#fic: one taste and you’ll be mine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slutforln4 · 5 months

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THE COWBOY HAT RULE

🖇️ in which you, respectively, ride the cowboy

🖇️ part two to the cowboy daniel fic! sorry to keep you waiting this long. hope you enjoy 🤍

🖇️ warnings smut, like literally 4k words of smut.

🖇️ daniel ricciardo x mercedes!race engineer!reader

🖇️ the smut part of my smut with plot fic. part one is here.

You’re not sure what prompts you to kiss Daniel first.

You’re in the taxi on the way to the hotel, his hand resting on your thigh and your eyes on his, and it’s a mere moment before you feel yourself leaning in and kissing him.

Daniel’s eyes go wide but he smirks against your lips, one of his hands coming up to hold onto your face and pull you in closer. The air’s thick and mixed with the warmth of his lips, you’re sure you’ll melt into a puddle beneath his fingertips.

It’s all a blur from this point on. All you remember is his lips moulding perfectly against yours, his hands on the small of your back and the sounds of his hotel room door locking.

Daniel’s hands move rhythmically on your body, softly tugging on your hair as you’re pressed up against the hotel room door. The lingering taste of liquor on his lips and tongue mixed with the taste of *him makes you weak. You feel your arms wrap around his neck and play with the curls at the base of his neck, causing him to smile against your lips.

Daniel pulls away, his hand firmly gripping your face and a look of lust in his eyes. There’s something so soft about the tight hold he has on your jaw, yet something so vicious lying between the shades of brown that are staring at you.

You feel yourself slipping deeper into your feelings for him when he softly pecks your lips, letting his hand slip down to your neck, continuing to hold it tightly enough for you to freeze under his touch. Your heartbeat quickens when he leans in closer to your ear. “All mine.”

Something about the possessive tone of his voice made you that much more weak.

Daniel pulls away to look at your face again, his grip on your neck tightening and causing you to tilt your head up to loosen it. “All fuckin’ mine.” He grips your face and forces you to look at him. “Say it.”

You open your mouth to speak, but the tightness of his hand on your neck makes your mouth run dry. Daniel notices it and lets go, instead holding your jaw. “I’m yours, Daniel. All yours.”

“That’s right, baby,” he pulls you back in for a kiss, his hands finding their place on your hips as he leads both of you to the bed. You straddle his lap with the intention of riding the cowboy like he intended you to, but Daniel’s in no rush to get your clothes off.

The warmth of his kisses spread out over your face and down your neck, sounds of pleasure already threatening to escape your lips. His tongue swirls over a patch of your skin on your collarbone before his teeth gently dig into your flesh. You gasp softly, but the pain gets soothed by his tongue smoothing over the bite.

“This is so wrong,” you say, under your breath. You don’t want to stop feeling his lips on your skin, and neither does he want to stop kissing you, but fact is that *this is wrong. And you have no intention of making it right.

The curly haired australian nods, bringing his lips back up to meet yours. “So wrong.” He agrees, practically speaking into your mouth with how hard he’s kissing you. He knows it’s wrong, to some extent, yet he can’t help but enjoy every second of this. He dreads the moment he has to pull away from you and go back to living life without feeling your lips on his own.

He places soft kisses on your shoulder, his fingers resting the zipper of your dress, waiting for permission to undo it, as if he hasn’t undone you entirely just by mere touch.

“Take it off,” you whisper, looking down at his honey eyes when he pulls away from marking what’s his. Daniel’s fingers softly undo your zipper, pushing the top of the dress off of your shoulders. It pools at your waist and you watch as Daniel’s eyes linger on your body— it looks like he’s trying to memorise every feature of you in just that one glance.

The love-tinted shade in his eyes turns back into lust when his teeth find your shoulder, softly nibbling and leaving his mark, all while your lips emit the quietest moans.

Daniel softly places you down on the bed, his lips trailing down your chest. You feel his hand snake around your back and he unclasps your bra using one hand, while the other’s slowly tugging the dress further down your body. The sound of the bra dropping to the floor distracts you just enough for Daniel to make you gasp again, when his tongue swirls around your right nipple before softly sucking on it.

He licks around it once more before letting his tongue run across your chest and to the other breast, repeating the same action as he did on your right.

You’ve been hesitant to let yourself be vocal. Mainly because you don’t want to give Daniel the satisfaction of knowing he’s doing something to you, that he’s pleasing you. So instead of giving in and moaning when he marks your skin with his teeth, you bite your bottom lip and hold back any sound.

Daniel’s lips trail down your belly, soft kisses lining his path to the place you need him most. He lifts your hips and tugs off the dress, throwing it to the floor. You feel his head dip back to your abdomen again, but he doesn’t move his kisses past the waistband of your panties.

He stays there, teasingly kissing your stomach and you feel the ache between your legs getting unbearable. “Daniel.”

“Hm?” He lifts his head, a look of mischief in his eyes. He’s teasing. You look at him, a little shy to ask for more, knowing that’s exactly what he wants. “What do you need, princess?” He kisses your stomach again, the softness in his voice making you throb.

“You know what I need,” you mumble, your fingers coming down to play with his hair.

Daniel pulls away again, still staying situated between your legs, but his brown eyes stare straight up at you. His breath is warm against your skin when he says, “I won’t do anything if you don’t tell me what you want, baby.”

You roll your eyes. He’s still as annoying as usual, but you’re so close to getting him where you need him, so you don’t give that up. “I want you… down there.”

“What was that?” Daniel laughs, pretending he couldn’t hear you. “You want me where?”

“Down there.”

Daniel’s fingers ghost over your clothed clit, making your hips chase the barely-there touch. He runs a finger down it again, letting it press against your clothed entrance. A smirk appears on his lips when he feels the damp spot on your panties.

“Down here?” He looks back up at you, clearly pleased with how wet he has you. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Mhm,” you hum when he traces your slit with his finger again. You look down at him, rolling your eyes at the smirk on his lips. “Please?”

“Please, what?”

You roll your eyes again. “You’re so annoying.” You mumble under your breath. Daniel wants you to beg for him, to use his name. He needs to know you want him to please you, not just the pleasure. And you know that he wants that. The only problem is you’ve never been keen on giving people what they want.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” He coos. “You know you want my lips on your pretty pussy.” He completely pulls away, his eyes burning holes into you with the intensity of his stare. The second his hands and face pull away from your body, you miss the comfort of it.

“Daniel, please.” You beg, adding a little more whine to your voice so he doesn’t make you beg more. “I need you.”

“Do you need me or do you just need the pleasure?” He asks, seeming to be obsessed with the idea that you need him and not just an orgasm. Daniel needs to know he’ll be more than just a quick fuck. He knows you don’t do quick fucks, or else it wouldn’t have taken him this long to have you like this, quivering under his touch everytime he teases you through your panties.

“I need you, Daniel.” You look at him with pleading eyes, tired of the teasing and longing for more than just his barely-there touch. “Please.”

Next thing you know, Daniel’s fingers are hooking around the waistline of your panties and pulling them off. Still painfully fucking slow, but at least he’s doing something other than teasing you. Your panties fall to the floor with barely a sound and Daniel’s lips are slowly kissing their way down your thigh.

You let out a soft moan when his teeth dig into the soft flesh on your femur, leaving another mark there, as if it was proof. As if anyone needed to know that Daniel was there. It’s not like there was anyone other than Daniel that’s touched you like this, anyway, so the marks were more so for you than for anyone else.

Like a keepsake.

Something so sacred and so precious that it mustn’t be shared with the world. Your little secret. It feels almost religious, the way his lips caress your thighs and how he bites you with the hunger of a starved man. Now, he got a taste of your lips and he can’t get enough.

Daniel tries his best not to eat you out immediately, but the urge grows stronger with every soft whimper and plea that leaves your lips as his teeth dig into your skin.

He’s taking so painfully long, the ache between your legs getting almost unbearable. Daniel’s lips kiss your inner thigh and finally, his head dips lower.

“So wet for me, love,” he says, under his breath as he’s taking in the beauty of you. He can’t get enough of you, the more he sees. You feel him spread you open, and so you spread your knees apart giving him more space.

One of his fingers slowly rubs your sensitive clit, already throbbing at the mere thought of him touching you. You feel a slender finger of his slowly tease your hole as his thumb sloppily rubs your clit. He’s still teasing, despite seeing how badly you’re squirming under his touch.

Just when you’re about to beg again, you feel his tongue make contact with your clit and your eyes flutter closed. His tongue flicks over your throbbing bud and you bite back a moan. You feel him smile against your core as he lathers his finger up in your wetness and slowly pushes it inside you. You can’t fight the moans anymore, his finger pumping in and out, and his tongue on your clit getting too much to handle.

The dizziness of an orgasm slowly floods your brain as he pleases you so harmoniously. His tongue moves in tune with his fingers and the vibration of his own moans adds that extra bit of pleasure you were chasing.

“I’m close,” you manage to whisper under your breath. Daniel’s tongue adds more pressure on your clit and his fingers curl inside you, and your hand slides down to grip onto something just so you don’t completely collapse into the mattress. Your fingers tug on his curls and Daniel groans into you.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he urges you, pulling away for a mere second yet the absence of his tongue made you crave it even more.

It takes just that one last petname for you to come undone on his fingers. You feel Daniel lapping you up, licking every last bit of you up before he pulls away and licks his fingers clean. His lips return to attacking your neck as he pulls off his cum-soaked boxers.

All it took was hearing those sweet, sweet sounds coming from your mouth and he was coming undone, too.

You’ve barely recovered from the orgasm when you feel Daniel reach over and grab a condom from the drawer of the hotel nightstand. You watch with half-lidded eyes as he tears the small packet open with his teeth, spitting the trash somewhere to the floor and next thing you know, he’s rolling the condom onto himself, and aligning his dick with your entrance.

“Dan-” you get cut off with the painfully slow thrust that stretches you out unlike anyone has ever before. You didn’t expect him to be so big. He bottoms you out so perfectly, it makes you hum in content.

“You like that?” Daniel looks down at you, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “You like me filling you up? Huh, pretty girl?” He says, in between kisses to your neck.

Daniel hasn’t moved yet, letting you adjust to the size of him. And also because he likes to just watch you— the anticipation on your face as you wait for him to move, that single teardrop in your right eye at the feeling of him stretching you out, the crimson red in your cheeks from what happened just minutes ago.

When you feel Daniel pull out, as slow as possible, you feel some sort of relief. It’s only when he starts pushing back in, that you lock eyes with him and shake your head. “Wait.”

Daniel nods his head at you, his eyes half-lidded and looking deep into yours. “You can take it, c’mon.” His deep, australian accent stirs up some sort of feeling in your belly.

You feel his fingers brush hair away from your forehead, Daniel thrusting in as slowly as he can. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you and make this displeasurable for you. But he knows he’s big and he knows exactly how to use it.

He pulls out again, his lips trailing soft kisses down your neck. The way you moan his name hasn’t left his head since the first time, and hearing the absence of it makes him want to be aggressive, fuck you til you can barely think, use you like you’re his toy. But you’re not. He wouldn’t let himself treat you like that, no matter how much he’d want to.

You feel more comfortable now with the size of him, yet he’s still so careful with you. You feel his fingers softly caress your cheek as his hand comes down from pushing hair away from your face, and he keeps kissing you in a way that feels almost like he’s worshipping you.

“That okay?” You feel his voice vibrate against your neck when he speeds up his thrusts just a little. “Tell me what you need, love, I’ll take care of you.”

The way he’s so gentle paired with his accent makes you squirm underneath him. “Faster, ah shit—“ You can’t even finish your thought when you feel him pulling out and thrusting into you faster than before. “Harder, I need… Need to feel you.”

“Is that so?” You feel his lips pull into a smirk against your skin. He’s marking you up again. You’re not sure how you’ll hide all the hickeys, and, frankly, you don’t think you want to. It’s hot how possessive he is of you, despite you not being his.

The amount of marks he’s left on your body is only half as much as he’s been dreaming of.

Daniel knew this moment would come sooner or later. So many sleepless nights, jerking off to the thought of your pretty little self wrapped around him, moaning his name. It almost feels like a dream, now that it’s become reality.

“Daniel,” you moan his name, your hand reaching down to play with your clit as you feel another orgasm approaching. “I’m…”

Daniel understands you without words, keeping up the same pace, but rolling his hips against yours as you chase your high. He feels himself twitch inside you, his own orgasm soon to follow.

The Australian doesn’t answer you, instead moaning out your name, followed by a few curse words, as his thrusts become sloppy. Your walls pulse around him and that tips him over the edge as you both come undone. “Fuck,” he mumbles into your mouth, sloppily kissing you with the dizziness of his orgasm still lingering. “You did so good for me, baby.”

“Mhm,” all you can do is hum. Your eyes are closed and you’re so tired you could sleep, but Daniel’s not done with you. You feel him pulling out and discarding the condom, and you’re sure you’ll both go to sleep now. But you’re proven wrong when he flips you over and sits you down in his lap, him leaning back against the headboard.

“You think you can gimme another one?” He asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He smiles softly when you shake your head. “You can’t take it?”

You look at him and realise he’s referring to his cock. The angle at which you’ll be riding him will allow him to completely fill you up, and that thought turns you on. “I can.”

“Knew you could.” Daniel pulls you by the neck, so you lean down, and kisses you. Less hungry, less aggressive. You feel a soft touch on your hips, his hands gripping them ever so gently to guide you back onto his cock. You whimper into his mouth when he stretches you out again. “I know, baby.” Daniel mumbles against your lips.

You brace your hands where his shoulders join his neck, and you earn a low moan from Daniel’s lips. Daniel’s hands are still on your hips and you feel him slowly moving them, helping you adjust as his mouth catches all the quiet moans and whimpers.

He pulls your hips down as far as they go and it hurts you in the best way, your fingers curling around the base of his neck. The vibration of a moan travels underneath your fingers and escapes through his lips, and you feel the grip of his fingers tighten on your hips.

Both of you moan into each other’s mouths and your hips jolt forward at the feeling of Daniel biting your bottom lip. He grips your hips and keeps you still as he continues attacking you with his lips. “Don’t rush.”

You feel his grip lighten on your hips and he helps you slowly move them. So slowly there’s barely any movement, but you prefer it this way. Maybe next time, you’ll ask him to fuck your brains out.

Daniel groans again when your fingers grip his neck tighter. It’s only then you realise he likes to be choked and the smallest smirk grows on your lips. Daniel can’t help but subconsciously buck his hips, thrusting into you. “Fuck.”

He needs you as badly as you need him, and that alone could make you melt into a puddle.

You trail kisses down his stubble, feeling the outline of his jaw with your lips. On his neck, you reciprocate the same thing he’s done to you this whole night. You suck on his tan skin and bite down softly in his shoulder, the rumble of his deep growl turning you on.

“Eager, aren’t we?” He says between strained breaths, when your lips trace over the side of his neck. You place tiny kisses before softly sucking on it and hearing the exact noises you expected to hear. He groans, trying his best to hold it in, but he can’t resist.

The noises he makes, the rasp and the groans, all make you want him even more and your hips start moving subconsciously. You moan against his shoulder when he helps you grind your hips into his.

You keep up the same pace and continue marking his skin. Daniel’s melting under your lips, and you feel every little shiver of his body when your skin ghosts over the sensitive parts of his skin. Your hands have found their way to the back of his head, playing with the soft curls as your hips slowly speed up, granting you a smile from the Australian's lips and a shaky breath leaving his nose.

“This okay?” You ask, pulling back to look at the mess of a man under you. The curls at the front of his head are stuck to his forehead, his eyes half-lidded and lips parted in such an inviting way. This sight alone makes you wonder what took you so long to do this.

Daniel nods, his hands softly speeding your thrusts up. His breath hitches and he looks at you. “That’s perfect, baby.”

You smile softly, watching how Daniel’s lips part when your thumb softly caresses his bottom lip. You lean in and kiss him gently, feeling how the last bit of your night is slipping past your fingertips. But the way he’s reacting to you, and the way he so carefully fucked you, makes you think that this isn’t the last time you’ll be close like this.

The quickening pace causes you to whimper into his mouth, his hands grabbing your hips again when you don’t keep up the pace yourself. “C’mon, cowgirl. I know you can do it.”

Daniel watches as you bring your hand down to where you’re both joined, and it turns him on to see you pleasuring yourself while he’s inside you. You rub your clit, sloppily and tired, and the soft gasps and moans leaving your mouth cause Daniel to speed up the pace himself.

His hands are still guiding your hips, but now he’s fucking into you and both of you bask in the noises of skin-to-skin contact and your shaky moans. Your breath hitches when you try to speak through your high-pitched moans.

You feel the rush of your third orgasm flooding in, taking over any ability to communicate with the man underneath you. He can feel your walls closing on his cock, his own release coming sooner than he’d thought. You speed up your pace and arch your back when you ride him, feeling him hitting your cervix. It takes less than a few seconds before both of you reach your climax, Daniel’s fingers digging into your hips and your hands holding onto his neck, applying just enough pressure for him to enjoy it.

Daniel’s chest heaves when he pulls you down to lay on him. You’re inhaling his intoxicating scent as his fingers brush through your hair and he kisses your hairline. “We gotta clean you up, baby.”

“Mm, no.” You shake your head, wrapping an arm around his torso. “Tired.”

“You won’t need to do a thing.” Daniel kisses your forehead again and picks you up, carefully carrying you into the bathroom and sitting you down on the toilet as he starts up a bath for you. You watch the way his back stretches as he turns off the tap and the way he swirls his hand in the water to check the temperature. He turns back to you with the softest look in his eyes. He hooks his arms underneath your knees and arms, picking you back up and placing you in the tub.

“Fancy,” you say with a small smile, your fingers tapping the black marble on the wall. You feel the water quickly warming you up and relaxing you, and you lean back into the tub with a pleased sigh. Daniel starts helping you wash up and you look up at him, his eyes looking at you as softly as they did back at the club. “Why won’t you get in?”

“Do you want me to?” His smooth voice blooms butterflies in your belly. Daniel stands up and gets into the bath across from you when you softly nod. He pulls you to sit with your back leaning against his chest, and you sink into his embrace. He pulls your hair back from your face to get a clearer look at you. “Princess?”

You turn your head to look at him. “Hm?”

He softly cups your jaw and turns you to face him further, his lips softly brushing against yours. Daniel pulls away and looks at you, examining your face. “Let me wash your hair for you.”

The gentleness of the question made you think for a second that, maybe, you could do this more often. Maybe someday you could be more than this.

Daniel’s fingers softly worked the shampoo into your wet hair, his fingertips massaging your scalp in a way you’ve never felt. He smiles when you sigh in relief. “Feels good?”

“Very,” you mumble, completely unaware of how lovingly Daniel’s looking at you.

You feel him tracing a finger down your spine, softly caressing your back as he does so. He washes the soap away, careful not to get it in your eyes. The gentleness in his calloused hands was astonishing. You felt it back when he was gripping your hips, or when his hands just travelled your body. It amazed you how such rough hands could be so gentle.

Daniel helps you soap the rest of your body, his hands carefully travelling over your skin as if he’s afraid to hurt you. You help him do the same.

He’s the first to get out, his hair dripping onto the tile floors as he grabs a towel to put on the floor and another towel to dry you off. The Australian helps you dry your hair, careful as always. His arms hook around your legs and arms again, carrying you back to the bed.

You watch him as he bends down to his suitcase, grabbing two pairs of boxers and one shirt. He tugs the black boxers on and makes his way to you. Daniel helps you put the orange boxers on, smiling when you become shy the closer he gets.

“Sit up.” You do as told and Daniel puts the shirt on you. You look down to see that it’s a dark grey shirt with a faded rock band’s logo on it. Daniel meets your gaze and you both smile at each other, slightly awkward and maybe a little nervous.

Daniel lays down in his spot on the bed, leaving some space between you two. You turn to him and lay your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping around you. The steady rise and fall of his chest makes for a perfect lullaby as your eyes begin to close.

His voice cuts you off from falling asleep. “Do you still hate me?”

“Definitely.”

“Just as much?” His puppy dog eyes look down at you, waiting to see if you’re serious or not.

“Hm… Maybe,” you pinch your fingers, bringing your hand up to show him the space between your pointer finger and thumb, “a little less.”

Daniel laughs at your answer, before kissing your lips and pulling you closer into him. “Good to know.”

🖇️ taglist for this fic: @taina-eny @itsallrandomcontent @barnestatic @ilove-tswizzle @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @marianastudiesart @macintosh-44 @moonvr @formula1mount @brettlorenzi3 @oscarssgirl @akimh @imalishaa

#formula one #formula 1 #f1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo smut #formula one smut #formula one x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader

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ilongfor-the-arts · 1 year

Note

Hi! Can I request a Carmy fic? I would love a confident reader who is maybe Sydney’s friend who comes to visit her at the restaurant. Asks her “who’s that?” when she sees Carmy in the background and tells Syd she has a hot boss (and Carmy overhears and likes her too). You can take it from there (with hopefully some smut)….I think Carmy would be emboldened if he knew that someone clearly liked him

More Than Friends

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem! Reader

Warnings: language, talking about sex, smut, oral (m! Receiving), office sex

Summary: *in req*

Word Count: 2.8k

When I heard Sydney had gotten a job at "the best restaurant in the world," I imagined something a little more refined than The Original Beef of Chicagoland. Standing in front of the filthy sign, cluttered windows, and peeling facade made me question my decision to meet Sydney's "friends." I can only imagine the types of people who would gladly work here.

“Alright, I know it doesn’t look like much. But I promise, once you taste the food, you’ll never wanna eat anywhere else.”

I dragged my gaze across the unassuming appearance of "the best restaurant in the world." I'm not one to pass judgment based on appearance, but a dirty facade is not something you want to see in a place where food is being prepared for your consumption.

"Alright, Syd,” I say with a sigh, “I’m choosing to trust you on this one.”

Syd grasped my hand, tugging me through the threshold.

“Great! You won’t regret this Y/N.”

I permit Sydney to lead me into the restaurant. My nose was immediately filled with wonder. Considering the facade, the smell was impeccable.

“Woah.”

I said, staring aimlessly at the unkempt kitchen because the smell didn't match the appearance.

“What?”

Syd asked, worried something was not to my liking.

“I just- wow, it smells unbelievable in here.”

Sydney’s face broke into a pearly white smile.

“I know right! God, I was so worried you were gonna hate it!”

I looked all around the restaurant. It was shabby, dirty, and a little stuffy. In the corners of the room, the paint was beginning to peel. On the counter, a thin film of dust had accumulated. However, there was something that was quite adorable. For instance, it seemed as if this would be a great place for a first date. It appeared to be a location where many happy memories were stored.

“Hm.”

I hummed, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I don’t wanna speak too soon, but this certainly feels promising.”

“Oh my God just wait until you meet the crew! They are gonna love-”

“Sydney?!”

A moving figure that appeared behind the counter caught my attention.

Oh my God.

“Who is this?”

He pointed towards me.

“This is Y/N, the friend I was telling you about?”

His eyes landed on mine. He was gorgeous, God. I was almost angry at Sydney for failing to inform me about her sexy coworker.

“Oh, this is Y/N?”

Alright, now was the time to take command.

“Hey, I’m Y/N.”

I strolled over and optimistically extended a hand for him to take. His shocked gaze lingered over my friendly gesture.

“Oh- Um, hi Y/N, I’m Carmen…”

As Carmen clasped my hand in his, his voice drifted off. He had a powerful handshake. We were off to a fantastic start.

“But, um-my friends just call me Carmy.”

I grinned, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jeans.

“So, is it alright if I call you Carmy?”

He raised his eyebrows in surpirse.

“Well, I mean-um-that depends? Do you think were gonna be friends?”

I scoffed, my grin morphing into a subtle smirk.

“Y’know, I don’t know if I wanna be friends.”

It took a minute for him to get it, but once he did, the reaction was instnat. Carmen’s lips parted, a faint shade of pink creeping onto his cheekbones.

“Well, um-”

He looked to Sydney for solitude. She chimed in.

“Hey, um, Y/N, we only have about an hour until we open.”

She came around to my side, wrapped her arm around my shoulder, and led me to the kitchen. She was directing my attention away from Carmen.

“How ‘bout we take a look around and then I can make you some food to take home?”

I nodded.

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

I removed myself from the uncomfortable blanket of awkwardness once we were in the kitchen and a considerable distance away from Carmen.

“Okay, what the hell Syd? Why didn’t you tell me you had a hot coworker!”

Sydney pressed her finger to my lips, hushing me. Her face was filled with fear. Was my flirtation really that petrifying?

“Sh! Y/N, he’s not just a coworker he’s my boss!”

My jaw dropped to the floor, my eyes widening.

“No way in hell! He’s your boss?! The man I just talked to is your fucking boss?!”

“The man you just flirted with is my fucking boss!”

I scoffed loudly, my tone creeping well above a whisper.

“Sydney you have a hot boss!”

“Y/N!”

She exclaimed sternly.

“Please! I beg of you! Try to keep the flirting to a minimum!”

I rolled my eyes.

“Jesus Sydney why don’t you just cut off my leg while you’re at it!”

I flung myself atop a kitchen coutner playfully, dangling my legs.

“I mean, you have this absolute hunk of a man bossing you around and hanging over your shoulder 24/7. You are lucky!”

Sydney crossed her arms over her chest, her lips pursed.

“Please, can you just not flirt with my boss.”

I groaned.

“You are no fun.”

I gnawed on my lower lip, staring into the nothingness past Sydney, letting my mind drift. When a burning question popped into my head, I quickly jerked back into reality.

“Alright, but, can I just ask one thing?”

Sydney sighed.

“What?”

She inquired, exasperated.

“Have you ever tried to-”

She waved her hands through the air, hastily dismissing my question.

“Oh my God please no more of that! No! The answer is no!”

I held my hands up in defense.

“Hey! Don’t attack me! I was just asking!”

Sydney rolled her eyes, her annoynace bubbling within her.

“Look Y/N, Carmen is a really lonely guy. He isn’t like one of those jocks you’re used to flirting with-”

Sydney's tone was tinged with judgment. I had to chime in.

“Woah, okay, when did this turn into criticizing my romantic choices?”

Sydney shook her head, restarting her thought process.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying you are a confident girl and he is very much so a not confident guy. And, I know you’re just screwing around, and even though you might think he knows you're screwing around, I promise you he does not.”

I stared off into space, appearing to carefully consider my next ideas even though I was only messing with Sydney. I mean, really? Don't flirt with her hot boss? Was she for real?

“Alright, so what you’re saying is make it obvious I’m not screwing around before I fuck him?”

Sydney groaned, her eyes virtually rolling to the back of her head.

“That’s absolutely not what I’m saying!”

“Sydney! Get your ass over here I need your help with something!”

Another voice, not Carmen's, reverberated around the kitchen walls. Sydney raced over to me, her voice barely above a whisper. I recoiled, surprised at her sudden closeness.

“I’m saying don’t fuck him! Please!”

She took a step back, placing distance between us. Sydney took a deep breath, steadying herself.

“Now, I gotta go. Are you okay hanging here for a second?”

I nodded, trying to conceal my annoyance.

“Sure. I’ll be okay.”

“Hands to yourself!”

Sydney exclaimed before vanishing from sight. I assumed she'd only take a few minutes, but after about ten minutes of waiting, I decided to go exploring. I stumbled upon an appealing door that was closed off from the rest of the restaurant. I glanced from side to side, ensuring no one was around to witness my snooping.

I flung open the door, eager to discover the secrets of the hidden room. What I didn't expect to find was Carmen hunched over a desk, scribbling on a scrap of paper. When he noticed I was in his office, a look of shock wafted over his features. He blushed.

“Oh! Um, Y/N, what are you doing here?”

I shut the door behind me. Now, it was just me and him, in his office, alone.

Perfect.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, I was just exploring and this door was closed so it excited me.”

I motioned to the door behind me.

“Huh. Do-um, do things that are off limits entice you?”

I strolled over to his desk, trying not to overwhelm him with my seductive attempts.

“Yes. When someone tells me I can’t have something, it makes me want it real bad.”

Carmen scoffed.

“What? Like your friend's hot boss?”

Oh my God.

He heard that?

His cheeks flushed an even brighter shade of pink. He was taken aback by his own self-assurance.

“I mean, um, I didn’t-uh, I-I wasn’t eavesdropping I promise.”

He averted his gaze, suddenly becoming preoccupied with the numerous bills on his desk. I shrugged casually.

“It’s alright. Honestly, I don’t really care. It’s your restaurant after all. You have a right to know what’s going on.”

Carmen scoffed.

“What? Like your friend's hot boss?”

Oh my God.

He heard that?

His cheeks flushed an even brighter shade of pink. He was taken aback by his own self-assurance.

“I mean, um, I didn’t-uh, I-I wasn’t eavesdropping I promise.”

He averted his gaze, suddenly becoming preoccupied with the numerous bills on his desk. I shrugged casually.

“It’s alright. Honestly, I don’t really care. It’s your restaurant after all. You have a right to know what’s going on.”

Through his lashes, he looked up at me. Except for the soothing hum of the air conditioner, there was complete silence. The dim lighting created an intriguing ambience in the space.

“Uh-well, I’m still sorry.”

I grinned, his awkwardness was incredibly adorable.

“Did you happen to hear what Sydney said? Yknow, about the whole…”

I waved my hand through the stuffy air, hoping he'd finish the sentence for me. If Carmen was as unaccustomed to female interaction as Sydney suggested, I would not bring up the subject of sex.

Carmen raised his eyebrows.

“Uh-yeah, I-um, I heard most of it.”

He laughed awkwardly.

“Please don’t fuck my boss.”

He tried to mimic Sydney's tone of voice. I laughed, delighted by his attempts at humor. I trailed my finger down the uneven wood of the desk, attempting to appear nonchalant as I entered unfamiliar terrain.

“Yknow, we can still have fun and not fuck.”

Carmen shifted in his seat, tightening his grasp on the armrests. His knuckles had turned a pale white.

“We don't-y’know-we don’t have to do anything.”

I nodded.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do. But, honestly, do you think I’m attractive?”

The breath hitched in Carmen’s throat.

“Yeah, I do.”

He said, voice cracking slightly. I smirked, fluttering my lashes suggestively.

“Good, cause I think you’re attractive.”

I moved my gaze down his body, enjoying the sight of his toned torso being softly hugged by a white shirt. God, his hands, what I’d give to have them around my neck.

Baby steps.

Carmen shifted once more in his seat, the bulge in his jeans becoming increasingly more difficult to conceal.

“And, if you’ll let me, I’d love to take care of that for you.”

Carmen’s eyes widened.

“Oh-um, you don’t have to-“

“Well, I’m aware I don’t have to. But, yknow, usually when two people are attracted to each other they act on it.”

I slowly dropped to my knees in front of him, staring at him through my lashes. I shuffled closer, settling myself between his spread legs. The gentle smell of sweat and smoke wafted through the air.

“I mean, what’s the point of being attracted to someone if all you do is beat around the bush?”

God, this angle made me want to fuck him even more. He looked extra sexy when he was all hot and bothered.

“Yeah-um, I guess.”

I reached for his jeans, slowly unbuttoning his fly.

“Is this okay?”

Carmen gulped, his lips falling open as his breathing became audible.

“Yeah, this is okay.”

I tugged his jeans down his thighs, exposing his black boxers. Carmen’s erection was growing with every subtle touch.

Jesus, he was big.

I hooked a finger in the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down to join his jeans in a pool on the floor. His cock sprang free, beads of precum already collecting on the swollen tip.

“Oh Jesus.”

Carmen murmured under his breath. His knuckles were white. I playfully cast a glance upwards as I wrapped my hand around his length. Carmen shuddered. His entire body convulsed as I began to pump his erection. A few stray curls fell onto his forehead, and his chest heaved with each strangled breath.

“Try to be quiet, alright? We don’t want Sydney to think I’m fucking her hot boss.”

With that comment, I slipped the tip of his cock into my mouth. Carmen grit his teeth, suppressing the noises that threatened to spill past his lips.

“Does that feel good?”

I asked before hastily resuming my previous actions. Bit by bit, I took Carmen’s thick cock into my mouth. But he couldn’t help himself. Carmen thrusted his hips forward, his tip slamming into the back of my throat. I gagged, his visceral reaction was incredibly unexpected.

“Shit,” he whispered, “I’m sorry. Uh-yeah, yeah, that feels really good. Please, please don’t stop.”

Oh, I was not stopping.

Carmen's tanned body was covered in a thin mist of sweat. Moisture had adhered to the loose curls on his forehead. His pupils had been blown, and his dreamy blue eyes had turned nearly entirely black with passion.

Carmen's chest continued to heave as he attempted to recover control over his own body. He threw his head back, his Adam's apple now exposed.

God, he was sexy. I wanted nothing more than to place a hickey on that lovely neck of his.

The sound of footsteps hurried past the office door. Carmen's eyes widened in disbelief. He placed his fist in his mouth and bit down hard to conceal his desire.

Oh God, the thought of Sydney bursting through the door to find me on my knees with Carmen’s cock in my mouth frightened me. So, I gently took Carmen’s free fist and placed it in my hair, hoping he would take the hint and manipulate me to his liking.

Thankfully, his desire was so prominent that he pushed away his apprehension. He quickened my pace, moving me along his cock more rapidly. I relaxed my body, allowing myself to become a tool to help him achieve his release.

Carmen gripped my roots with such force that I feared my scalp would be pulled from my skull. Nevertheless, I pushed past the pain and discomfort in my knees and worked to bring him to an orgasm.

Carmen instinctively bucked his hips into my mouth, his cock twitching on my tongue. His salty precum coated my taste buds. I dragged my tongue over his swollen tip, his length now twitching more rapidly.

“Fuck! Jesus, I’m gonna-“

Carmen’s voice morphed into a pornographic moan as his hot cum coated my throat. He released his death grip on my roots, taking a few loose strands of hair with him. I gently dragged my lips along his cock a few more times in order to bring him down from his high. When he grew completely soft in my mouth, I removed my mouth from his length with a subtle pop.

I stood, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

“You alright?”

Carmen hastily shoved his cock back into his boxers.

“I’m uh-I’m great.”

He threw his jeans over his hips, tattooed biceps rippling as he redid his fly.

He has nice arms.

I bet he could throw me around really easily.

“I just-um-we open really soon and I-um-I need to get ready there’s still a lot of work to be done.”

Carmen pushed past me. Before he could throw open the door, I placed my palm atop his hand, halting his movements.

“Would you wanna get dinner with me sometime?”

His eyes had returned to their lovely blue.

“Sure, um… I’m super busy but I think I can make something work.”

He grinned softly. He had a beautiful smile. God, this guy needs to get laid.

“Sounds good.”

Carmen and I crossed the threshold into the now-busy front of the restaurant. Employees rushed back and forth. A crowd had gathered around the front door. Carmen tapped my shoulder to attract my attention.

“Could I, um, maybe get your number?”

He asked, chuckling. I crossed my arms over my chest. I grinned devilishly.

“Sorry, I don’t have my phone on me right now,” I began, “oh! But, Y’know who does have my number who you could ask?”

Carmen tilted his head to the side, intrigued.

“Who?”

My eyes crinkled as I grinned sincerely.

Oh, this was gonna be fun.

“Sydney.”

#carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #jeremy allen white x reader #the bear fic #the bear fanfiction #the bear fx #the bear #the bear season 2 #carmy x reader #carmy smut #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear

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wreckedandpolemic · 2 months

Text

mine - matty healy

(mdni) in which your husband feels the need to remind you exactly to whom you belong. a white and gold future fic. 2713 words.

warnings: problematic age gap, daddy kink, branding, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, praise, degradation, mild cumplay, dirty sleazy possessive man

You really, truly didn’t mean to find yourself in this situation. Sometimes, you’ll admit, it’s on purpose, playing up the brattiness until Matty snaps, doling out whatever punishment he wants as you cry and promise to be good next time. This time, though, it isn’t your fault. It isn’t. You can’t help it if your husband’s business partners see his young, hot wife and decide they want you for themselves. Besides, Matty’s always telling you to be polite, so you were. Smiling, laughing at their jokes, leaning forward as you listen with interest.

It’s not your fault if some (old, stupid) man takes that as the wrong kind of interest. Matty watches as he stumbles through attempts to flirt with you, pet names tripping clumsily off his tongue. Steam practically curls off your husband, his face hardening in fury as you smile blithely, accepting the affections without encouraging anything; he doesn't take the hint. When he tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ear, trailing his hand down in a garish attempt to touch your tit, Matty catches his wrist in a punishing grip. “Keep your fucking hands off my wife, yeah? Unless you wanna get knocked the fuck out.” His usually-subtle accent bleeds over his words, roughens their edges. Everyone suddenly becomes very interested in the silverware and heat prickles under your skin as Matty’s grip tightens on your waist, possessive.

He pulls you in for a kiss, slow and deep and an obvious performance, a public message: mine. Matty stays tight with anger the whole evening, the tension in his shoulders not loosening until you’re spread out on the bed, your dress crumpled somewhere on your living room floor and your hair haloed out on the pillow as he stares down at you. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you say cautiously, and his face softens.

“Oh, baby, I’m not mad at you,” he promises, climbing over you to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You accept it eagerly, the bitter taste of red wine lingering on his lips. “Just need to make sure everyone knows whose girl you are, yeah? So pretty, baby. Drives me fuckin’ crazy. You know, every single one of those men wanted to take you home. Can see it in the way they look at you.”

You flush, a note of pride creeping under your skin. “But they can’t,” you say, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

“That’s right. You’re Daddy’s girl, yeah? I’m the only one who gets to take you home, gets to see you all pretty and pleading and spread out for me, yeah? Bet they go home and dream about seeing you like this.” His nails dig into your skin as he grips your hips, snapping the elastic of your panties against your skin.

“Only you, Daddy,” you promise, and Matty presses a kiss between your tits, just over your heart. It thuds faster, calling out for his touch, a wave of love crashing over you as you sigh happily. “All yours,” you say, pouting as he climbs off you and goes to root in a dresser drawer for something.

He comes back to you with an uncapped Sharpie, grinning as you shudder. “Need to make sure everyone knows whose girl you are, yeah?” You nod shakily, Matty kneeling over you and leaning down. The scrape of the pen against your decolletage sends a shiver up your spine, something close to pain but not quite it blooming where the ink stains your skin. Concentration is evident on his face as he writes, the letters bold and clear as he moves down your body. Sitting up to admire his handiwork, Matty plucks at the strap of your bra. “Can you take this off for me, princess? Wanna see your pretty tits.” You obey thoughtlessly, arching your back to slip a hand behind you and unhook your bra, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Naked but for your panties with Matty fully clothed on top of you, you shiver, exposed. There’s something that feels right about it, though, handing Matty all the power like this, and trusting that you’ll only love what he does with it.

“What did you write, Daddy?” you ask, craning your neck to try to read, but the letters are upside down and your skin bends in a way that makes the letters illegible.

Matty pushes you back down gently. “Here, darling. Let me show you.” He slides his phone out from his back pocket and takes a couple of photos before handing it to you. Eagerly, you drink in the sight of yourself, heat in your cheeks and your lips red and kiss-bitten. Then, your eyes track across the words scrawled on your skin. Property of M. Healy. A pulse of heat throbs in your belly so thickly it almost hurts, liquid desire dripping between your legs and pooling in your underwear.

Property. You turn the word over in your mind, savouring the way it traces deliciously up your spine. Matty’s property, his kept girl, his pretty toy, his to do with whatever he wants. The thought makes your head go fuzzy, the idea of being his whenever and wherever he wants melting your insides to goo. “You own me, Daddy,” you murmur, his eyes so wide with lust that they look black.

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he breathes, stripping out of his suit and boxers, his cock thudding against his belly. Eagerly, you slide your panties down your legs and kick them to the floor, watching Matty’s eyes fall to your soaked cunt. “So wet for me, princess. Does it get you off, knowing you’re all mine?” You nod, drool pooling in your mouth as he strokes his cock slowly. “Such a good girl. My good girl. Can see how bad you want it. Bein’ so patient, princess.”

Trembling, it’s a fight to keep still, keep your hands to yourself. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, Matty still just watching. “Please, Daddy,” you whine desperately. “Can do whatever you want to me,” you breathe, and the words finally snare him, his eyes darkening as he falls on top of you.

“Whatever I want, yeah?” he murmurs, a gush of heat flooding between your legs at his words. “C’mon, sweet girl. Legs up for me. Gonna fuckin’ ruin you,” he promises, thumbing over the bold, stark letters on your skin. He dips his head, biting a harsh bruise into your neck, one you know will be luridly purple by the next time he takes you out. You giggle as he takes a greedy handful of one of your tits, grasping possessively. “These pretty tits are mine, yeah?”

“Yours,” you whimper, the heat between your legs unbearable as Matty works his way down your body, repeating it like a litany as he grasps possessively at your skin.

“These hips.” His. “This ass.” His. “These pretty thighs.” His. “This sweet, needy little cunt.”

A strangled moan escapes you as he brushes his fingers featherlight over your clit, teasing. Desperation wells under your skin, your cunt aching with need. “S’all yours, Daddy. ‘M your property,” you moan, rolling your hips up against nothing.

“That’s right,” he grins. “Bein’ such a good girl for Daddy, princess.” A moan of pure lust spills from your lips as Matty licks a broad, flat stripe over your cunt, your hands fisting in the sheets at the wave of pleasure that cascades over you. He laps at you insistently, setting a dizzying rhythm over your swollen clit. You tremble with the effort of keeping still, letting Matty do what he wants while you take it like a good girl. “S’okay, baby. Wanna hear those pretty sounds you make, feel that sweet little cunt grinding on my face,” he murmurs, the words vibrating through your core.

Matty wraps his lips around your clit, the sensation making your body jolt as he sucks on your swollen bundle of nerves. Heat blooms under your skin as Matty tongues at you and moans into your cunt, the vibration rolling gloriously through you. He digs his fingers into your thighs, so hard that you know there’ll be bruises tomorrow, further proof he owns you. Mind-melting pleasure winds deliciously through you, Matty plunging his tongue deep inside you, devouring you from the inside out.

He refuses to fall into a rhythm, refuses to let you get complacent, switching between sucking on your clit, licking at your hole and tonguefucking you at a dizzying pace. Whining incoherently, you fist a hand in his curls and grind your hips up against his mouth. Matty’s nose bumps your clit as you writhe, legs kicking in the air. Molten pleasure melts your brain, dripping sticky from your ears and puddling on the mattress. “Are you close, sweet girl?” Matty asks, pulling away to kiss wetly at your thighs. Your hazy, addled mind struggles to latch onto his words, and you gasp as he blows cold air over your clit. “I asked you a question, princess.”

“‘M sorry, Daddy,” you whimper reflexively. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘m close,” you whine, tugging on his hair to pull him back to your cunt. Matty’s fingers join his tongue, a bolt of ecstasy striking between your legs at the scrape of his calloused fingers. He works skilfully at your clit, your legs turning to jelly as waves of pleasure pin you to the mattress. “F-fuck, Daddy, m’gonna cum, want it s’bad, please, please, please!” you cry out, babbling incoherent pleas into the air above you.

“Go on, darling. Cum for Daddy.” He pairs the words with a harsh pinch to your clit, your body wracking with shudders as you pitch over the edge. Pleasure drips stickily down your spine, your vision blurring as your orgasm crashes through you. Matty doesn’t let up, sucking insistently on your clit, your cunt still pulsing with the aftershocks.

Pleasure tinged with pain kicks under your skin, overstimulation burning between your thighs. “S’too much, Daddy, I can’t–” you whimper, his free hand pinning your hips down when you try to squirm away.

“‘Whatever you want,’ you said,” Matty reminds you, running a finger through your sensitive folds. “What I want is for you to take it like a good girl, okay?” You nod shakily, swallowing thickly around a whine. “There’s my sweet girl. Colour?”

“‘M green,” you promise, shifting your hips and moaning when Matty’s tongue finds your clit again. You choke on a gasp as he sinks two fingers into you, meeting no resistance at your soaked hole.

“Such a good girl,” Matty murmurs, kissing and biting the soft flesh of your thighs, marking you as his, the undercurrent of pain glorious weaved through the pleasure licking up your spine. He finger-fucks you hard, your cunt clenching and legs kicking in the air, a second orgasm already building at the base of your spine. “My fucking girl, yeah?” Your hand drifts unconsciously down to where his name is written just below your tits. “All those men today wanted you, princess. Wanted you so badly,” he coos, your mind staticky as his fingers thrust in and out of you at a pace that sends you reeling. “Wanted my gorgeous, sexy, irresistible, perfect fucking wife,” he groans, punctuating every adulation with a quick, deep thrust, moans spilling endlessly from your lips.

“Can’t have me,” you slur out, your mind off-balance against Matty’s unfaltering pace.

“That’s right, princess,” he says, pride colouring his tone. “You’re mine. All mine. That’s my ring on your finger, my name next to yours.” he growls. Maybe that’s not enough. Maybe I should take you out like this, show the whole fuckin’ world how much you love bein’ all fucked-out for me, wearin’ my name, bein’ my property.” You give a helpless, strangled moan, turned on beyond words. “God, you love that, don’t you, baby? Such a good little slut for Daddy. Do you wanna cum, angel?”

“God, yes, please, please, please!” you scream out, writhing and squirming uncontrollably as the tide of pleasure wells up inside of you, threatening to overwhelm.

Matty kisses your clit softly, your cunt fluttering around his fingers at the sensation. “God, you beg so pretty, baby. Go on, darling, cum,” he orders, and your body obeys. Your second orgasm is even more intense than the first, pure pleasure washing over you and wiping your mind clean. Your vision whites out, a scream you’re only dimly aware comes from your own throat ringing out. Euphoria burns from your core, flooding your limbs, hot and intense.

You come back to Earth to Matty’s tongue working insistent and sure over your clit, your body going boneless against the fervid pleasure winding up your spine. “Again?” you whimper.

Matty pinches your hip with his free hand. “Don’t be a brat. How many times have I told you I wanna spend all day with my tongue buried in this sweet cunt? ‘S what I want, princess, like you said. SHould be thankin’ me. Colour?”

“‘M still green, Daddy. Thank you,” you say dopily, letting your eyes slip closed as pure electricity washes over you.

You lose count of how many times Matty makes you cum, skilled fingers and tongue sending you spiralling over and over and over again. Your body feels barely a body; ecstasy in place of organs, pleasure in place of bones. When he’s finally satisfied, pulling away with his lips and chin fucking dripping with your arousal, your cunt feels sore and swollen, and you know you won’t be walking right for weeks. He climbs over you, pulling your jaw open like you’re a fucking doll and spitting the taste of you into your mouth. You swallow instinctively, smiling up at him and showing off your clean tongue.

“Good girl,” Matty coos. “Got you trained up so good, hm? God, I fucking love you, my girl,” he groans, leaning down to kiss you so that the taste of you smears further across your tongue.

“Love you too,” you say, gazing up into his eyes, lust-darkened but still liquid with adoration. “Yours forever,” you promise, lifting your left hand so your wedding ring catches the light.

Matty kneels up to take in the sight of you, fucking wrecked for him, his eyes blowing wide at his name in stark ink on your skin. He unbuckles his belt, freeing his cock, flushed red and drooling. Two fingers swipe through your soaked cunt, and you whimper at the prospect of cumming again. “S’okay, darling, m’not gonna make you go again,” Matty promises, wrapping his wet hand around his cock. “See how hard you make me, angel?” He tips his head back with a groan, slowly pumping his cock. “All for you. M’yours.”

“Made for each other,” you say breathily, eyes glued to the point where his cock disappears into his fist.

Moaning low in his throat, Matty nods. “Made for each other,” he agrees, fucking his fist wildly. You can tell from his face, the way his motions get more erratic with every passing second, that he’s close. With a gasp of your name, he’s cumming, white ropes splashing on your belly and over your tits. His jaw goes slack as he gazes down at you, his cum splattered over the brand of his name driving him wild. “Fuck. Look so fuckin’ gorgeous, darling. God, I wanna keep you like this forever.”

You giggle. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Can I?” he murmurs, awed.

“As many as you like, Daddy,” you smile. “I’m your property, remember? Your little slut. Your pretty cumdump.”

Matty gives a shuddering moan. “For such a princess, you’ve got a filthy fuckin’ mouth,” he chuckles, retrieving his phone from his discarded jacket. He takes at least a dozen pictures, pausing in between each to stare at you, unabashed arousal in his face.

“I learned it from you,” you smirk; you both know that isn’t true, but he likes hearing it. You drag two fingers through the mess on your stomach and suck them clean, grinning proudly up at him.

“Fuck,” Matty groans, cock twitching valiantly as he watches you. “God, drives me fuckin’ crazy when you do that. Makin’ me wanna fuck you properly, baby.”

A thrill skitters up your slime. “Please?”

#this is so filthy im sorry i dont know WHERE this came from #but hey if im going to hell ur all coming with me <3 #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #matty healy #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #writing #smut #white and gold

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st4rb3rr13s · 3 months

Text

Bestie

Mikasa and you are best friends!

Warnings: head, scissoring, & fingering

I realized I never made a fic about Mikasa? WTH?? She’s my wife 🤦🏾‍♀️

“Quiet.” Mikasa mumbled.

“I’m sorry, Mika, I can’t help it.” You giggled. Mikasa stared at you in disbelief. She couldn’t believe you, her best friend, couldn’t stop laughing at her emo phase. As if you were any better, having your phases. She never laughed in your face.

“Fine, laugh all you want. I’m going to bed.” Mikasa scoffed, quickly turning her body in the opposite direction.

“Mika.” You sang, wrapping your arms around her. You watched as her eyes closed, trying to sleep. You giggled before kissing her neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Go to sleep.” Mikasa responded. Your wide smile showed no sense of remorse, knowing she wasn’t actually mad. You gave her one quick peck on the cheek before lifting your leg on top of hers.

It was normal to see the two of you cuddling to sleep, especially on sleepovers like this. People would always see you two together, never being separated and always needing to be dependent on each other. Most thought the two of you were dating and the people who knew you two weren’t dating teased you about getting together.

Mikasa and you were just very close friends, besties as you called each other. You could tell Mikasa anything and in return she could do the same thing back. She loved you more than words could describe it and you loved her back.

You started to stir in your sleep. Your body wanted to move, and did it feel good. You eyes slowly opened, seeing Mikasa suck on your clit. You moaned out loud, not realizing she had started. You quickly ran your acrylic nails through her scalp before pushing her head deeper into your cunt.

You two were so close, so close you two have fucked plenty of times before. At parties, sleepovers, hangouts, even at the mall. You two never got caught by anyone because you passed it off as fixing each other’s makeup even if it looked more ruined.

“Fuck, Mikasa!” You gasped.

“Sh, you’ll wake my neighbors.” Mikasa muttered, before eating you out.

Her tongue starts to lap up your cunt before her nose pushes up against your clit. She wanted everything you had to offer, and in return she'd give you the same treatment. Your legs widened even farther, giving her more access to go deeper.

Your newly clustered lashes (which she did herself) start to cling off as sweat and tears fall from your eyelids. Moans could be heard from the bedroom as she kept moving her face up and down, making her nose give friction to your pulsing clit.

Mikasa knew you were close, she could tell from the way your pussy relishes on her tongue. She quickly stopped, watching your chest heave heavily, tiredly looking at her.

“Mikasa.” You whined. The girl smiled before coming up to kiss you. You could taste yourself on your lips. Before you knew what was happening you felt your clit becoming pushed on to hers.

“While you were busy getting your pussy ate.” Mikasa moaned. You felt as her clit pushed back into yours, making you moan out. “I was playing with mine. You get me so wet sweetheart.”

“Mikasa.” You moan.

Her tongue quickly found purchase onto your chest, sucking on your right nipple while her left hand started to play with the other nipple. She kept rocking her hips into yours, conjoining both of your arousal together. Your eyes closed, feeling sensitive to the sensation.

You started to push her away, feeling a tightness in your abdomen. Her other hand held your arms above you, humping you faster. You couldn’t keep down your voice as her name echoed among her four walls. You could hear the bed header slam onto the wall multiple times, the mattress creaking with every swift movement.

“Mikasa, I’m cumming! Please!” You screamed, creaming over her pussy.

She let you ride your orgasm, humping your pussy while sucking harder on your tits. She watched as tears poured from your eyes. Immediate relief was felt, as you started to breathe heavily. Your eyes opened, still feeling calm when you noticed she hadn’t cum yet.

Her innocent state was caught off guard as soon as your finger started to rub fast circles on her clit. Her moans echoed through the apartment, her body laying on top of yours. You knew she was close, knew she couldn’t last long.

One thing about Mikasa, she can cum so easily. Her legs started to tremble as she became wetter and wetter. Her eyes were closed, as her lips tried to say something, tried to warn you but it was too late.

A snap switched from her stomach, yelling as she squirted all over your stomach. Her legs kept twitching as you kept playing with her clit, letting her orgasm keep going until she was completely drained. She panted, before resting her forehead on top of yours. Her sweet little giggle sang through the bedroom before getting up.

“Cmon, let’s take some baths.” Mikasa smiled.

#mikasa x reader #mikasa aot #mikasa ackerman #attack on titan mikasa #snk mikasa #mikasa x black reader #mikasa x female reader #aot mikasa #mikasa snk #aot x black reader #aot x reader #snk x black reader #aot x black y/n #mikasa x y/n #mikasa x you

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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.

2K notes · View notes

ghostsy · 9 months

Text

Birds of Prey

WARNINGS: yandere, nsfw, noncon, abuse, blood, possessiveness, implied kidnapping, implied imprisonment

A/N: the fic i wanted to post is taking too long, so pls enjoy a not very short, not very sweet, slightly unhinged hawks drabble

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! HAWKS X READER

“You’re mine, you know?”

“You’re insufferable, you know?”

A laugh, deep and raspy, filled the space between them as his head fell back in surprise. Though, the fingers digging like claws into the skin of her waist betrayed his irritation.

He brought his face to her own, smile turning razor sharp; that ever present glint in his eyes, while entertained, sparked with a dare she was too stubborn to ignore, no matter the ensuing consequences.

“Pretty pretty Bird,” His tongue poked out from his canines, swiping up to lick the tip of her nose, “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

Rather than recoil in disgust, she leaned closer, fingers threading in his golden locks, “Selfish, mindless, animal,” Each word enunciated with a sharp tug, “Ruin all you like,” Her lips brushed against his ear, and she was met with a pleasured groan, “I’ll ruin you right back.”

“Fuck,” His hips bucked upwards, his clothed hardness grinding against her in a failed attempt to soothe the growing ache, “You promise?”

It was her turn to laugh; it was sharp and spiteful, and she leaned back on his lap to meet his eyes, hands falling to his face to trace the sharp curve of his jaw in resigned admiration, “What makes you think you’ll like it?”

His own hands trailed from her waist to squeeze at the fat of her thighs, fingers sinking like talons as they spread her further, pulling her into him.

“Oh, my pretty Bird,” A hand moved to brush under her shirt, ghosting against the skin, and bringing goosebumps to the surface, “If it’s you,” Dextrous, devious fingers worked their way underneath her bra, “I’ll love it.”

Despite her resolve, a whimper escaped her lips, and the predator under her pounced, shoving her back onto the mattress below them.

Blood red wings spread behind him, and eyes glowing with the celebration of premature victory, he looked like some harbinger of death, beautiful in all his glory, but come to rip her to shreds, and feast on her insides with that golden smile.

She wasn’t far off, she realized bitterly. Though, her chance at revenge came sooner than anticipated when he dove forward, shoving his tongue past her parted lips, licking the taste of her mouth from inside while he tore at her clothes.

And, steeling her nerves, she bit down, teeth tearing into the intruder, replacing the taste of spit with syrupy copper. Her reward came in the form of a strangled groan as he ripped himself from her.

“Fuck—!” A curse, low and raspy with the interruption of dribbling blood.

The sight before her was enough to send her heart leaping to her throat, embers of satisfaction dying as quickly as they lit. If he had looked like a harbinger of death before, now, with the back of his hand swiping crimson to smear across his cheek, feathers puffed and poised to attack, and hair falling to shadow his eyes, the man above her was a type of demon king she tried to force herself not to regret awakening.

He spat to the side, blood dripping from his lips, and turned back to her with a smile more sinister and sharp than she thought him capable of showing. Slowly, he pulled at his own shirt to reveal a body too sculpted and too pretty to belong to him.

“Caged Bird has teeth, does she?” He breathed, “It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, baby.”

“The only game I’m interested in,” She growled, “Is one where you lose.”

She had already scanned the room when she’d woken up dizzy and groggy and surrounded by a space all too familiar but not her own. He hadn’t even bothered with chains. Cocky bastard. There was no place to go where he couldn’t follow, but she’d be damned if she just laid there and took it.

She held her breath, and the pause between them was interrupted by a low, building chuckle that raised in volume and pitch until he fell forward in a fit of giggles underlaid with a twisted and angry amusement.

Lifting his gaze to hers, she found his eyes burning through her with the giddy anticipation of a hawk playing with its food. The condescension was enough to stroke her own need to fight, and she forced a sardonic smile despite her growing unease.

“What? Too much?” Swollen lips pulling into a sneer, “I thought you said you’d love it if I ruined you.”

He snorted, eyes moving to sweep across her body: fabric hanging in threads from her skin, lacey undergarments serving as her only decoration, traces of his blood smearing her lips, and tears that pooled at the corners of her eyes. Too stubborn to give him the satisfaction of falling. God, did he love this woman.

“Between the two of us, little Bird,” He leaned forward, taking her jaw in a bruising grip, and forced her gaze to his own, “I’d say you’re plenty ruined yourself.”

There was a twitch in her brow that sated his ego, and he pushed forward to give her a peck, retreating with the quickness of a man who had learned his lesson. For now, he reminded himself.

“Though,” Still, he couldn’t help but push, “Not nearly ruined enough.”

And he surged forward, taking her throat in one hand, and forced her backwards into the pillow; her legs flailed while her hands shot up to claw at his own. It was time to give her a little lesson of his own.

He settled himself between her thighs, ripping the last of her coverings to leave her bare and thrashing. Her heels kicked at his back, lips parting in short, sharp gasps.

“Fuck–fucking–” A strangled whine, “Bast–bastard–”

“Come on now, Birdie,” He leaned forward, fingers flexing, “If you don’t have anything nice to say,” Nose to nose, his canines gleaming, “You don’t say anything at all.”

With the twitch of her jaw, she pursed her lips, refusing to consider the consequences, and sent a glob of spit flying right at his face, watching with glee as it splattered under his eye.

He jerked back in surprise, releasing her neck to swipe at the offended cheek. Through a fit of raspy coughs, her chest sparked with a sort of vindicated satisfaction.

Her victory was short lived, however, and a burning smack echoed in the empty space, whipping her face sideways, a ringing in her ears growing to match her blurring vision. The strength of a hero, she thought sarcastically.

It was her turn to spit out blood, before her eyes rolled back to him, angry, but cautious. His fingers worked at his belt buckle, and he shirked off his pants in her momentary incapacitation, entirely unbothered by his own sudden show of violence.

She did her best to avoid looking at the monster between his legs, and, like any sign of weakness, he seized the opportunity to mock her.

“Fight all you like, pretty Bird,” A hand was back on her throat, tight, but not squeezing, “But you and I both know this only ends one way.”

She knew she was only delaying the inevitable, but the ache of bruised pride burning in her chest insisted on hurting him back. Hurting him more than he would ever hurt her. Because he would hurt her.

Her hands moved back to his chest, pushing as he wrenched her thighs apart, “Fucking villain,” She’d lost her appetite for this game of theirs, opting instead to let her acidic resentment pour outwards, “Get off.” After all, words were her only true defense.

In a flash his free hand took hold of one frantic wrist, “Villain? I can be a villain,” His face twitched in irritation, and her bones screamed under the force of his fingers, “Keep pushing, and I’ll break it.”

The sudden flip had her hands falling limp, retreating in shock once he released her wrist, and balling into fists beside her head. And as fast as it came, the darkness left him, only that treacherous smugness remaining.

She cursed herself for her fear, put off by the unpredictability of his own emotional landmines. But still, she squared her face back to a disdained neutral, unwilling to show more weakness than he’d already sniffed out.

He pumped at his length, positioning it at her entrance. She was damp, but not nearly prepared enough for the size of him, and he hummed, fingers dipping down to toy at her clit, sending her hips jolting upwards in regretful anticipation.

“Say something nice, baby,” He breathed lazily, “Say something nice, and I’ll make you feel good, too.”

There was a beat as they stared at each other, “I…” She whispered, a growing conflict in her eyes. He leaned down, lips brushing against her own.

“Yeah?” His hot breath spread across her cheeks, “C’mon Birdie, I wanna hear something pretty come from that filthy mouth of yours.”

They were nose to nose, golden eyes piercing into her own, each pair glowing with emotions too loud to speak, “I,” Breathy and wanton, “Would,”

“Yeah? You’d what?”

“Rather fucking die.”

For the hundredth time that night he was taken aback, incredulous laughter his only response as he pulled away from her, eyes snapping back to her own with a promise he’d been eager to fulfill.

“Suit yourself,” And he shoved inside.

A yelp, surprised and pained, “Fuck–!”

He was only halfway in, and rather than let her adjust, he sunk his nails into her thighs as leverage, and forced himself further. She whined in pain, a coat of crimson serving as response around his pulsing length, and he moved to trap her hands in his own, fingers intertwined.

“Tight like a virgin, huh, little Bird?” Once fully sheathed, he set a brutal pace, the head of his cock bruising her cervix with each greedy thrust. His face dipped down to lick a stripe up her stomach, trailing marks up her chest and throat with gnashing tongue and teeth.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” She bit out, trying and failing to pull her hands from his crushing grip, “Wouldn’t know wet pussy if it—mmgh!—if it smacked you in the face.”

He huffed another laugh, “Don’t tempt me, baby,” His hands released her own to dig into the fat of her ass as he pulled her hips upwards and into his own with a renewed violence, grunting as her knees dug spitefully into his sides.

Her newly free fingers clawed at his back, and despite his earlier threat, he seemed to revel in the streaks of red she tore in the skin between his wings, responding in kind with a hiss of masochistic pleasure.

“Not my fault the only way to get your dick wet,” A sharp, pained gasp, “Is to make a girl bleed.”

There was a glint in his eye that brought back her unease, and one of his sinful hands flew to the space where they met, finger pressing with irritating accuracy into her bundle of nerves. His other readjusted to push one leg to her chest, pausing his movement.

“Pain not a good enough lesson for you?” A too bright smile, “Fine with me,” That gleam in his eye sparkled with a sadistic satisfaction, “How ‘bout we see how many times I can make you cum ‘til you pass out.”

And the thrusts returned, chasing his own pleasure while the hand at her clit swirled in circles and stars, faster and faster until a whine more pleasured than pained escaped her lips.

“Like you–fuck–” She groaned as his fingers sped their motions, cock rocking into her with a deliciously savage rhythm she dared not acknowledge, “Like you fucking could–” A moan, full and long, drowned out her words, and her nails dug crescents into his shoulders.

He only hummed in response, her clit twitching under his thumb, “What’s that, Birdie?” A pulsing ache formed in her gut, “Words, baby, use your words,” Her pussy squeezed against his member in a way that had him groaning.

“Fuck you.”

“With pleasure, little Bird.”

He drew his hips back, pulling out of her dripping entrance to tease the hole with his tip, before diving back inside with unfairly gratifying precision against that spongy, tingling spot inside of her. Faster and faster, her bundle of nerves pulsed greedily under his fingers, and her teeth tore into her lip, trying to will the pleasure away, or, more shamefully, will it to peak.

Suddenly, and without warning, there was a blooming inside her that had her eyes rolling backwards, open mouthed moans raising in volume in an attempt to settle the warm buzzing between her thighs.

Though, she couldn’t find it within herself to care about the knowing smirk that pulled at his lips, too focused on his continued thrusts, and the quick rebuild of overwhelming pleasure.

“What are you–Stop!” A groan as he released her clit in favor of throwing both of her legs over his shoulders, and pressed against her chest, fucking into her at an angle that had her seeing stars, “What are you doing?!”

“If I’m correct, baby Bird,” He smiled, turning to press a quick kiss to her thigh, “You’re still conscious,” She growled as he nipped at the skin, but a particularly harsh push inside her cut the murderous thoughts short, “Which means we’ve still got a ways to go.”

His words were smug, but the growing sloppiness of his movements betrayed his own pleasure. Her eyes widened in realization, and her fingers leapt to pull and push at his back, tearing at what feathers she could reach in an attempt to get him off of her. Get him out of her.

“Not inside,” She rasped, “Don’t do it inside–”

“Hmm?” A mocking tilt of his head, “No? You don’t want me to fill you up?” One hand shifted to deliver a harsh slap to her ass, “Breed you like a needy little bitch?”

“Fucking—get off—get off!” She shrieked, beating at his shoulders, “Fucking psycho!”

“Well, that’s not very nice, now is it?” His hips were stuttering, and before she could stop herself, the words shot out through her lips.

“Please,” A couple stray, humiliated tears as she whimpered his name, “Please, not inside. Please, don’t cum inside!”

“Oh, so you do know how to talk pretty,” He breathed, fingers massaging at her abused flesh, “I was beginning to worry.”

“Please,” She swallowed her spit and her pride, “Please–”

“That’s right,” He was panting now, lips meeting her neck, teeth sinking in to add to the ring of bruises, “Beg me some more.”

Throwing her dignity out the window, she obliged, pleas working in tandem with the savage strokes of his cock, trying and failing to ignore her own mounting pleasure until finally he stilled, pouring deep inside her with a raspy groan, and sending her once again over that dreaded and savored edge.

“What’d I tell you, Birdie?” He ignored the defeated, broken whines that left her while they both returned to reality, “You’re mine.”

As his eyes trailed down the collage of her forming bruises, he was sure he bore his own battle scars, heart strangely skipping at the thought. She was his, but he had long belonged to her. A fact he’d hoard to himself as long as he could.

He caught his breath, readjusting to brush sweaty strands of hair from her forehead to behind her ear, pressing a reverent kiss to her temple before pulling away. It was a gesture entirely too soft, and she could have forgotten it was the monster above her had it not been for his next words.

“Oh don’t cry, my broken little Bird,” That vicious golden grin was back, “I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

Looking down at the ruined little thing shaking underneath him, he felt a type of satisfaction one only gets from dethroning a queen, fight fucked out of her. Not for good, he reminded himself gleefully. His pretty Bird was too stubborn for that. His softening cock twitched to life at the thought.

The flare of her nostrils sent lightning in his veins as she growled, “I’ll ruin you,” The words were venomous, humor sucked out in favor of acidic hatred, but his chest only vibrated with a sadistic urge to play, “I’ll fucking ruin you.”

“Ruin all you like, baby,” Breath wet and hot, shaking with anticipation, “I’ll ruin you right back.”

#yandere bnha #yandere hawks #yandere takami keigo #yandere hawks x reader #yandere takami kegio x reader #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere x reader #yandere x you #first and only draft bc we like livin on the edge

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dilemmaontwolegs · 9 months

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Hey! Love the temptation danny story so much! Can i have a follow up request where reader has to go home for vacation due to a family reunion while danny is off somewhere for testing and she tells danny that its ok that she goes alone since he is busy but he keeps insisting that they should go together but reader has already booked a flight and the next following days while the family reunion is going on danny just arrives and everyone gets so starstruck by him and he is so possessive of her while the reunion is going on, LOVE THE FICS BTW YOU ARE AN AWESOME WRITER

The Taste of Temptation || DR3 {6}

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, smut, fluff (two part request) WC: 3.4K F1 Masterlist Story: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven Snapshots: One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Wednesday “Honestly, it’s fine,” you reassured him for the seemingly hundredth time.

Daniel’s suitcase was at the door beside yours except the planes you were leaving from in Nice were going in two very different directions.

“It’s not fine,” he muttered as he checked his Passport was in his back pocket before pulling you into his arms. “I was looking forward to seeing your family again. They’re going to be mine soon too.”

You smiled at the reminder and brushed your thumb over the engagement ring. “You’ll see them at Christmas.”

“Not everyone,” he pointed out. The Christmas get together was going to have both of your immediate family members, with his flying out from Australia. “I want to talk to your cousins.”

“What? Why?” You pulled back to see the mischievous look in his eyes and the smile that promised he was up to something.

“Cousins always tell the truth,” he chuckled. “And I want to know what you were really like as a kid.”

“I was a little angel.”

His hands roamed over your body to settle on your ass and he pulled you flush against him as he teased, “What happened?”

You giggled as you rose on your tiptoes and grazed your nose along his throat before resting your lips on his jaw as you teased him right back, “I fell for a man with a wicked tongue.”

You could see the darkening in his eyes and his lips parted with a filthy suggestion on the tip of his tongue but the blaring of an alarm from his jeans drew a groan out instead. “I’m going to have blue balls for the flight now.”

“You should probably take care of that.”

“It’s a 30 minute drive to the airport, Kitten, you could take care of it along the way.”

It was a strange feeling returning to the town you had grown up in. The streets remained the same, trees lining the curb and kids playing in the front yards, but the faces were all unrecognisable. Like you, most of the people you knew had fled as soon as they finished high school, searching for something bigger than what this place could offer.

Nearly every parking space on the street was taken by your extended family but your dad had saved one for you near the house with the recycling bin. It was a good thing too because Daniel had kind of spoiled you as he walked you to your boarding gate. He hadn’t been able to resist dragging you into the duty free shops in the terminal and now the extra baggage was missing the pair of hands that carried it for you. You had told him it was too much but he just kissed you until you forgot about arguing. It wasn’t fair, you could never win an argument when he cheated like that.

You got the feeling everyone had been waiting for you because the moment your car door closed they all filed out of the house to come and help with your luggage.

“There’s the city-slicker, welcome home,” Vanessa greeted with a kiss on your cheek before pouting as she saw the empty front seat. “Damn, thought you were bringing the sugar daddy with you.”

“Don’t call him that, he’s not my sugar daddy,” you warned with a roll of your eyes but your cousin clearly wasn’t paying attention. “Daniel is with the Red Bull guys in Japan for some big event. He wishes he could come but they called in everyone: Scotty, Liam, Mad Mike, they all had to be there too. ”

Your dad took the suitcase from your hand and nodded understandingly. “That’s a shame, but at least my little girl has finally come home.”

Your bedroom hadn’t changed all that much since you left to go to university and you could see the pin pricks and faded lines in the wallpaper outlining where your posters used to be.

“Ohh, this is gorgeous,” Nessa grinned as she helped herself to the garment bags, the tags still on the designer clothes Daniel had bought you. “So am I going to meet this not-your-sugar-daddy before the wedding?”

“You could come to Christmas if you want, and go ahead, try it on,” you sighed before flinching at the squeak she made before abandoning her clothes like you were still kids and stepping into the first dress. “Nice to see you haven’t outgrown stealing my clothes.”

“There’s a reason we are the same size, it's fate. Karma herself said, Nessa, you deserve to wear nice things too,” she joked as she turned around. “Do me up?”

“You are so full of shit,” you laughed as you zipped her up. “Am I going to get that back?”

“Do you have a sugar daddy?”

“No.”

“Well there's your answer.”

Friday “Hey Kitten,” Daniel greeted with a bright smile when the video call connected. “How’s it going?”

You leaned the phone against your mirror so you could continue to apply your makeup and held up two shades of lipstick. “Just getting ready to go out with Nessa. How’s the event? I haven’t seen many pictures.”

“Left hand, and you won’t - they are keeping everything under wraps until they have finished filming. Think the Melbourne GP promo vid, but bigger…”

You opened the lipstick he chose, the one you knew he would since he always complimented the shade on you - and when it transferred to his skin too. He fell silent as he watched you lean closer into the mirror, leaving the swell of your breasts filling his screen.

“Kitten…I wish I was there,” he sighed when you pulled back and blew him a kiss to show the colour off.

“I wish you were here too,” you admitted, taking the phone with you as you sat on the bed and hugged your pillow. “Two days down, four to go.”

“You’re still counting in days? I’m counting in hours, fuck it, minutes.” He sent you a screenshot and you saw the countdown timer on his homescreen, the hours and minutes slowly ticking away until you were reunited. “Where are you and Nessa going? Is Carter going too?”

You shook your head at the question. Vanessa’s brother was far too busy with his new girlfriend to want to go to the local bar. “He’s too cool to hang out with us at the Old Oak Inn.”

Daniel sat up a little straighter and didn’t appear too pleased at the news. “Is anyone going with you?”

“Ness.”

“You know what I mean,” he huffed, “who is going to look out for you two?”

“Everyone knows everyone here, baby, we’ll be fine.” You gave him a smile as your chest warmed with the same gooey feeling you got every time he worried about you. “I love you, my protective he-man.”

“I love you too, Kitten,” his face softened until he heard Max calling his name outside his hotel door. “Send me lots of pictures, baby, I wanna see my gorgeous girl having fun.”

Nessa burst into the room as you ended the call and ripped the pillow away from your arms. “Get up, bitch, the taxi is here.”

The bar had changed a lot since you last went, the atmosphere more akin to a club than a pub, and you narrowed your eyes at Nessa who just grinned back. “You said it was a chill night out.”

“I lied,” she said with a shrug. “We can go back if you’d rather get in a fight over monopoly?”

You cringed at the thought so she dragged you through the busy room and straight to the bar.

“Holy shit, we have royalty in the house,” an old school friend greeted as he tended to the bar. “Did Monaco get too busy?”

“Not quite, Mark, I’m just back for a family reunion.” He placed your old favourite drink down without having to ask and you quirked an eyebrow at it.

“I have a good memory, but it might taste better than it did in the old plastic cups we drank out of,” he laughed before pouring a bourbon for Nessa. “Milady.”

He wandered off to serve someone else and you turned to Nessa. “You and Mark?”

“A few times, you know, just a bit of fun,” she said as she winked at him when he glanced back. “Oh, head down, Andrew’s here.”

You ducked into her arms and kept your head down until she said you were safe and sighed with relief. “Jesus, everyone really does come here. Is there any other bar around?”

“If you want to catch an STD off the bar top, sure. Plus, your high school sweetheart will probably find his way to Ruby’s later anyway.”

“We dated for like four months, I wouldn’t call him my highschool sweetheart,” you scoffed.

Nessa’s brow lifted. “Need I remind you he took your V Card? Your first always has a teeny tiny place in your heart.”

“Not mine, and Danny took my A Card so that trumps it.”

“A Card…?” she trailed off before her eyes widened in realisation. “Ew gross. Did it hurt?”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“Whatever, we both know how you get after a few drinks.” She grabbed your phone and held it up as she raised her glass and you clinked them together before tipping them back. “Perfect. And done.”

You barely caught your phone as she carelessly tossed it back and you saw she hadn’t sent it to Danny but uploaded it to Instagram. “Fucksake, Nessa, you left the location on.”

You had learned quite quickly that most of the people that followed you only used it to see updates Daniel might not have posted himself, including using the locations of your posts thinking Daniel would be with you. It had led to a few scary situations before you learned to keep your location off or at least generalised - but she had tagged the Old Oak Inn.

Taking another photo with a pout, you posted it with the caption, ‘half of my soul is half a world away, miss you danielricciardo’ and hoped it would stop some people within driving distance from making the pointless journey hoping to see Danny.

You opened the photo again and zoomed in to see Andrew in the background, his eyes clearly looking at your ass when the camera snapped.

“What made you happy all of a sudden?” Nessa asked as she returned with fresh drinks.

“Danny’s on his way,” you giggled nervously as you clutched your phone to your chest.

“I thought he couldn’t come.”

“He couldn’t, and he shouldn’t, but I don’t think there’s anyone with the balls to stop him. He can be a little stubborn sometimes.” It was a severe understatement and if he wasn’t such a good driver you were certain he would have been fired for some of the escapades he found himself in because he got a little overprotective and possessive when he was away from you. “Christian Horner offered me a job just so I could be wherever Daniel was and keep him in line, but I think it was a joke.”

“You need to accept it, joke or not, your man is whipped for you.”

You took a sip of your drink before you spilled the truth about who really did the whipping and pondered the idea you had initially laughed off. You could still work a similar role with Red Bull, so maybe it shouldn’t have been brushed off so quickly. For tonight, you would focus on having fun with Nessa and catching up with old friends.

Saturday You groaned at the dawn light that brightened the room as the curtains were ripped aside and rolled over. “Nessa, piss off.”

“Something bothering you, kitten?”

You probably looked like a zombie coming to life as you threw your blankets back and rushed up to meet Daniel as he climbed onto the bed. The old frame creaked unused to the extra weight on it but you didn’t care if it collapsed, you weren’t letting go of Daniel once he was in your arms.

“You’re actually here,” you murmured against his lips when you finally broke apart to breathe. You had kept looking over your shoulder all night expecting him to appear but when the bar closed and he still hadn’t arrived your hope had simmered down.

His smile was blinding as he brushed your messy hair back and buried his face in your neck with a deep inhale. He was a cat high on catnip the moment his nose brushed your racing pulse and he guided you back into the sheets as he caged you beneath him. “Told you I’d see you soon.”

“My parent’s room is next door,” you whispered as his hips settled between your legs and he teased you when he rolled them against you.

“Then I suggest you find something to bite,” he chuckled, his fingers slipping into your panties and feeling how your body had instantly reacted to his touch, “because I have missed you so much. I just need to feel you around me. right now.”

His lips parted and he sighed at the pretty sight as he dragged your panties down your legs. “There’s my pretty kitty,” he mused as he shuffled down the bed so he could settle between your legs, kissing your thighs softly as he reacquainted himself after three days apart. “Have you missed me?”

“Like crazy.”

“She thinks I’m talking to her,” he whispered and you felt the warmth of his breath on the sensitive spot he was confessing to. You giggled at the silly man and squirmed with the silent plea for him to stop talking and do more, the bed creaking with the movement. Daniel grabbed your hips and held them still so the bed fell silent before shaking his head with an amused smirk. “Impatient little minx.”

Rather than take the taste you knew he wanted, he flipped you onto your knees and pushed your head into the pillow to silence the sounds that spilled forth as he curled two fingers into your cunt. A few flicks of his wrist were the only preparation he gave your body before his shorts were halfway down his thighs and he replaced his fingers with his cock.

Your pillow heated with the heavy moan that filled it and it grew damp as your teeth clamped down on the satin slip. It had only been three days but the burn of the stretch danced the fine line between pleasure and pain until he reached around your hip and found your clit.

“Fuck you’re tight, kitten,” Daniel grunted, his lip almost bleeding as he bit it to keep quiet and pulled back a little so you could acclimate to his size again. “You okay, baby?”

You answered by pushing yourself back, needing him as much as he needed you, and you relished in the full feeling when your ass met his body. His heavy breathing broke the quiet morning and he covered your back, pressing his lips to your spine and following the line to your neck.

“Lay down for me.”

Unwilling to part with you for a moment, he helped you onto your stomach and carefully shifted until his legs were outside of yours and your thighs pressed together. The pillow muffled your moans as the position increased the feeling of fullness and he rode you with long smooth strokes, keeping the bed from creaking.

“Three days was too much, kitten,” he confessed quietly as he kissed your shoulder. “I can’t go a day without you. Want you with me, always.”

Despite the exhaustion of the late night and early wake up, you weren’t able to get back to sleep, even with Daniel there to spoon you. A knock at your door had put an end to that plan and you were reminded that everyone was getting ready to go to the lake for a day out on the water.

Everyone except Vanessa were surprised to see Daniel joining you for breakfast and you got the best pick of the cooked meal while they all fawned over the celebrity.

“Alright, alright, leave him be,” you said as you moved them along and handed him a plate you had filled before sitting on his lap. Seats were in short supply with so many people coming and going that you were happy to share one. “I know he’s a bit weird but try to treat him normally.”

“Morning, Sugar,” Nessa teased quietly as she took the seat beside him.

“Ness…meet Daniel, officially,” you said, since she had seen him on a video call.

“We met this morning, didn’t we, Sugar? Who do you think let him in? We had a great chat about you.”

She was finding it too amusing and Daniel’s shoulder bounced with a laugh as he stuffed bacon into his mouth to avoid commenting. “I thought you were joking.”

“I told you, cousins always tell the truth,” he chuckled before kissing your cheek. “She didn’t tell me anything new though; I already knew you were smart and beautiful.”

“She was just saying that so she could keep the Givenchy dress she stole.”

“Pfft, not true, but I can totally play it up if you want to part with the Jimmy Choos too.” She turned her attention to Daniel who had been thoroughly enjoying the interaction while idly massaging your hip. “Did she tell you that she climbed up a tree to save a cat? The fire department gave her a medal for it. Or this one time she single-handedly stopped a bank robbery.”

“Oh my god,” you snorted at the absurdity.

“Don’t get me started on how she took down an international crime syndicate with a muscle car.”

“Who am I? Vin Diesel? Just shut up.”

“No, no, give me more,” Daniel encouraged. “I thought Lando was imaginative but this is next level.”

You could see the moment her train of thought was lost and a sly smile grew. “Think you could introduce me?”

“To Lando? No way, you would eat him alive.”

“Come on, I introduced you to Drew so you owe me.” You felt Danny’s hand stop the calming circles and wished she had kept her mouth shut as he asked who Drew was. “Andrew, her first boyfriend, well only boyfriend before you, I thought you would have known, my bad.”

Breakfast was fairly quiet after that and you knew Daniel had questions he was just waiting to ask when he got you alone. Fortunately, you could put them off for a few hours as you all set off to the lake, the distraction of you in a bikini enough to placate him in the meantime.

“So this Andrew…” he stated as he pulled you into his arms and waded out deeper into the warm water. “Why haven’t I heard about him?”

“Because it was years ago?”

“Did you love him?”

“I was 17, I didn’t know what love was,” you laughed as you combed your fingers through his hair. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” he scoffed, but it was clearly a lie.

“Baby, you’re the only man I have ever loved, and the only one I will ever love - with one exception.” His eyes narrowed and you giggled as you kissed his cheek. “If we have a kid someday and it’s a boy, then I would love him too.”

The corners of his eyes wrinkled with the smile that split his face. “I suppose I could live with that.”

“Good, so forget about Andrew. You are everything I want and need.”

“So long as I don’t have to cross paths with the bastard that took your innocence.”

There were only two days left before you flew back to Monaco, what were the chances?

Click here for part seven.

Taglist {1}: @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @starwarssavy23 @fdl305 @faeb1tch42069 @sweetestrose569 @pleasantducktimetravel @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @belennasif @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19 @destourtereaux @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @jpg3 @bangtanxberm @ohthemisssery @eviethetheatrefreak @kimi240302 @andydrysdalerogers @formula1mount @storyteller-le @dakotali @daddyslittlevillain @elijahslover

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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thedarkestgreys · 1 year

Text

2022 was by far the most prolific year of writing fanfic I’ve had in the decade I’ve been doing this. 252k words published in fact, and 212k of that was Fexi fic. I owe a big thank you to all of you who’ve read and reblogged and commented on my fic this year, who’ve encouraged me and held my hand during moments of self doubt. I’m eternally grateful. 🖤

🪦 The Fexi Hades/Persephone Verse 💐

‘till our wide eyes burn blind

or: fez steals lexi // rated m // 938 words // on-going

one taste and you’ll be mine

or: lexi wants to stay with fez // rated m // 3.2k words // complete

🎡 One Shots 🎃

my heart’s gone double time

or: the s1 carnival au // rated m // 5.1k words // complete

the stray lines that unwind you

or: the sleepover au // rated m // 6.7k words // complete

to love you with the sweetest of devotion

or: the baby au // rated m // 2.6k words // complete

It’s The Great Pumpkin, Fezco O’Neill

or: the halloween au // rated m // 3.7k words // complete

🌌 Multi-Chapter 🏜

don’t you dream impossible things?

or: the stardust au // rated e // 15.5k words // 1/3 on-going

all of you, all of me (intertwined)

or: the desert fexi au // rated e // 15k words // 6/6 complete

💊 The Supercut Verse 📚

your violent overnight rush

or: the post s2e8 au // rated e // 141.8k words // 21/42 on-going

(after the storm) something was born on the fourth of july

or: the yvor au // rated e // 17.8k words // 3/3 complete

#fic: ‘till our wide eyes burn blind #fic: one taste and you’ll be mine #fic: double time #fic: the stray lines that unwind you #fic: to love you with the sweetest of devotion #fic: it’s the great pumpkin #fic: don’t you dream impossible things?#fic: intertwined #fic: your violent overnight rush #fic: after the storm #fexi fanfiction #fexi hive #thedarkestgreys 2022 masterlist

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virgincels · 21 days

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(I COULD NEVER BE) YOUR WOMAN !

ft. og4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. crossdressing, force fem, short instance of groping/harassment by some gross man, humiliation, dom!reader, a few misogynistic comments surprisingly not from leon, repressed homosexuality, leon n some unnamed cute guy, r slur is used ONCE by same gross dude, slight angst, implied/past sa very light tho, public sex, dub-con

note. title from white town duh has nothing to do w the fic. um unedited n quite bad not loving this but here u go.. 2000s clubbing.. I also want 2 say r slur is used by some dude who is just awful to leon in this.. not meant to be like . y’know there for shock value lol it’s a word I’ve been called a lot so that would be my last intention. um leon has some misogynistic thoughts but I don’t want them to come across as mine LMFAO I know that I do a very close pov so I don’t want my views to mix with the characters as people usually tend to think. comments n rbs greatly appreciated!

“You hate me,” Leon states like an upset child, one false lash deep into a murky pit he couldn’t even grapple hook his way out of.

“No, baby.” You shake your head, smiling at him like you hate him. “I love you very much.” The other lash is stuck on, black and spiky in kitchen knife points. He blinks and the heaviness does not melt away like sleep. “My sweet girl.”

“You do,” Leon says, he makes a vague gesture towards his attire, scooping nothing but air with his cupped hand, “hate me,” he adds after a second, the words hang heavy in the air like sopping wet laundry or a body from a tree. You’re busy giving him a once over, a small hand lightly grasping his chin to keep his head up. You’ve never held him so gently before, but this is how girls treat other girls, he supposes. With great care.

“What?” You use a lint roller to pick up loose fibre and tricky stray particles of dust. “Because I made you all pretty, honey?” You lean forward, and Leon, besotted, closes his eyes as if you’re going to kiss him. “I just did your makeup, no kisses, Leon.” Of course, that’s right, he forgot, no kisses. You lick your finger and smudge your work to give him that freshly fucked and wanting more appeal.

“Sorry.” He looks at his reflection.

Blink. Blink. Blink. His eyes make a tacky noise, as if each blink is unsticking them.

He looks ridiculous, not even like a drag queen, they are tasteful and deliberate in their art. He looks exactly like what he is - a man in a wig. There is no pretty way to put it because what he is looking at is not very pretty. The wig tickles his neck like a pale whisper. It is shining too brightly in the way all fake things do, plasticky in the buzzing bathroom light. Metallic shimmer dusts his eyelids like crushed stars, iridescent-pearlescent is all the rage nowadays, it’s barely visible past the thick black that lines his eyes like you’re actively trying to worsen his bags and push him into panda territory.

Leon thinks it is a good idea to think of nothing ever again, like ever. If he didn’t have that thought, if he didn’t sit opposite you at the dining table confessional-style, if he shut his mouth and never spoke a word—Then he would not be sitting here closer to tears than he ever has been, fists clenched tight enough to make coal into diamonds.

You thumb the corner of his glossed lips. “Ready?” You ask him, then turn to face him, pulling a smile that is so mean it’s somewhat ugly and out of place on a face like yours. “Don’t speak or you’ll ruin it, ‘kay?”

A bag big enough to carry a lip gloss tube and nothing else dangles on your pinky as you check your face in the mirror, usually your gloss would be in Leon’s breast pocket, or his back pocket. Whatever pocket he has available.

Today he has nothing of the sort, embarrassingly, you place a tube between his pecs and it stays. You tip your head back and laugh at him, swiping it away a moment later. “I’m only joking, Leon.”

A considerable amount of muscle has been dropped since he came back from Spain. Cooking is hard, eating is harder, and he only really makes the effort when you visit. You don’t pry, so it’s only now that he notices, filling out your dress too well, that his edge has almost completely been lost to softness.

And it’s still there—He’s still a man with a dick and balls first and foremost. His arms are big, and his chest juts out in the wrong way. Wrong. It’s all so wrong.

This thought is neutered by your hand on his too-big bicep, fingers curling to his shape as you guide him along the stairs in matching kitten heels, he clutches the bannister for support like he’s going into labour.

Today you drive. “Got to treat you like a princess,” you say, smiling at him. All teeth. You take off your heels and kick them beneath the seat where they’ll surely tangle in the cables.

Leon reclines in his seat, closing his eyes and breathing in and out, two minutes away from inducing labour. Dramatics, y’know? Because he’s a girl today, not because he feels like he is being gutted by a claw machine.

You drive, he tosses and turns and squints at the road ahead to hide his creased brow. You drive, and he wonders what led him to this very moment, what has become of him and his pity party life. But Simon Says and Leon does. You say and Leon follows blindly like a die-hard fucking fan of Jesus would. A disciple, he guesses, but in some way even that is too much credit. At least they were, like, on equal grounds. He’s too passive to be Judas, and too much of an unbeliever to be any of the other ones. He is just some fucking mangey street urchin suckling on the teat of a wild dog that Jesus patted once and cured and would not leave the poor dude alone.

Unfortunately, Leon takes instructions better than he does dick and that is his problem. Yeah, that’s what he was trying to say before it all got away from him.

The bouncer questions nothing, no ID is needed, which is both a relief and an insult to Leon. Does he look that old? This makeup, this dress, this stringy mop of a wig it ages him.

The bass of a thousand beating hearts rips through him.

If Leon was a girl he’d simply kill himself. It hurts too much. The dress is itchy and his chest is sweating and his full face of makeup is melting his skin into goop and his feet are killing him. He’s sorry for all those times he requested a girl keep her stilettos on during sex. He’s sorry to you for buying you shoes on all those anniversaries, birthdays and Christmases. He’s sorry for that time he requested a lap dance in heels on your anniversary, his birthday, and that joint Christmas. He is sorry to every fucking woman for the system that has been put in place that requires them to wear heels to work and to dinner dates and to pick their kids up from preschool.

“Are you hurting, baby?” You place a cool hand on his cheek, feather-light, ensuring you don’t smear his pasty foundation. When he nods, pitiful, you coo at him. “Oh, big ol’ Agent Kennedy, I’m sure you can handle it, sweetie.”

Leon shakes his head again, firmer and sadder. “You can handle it,” you tell him, smiling dropping as fast as it came. A hand comes to rest on his waist then slides upwards along his naked back, courtesy of the open back of his blue dress, gliding over his pronounced shoulder blades. Lily-white and spread sideways like lotus petals or something akin to angel wings.

The two of you end up in a booth with four men and a red-headed girl who is decently pretty. She talks too fast for Leon’s liking, and each time she opens her mouth, which is a lot of fucking times for a long fucking time, her spit flies out and lands on his face in beads.

There is a man who’s tall and strapping in the way Leon likes his men in the private fantasies he keeps hidden in the lonely gallery that is his mind. His experience with dick starts with Jack and ends somewhere before you. Jack taught him how to work a dick, and if Leon were to kiss and tell, he’d tell this man how much he wants to play with it, stroke it and love on it.

(Only if he was a girl, which tonight he is.)

You’re midway through telling a story, leant in for added effect, elbows on the sticky table. “And Leon says, she’s like—“ Your voice fades out.

Another guy, stout and ugly, sort of piggish in the face, asks, “Is it a dude?” He jabs his thumb in Leon’s direction. “That’s a dude's name.”

“What, no.” You frown, breezing over your blunder like fingers on silk. “It’s a nickname, y’know, from when we were kids, ‘cause she looks like a dude.” Laughter lifts into the air like plumes of smoke. Leon feels like he is breathing it in, tiny shards crystallise in his lungs and choke him.

He shouldn’t be humiliated, there is nothing to be humiliated about because he is what you say he is. He’s a dude. But he is humiliated, and it is driving him mad, he has killed himself in a hundred different brutal ways in his head while you talk.

“She don’t talk, she got a problem?” He says in his nasty, thick voice. “Is she retarded?” It sounds like there’s phlegm lodged in his throat all the fucking time. “Feminist?” Good lord.

“Oh my gosh, like, I don’t think you can say that,” the ginger smiles nervously.

“She just gets a little scared around guys.” Your smile is so cold it chills him to his core. “Bad experiences, y’know?”

Not exactly wrong. Leon is weary of shared showers, he is weary of urinals, of stalls with busted locks, and he is weary of other men, but he would never say it and he would never show it. But now, sitting here as a girl, as a woman, he trembles.

“Oh, yeah?” The dude sits back, spreads his legs to accommodate a dick he likely doesn’t have. Then he leaves it at that.

You kiss him to make up for the silence, you grope his tits—his chest through the fabric of his dress, you raise your Von Dutch tee to show off your cute heart-shaped pasties. None of it is for Leon, it’s for the guys sitting in front of you, because as a woman you exist for men, to perform and flash your panties and act like you’re into it.

Which you are, he knows your pussy is wet ‘cause of that look on your face, eyes glinting like marbles, you’re getting off on him being stretched past his limits.

An hour later, you push him onto the dance floor, watching through throngs of people and Leon is met with the pig-faced guy, he’s pink and sweaty like one too. Leon denies every advance he lays out. Then fingers splay over the round of Leon’s ass, and his flesh is gripped so tight it mottles how dicks purple.

The guy says something and everything and nothing but fluff. You uppity slut—You think you can—Speak up—Y’know, even the ugliest bitches have wet little pussies between their legs—

Leon really does not.

Leon could push him off. He could break his fingers, disable him, kill him in the middle of this godforsaken dance floor. But he just stands there and stares like a real woman.

(But he has always stood there and looked death right in the eye, it comes hurtling, barrelling into him at full speed like a shit-caked asteroid and all he does is stand there. He’s not had the energy to get back up lately.)

The handsome guy, the one that is taller than Leon, the one that he likes a lot, steps in and saves him. And this is what it must feel like, to be swept off your feet. To be princess carried and loved sweetly by someone worn and rough.

Christ, this wig has a mind of its own. Infecting Leon’s psyche with its mushy bullshit. He wants to go home. He wants a beer and a drag from your cigarette. He doesn’t smoke, but he will tonight.

“Are you alright?” The handsome man somehow manages to shout gently over the music. He is so nice, and so handsome it feels wrong to look at him. Leon thinks he knows, and when this man smiles, Leon knows that he knows for certain. “I won't tell.” He grins down at Leon again, soft and brilliant and kind.

Leon passes you on the way to the bathroom, he tells you that it’s getting stuffy in here, then he leaves to get stuffed with cock in the ladies room as all good boyfriends do.

The click of heels makes him suck in a breath, he plants two hands on the broad chest in front of him, tightens around the dick in him so hard he might cut off all blood flow, salty fingers in his mouth keep him from crying out.

Leon knows it’s you from the clink of your bangles. The source of chatter is the red-headed girl, you likely motion for her to be silent—He counts to twenty then meets your eye under the gap in the door. He whimpers around the fingers in his mouth.

“Oh my gosh, there’s totally someone in there,” you gush to the other girl who gasps, “I saw, like, two pairs of shoes, really cute heels.”

“She’s luckyyy, I hope she’s getting it good,” she sighs, “hey, where’d your friend go by the way, the blonde one?”

“Leon?” You seem to pause, weighing up your options. “She’s a total fucking slut.”

“No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way, I bet she’s gone home with some guy already—I mean, she might be in that fucking stall, wouldn’t put it past her.”

In the stall, Leon shifts, back bumping the wall as he pushes his hips out, grinding down on his dick like he needs this over and done with.

“I could never do that…” The redhead says, “It’s, like, so icky in here…”

“I don’t think Leon minds,” you muse, “I mean, like, don’t tell her I told you, but she gets on her knees in club bathrooms, like, she’s dirty.”

“Gross!”

“I know!” You burst into giggles. “I told her that’s, like, way too far! I mean they don’t even clean these places properly, they send some underpaid dude with a Kleenex out to do the job.”

Leon’s knees ache with the guilt of sucking dick on his knees in a Kleenex-cleaned club bathroom. The dick inside of him throbs, a single push and it spills into the rubber.

The click of heels fades out as you and your newfound friend exit the bathroom.

“You let your friend talk about you like that?” The man asks, smiling still.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Leon says meekly in a voice that is not his. He has never been meek or scared or anything of the sort. Leon has guts, too many maybe, they make him stupid. That’s what he gets by on. That’s why Leon returns home. Because he tries not to make a place for feelings.

“I know.” The guy shrugs, he spins Leon around so his back is facing the mirrors. Leon twists his head to look. The striated planes of his back. Your nails in his skin.

“Oh.”

Leon gets in your car and apologises.

“Aw.” You pinch his cheek, uncaring of your heavy hand now that his lipstick is smeared in rings around another man’s dick. “I know, baby, my girl just wanted to have fun.”

My girl, my girl, my girl. He’s not your girl. You’re his girl, and he’s your man and that’s the way Leon likes it. He likes to drape his arm over your shoulders in place of a coat when it gets windy, he likes to pay the bill on dates, he likes to drive you around and he likes to hold your shopping bags. Because that is good and swell and—It’s normal.

You drive him home without saying a word, letting him sit and drown in the weight of his problems until you help him inside, he’s hindered by 1.5 inch heels.

When Leon tries to take his dress off, you stop him. “Princess,” you coo, his teeth rot and he smells the cavities, “I want to play with you.”

“Not like this,” he begs, gazing up at you through his false lashes.

“Yes, like this, baby.” You sit him down on the couch, you take off your heels and then bend down to unbuckle the strap on his. That’s his job. Leon should be doing that for you, a tender grip on your ankle as he threads the metal through the needled holes. “Look at these.” You stand back up, taking the seat beside him, one of your small hands grabbing the underside of his thighs and spreading him open, a leg thrown over yours. “These cute tits,” you say, kissing his neck as you shove your hand down the low-cut neck of his dress, grabbing at his chest in pinching handfuls.

“Don’t call them that,” Leon says quietly, his ears pink like the pucker of his hole.

“I’ll say what I want, princess, okay?” You kiss him hard, teeth knocking into his and your wet tongue running over his front teeth like you want to scrape the plaque from them. “I’m going to fuck you like a girl,” you tell him, pushing his legs as far as they go, his toes curl.

“I don’t like that—“

“I don’t like your dick or your stupid sex talk and I don’t like being fucking pile drived, do you think I like being folded like origami you stupid fucking oaf?” It’s said in the same measured tone of voice you always use, the one that makes him feel stupid. “This is what it’s like being a girl, baby, gotta do what I want.”

Then you lift your hips, skirt shed and panties to the side, puffy pussy swallowing the tip of his cock as you sit on it, taking it inch by inch by inch by inch. All four of ‘em. You hold onto his ankles as you fuck yourself on his cock, a soft squelch everytime his cock bottoms out, slick dripping down his thick shaft and balls.

Leon doesn't like this. How you have him. How you’re taking him, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling good. Your pussy is wet and warm and it squeezes around him, gripping his cock like it’s all you’ve got to live for. You reach between your thighs to rub your swollen clit, but Leon beats you, wanting to make himself useful.

“Good girl,” you praise, eyes rolling back into your skull as you slow your pace, coming to a halt as you place a hand over his, urging him to rub you raw. Then you cum as he presses his thumb into your tiny bud hard, cunt spasming around his dick, letting out a gasp and toppling forward into his chest. Leon’s cock slips out of your cunt, rock hard and lonely, he holds you as his legs drop to the floor, feet on the floor where they belong.

“I didn’t… I didn’t get to…” Leon looks at your face and then his stiff dick, pouting almost.

“I know, baby.” You kiss his head tenderly, so tender he nearly forgets why he’s upset. “But you’re a girl now, right?”

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy angst #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil angst #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you

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slashersgostabbystabstab · 11 months

Text

Object of Obsession

Ghostface x Reader Smut

Mmm...old fic from my old, deleted blog...felt like posting it cause why not. I remember if anybody remembers this fic.

Warnings? SMUT. And everything else you would expect in a DBD fic (I'm sorry it's midnight and I'm posting on my phone,I'll fix this whole post tomorrow)

I stg if this gets a decent amount of notes(just to show people wanna see more) I will post the other fics I had deleted (these involve the Blight, more Ghostface, and possible Wraith ones...)

Words: 6,021

"Hello?”

“Hello there.”

It had all started with a call, a mere and simple call.

“Who's this?”

“Soon you’ll discover.”

You assumed it was a telemarketer, or some kind of prank perhaps.

“I'm sorry, sir, but I think you have the wrong number.”

Now that you thought about, you had wished it was some stupid teenagers or some guy offering to buy some stupid prodcut.

“How are you so sure? Tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine.”

“My name? But why?”

Yet it wasn’t either of those.

Had it been one, you wouldn’t be limping through the lone yet crowded streets of this neighborhood.

“I want to know who I’m looking at.”

Putting aside the lack of doors and completely run down homes, one could have said the neighborhood...was normal looking.

Normal.

That was what you could now consider the life you no longer lived.

A life in a neighborhood not too different from the one you found yourself in.

Everything had been going well, even if life was shitty, it was no doubt better than this.

“You sick fuck!”

In your mouth you perceived the taste of iron, one you knew belonged to the blood smeared over your lips. Thinking about it, you weren’t even sure if the blood came from your lips that you bit to contain desperate whimpers of pain, or from the blood that was found nearly everywhere you limped through.

“I’ll gut you like a fish!”

That voice, you despised it with every ounce of remaining blood in your body. You weren’t even sure how much you had left after everything you had endured. All you knew was that your complexion had indeed turned into a paler one, your loss of blood evident as you unconsciously continued to bleed.

It had all started with a call, a mere and simple call.

Why did you have to pick up the damn phone?

Why did you pick it up all the following times that bastard called?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a scream that prompted you to skid to a stop, nearly crashing into one of the trees you were now surrounded by. With the hand that was not holding your impaled side, you clung onto the tree as your teeth now released your lip and you allowed yourself to pant after so much running.

Another scream was heard, a voice telling you to look to your right. Once you did, there he was.

In a panic, you shut your mouth as tightly as possible before rushing towards the direction you had just been coming from. You gulped and concealed whimpers that were created by the pain coursing through your ankle. As you fixed a generator earlier with one of the many people suffering the same, neither of you ever realized the looming presence that failed to strike your shoulder, instead hitting the generator that further damaged it.

You and the other person saw him, that bastard who was brought into this world of chaos with you. A man with a ghostly mask and dark clothing that helped him blend in with his surroundings. And he stared you down after you had fallen onto your bottom, already raising his blade above his head to strike upon you. But to your relief, the person behind stood in between the two of you, flashing the ghostly mask with a light so bright that made him loudly groan before your teammate helped you up and away.

The woman ran to the left as you ran to the right, never realizing that your footsteps were enough to have the ghostly figure chasing after you once more. However, before he had the chance of piercing your skin, you jumped through a window before falling to the harsh floor, injuring your ankle in the process. As you got up, you stared up at the window where you saw the figure peering down at you with a tilt of his head, deciding that now was not the time to continue your chase.

Obsession.

That was what the other survivors called you, as well as others like one who you learned went by the name Laurie Strode.

According to the others, there was more than one being with the goal of killing, and each one was somehow matched up with a being with the goal of survival.

You were one of the poor souls who had been matched up with a killer obsessed with their survivor.

Even more unfortunate was the link created with this obsession, brought to life by the very being that brought you and that bastard into this world.

“What do you want!?”

“What do you want…” you muttered through grit teeth, remembering that those words were the last you cried out after being chased in your own home. You remembered being cornered in your bedroom with the obsessed predator standing between you and your freedom.

“I want to see what your insides look like!”

Those words the last words he shouted, right before the lights in your bedroom turned extremely bright and blinded the two of you. You brought your arms up to shield your eyes, realizing that the lights had turned into swirls of red that flashed once and quite intensely, all the while a thick fog engulfed you and the figure.

Once the light show had ended, you opened your eyes, finding yourself alone and in a strange place.

A strange place you eventually learned was one of the realms conjured up by The Entity.

Your thoughts were once again interrupted, this time by the sound of a phone ringing.

You cursed under your breath and immediately pressed the ‘answer’ option, pressing the device against your ear as you heard the same ringing coming from one other location that had previously been three others, one for each survivor.

Two had now been sacrificed, and the third...well, the latest scream was more than enough information.

From the other line you could hear a dark chuckle, making your eyebrows furrow deeper and your teeth grit harder.

“I always feel like somebody’s watching me.~”

“Fuck you! Fuck you!”

“Aw, Dollface, no need for that kind of language.~”

You angrily ended the call before resuming your limping around, having to stop for a moment to wince in pain and grit your teeth even harder, causing a new pain to be created. Right then, you heard the phone in your pocket ring again and this time only yours, making you the last survivor again. But, it also made you the only one around with a phone, making you much easier to locate.

“You sick, sick fuck!” you hissed into the phone once you replied, frustrated how this so-called Entity made it so that you could never rid of the phone unless you were given a moment of peace or faced against another one of those bloodthirsty predators.

“Why so angry? All I want is to play a little game.”

“Well game’s over asshole!” you gripped onto the phone, scouting the area while being cautious, knowing how well this man hid. “I’m gonna find that damn hatch, and I’m living another day!”

“Oh, is that so?” the man chuckled once more. “That’s not what happened last time.~”

Death was something nearly inevitable in this realm, and it was something that you and the others were able to experience multiple times.

The last time you were faced with this man, you finally had a taste of sweet, sweet death, deciding that that would be the first and last time you would.

So you ended the call in a fit while scanning every inch of the overgrown grass you currently ran through, hurriedly searching for the hatch you hoped he hadn’t shut back. Without a key, the hatch was useless, especially because you still needed two more generators to power up the gates.

The phone rang again, further irking you before you answered.

“What do you fucking want!?”

“The question isn’t, what do I want.”the killer cooed at you, somehow being heard over the sound of your heart rapidly beating in your ears.“The question is, where am I?”

“Where, are you?” you jeered, holding your side with your fingers digging deep into your ripped shirt that had been slashed earlier.

“Heads up.~”

At the sound of that, a feeling overcame you...a dreading feeling that you were completely exposed.

You felt your eyes widen as you ever so slowly turned to look up, lips quivering upon the sigh of the ghost mask looking down at you from one of the roofs. You gasped as the killer waved at you with a tilt of his head, then rushing away from the home for you knew he had jumped down with ease and no pain.

Not that there was no need to hide your sounds, you panted loudly while sprinting down the empty street, never daring to look behind you for you knew the killer was just a few feet away.

Had it not been for your racing heart, you would have heard the heavy steps coming from the killer’s boots as he continued to chase. Yet you knew those running steps were heard, so you made your way towards a sidewalk that was placed between a tree and a fence.

Of course, the killer followed right through but was immediately thrown back when you cleverly pulled down one of the leftover pallets.

As the killer tried to recuperate, you took your chance and ran through a space between the homes before making a right and continuing until you found yourself limping into the front entrance of one of the far houses.

With the feeling of exposure gone, you silently made your way towards the living room where you found a pair of lockers. Carefully grabbing the handle of one, your bit your lip while attempting to open it as quietly as possible, something quite impossible.

And this you witnessed like several other times, ignoring it and placing your body in the space before shutting the door to then be immersed in a darkness. The only light came from the three slots on the door, giving you the slightest view of the outside world.

With a hand clasped over your mouth, you tried to steady your heart pace and your heavy breathing, ignoring the pain on your side and ankle that you found it impossible to stand on. Your eyes were shut tightly as you gave a slight wheeze, the stab wound on your side continuing to bleed out.

“I want to see what your insides look like!”

Those words replayed in your head, especially as you heard muffled breaths outside your locker, making you gulp and clench your free hand into a fist, ready to strike if needed.

You opened your eyes, feeling your hand shake but forcing it to stop once you saw the killer just outside the locker.

He stopped walking as he was a few feet away, deciding to crouch down with one of his hands holding his blade as his other dialed something into his personal phone, prompting a deep panic to course through your body as you readied yourself for whatever happened after your phone began ringing.

Yet...your phone never rang.

“Fuck!”

Through the slots you could see the man stand in pure frustration, kicking a leftover couch as you both realized that your phone had run out of juice. Thankfully, the Entity kept things considerably fair.

You saw as the killer angrily made his way out of the house, giving you a chance to sigh in relief before placing your hands on the locker’s doors, opening them in an instant before looking to your right and feeling the relief once more.

“The hatch!” you whispered to yourself, grinning ear to ear before making your way over to it.

Another day-

With the sound of a loud creak and then slam, you skid to a stop before your grin fell into a frown oh terror once you looked into the void-like eyes of the ghost mask, it’s owner just having shut the hatch before your eyes.

“No!” you barely cried out, turning before trying to make a run for it until you felt the back of your shirt be grabbed and pulled, making you fall backwards and onto the hard, wooden floor.

After wincing in reaction for the briefest of moments, you looked up and immediately reacted with your healthy leg, kicking upwards to where you saw the killer ready to strike his blade.

You heard an ‘oof’ from behind the mask, right before the killer dropped down after having been kicked in the abdomen. After rolling onto your stomach, you attempted to drag your body out of the house as the killer took his time, but you shrieked in pain once you felt a leather glove wrap around your injured ankle.

Soon you were pulled backwards by the ankle and then turned onto your back again before feeling a hand be placed on your chest, keeping you down as you attempted to move it away. Instead, you felt something heavier hold you down as your wrists were held above your head, realizing that your waist was straddled by the killer. You saw as he felt his hands above his head again, ready to plunge to blade deep into your heart several times.

Memento Mori.

You gasped at the memory of that phrase, shutting your eyes and covering your face with your arm as you expected an immediate kill rather than sacrifice.

However...it never came.

Hesitantly, you opened one of your eyes and to look up at the man who’s blade was no longer above his head but already down. Now with both of your eyes opened, you glanced up to where your pinned wrists were, seeing as the knife had been struck into one of the aging wooden planks.

“Gotcha there, didn’t I?” the killer spoke through his mask, chuckling at the sight of your helpless form. “Thought to myself, how fun would it be to stab you like the game before? But then I thought, no...maybe not this time.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, blinking up at the man who tilted his head like every single time.

“I’ve seen the way you stare.” he started once he retrieved his blade, still never releasing your wrists. “That glint in your eye when I grab another one of those pathetic idiots, slinging them over and onto a hook like nothing.”

“What?” you finally spoke up.

“Don’t play dumb Dollface.” he presented his blade, holding it horizontally before it teasingly made its way over to your neck to now graze over your skin, threatening to break it. “You think I know nothing, but I know everything about you.”

“Because you’ve been fucking stalk me even before we were brought here?” you attempted to move your arms, but the man’s hold grew stronger.

“You could say that.~” he purred while sliding the tip of his blade up to your chin, now gliding it against your jaw as he leaned down and close to your ear. “Kitten.~”

Fuck.

Fuck no.

“Oh, don’t tell me you liked that.~”

You squirmed beneath the killer’s grip, then choking out a gasp once you felt both of his hands place themselves on your body after he had repositioned himself.

With the knife being no more but instead an accessory on the ground, you found a gloved hand wrapped around your throat while the other ever so casually placed a finger on your thigh as he kneeled in between each one.

“What are you-” you croaked out as your hands wrapped themselves around the one on your throat, attempting to remove it as you felt its grip tighten.

“Drop the act.” he purred right into your ear, taking notice of how your breaths and heart rate quickened, prompting him to slide his lone finger up and down your thigh in a teasing manner. “You fucking love this shit."

“I-” you wheezed out, feeling as his finger on your thigh was now joined by the rest of them, squeezing your denim covered leg. “Fuck!”

“Look at that,” he pressed his mask against your ear as you shut your eyes, digging your nails into the hand that refused to let go of your neck. “Just a small squeeze…”

“Stop…” you tried to gulp, now feeling as his hand sank to the inside of your thigh, caressing it soft enough to make you squirm beneath him.

“Stop?"

“Y-yes!”

No.

Never.

“Stop!” you exclaimed as best as possible, especially as his hand now squeezed your thigh, basically massaging it before his hand traveled under it to hold it securely.

“Is that really what you want?” he lifted your leg into the air, pressing the cheek of his mask against it to rub himself. “You want me to stop and hook you?”

“Yes, I-I mean...no?” you stammered, finally breathing in peace when the man released your neck and instead placed his hand on your leg so that both of them gripped on.

“You’ve kept me waiting for this long, better make up your mind now before I do.”

“W-waiting?” you blinked at him a few time, then feeling something...somewhere.

Your eyes trailed down his body that kneeled in between your legs, then making your eyes widen once you noticed that beneath all the dark clothing was a bulge pulsating right in front of your crotch.

Wow.

Fuck.

“Whoa…” you started as you attempted to sit up, only to be pushed down in a rough manner. “Whoa, whoa-!”

Soon you felt as your leg was lowered and the killer’s hands were instead placed on your waist, dragging your body so that the bulge between his legs poked the opening you unintentionally provided.

“Crap…”you muttered out once a heat came upon your cheeks, this being due to the newfound heat in between your legs.

Before you could react any further, you felt as your body was hoisted up and onto the killer’s shoulder. There was no time to attempt and wiggle out of his grasp, for you now found yourself being thrown onto the nearby couch, purposely having been put in a slouching position as the man once again kneeled in front of you and between your legs.

“What are you…” panted words escaped your lips as the killer placed each hand on each of your thighs, spreading them further to lean in extremely close to the in between. “Hey..!”

“What?” he asked, never turning away from your area as you felt your cheeks burn hotter.

“A-At least take me out on a date first!” you semi-joked, grateful for the mask he still wore and the jeans covering you, for if neither of those hadn’t been in the way, you would have felt his hot breath over your… “Shit…”

“First you’re fighting and trying to kick my ass,” the man dragged his hands closer to the center, making you squirm a bit more. “But now, you’re here squirming under my grip, shy over the big bad killer being in between your legs.”

“Big? As if.” you scoffed as you attempted to regain your composure, instead giving a slight gasp when he dug the fingers of one hand into your leg, just as the other reached up to the hem of your pants.

“Take them off.”

“W-what?”

“Pants.” he posited in a deep voice, squeezing your thigh once more before his tone grew much more assertive. “Now.”

With a shaky nod, you reach down to unbutton your jeans, soon feeling as they were quickly being slid off your legs before being flung to the side like nothing.

“I-”

“You never know when to stop talking, hm?” the man shushed you as his hands grew close to your center once more, this time taking their time to taunt you. “You never know anything.”

This time, you kept quiet as you felt him press one of his thumbs on your briefs, rubbing a few circles that made you hiss through your now grit teeth.

“You’re a stupid one, but maybe not that stupid.”

You could tell this bastard was licking his lips right behind that mask, eyes watching your every move and getting off it.

“You don’t know just how long I’ve been watching you.” he continued as he rubbed the slight dent on his mask against you before sinking it further. “How long I’ve craved for you.”

“Craved?” you breathed out with fluttering eyelashes, not daring to look away from the man who snuck a finger under your panties, tugging on them to only tease and expose your opening.

“I thought that after all our previous encounters you would have figured it out by now.” he finally placed two fingers onto your entrance, making your arch back as he went under your folds to encircle your bud by dividing and reuniting his fingers various times. “I thought, maybe all this chasing and slashing was enough to tell you."

With your mind in a haze, you kept what could have been considered quiet, not being able to speak a comprehensive response, let alone word.

“But fuck you’re an oblivous one.” the killer stopped his motions, making you give the slightest whine as you looked down at him with half lidded, pleading eyes. “But now that I have you here...I sure as hell am gonna have my way with you.”

You bit your lip at the sound of his husky tone, hands desperately reaching to the couch as you now felt as your bud was roughly rubbed, but in such a satisfying manner that made you throw your head back.

“I know you’ll love every second of it.” he continued to tease your clit, now using his other hand to open your folds and breathe heavily against you.

Wait.

“Moments ago you were ready to run, but look at you now.” you heard his voice, realizing it was no longer muffled. “So wet already.~”

You managed to look down at the man between your legs, surprise filling you as you saw that his mask had been slid up and away from his face that was unfortunately not visible to you.

At his words you shut his eyes: he was right, he was so right.

Maybe...just maybe when you first saw the news with a picture of this man’s mask...just maybe…

“The Ghostface Killer” was what the news said, and just maybe you...

“No…” you shook your head to yourself, not realizing that the man had looked up at you with a quirked eyebrow.

“No what?"

“Huh?” you glanced down at him, barely being able to see a scruffy chin after he had lowered his head again. “N-nothing-!”

You immediately clasped a hand over your mouth and shut your eyes as you felt something wet against your entrance, a moan muffled right behind your palm.

“Fuck…” you whispered as your other hand attempted to grab whatever, just so you had a hold on something while the wet appendage continued to move against you.

Seeing as the killer no longer made any comments, you could guess that he was now using his tongue as his hands held you down and open for him.

You managed to grab onto the top of his head, the man not minding nor worried that you would see his face due to how you arched your back and even rolled your eyes to the back of your head as he continued to lick your bud.

“A-ah…” you whimpered, digging your nails into the man’s hood as his tongue moved in a circular manner before moving up and down, making you choke out a sound of pleasure. You especially moaned at the feeling of one of his fingers teasing below that, right before plunging itself into your hole that made you bite your lip intensely.

But what made you a complete writhing mess was his lips planting themselves on your clit, sucking on you, making gross, sloppy sounds that turned you on even more and made your toes curl inside your shoes. Now, both of your hands were gripping onto the killer’s hood as one of his held you down with how much you moved around.

“Fuck, fuck, f-fuck-!” you wailed out, the man’s hands on your hips as you felt a knot in your stomach, something that was ready to explode at any moment. “Oh fuck, oh...Ghostface!”

Now that was enough to make the killer reach down to his crotch, cupping his bulge as you said that name.

“Say it again.” he paused his treatment on you, allowing you a moment to recover and grasp a bunch of your own hair.

“G-ghostface…” you wheezed, then shrieking in delight once you felt him suck on your clit once more. “Ghostface! Oh, fuck, yes!”

Squeezing your eyes even tighter and your legs attempting to repeat the action, you felt oh so close to sweet, sweet release.

And that moment finally came, right after Ghostface went back to licking you as his fingers wiggled inside you, mimicking a ‘come hither’ motion before he detached his lips from you and instead rubber his thumb on your clit.

You weren’t sure what it was you said, but you swore and you screamed into the cold air as one of your legs kicked up. You didn’t know how long this moment lasted, but it was a blissful moment that had you seeing white whether you had opened your eyes or not.

Ever so slowly, you returned to your senses and could hear the faint sound of your juices being slurped by Ghostface as you felt the slight stubble of his chin brushing against your wet skin.

You heaved with a euphoric sigh as your eyes fluttered open, then glancing down at the killer who adjusted his mask enough to cover his face while making sure to keep a space open.

He lifted his two fingers that he had used on you, bringing them up and into his lips as you heard him sucking on the remainder of your juices.

“Look at you,” Ghostface cooed as he stood up, now fixing his mask so that it properly covered his face. “So worn out, and I haven’t even finished.~”

“What?” you lifted your head to look at him, seeing as one of his hands cupped his throbbing bulge once more. “M-more?”

“After all the chases and kicks and punches,” he reached down and under his top, and you could hear the sound of a belt unbuckling right before an unzipping noise followed. “I think I deserve a little more.”

Your eyes fell onto where his hands were, widening at the bulge that he now unfurled out of his pants to reveal an erect member pointing right at you.

One of his hands held onto it, slowly pumping the member as you noticed trickles of precum at the tip, threatening to spill onto your abdomen once he had stepped closer towards you.

“Such hungry eyes.” Ghostface breathed out a chuckle, not realizing that he himself had grown desperate, nor that he began rubbing his tip over your drenched briefs. “Such a good hole...just for me.”

Before you could say anything, you felt his free hand grab under your right leg before he lifted it and set it on his shoulder which opened your entrance even more. Once that was done, he kneeled on the edge of the couch while still supporting himself on the ground, leaning in until the forehead of his mask was pressed against yours.

He tucked his arm under your raised leg to keep it in place, placing his hand on the couch to hold himself as his other hand guided his member, using it to move your undergarment to the side before he rubbed himself at your entrance. As he breathed deeply, he felt you wrap your arms around his neck before he finally brought himself inside, making you arch right into his chest that provoked a deep growl in his throat.

“Fuck…”you heard him grunt behind the mask, especially as he sunk himself deeper inside you which made your toes curl once more. “Fucking, hell…”

After a moment, you brought your left arm to his back and eventually slid it down to his bottom, unconsciously pushing on it so that he could continue.

“What are you waiting for?” you sighed out, staring into the lifeless eyes of his mask before you felt him pull out and thrust into you rather harshly.

“Quiet.” he commanded, just as he felt your other hand claw at his hood, grabbing a bunch that nearly removed it. “No...don’t keep quiet...scream. Scream for me.”

“Scream…” you gulped before feeling Ghostface repeat the same action from before, this causing you to give exactly what he wanted.

“That’s better.” his voice sounded through your ears over the sound of your heart beating fast. “Say my name. Scream my name.”

“Ghostface,” you panted out as you felt him slowly pull out again, then thrusting back inside at the same teasing pace that made you give a whine. “Please...Ghostface, please.”

“Ghostface what?” he questioned as he continued his movements in a slow manner, creating a new knot in your stomach that was instead bothersome, ever so irking with this terrible, terrible taunting. “Say it Dollface, tell me what you want me to do.”

“Ghostface,” your bottom lip quivered as you dug your nails right into the killer’s back and neck now. “Please...f...fuck me.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” the killer purred against your neck, right before he quickened his movements, feeling your left heel dig into his back as well.

“Ghostface,” your voice grew louder. “Ghostface, oh fuck-!”

“Mmm, Ghostface. Oooh, Ghostface!” the killer mocked you, now pressing his right hand on your throat as he squeezed. “You fucking like that, huh? Tel me how you fucking love it.”

“Ghostface,” you started, removing both of your hands from his body to place them on his wrist. “Ghostface, I fucking l-love it.”

“Of course you do.” he laughed as he squeezed your throat. “You love it when Ghostface fucks your little hole; nobody knows what you want but me.”

You breathlessly nodded while tightening your grip on his wrist, especially as his thrusts became even faster and roughed.

“Fuck!” you choked out, feeling as Ghostface did not hold back in the slightest bit.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head once Ghostface finally removed his hand from your throat, instead bringing it down to your clit to rub it with a pace that matched his thrusting.

“Oh, fuck, oh my-” your hands once again returned to Ghostface’s back before one went to his head yet again, clawing at his hood which you accidentally lowered, the man not seeming to care. “Ghostface-!”

“I’m so fucking close.” he whispered into your ear, hand clawing into the couch that neither of you heard squeak and creak with every rough move. “But not yet...not yet.”

Before you yourself were able to come to another release, you gave a disappointed breath once you felt the man’s member missing. You turned down, giving somewhat of a pout as you saw him hovering just above your entrance.

“Ghostface…"

“Move.” the man told you after having lowered your leg and sat on the opposite end of the couch. “Now.”

You gave a shaky nod before getting on your knees, looking at his exposed member that dripped with a mix of your and his juices.

Ghostface spread his legs before patting his lap, you already knowing what he wanted.

So, you carefully climbed onto his lap, straddling him as you held yourself above his member, only the tip touching you.

His hands were placed on your hips and they forced you down onto his cock, making you gasp in surprise once you felt your skin smack against each other despite him still wearing his pants.

You stared down at the killer, once again pressing your forehead against his mask before you felt him move under you, prompting you to bite your lip to contain any other sounds.

He moved his hips in a way that made you plant your hands on the couch as he began to move you upwards, right before his hands brought you down again. Ghostface watched every expression you gave, a chuckle rumbling in his throat as he had you panting against his mask. His fingers dug into your hips, no doubt leaving bruises that would eventually match the ones he had caused on your thighs earlier.

Ghostface huffed as he now moved his pelvis upwards so that your body wasn’t the only one moving, his thrusts becoming sloppy yet remaining rough and quick.

“Say my name.” he aggressively grabbed your chin, squeezing you as he brought you to a more appropriate eye level. “Scream.”

“Ghostface!” you finally opened your lips, wrapping your arms around him again as his hugged your frame tight against his chest. “Ooooh, fuck! Faster!~”

You struggled to do anything, you didn’t even know if you were still calling out to him or gave all kinds of shrieks and moans. All you knew was that the knot from before had returned, and you were having a hard time both hiding and restraining it.

“Such a tight little-” Ghostface had to stop himself, hips continuously clashing against your bottom that was probably also bruised at this point. “Squeezing my cock, you fucking love this, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!” you managed to cry out, nails once again digging into what you could only assume were Ghostface’s shoulders or arms. Considering the pads he wore, it was probably the latter.

“I’m, I’m close!”

“You don’t finish until I fucking tell you to.” Ghostface hissed at you, one of his arms still holding you tight while his other hand snaked up and inserted two of his fingers into your mouth.

With his fingers in your mouth, you choked out all kinds of sounds, never realizing that a bit of drool dripped out and down your chin, making Ghostface lick his lips.

“Yeah...yeah…” he breathed out, marveling at such a sight he waited far too long to see.

He picked up the speed, grinning like a deviant once he felt himself twitch inside you.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop…!” you mewled after his fingers were pulled out of your mouth, once again on your chin to pull your gaze down after you had thrown your head back lost in ecstacy.

“I’m not fucking stopping.” he gave a few grunts, pulling you face even closer to press himself against you. “Oooh fuck. Should have waited to kill the others, just so they could hear your cute little moans.”

“Mmm, Ghostface!” you whimpered as you felt yourself even closer, the possessive hold on your chin and body making you clench around the killer’s cock that continued to pound inside you. “Ghostface, G-ghost-”

“Do it, fucking do it.” he teased right into your ear, practically licking and nibbling you as you finally released that tension inside you.

With a scream, you wrapped your arms around the man who let go of your chin to wrap both of his arms around you again.

His thrusts became faster before you felt a hot liquid be shot inside you, eventually dripping out and sliding down your thigh as you once again had that hazy feeling.

You held onto Ghostface like your life depended on it, feeling your bottom half tremble as his speed slowed down with every final thrust until eventually there was no more.

Ghostface bit his own lip, both to hide his slight pants and the cheeky grin that crept onto his features, now leaning his head to the side where you panted exhaustively into his ears. His hands slid down from your back and waist to your bottom, supporting you so that you wouldn’t fall backwards after such an experience.

The killer squeezed your body, chuckling once more into your ear as his muffled voice spoke.

“Our film’s finished, but you can hope for a sequel.~”

#dbd #dead by daylight #dbd ghostface #ghostface x reader #danny Johnson x reader #jed olsen x reader #it's shit byt whatever lol #smut #dbd smut

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becsabillion4 · 3 months

Text

take it out on me (carmen berzatto x reader)

so this is my first time posting a fic of mine on tumblr since i was 14 and i'm slightly terrified by the formatting but i posted this on ao3 yesterday and someone told me to post here too (<3) so i hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoy the thought of getting pounded by carmy in the walk-in

pairing : carmen berzatto x f!reader

summary : Carmy is having a terrible service, and you're sure some time in the walk-in will help him cool off (although it gets hotter in there than you might think).

word count : 4,410

tags: SMUT, rough sex, angry sex, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, choking, semi-public sex, ending with soft carmy which makes it all okay, 18+ only

note: this is explicit 18+ only and also this is NOT an advert for safe sex, it is merely a fantasy i have been playing with since my own days as a waitress and carmy has helped me to realise it. also i'm obsessed and i know y'all degenerates won't send help so instead i ask that you send me asks so i can write more about this wonderful man

Disorienting. Overwhelming. Stressful, painful, unrelenting. Burning your hand hard enough for it to stick to the pan, hard enough that you know on the way to the sink it’s too late, that you’ll bear the scar of that mistake for the rest of your life. Knives slicing always so close to your skin, living on the point of pain, focus trained so hard on the blade you can’t even blink. Shouting, screaming, the place could be on fire, and you wouldn’t look up from the art you’re creating. Flames licking at your apron. Beautiful.

Kitchens are the prison and the heart of a chef, and the one at The Bear is currently the pride and the bane of your life. Plating up your one billionth focaccia of the evening as Marcus rushes by holding a tray of cannolis aloft, you try to tune out Sydney shouting instructions to the new servers, trying to drill something, anything, into their panicked, under-developed skulls.

But none of this worries you. What worries you is the ominous, creeping silence from the station to your right, where you know Carmy is cooking up not only the best food you’ve ever tasted, but an internal storm that is going to be unleashed any, second, now-

“Chefs! Where the fuck is my garnish? Tina, are you dead? ‘Cos you need to wake the fuck back up.”

Tina is already by Carmy’s side with the garnish, but the damage is done. She doesn’t bristle at his words, but shoots you a worried look as she slides by, murmuring, “Sorry, Chefs. Behind.”

Since you started working at The Bear six months back, you’ve witnessed a rare few Carmy outbursts, and you know everyone feels the same way when they happen. It’s like the moment you miss a step on familiar stairs, stomach lurching and fear sweeping through your body. Carmy is this kitchen, and his boiling point is the moment things tend to spin out of control.

And yet, Tina’s reaction is everyone’s; disappointment in herself, instant forgiveness because she knows Carmy is doing everything he can for this team. Last week, after you and Sydney spent the evening getting wasted on her couch, she’d confessed to you how hard Carmy took his notorious opening night failure, and how he’s been struggling to make up for it since then. And it’s been working; his kindness, patience, and passion for elevating those around him have always outshone the occasional harsh word during service.

But this service is just bad. It’s been bad since 5AM, when you got here to take in the delivery and found out that the grapes needed for the welcome broth had somehow been left off of the order. It’s been bad since Marcus ruined three batches of cannolis in a row, and when Sydney tried to touch his shoulder and ask him what was going on, he stormed out. Since Sydney snapped at Richie for singing Taylor Swift badly during family. The hundred little underlying frissons of tension that normally dissipate as soon as service rolls around have congealed today, like oil in balsamic vinegar, rubbing together but refusing to meld into the team you know everyone can be.

And you know Carmy can feel it. His anger is a physical thing beside you, like standing next to a hot pan with too much oil in it and just waiting for it to start spitting at you. Knowing you have to keep stirring it anyway.

“Four top, two steak, one bucatini, one fish,” Sydney rattles off, and everyone responds “Yes, Chef!” a little too loud.

“Can I get some hands for this focaccia,” you shout through the din, pushing the two boards forward, but nobody responds. “Hands, please, get these off my station before I eat ‘em!” you call, trying to bring some levity to the atmosphere before-

“Hands, fuckin’ hands, Chefs, FUCK!” Carmy explodes, appearing by your side so suddenly you almost jump. His hands hover over the foccacia boards like he wants to adjust something on them, fix something, but you know as well as he does that they’re perfect already.

And of course, this just makes things worse.

Carmy properly looks up for the first time, straightening out of the “chef about to have an aneurysm over plating this fish” posture and into his “everyone here is about to get fucked” pose. “These are good to go, why are we not? Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. Go fuck yourselves-” one of the new waitresses approaches with trembling hands and Carmy pushes the boards at her, disgusted, almost taking them over the edge of the pass, “-all of you, what is the point of any of us being here if nothing is leaving the fucking kitchen!”

“Carm, it’s okay, they’re going out,” you can’t help cutting in, but you should know better than to try to soothe a wild animal. Carmy doesn’t say anything, turns back to plating up his fish, but his beautiful artist’s hands, which you often find yourself trying to draw in the margins of inventory checks, are shaking now. You’ve never seen him this bad. The whole kitchen waits on a knife edge. You glance up, watching the waitress leave with your focaccia, and have a brief but fervent desire to be her as the doors swing her out of this hellhole.

The fish is beautiful as Carmy puts the finishing touches to it. A server steps up to take it as other dishes for the same table coalesce at the front of stations, all elegant, all perfect, all more than worthy of the restaurant’s Michelin star.

Carmy is completely still. Staring. And you know it’s too late.

Plunging his fist down, he crushes the fish into sea-scented pulp. The shells of oysters, hand-selected, crack into broken-mirror shards; the sauce is peppered with shoddy scraps of lobster tail.

It’s still not enough for Carmy, as he picks up the plate and sends it spinning into the back wall, narrowly missing Sweeps’ head. “ Shit, ” Carmy mutters, turning back to his station and searching for more things to destroy. You watch him contemplate the knives, and you can’t stay out of it any longer.

“Carmy. Chef. Carmy,” you say as you reach out to grab his muscled arm, pulling him round to face you. You can feel the tension corded deep under his skin, see the sheen of sweat coating his tattoos. Normally, any skin contact with him sends your brain into overdrive, but you can’t afford to be anything but calm right now.

His eyes are wild, but you watch him steadily, and he watches you straight back. You’re not sure why, but the moment reminds you of how you felt on those rare occasions he invited you and Syd over to brainstorm new recipes in his cramped kitchen. Especially that time Sydney couldn’t make it, and you were midway through describing your idea for a yuzu-infused scallops course to him - “with maybe, like, a garnish of broccoli just absolutely smothered in hollandaise” - when he reached forward, tucked a scrap of hair behind your ear, and the very idea of food whisked straight out of your head - but you still felt hungry. And whilst he’d tried out your broccoli idea over and over again that night, you found yourself blushing every time he passed you a spoon to taste it.

You never could get that dish right. Every time you thought about it, you couldn’t separate the flavours from the curious look in his eyes, the way he drank in your ideas, absorbed them before he responded, how his eyes tracked every thought that crossed your face.

Now here you are again, staring at that measured, thoughtful man turned savage, and you wonder if you have the guts to do what you’ve been thinking about doing for a while.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you murmur beneath the clatter of plates behind you, just for him. You don’t look away even when you hear something shatter. You move your hand from his arm, up over his shoulder, push your palm into the curve of his neck and hold it there.

Then you wait, feel his shoulders jumping up and down with his rapid breathing. Wait until he leans into it a little, chasing your solidity, and it’s all the response you need.

“Come with me.” It’s not a question, but he nods anyway.

“Sydney, you got this?” You ask, never taking your eyes from Carmy’s face, worried that if you do, you’ll lose whatever grip you have on him right now.

“Yes, Chef,” she replies, and you feel her edge round the side of Carmy to put another fish on rapid fire. He catches her eye as she passes, and brings his hand up to his chest, rubbing it once in what has become the team’s official way to apologise during service. She responds in kind, and he lets you drag him off the station, past the others shooting him worried looks, straight into the walk-in.

You shut the door carefully, recalling the stories of Carmy’s previous imprisonment. It’s still securely closed, giving you both some calm and privacy to cool off.

Except cooling off is not really what you have in mind.

You turn to see Carmy slumped in the corner, curled in on himself and running his hands through his already-chaotic hair. He stands again suddenly, bracing his hands on the wall behind him as if to remind himself they exist.

“Carmy.”

“Yeah, shit. Sorry, I just need a second. It’s just, I didn’t sleep at all last night. I was thinking about doing something with ceviche, but I couldn’t figure out what fish would work best, and then that sorta spiralled into a panic attack which kept me up whisking eggs for something until three, and then-” You watch his eyes darting over the shelves around him as he talks, and you realise he’s taking stock of what’s there. Even during a full-blown meltdown, he cannot stop working, stop thinking. He starts pacing.

“Carmy,” you say again as you try to catch his eye. He’s staring at some spare T-bones like they’ll explain to him whatever dish he was whisking eggs for last night. Fuck it. You grab his chin, tilt it until he has to look at you.

“D’you know the best way to calm down?”

“Lock yourself in the walk-in for three hours?” He’s trying to relieve some tension, but you have other ideas on how to handle that.

“Sex, Carmy.”

There. You’re terrified that you finally acknowledged it, finally confessed to what you’ve been thinking about for months, but thank God it’s out in the open. You’ve been blushing at his compliments on your food for far too long, ignoring how good he looks in a white tee for even longer. And today has been such a shitshow it can’t possibly get any worse by admitting to this too.

You wait for Carmy to shut it down, laugh it off, maybe even fire you, but he just looks shellshocked. Then again, that is his default look.

“I, um…” He rubs a hand over his forehead, glances up at you almost shyly. “I mean, um. What?”

“Listen, you’re fucking up service. You’re distracted, tired, stressed beyond belief. I want to help you, and I won’t pretend it’s just out of the goodness of my own heart. I’ve been interested in you for a while, Carmy. You can take that or leave it or kick me out of this walk-in if you want, but I’m here. I want to help you work through things, through all this anger. And…I want you to know you can take it out on me. And maybe even feel better at the same time.”

Carmy is flushed, and you’re all out of words. You kind of wish he was still looking at the T-bones.

“We, uh, we can’t.” Carmy leans back on a freezer for support, crossing his arms in a pose you normally associate with him working something out in his head, deciding what a dish is missing or what it needs to take it up a notch. “I mean, not now. Not here, at least. And I don’t know, we work together. I’m your boss. It’s not a good idea.” He reaches a hand round to his back, starts massaging the strain away there. It’s an especially effective position as he doesn’t have to look at you as he does it, as he says, “Sorry.”

You shrug a little, smile. Try to pretend it doesn’t hurt. Keep it professional, or as professional as you can get in a kitchen. “Hey, it was worth a shot. Get some sleep, Chef.”

You turn to go, hoping that stirring and slicing and plating up will shake off the embarrassment currently burning through to your bones.

But you don’t live to regret the offer as Carmy grabs your arm, spins you and shoves you hard enough into the walk-in door that it rattles on its hinges.

“Hey, everything okay in there Chefs?” you hear Marcus call, and it’s a reality check you absolutely don’t want right now. Carmy doesn’t even seem to have heard him, trailing kisses down your neck, collarbone, shoulder as your body arches into the feeling. You’ve had one too many fantasies about this walk-in since you started, but the actual feeling doesn’t begin to touch the dream.

“Yeah, all good Chef!” You manage to reply, but you barely get the ‘Chef’ out before Carmy’s lips slide over yours, pushing, demanding entry as his body keeps you pressed up against the door. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place, is all you have time to think between kisses.

There is no room or time for playing around. Carmy needs this, and you intend to provide, but you’re damn sure getting everything you can out of it just in case it never happens again. One of your hands curls deep into his hair, pulling his head back as your teeth click together in the ferocity of the kiss. You swear you can taste blood, but neither one of you pulls back, the saltiness only urging you on. Your other hand is busy loosening his belt, and you tug it hard to pull the silver prong free of the leather, hard enough that his hips jerk forward into yours and you moan, long and low.

Gravity suddenly spins on its axis as Carmy lifts you, turns and drops you down onto the freezer Fak installed last week. And for once in your life, thank you, Fak. The movement seems to shake Carmy out of it for a second, and he pulls back, hesitates. A hand curves around your cheek, and you can feel an apology coming, see the reticence forming in his eyes. And honestly, fuck that.

You hook fingers through his belt loops, dragging him closer and then using them to tug his trousers down. You’re not gentle as you reach into his underwear, wrap a hand around his cock, and you can tell that’s what he needs as he hisses, his head drifting back.

Removing his hand from your cheek, you guide it slowly down to your neck. His head snaps up, and there’s a darkness, a need, that wasn’t there before as you move your hand slowly, torturously, down his length.

“Hey,” you whisper, reluctant to interrupt the low grunts spilling from him with each of your movements. “I’m not going to break.”

You squeeze his fingers around your throat a little tighter, and it’s this that has him surging forward, messy mouths pressing together again and everything condensing into a rippling, burning, rightness as the fingers of his other hand shove themselves between your legs.

He lingers there for a moment, breaths short and sharp in your ear as he breaks free from your kiss and whispers, “If we had more time, I would clean up the mess you’re making all over my freezer, Chef.”

“My apologies, Chef,” you pant, the sweetness of the apology marred slightly by your fingers tugging hard through his curls. Then you’re pushing up his white shirt at the back, reveling in the heat of him, the muscles straining under your touch. “What’s my punishment?”

Carmy hesitates, then withdraws his fingers from you slowly, and it feels like the calm before the storm. One hand is still pressed loosely around your neck as he brings the other up to your face, runs the edge of his still-wet fingers over your lips. Asking or demanding, you don’t know, but you’re happy to comply. His pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the blue behind them, and when you slide your mouth over his fingers, taste yourself on him, he closes them in momentary bliss. And it’s so beautiful to see that you can’t resist pulling him in to share.

A Michelin-star chef with one of the most sophisticated palates on the planet. A renowned food critic once wrote of him, “In my next life, I’d like to be just one of the taste buds in Carmen Berzatto’s mouth.” And here he is, savouring you, tongue searching out every corner of your mouth as if he wants to figure out each and every component of your taste. Add the recipe of you to his menu, and make it every night.

You’re both done waiting, and the clock is ticking. You can faintly hear Sydney calling orders through the wall, although she sounds steadier now. You don’t know whether anyone out there knows what you’re doing, but a rampaging elephant couldn’t stop Sydney when she’s on a roll.

Carmy pulls you closer to the freezer’s edge, jeans and underwear falling to his ankles and suddenly he is right there, and-

“Oh, fuck,” is all you can say as he pushes forward in one swift, animal movement. And oh, pain flickers down your spine as he slides almost free of you and thrusts back, relentless, and this is exactly what you signed up for.

“ Fuck ,” he echoes, hand sliding down your neck to settle over your racing heart. “Fuck, you…I don’t know how you do this to me,” he pants, and you try to keep your moaning down so you can hear as words spill from him, “When you come in with your hair down before a shift, when you - ah - when you borrow my knife and I see you using it all service, when you let me light your fuckin’ cigarette for you. Shit. You drive me crazy on purpose, and you wanna know what the worst part is?”

You can’t breathe, let alone answer him.

“The worst part is I eat that shit up every time, ” he snarls, punctuating every word with a short, sharp thrust.

This is the animal you saw tonight, spitting curses, destroying his own food, all sharp edges and uncompromising will. Grunting as he bottoms out inside you, fingers clenched around your upper thigh hard enough to bruise, littering bites over your neck as if your colleagues aren’t an unlocked door away.

But the animal isn’t the end of Carmen Berzatto. There is more to him than the bear, and you intend to remind him of that before you’re through.

“Look around you,” you pant as he thrusts again, harder, sweeter, and you have to get this out before you tip over the edge. So you risk bringing the hand you were using to support yourself forward to turn his chin towards the walk-in’s walls, to beyond them, to the restaurant hard at work and the satisfied diners metres away who have no idea what’s going on in here, and fuck if that doesn’t make it all the more delicious. “Look what you made. Look who you are.” You watch his flushed face, hope he understands the praise, but you can’t hold on anymore to see your words land.

“You’re fuckin’ unbelievable, Carmy,” is all you manage to choke out as every muscle in your body lights up, tenses and releases in a flood so strong you wonder if you’ll ever surface, and if you even want to.

Carmy fucks forward into you twice more, and his head drops onto your shoulder as he groans, shudders, relaxes fully for what may be the first time in his life.

You stroke a hand over his head, pull him closer. You’re not quite sure when this stopped being a no-holds-barred quickie and became a quiet, intense embrace, but it feels right. All the desperation, the keyed-up energy, is gone from him. And if he never wants anything more than that, even though the idea is more than a little disappointing, you can take consolation from the fact that you at least managed to stop a raging Carmy in his tracks.

Although it is a little quiet.

“Carmy?” You ask, hesitant to break the silence. Thankfully, it still sounds like it’s all bustle outside. You wonder how long you’ve been in here, and try not to think about how you’re going to emerge with any shred of dignity intact.

Carmy pulls back, and you can’t define the look on his face, but it worries you. His eyes shine slightly, and his gaze skips across your face, down your body, not holding your stare.

“Are you okay?” You ask, praying this isn’t about to get really awkward really quick. The man’s still inside you, for Christ’s sake.

“Yeah. I, um, I should be asking you that.” Carmy’s hands skim down your sides, fingers pressing in randomly as if to check for bruises. He tilts his head to look under your chin, as if to check he hasn’t caused any permanent damage to your neck. “Jesus. Are you alright? I’m sorry, that was rough.”

“I’m totally fine.” You don’t know what to do to reassure him, so opt for two big thumbs up. “See? Voice working and everything.”

Carmy chuckles unevenly, takes a careful step back, and you try not to consider how empty you feel and how cold and slippery the freezer now is underneath you. You hop off, catching yourself on the side when you realise just how shaky your legs are. When you glance up at Carmy, he’s just staring at you, which is, frankly, unnerving.

“Do I look that bad?” you ask, pulling your hair out of what’s left of a ponytail to start again.

“No. No, I’m just…I’m just taking you in.” The raw honesty in his eyes pins you in place for a moment. But of course, Richie shouts “ Cousin!” before you can read into it too much.

There is a moment of panicked dressing and clean-up, a nod to each other to confirm you both look relatively sane and not totally fucked (even though you doubt it), and then a collective deep breath as you push open the door of the walk-in.

You don’t catch anyone’s eye for a second as you head to your station, Carmy’s presence like an open flame behind you.

“Corner. Corner. Behind, sorry Chefs,” you call as you slide back into place. Two quick glances calm you; one at the clock - seventeen minutes - and one at Sydney, who doesn’t look like she’s about to throw up and only has three tickets in front of her. You spare a final one for Fak in his position by the door, who you are positive would be grinning gleefully if he, or anyone else in the kitchen, knew what just went down in the walk-in.

“What do you need, Syd?” you ask, picking up the familiar back-and-forth of the kitchen again with some relief.

Carmy is quiet, focused, for the last half hour of service, but you can’t keep your mind clear. As soon as last orders are sent out, you slink to the back for a cigarette, hoping the smoke will at least wipe out your brain fog. It does the exact opposite. When you let me light your fuckin’ cigarette for you. You exhale, waving the smoke away as the words churn through your brain. I eat that shit up every time.

“Hey,” you hear, and you’re almost thankful to speak to the real him just to distract yourself from thinking about earlier.

“Hey.” You offer him a smoke, and he takes it, sinking onto the step next to you. The brush of his leg against yours is a lot more comforting than you expect it to be, relaxing a secretly worried part of you.

He takes a long drag, the kind of drag you only take when it’s been a shitshow of a day. “I just want to say I’m-”

“Sorry? It’s okay. It doesn’t have to happen again,” you finish for him. It hurts less that way.

“What? No.” He looks at you until you reluctantly meet his gaze. “Not for that. I’m not sorry about that.” He lets that hang there for a second, holds your eye. “But I’m sorry for losing my shit earlier. Nobody deserves to be around that, and…I want you to know I’m working on it. I wanna be…I wanna be good at this.” It’s a stilted apology as he thinks through every line, and it feels all the more sincere for it.

“That’s okay. I know. We all know.” You reach a hand out to touch his arm, and after a second, he lowers his head to rest on his knee, although his face is still turned towards you. You see his eyes flicker from your hand on his arm to your face.

“Although that wasn’t exactly how I expected that to go by the way,” he says after a moment.

You don’t try to pretend you don’t know what he’s referring to. “What, in the walk-in?”

“Oh, no, I’ve thought about it in the walk-in.” You ignore a pulse of feeling at his casual confession, at the idea that he’s thought about you. “I just didn’t imagine it so…heated, I guess.” Carmy raises his head again, traces a finger along your hand where it rests on his arm until you shiver. “Not that I didn’t enjoy it.”

You hesitate for a second before replying. Before extending the branch. “Well, I’m sure there’ll be other times, Chef.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and it’s your turn to watch his thoughts flickering there, watch as the fog clears, the idea forms, and he says, “Yeah. Next time.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

wow guys thank you for reading i pray through the act of writing this that my jeremy allen white obsession will calm the fuck down, but i fear i've made it worse

if you'd like to keep up with me on ao3, you can find me here and please do send me any comments or feedback or prompt ideas, i would love to hear them <33 thank you!!

#becsabillion #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x ofc #carmy the bear #the bear #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #carmen berzatto smut #jeremy allen white #the bear fanfiction

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dabislittlemouse · 7 months

Text

tainted angel 🪽 (pt.8)

PART 7 // PART 9 // THE FULL MASTERLIST

ෆ DABI X HAWKS’ LITTLE SISTER

ෆ cw: Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, corruption kink, smut and noncon/ dubcon.

ෆ A/N: this chapter took so long to come out :<<. My schedule is very busy and I don’t always have the energy/motivation to write, but I won’t stop writing this fic. I’m happy to see that yall are sticking around~

[Dabi’s POV]

By the time I get back to the hideout, the sun is rising as the early hours of morning approach. A normal person would be tired, depraved of sleep after a restless night. But not me.

I lick my lips, the taste of her sweet nectar still lingering in my mouth. I’m high, utterly addicted to her and her flavor, my blood pumping with adrenaline and full of energy. I’ve tried different kinds of drugs in my life, but this… this tops everything. I’m so tempted to go back there, spread those legs apart and eat the life out of her again and again. Just so I can get more of those delicious moans and cries, more of those soft thighs squeezing my head between them, more of her sweet cunt fluttering on my tongue. It took everything in me to not stuff her full of my cock too, the bulge in my pants growing and pressing tight against the fabric as I edged myself to her moans.

Though I have to be patient with my angel. Need to give her brain some time to comprehend everything that happened, all the shame and regret she’s about to feel and overcome soon enough. Had to give her a glimpse of what I can do to her, in order to have her addicted and needy for me.

I chuckle to myself, remembering the way she’d keep watch every night, ready to fight and shoo me away in case I came around. Actin’ all high and mighty, as if her pussy wasn’t clenching just at the mere thought of me.

You really need to step up your game if you wanna get rid of me, princess. But either way, I always win. And you’ll always be mine.

“You seem too energetic for someone who’s been out all night”

I find Compress sitting on the couch as I walk inside.

“Nothing escapes your eyes huh Mister?” I smirk, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket.

“I can quite assure you that’s not the case, though we all can’t help but notice the sudden change in you, Dabi”

I quirk an eyebrow, turning at him. “How so?”

“You seem more lost in thoughts during meetings and such. Not that you’ve ever been fond of them I know, but this time it’s quite different” Compress says. “I wonder what keeps you so distracted from the only mission we’re dedicating our lives to”.

I feel anger slowly creeping inside of me, irritation clear on my face.

“You trynna scold me now or somethin’? I told ya from the beginning, this whole lieutenant thing never worked for me, I choose to focus on more necessary things than playing commander and soldiers.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to scold you” Compress shakes his head. “I don’t have any intention to do so, we all trust your capabilities. Though all we’ve been is just.. curious”

Tch. So they really want to know my life outside of the League huh. Can’t mind their own business can they?

From outside the door I hear a faint noise and whispers. I roll my eyes. “For how long will you two nutsacks spy behind that door?”

Immediately the door opens, Toga and Twice both entering inside, looking defeated.

“I told you to keep quiet Jin!” Toga scoffs.

“Did these two send you to make me spill some information?” I turn at Compress, who was now scratching his neck.

“Well…” he shrugs. “That may be the case”

“Oh come on Dab!!” Toga squeals. “I just want to know your secret girlfriend~”

The psycho is more than convinced that I have a girlfriend. Technically, she isn’t wrong. Even though she is delusional most of the time, she has a sharp eye when it comes to such things. Hell, she even had the audacity to tell me one day that I am in love. I held back the urge to puke.

A man like me could never feel love.

“And I really want to know why you can’t mind your own business for once, nutjob”

“It’s already boring in here!” she pouts. “No romance whatsoever, a girl like me needs some adventure and passion in her life!”

I roll my eyes. “Slaughtering people isn’t adventurous enough for you, huh?”

Toga turns at me again, grinning. “Not as adventurous as you sneaking out at night to meet some secret girl that you never tell anybody about~”

“Some secret girl?”

Everyone turns their heads to the direction where the familiar playful voice came from.

Ah, yes.. Hawks.

A smug grin spreads across my face as he enters our headquarters, already with a can of coffee in his hands.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, bird boy?” I raise my eyebrow and Hawks chuckles.

“Nah don’t mind me man, just trying to blend in and join the conversation..” he responds. “Seems like you all are talking over something that isn’t the mission for once. That’s rare to witness”

“We must not let such useless topics distracts us from our main goal!” Twice says. “Huh- Yeah I know man! Dabi has a secret girl that he never tells us about, can you imagine?!”

A suffocating silence enveloped the whole room, and I held back the urge to laugh and at the same time burn Twice’s ass for never shutting up. Toga seems to scoff in annoyance, pinching his arm. The blondie never trusted Hawks, nor did she like having conversations around him, can’t really blame her.

Meanwhile the hero in question is confused, that smile still frozen in his face as his eyebrows furrow.

“What’s with that face huh?” I snicker. “You never thought a man like me would possibly have a girlfriend?”

“Heh.. maybe” Hawks scratches his neck. “Never thought any of you guys would be interested in relationships and stuff, none of my business though.. good for ya!”

I can hear the uncertainty filling his voice. Poor hero, he can’t possibly think it’s his own sister now.. when he trusts her so much. What a shame.

Little does he know the taste of her sweet cunny is still rolling on my tongue as I lick my lips.

Lately everything happening is simply funny to me. Funny how a trusted hero of society is secretly part of a villainous organisation. Funny how the same hero is not loyal to the cause even though he pretends so hard to be. Funny how the hero’s sister is so needy for the dangerous villain, grinding her cunt on his face until she cums. And the most funny of it all: how clueless the said hero is about everything, despite from having sharp eyes and ears.

“Dabi, let’s have a word” Hawks says, heading outside. I follow, hands in my pockets, walking slowly behind him. At first we talk about the secret mission with the High-End nomu. After one week of preparing, the mission will take place tomorrow by the docks, then I can easily test my pet nomu and at the same time the hero’s loyalty. I’m curious to see which hero will tag along with Hawks tomorrow and fall in this little trap.

***

Later today I decide to pay my angel a visit after she finishes school. Wearing my hoodie and sunglasses, I hide in the shadows, keeping my distance from the building which she comes out from. Books in her arms as she walks without a care in the world wearing that short little skirt, her white wings fluttering in the wind. Gorgeous as always, I have the need to pounce at her at any moment. I look around to see if anybody has their eyes on her, ready to burn their brains out if they stare at what’s mine for too long.

I wait for the perfect moment until she reaches an empty road on her way home. Sure as hell she feels that somebody is nearby, looking at the way she turns back, all nervous. A scaredy little mouse worrying for any predators lurking nearby.

I decide to approach her normally, certain she might be still thinking of last night, maybe still afraid of me.

“Headin’ home angel?” I say slyly, hands in my pockets as I walk casually towards her. Still she gets startled, a soft blush covering her cheeks. Stopping in her tracks, she looks at me as if I am a ghost, her mouth falling open to say something but no words coming out.

“What.. got something in my face?” I come closer, touching my face while grinning at her. “Or you just too baffled since last night?”

“N-No it’s just.. what are you doing here? I told you I don’t wanna see you..” she stutters.

“Can’t I come to visit you under normal circumstances? Then you complain when I break in,” I laugh, watching her funny face expressions as she goes through different emotions, one of them clearly embarrassment.

“Just go away!”

“That’s not what you said last night.. my neck still hurts from how tight you wrapped those thighs arou-”

She has the audacity to push me away with both hands, but all she does is get on my nerves instead. I grab her wrist before she tries to get away, pulling her towards me.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want to see me anymore.. c’mon!” I growl, lifting her by the chin to make her look at me. Her whole face is almost glowing red, too flustered to even keep proper eye contact.

“Dabi.. s-stop!” she whimpers.

“Look at me. And say it.” I whisper threateningly, my face inches away from hers. As she looks back at me, her mouth fails to let the words out. Already uncertain and confused with her feelings, I might say I got her wrapped around my finger.

“I just.. the way you do things scares me..” she murmurs, looking up at me through her lashes. “Breaking in and stalking me.. it’s.. makes me feel uncomfortable and-”

“But you still like it don’t cha?” I interrupt her, and she bites her lip nervously. It takes everything in me to not crash my lips against hers, biting that plump lower lip until it bleeds. She doesn’t give me a proper answer, but her silence is answer enough for me.

“Knew it. You like the danger don’t cha?” I smirk. “You like some thrill in your boring peaceful life, something troublesome that has your blood boiling and adrenaline rushing.. isn’t that right doll? You like to play with fire, mess with the unknown, scared that you’ll burn and yet needing more. Confusing isn’t it?”

She closes her eyes, clearly too embarrassed to admit all of this as I read her mind.

“If you become mine.. I’ll give you whatever you want” I touch her lower lip with my thumb, whispering in her ear. I grab her by the hips, pulling her closer towards me. “I’ll give you the feeling you experienced last night.. and even more. Make you see the stars every night, wouldn’t you like that hm?”

She hums in response, shivering at my words and my touch while accepting my embrace.

“Speak doll.. y’know, I can’t do anything without your consent..”

The glare she gives me makes me laugh, knowing well enough that me touching her as she slept was far from consensual. Not that I need her consent for me to make her mine, I’m just putting on an act.

“That’s funny coming from you..” she pouts.

“Ah c’mon, you didn’t tell me stop though~”

“That’s because you kept my mouth shut,” she scoffs. I raise both hands in defeat.

“Tch, alright sorry.. this time I’ll be a good guy and ask for consent m’kay?”

“That’s the bare minimum you idiot!” she yells and I laugh again, certainly irritating her more. I can’t get enough of her when she’s mad, it makes my cock twitch, need to fuck that angry face until she is a gagging crying mess.

Soon.

“Let me make it up to you tonight, princess,” I reply. “I’ll take you out on a date, and I promise to not do anything creepy. Give me another chance will ya? I promise to make it worthwhile~”

She stops to think for a moment, scratching her neck nervously and letting out a deep breath. Clearly fighting with the demons in her head. Love to see it.

“Alright..fine” she sighs. “I guess I can give this another chance.”

From the way I ate you out, m’sure you’ll keep giving me more chances.

“Ah, just perfect..” I grin, patting her head. “See ya later then, sweetheart. Make sure your brother doesn’t interrupt us again”

She nods shyly, smiling a little as I kiss her forehead before parting ways. Going on dates and shit like that have never been in my focus, nothing but distractions from my goals. But for a reason, I feel thrilled to take my angel out tonight, show her a real good time that she’ll never forget.

🏷️tags: @dabislittlebeaniebaby @mostlyheinous @scariusaquarius @touyalove @awalkingshame @syrenkitsune @dabihawksluva

#B.writes #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi x reader #dabi x you #bnha #dabi smut #mha smut #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere fic #yandere dabi #tw: smoking

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