If anyone heard, they would’ve thought you said something along the lines of your mother dying. “Nonsense. He adores you. Why would you even think that?”

Your eyes drop to the cushions you sit on. You feel the brush of his knuckles ghosting over your cheek, prompting you to meet his gaze. His eyes are a soft brown, a shade lighter than Joel’s.

“Hey, you can talk to me. Did he do something to make you feel like that?”

“N-No,” you slowly shake your head, your pulse throbs under your skin. “I just…I don’t know. It seems like he’s wary of me, like I did something wrong once and he’s expecting it to happen again,”

He sighs, his palm now fully cradling your cheek. You can’t help but lean into his touch. “That’s just Joel for you. He’s got a fair share of weight on them shoulders—I’m also probably not a big help to him. Always getting into trouble,”

“I know for a fact that Sarah and Joel love you very much,” you have the need to remind him, and his eyes light up at your words. The skin under his hand burns. “Besides young siblings are always trouble, I would know since I’m the younger one as well. It’s character.”

He blows a raspberry into the air. His hand falls from your cheek and takes refuge over his lap. “Some character,” he utters under his breath, shooting you a playful gaze. “You want me to talk to him?”

“Please no,” you laugh, slapping him on the shoulder as you get up. “That would be super embarrassing,”

“Sometimes you need to tell that stubborn dog to behave,” his voice reaches you in waves, his socked feet following you to the kitchen. You dispose of the boxes, start to prepare him, and you some late-night tea.

“He is behaving,” you reply, feeling his presence behind you. “I just get into my own head sometimes. Don’t worry about it.”

Your hands are still above the kitchen counter when you feel his warm breath fanning the back of your neck. You watch his fingers curl around the edge, his chin not quite pressing but lingering a couple of centimeters above your shoulder.

“Anyone who doesn’t like you is a grade-A idiot, just sayin’” his voice is a low echo in your ear. He’s not physically touching you, but it feels as if his entire being is consuming you by just being so close. The click of the kettle parts the silence. “The water’s done.”

You’re surprised when you turn and find that there’s actually quite a bit of space between you still. You could’ve sworn that his body was only a breath away.

Tommy steps closer, caging you between his arms and the kitchen counter. He has a lazy, yet adoring, smile on his face. Your legs start to tremble, a habit you found you did whenever you were in any kind of confrontation.

Now, there isn’t really anything to confront, so you blame the crackling of tension between you and him. You take a breath and your chest heaves.

You hold your breath when you notice he’s starting to inch closer, gorgeous browns dropping to the flush of your lips. You don’t pull away. But you don’t lean in either. You’re like a deer in headlights, shocked by the sudden beam of brightness.

“Is this okay?” he asks in a whisper. You swallow, your muddled mind finding it difficult to string the words that might or might not form a coherent sentence.

Tommy has always been a close friend. A confidant. Someone you can call in the middle of the night with noquestions asked. You know for a fact that he can be a flirt. And this quality of his cheered you up from time to time—like when he calls you beautiful or praises you in any shape or form. But you’re quite not sure you want to breach the limitations of a platonic relationship.

Suddenly you feel his lips on your cheek, pulling back as quickly as he leaned in, he releases you from the cage and grins at you.

“Gotcha.”

“Excuse me?” Your mouth feels like sandpaper and your throat dry. You swallow and watch him sit on a stool across from you. His fingers grip the peaking part of the stool head between his legs, he looks like a toddler.

“I’m just doing my thing, being a troublemaker. Just like you said,” he hunches forward, eyes looking up to you between dark lashes. “It’s character, right?”

“Oh fuck off, Tommy Miller,”

“You know I’m not above accepting that offer, right? It’s been a while.”

You roll your eyes and turn on the kettle again, the steaming water now probably tepid.

“What would you do if I actually kissed you?”

The question lingers in the air and uncomfortably presses into your skin, you lack the air to take a breath. You don’t dare to look at him. Gaze stubbornly watching the button of the kettle to pop, signaling you that the water is boiling.

“I don’t know Tommy,” you answer honestly and press a palm against the heating surface of the kettle. “I don’t know.”

You hate taking out the thrash.

You don’t know why. When you were a kid, it was your dad who took it out and that would always be accompanied by a series of complaints. His habit of talking to himself and to the inanimate objects around him had passed on to you. The night air chills your skin, a shiver shuddering up your spine while you struggle to keep the trash bag in the air with one hand. Your nails begin to tear the plastic and you start to walk faster.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter, arm cramping. “Come on, just a little further,”

When you reach the container, you lift the bag with a heave and do a small little hip wiggle at the small victory.

Turning around you see Joel watching you with a wide smile.

You’re stunned into silence, arms and legs tingling at the thought of how stupid you must’ve looked. He’s holding a trashbag of his own. Red flannel accentuating his narrowing hips perfectly. He cocks his head to the side when you continue to stare.

“Are you always this excited after throwin’ out the thrash?” he asks, humored by your reaction.

While you think of an answer, he takes wide steps and throws out his own trash. Joel then turns to you, the only thing separating your bodies being the white picket fence.

“Let’s just say that I was happy it didn’t rip while making the trip,”

He nods while pressing his hands into his thighs, “A worthy thing to celebrate.”

You shift from one leg to another. The conversation you had with Tommy the night before echoes in your head worry clouding your chest with the question ‘did Tommy say anything?’. But you assume not when Joel takes a step back, palms sliding down his jeans like a nervous tick.

“Well then,” he clears his throat. “See you later neighbor,”

You lift your hand to wave, an early smile starts to curl over your lips. However, your half-uttered goodbye is cut short by the absurdly loud growl of your stomach.

Ah fuck.

Joel stills. Your cheeks and the tips of your ears burn. His eyes drop to your arms that are now wrapped tight around your stomach, then he lifts his gaze back up to meet yours.

“You wanna join us for dinner?” he asks, he pronounces every word slowly, reminding you of the way you whisper to animals that you don’t want to scare away. “Sarah’s makin’ her special burgers,”

“Special?” you ask back, ignoring the fact that you’ve become a charity case in a blink of an eye. “What makes them special?”

Hand sliding into his pockets, Joel gestures with his head for you to come over.

“Why don’t you come over and see for yourself?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x ofc #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #hbo the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us

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