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rassvetsky · 1 year

Note

would literally lose my fucking mind if you wrote carmy like touch starved, idk maybe everyone is staying after to celebrate something and he’s dragging you into his office to eat you out with absolutely zero shame because he needs it so bad

your wish is my lifelong quest i love you, hope i did it at least some justice loml

Carry You Away With Me

carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader

He looked sheepish for a moment, lips curling into a grin for another split second before returning to his natural expression, eyes finding yours and locking you into his gaze. "Do you think anyone would notice if I took you elsewhere right now?"

[4k] | chef ill be honest with you this is just porn, needy!carmy (he's fucking adorable), office sex if that's even a term, established relationship, cunningulus, unprotected sex, cum-play. my apologies to the church

reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! not proofread.

It was around 11 when you returned to the restaurant with a bottle of champagne cradled in your arms, watching as Gary and Tina pushed a few tables together to make a bigger one for the rest. Eating together wasn't a rare occurrence, but it often only happened an hour before service in the morning— dinners were mostly had at home or skipped altogether, depending on the importance one put into their health. But tonight called for an after-hours get-together, one that Sydney and Marcus pushed for when Ebraheim showed up in the morning with the latest issue of Gastronomica, featuring a very familiar name this time around— Carmen Berzatto.

"You know— I bet you can like, make it to a Vogue issue sometime later on, too."

"That's not exactly food-related."

"I'm just saying, dream high and—"

The few clinks of a spoon against the glass cut Fak right off and Carmen made a mental note to thank god for that later on, his gaze lifting from the long, full table that everyone was surrounding to the source of the sound; the now-empty champagne glass that Richie held.

"Can we all take a moment to stop stuffing our faces with this whatever-the-fuck it is to congratulate my cousin right here?" he spoke up, bringing a smile to your lips as you reached for Carmen's hand from under the table and muttered out "chou à la crème", another dish that Marcus had been experimenting with lately. A short chuckle left Carmen's lips when he vaguely heard what you said, and he gave your hand a firm, appreciative squeeze before rubbing his thumb along the back of your palm. "Gastronomica isn't just any magazine. I think it's supposed to be one of the good ones, like—"

"—the Vogue of food!"

"Maybe! Who knows, anyway— really, I'm proud of this mess of a man and you all should be, too." and maybe this was the most affection that Richie could whip out in public, but it was more than enough— because despite his hate for having the spotlight directly on him, Carmen was currently busy offering a smile to Richie, which the other reciprocated shortly before sitting back down, his quiet little hum of affection drowned out by the mutterings of 'cheers' along with the clink of everyone's glasses.

Proud was an understatement for this little dysfunctional found-family.

But you knew Carmen, you knew that he'd much rather skip on the compliments and pats to the shoulder; and you were way too sure that he'd need a moment to himself sooner or later. That moment came almost fifteen minutes after, when everyone split themselves into a few groups of completely different conversations, scooped up chocolate sauce and cream and small pieces of the delicate pastry got left behind on the empty plates— you felt Carmy's fingers wrapping around your upper thigh, concealed by the dimmed out lights and the table.

"S'up?" you returned your attention to him upon feeling his fingers tapping along to some nonexistent rhythm on your clothed skin, not too invested in the story Richie was busy telling everybody with the loudest voice he could muster to begin with.

"Elsewhere?"

"Not too far, jus' my office. For a couple of minutes at most." he leaned in closer to your ear just so you could hear him over the 2012's pop playlist Manny whipped out earlier, a completely mesmerizing turn of events when he started singing along to a random Katy Perry song— but that leaning closer action proved Carmen to be just another self-saboteur because he was feeling specifically out of place all day and to feel your perfume so close was a pull with a force out of this world. He couldn't pull back away then, couldn't return to his own chair and you had no choice but to push him away manually. "I promise."

"Any ulterior motives I should be aware of?" you grinned, letting your fingers curl right over his own on your thigh— and making a mental note to ease him into the habit of using hand moisturizers regularly sometime, upon the roughed up feel of his skin.

"You wound me, baby." his expression seemed to linger over offense, but his eyes told a completely different story; and before you knew it, he was pushing his chair back to get up, patting Gary's shoulder on his way to the back of house, a momentary turn of his head just so he could silently tell you to follow with his eyes.

And that, you did, despite the raised eyebrows of Richie's that you met along the way.

The kitchen smelled like a different kind of citrus, one that only belonged in dishwashing detergents as you maneuvered through the stations, cleaned up from the day's worth of filth. From your peripheral vision, you noticed Carmen reaching behind to undo the strings of his navy apron, leaving out the top string that he'd have to pull over his head until you could catch up and he could get to the office. His shirt was, again, as pristine as ever and it was a work of magic how he managed to come back home with a perfectly clean white t-shirt each day, if not for a few little drops here and there.

Finally, he pushed open the door of his office for you and you stepped in, finding your way to his desk in the darkness to flip the switch of the small light that illuminated the paperwork mostly. When your eyes found him again, the apron was long gone— tucked away in a corner, folded, although not so neatly. "Happy now?"

Instead of a reply, he just plopped down on the old, squeaky chair by the desk, thighs spread and arms wide open to make space for you. You took the offer right away, seating yourself on one of his thighs but still balancing yourself on your feet too, in order to not just dump your whole body weight on him and potentially numb out his leg. He couldn't care less, as he wrapped himself around you tightly and pulled you closer. "I don't really give a shit about Gastronomica."

"I figured," you mumbled against the material of his shirt, lungs filling in with a scent that only he could carry— a surprisingly pleasant mix of cigarettes, sweat, and gravy. It belonged to him, at least. "When's the last time you gave a shit about anyone's opinion outside of here, anyway?"

A soft hum left his lips, one that feigned agreement— but he wasn't paying much attention to what you've been saying to begin with, mind all muddied with specific moments in time that included you. Come to think of it, he'd been like this all day, even when Richie jokingly smacked him across the face with the magazine or when Tina elbowed him while he was trying to explain why she had to strain the mixture twice to get a flowing consistency— on the back of his mind, there was always you; always the lack of time he got to spend with you when the rush hour got too much to bear and he couldn't bring himself to lift an arm when he came back home to you.

When was the last time he properly touched you, took his time to memorize all the little ridges and beauty spots across your body, he couldn't remember.

So as you spoke, listing out all the reasons why he should be proud of himself for all the accomplishments, Carmen's arm curled around your waist and his fingers found your thighs again, the warmth of his palm seeping through the material of your leggings and from the way they teased upwards, you knew where this was going. "... that you managed to turn— are you not listening?"

His smile was so smug that you wanted to either kiss, or slap him. "Not really. But go on."

"Carmy, if you actually think that I'll do anything non-churchy with you here while everyone's literally twenty feet away, you're so wrong." you breathed out, because that's all you could do when his lips ghosted over the side of yours, before trailing down to where your jawline met your neck. He only hummed as a reply, clearly not giving a shit about your opinion either at that moment— but to say that you weren't enjoying the attention would be a blatant lie.

His fingertips traced the seams outlining your underwear through the extra layer of fabric while his lips latched to your neck, finally, with his warm breath hitting against the sensitive skin and the usual wet nature of his kisses leaving behind a glistening spot of adoration. You leaned into it, rather shamelessly— legs parting and fingers carding through the locks on the nape of his neck, and that only encouraged him further, causing him to whisper out a curse and a few sloppy words of praise. "Just let me, hm? Please?"

The sense of desperation in his tone was enough to push back any words of disagreement that you could blurt out at that moment. You knew you had to power through, it would be so embarrassing and disrespectful to let him have his way with you right here, while everyone else was still at the FOH— but the way his palm covered your clothed core and his fingertips teased the slight outline of your slit, all while his pretty lips were oh so busy whispering absolute filth in your ear was slowly taking away all the care you had in the world. "Carm— not a good idea."

"You weren't saying that last week, right here," two weeks ago, to be exact, but you couldn't blame him for not being able to tell time apart. "Had to cover your mouth and all, s'loud for me—"

"You're getting carried away." you chuckled, the deepest of breaths still not enough for the capacity of your lungs as you tugged on his locks slightly, prying him off of your skin just so you could get a look at him.

"Let me carry you away with me. Please, fuck— I can't think of anything else when you're on my mind." he pulled away a little from your neck, eyes of pristine skies staring right at your soul with the expression of a kicked puppy— he knew exactly how to get his way when he was miserable like that. His fingers were still against your heat, expecting permission. "Ten minutes only, just let me touch you."

You could recognize that tone, that incurability way too well— it was often reserved for nights shared between hushed whispers of promises, where he was too needy to form a single thought and all he could do was to cover your body with his and curl onto you, to feel your warmth against himself and to be one body and one soul for an hour. Uncommon in nature, even rarer to take place in a room that he reserved for professional affairs only— but the heart wants what it wants.

To his surprise, you suddenly pushed your lips against his— letting his fever take over you as well, with your hands clutching onto his shoulders and hair. You could hear the slight groan escaping his lips when his fingers breached under the tight waistband of your leggings, pushing the material down slightly with the bend of his wrist before turning his hand a little to tug it all downwards, urging you up on your feet. You got up from where you were seated, now standing between his legs with your back bent just so your lips would be on his, but he broke the kiss with a smile that took over when he finally pulled down both articles of clothing at the same time. Your back straightened when he managed to push them both down to your ankles, your hands on his shoulders to help with your balance as you stepped out of them, feeling his moist lips over your abdomen for a second before he pushed you backwards slightly, towards the desk.

He took that momentary advantage to get up on his feet and pin you right in between his own body and the desk, hands blindly pushing the loose folders to the side. You felt too exposed when his palms gripped the underside of your thighs just to prop you up on the desk, lips finding and panting against yours, a clear indication of his need seeping through the way he tugged and nibbled before his tongue found its way to caress yours.

There was nothing nice about it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care— not when he whispered your name against the plush of your lips so sweetly when your fist closed around his hair, not when he didn't even know what to do with his hands; grabbing, fondling at every inch of your skin that he could reach shakily. He pulled you flush against his body, letting you get a feel of the harsh dark denim against your bare center and you had to bite into his lower lip to stay quiet, ultimately earning a groan from him when his hands slipped under your shirt.

"Bear," you whispered out, his lips chasing yours when you pulled away to speak— which made you chuckle quietly, as he looked at you again. "Ten minutes."

"Ten minutes," he parroted, the usually wide eyes of his now hooded, pupils blown out as if he was looking right at the sun. When you reached in to kiss him again, you couldn't catch him fast enough— he was already holding onto your thighs to crouch down, looking up at you with a Cheshire grin when you spread your legs a little further apart, a force of habit.

Leaning back on your palms against the desk as much as the cramped space could allow, you took a deep breath— but it wasn't enough to prepare you for what came next when his tongue trailed a bold line across your slit, spreading your folds apart gently. It was a pleasant routine, one that you never quite got used to; because when he was down on his knees with his tongue tracing abstract shapes across your clit in a teasing manner, it was all about you and to think that a guy who often rushed things and went through life at a 2x pace would slow down just to put all of his attention on your pleasure only was more delightful than any compliment one could attain.

Carmen's fingertips were perhaps digging into the skin of your thighs a bit too hard, but could you possibly complain? The tip of his tongue dipped between your folds to spread your essence upwards, a mix of his saliva and your wetness covering your clit when he closed his lips around it and sucked— letting out a blissed groan, one that he'd scold you for if you were the culprit. You could only imagine how hard he must've been at that moment, he was always a sucker for situations like this, with the thrill of doing something so forbidden, right where he could be caught and your taste on his tongue, thighs on either side of his shoulders.

Imagining it didn't help your situation at all, it was hard to focus on one coherent thought when he kept flicking his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves but you forced through— with the thought of the blunt tip of his length all flushed and leaking in your palm, curses leaving his soft lips whenever your fingers got a bit too tight around the girth. He liked it when you put your focus there, tip of your tongue tracing the slit and leaving kisses over it while the rest of your palm jerked him off— firm and slow.

And you'd always let your lips stray when he got close, deciding to suddenly bite into the skin of his inner thighs or to lightly trace his perineum with your tongue, just to have him reduced to a writhing, whining mess with not enough air to survive in his lungs. He'd spill onto your fingers and you'd clean him up right away, moving your way upwards with wet little kisses until you reached his lips. And he was one dirty fucker because tasting himself on you when you kissed him all sloppily was probably one of his favorite things in the world.

Drowned out in all the thoughts, you didn't notice how close you were until your thighs were shaking around his shoulders, and he finally added his fingers into the mix then— his middle and ring fingers easily breaching through, grazing all of your sensitive spots from the inside. You had to press your palm against your mouth to not let a sound then, when your climax finally hit you, and you'd probably slide right off the table with how quaky your whole body was at that moment if it wasn't for Carmen's strong grip on your body, holding you right where you belong.

The position was a bit merciless on his legs so far but he made it up to his feet again, giving you a light peck on your lips before his fingers found his mouth, his tongue circling the digits to clean them up as he stared right at you, into your soul. He pulled them out with a slight pop, and licked his lips clean. "How long did we take?"

"I don't know," you panted out. "I was busy imagining the way you come."

His light laughter brought a tender, yet bittersweet ache to your heart. "Fuck, you get off to that?" and you could tell him all about just how beautiful he was, and how much it turned you on to see him blissed out in pleasure— but you didn't know if your lung capacity allowed for it at that moment, as being quiet came with the benefit of holding your breath for longer than you should. "Tell me more."

You giggled against his lips when he braced himself on the desk with his two hands holding onto the edge on both sides of your thighs. Both of your hands moved down to the front of his pants, too fucked out to care about timing as you palmed him through the material just to see that grin on his lips falter. "I'm gonna make you jack off and watch sometime." you mumbled, slowly pulling the zipper down after setting him free from the belt and the button. He hummed, forehead to forehead, before reaching for another little peck.

"As much as I don't see why I should jack off while you're in front of me," he spoke, a sharp intake of breath cutting his line of thought halfway through when your fingers finally wrapped around his cock. "but— shit, if you're into that… Only if you do it w'me, though. I wanna watch too."

"You don't get to watch." you sighed, bringing him closer with your legs to line his length up with your entrance. "You're just gonna sit there and come on your hand like a loser."

Carmen couldn't help the short snort that left him. "Are you even capable of being mean to me?"

"Mm-hm, I'm very mean when I wanna be." and right after that, his tip slid right into your cavern, pulling a deep exhale from both of you when he pushed a bit deeper. His lips found yours, mostly to keep the noises at bay while his hips rolled into yours, grinding against you before retreating a little, only to push in harder this time around.

You felt so full and blessed that you didn't even have to imagine anything to get lost in the feeling.

His pants slid further downwards with each thrust until they pooled around his ankles and your thighs wrapped tighter around his body, trapping him in. His arms were so delicately wrapped around your waist that you had to hold onto him with your whole remaining power to not slide further towards the wall, but he couldn't exactly notice that when he was feeling so damn lucky, whole length wrapped in a warmth beyond his comprehension.

And again, you couldn't blame him, because neither of you managed to notice when the skin slapping against skin got a bit too loud, and your lips pulled away from his just to breathe out the filthiest little nothings, like how much you needed him to fill you right up to the brim. "Fuck, give it to me." your hips met his thrusts half-way through when you pushed yourself against him. "Carmy, come inside me, please."

"Yeah? Are you gonna take it all?" his voice sounded broken, and his fingers would surely leave imprints on your hips with how tight his grip was. "Won't let you waste a drop, baby. I won't."

Somehow, through how feral he was with the way you were begging him, the responsible side came forward and captured your lips in his again— because while his team was full of respectful people, they were also little shits who would never live it down if they heard those beautiful sounds that escaped your lips with each hit of his blunt head against your sweet spot. The thought somehow egged him on further— he couldn't exactly decide if he was too possessive to let anyone hear or if he was possessive enough to make sure everyone knew he belonged to you, but at that moment, both of those thoughts turned him on too much, enough for him to feel his high approaching. And judging by the way your walls cramped down on him tighter with each passing second, you weren't too far behind.

You could feel yourself gushing around him, coating both of you in your essence beyond simple cleaning, but that was a matter to worry about later, not when the love of your life was balls-deep inside of you, his rough grunts right against your ear when he reached to press his lips right below it. "Close?" he mumbled, and even though your mind was too busy to hear and comprehend him properly, you nodded— feeling his arms wrapping around you tighter, pulling you closer to the warmth his body provided. And while as much as you'd like to keep this going for longer, witnessing his pace falter and voice break as he moaned out your name, filling you up in the most delicious way slowly was enough to have your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure, and to have the knot finally snap.

Your whole body was buzzing, shaky even when he held you so tight against his chest as if you'd vanish right there and then— something that he always did after sex, no matter the circumstance. You giggled wearily against his shoulder, leaving a few kisses here and there before he pulled away slightly to pull you into a kiss— nothing like the ones you shared in the past minutes, this one was all sweet and loving. "Might drip if I pull out."

"You can't stay there forever, Carm."

"Oh, but I want to." he huffed out but still moved to slowly pull out of you anyway, having you both hiss in sensitivity and just like he thought, his come was ready to spill all over the place. Quick-thinker in nature, he caught his seed with his fingers right before they could go further, pushing them back into you just to hear you gasp— and slap his shoulder playfully.

"You're a fucking freak."

"Shut up— round two at my place? Kinda wanna see where that watching me jerk off fantasy of yours might lead us."

a/n: once again i could be easily manipulated into breaking into your house with a part two, who knows

also @carmensberzattos consider this a marriage proposal

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmen berzatto fic #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear fic #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff

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wwinterwitch · 5 months

Text

teasing — anakin skywalker

summary: just anakin being a little tease before he goes down on you

pairing: anakin skywalker x princess!fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

tags: smut, secret relationship, teasing, masturbation using panties, pet names (baby, my love, good girl, darling), biting/marking, reader gets slightly insecure, softdom!anakin, body worship, he likes your scent hehe, oral (f receiving), he eats pussy like it's his life purpose, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, fingering

reblog or comment if you enjoy please!

all masterlists | star wars masterlist | read on ao3

Anakin smirks devilishly before his lips press against your lower belly, daring to nibble on your skin in an effort of teasing you even further. His erection feels almost painful, hidden inside his trousers; the sight of you looking down at him as he explores your body, the soft sounds coming from you as further confirmation of your pleasure, and the way your hips repeatedly lift themselves off the bed in clear urgency for more do nothing to help his aroused state.

Whenever he manages to have you like this– all his to enjoy, away from anyone who could dare to stand between the two of you, he likes to take his sweet time with you. With him in his endless missions as a Jedi, and your countless duties as the heir of one of the most prestigious kingdoms in the galaxy, it’s not easy to find much time to be together.

But sooner or later, he always comes back to you.

Ever since he and Obi-Wan had the difficult task of rescuing you and another group of hostages from separatist forces, he’s been infatuated with you, and it didn’t take him much time to realize the sentiment was mutual.

After many stolen glances and a lot of interventions from Obi-Wan whenever he detected the slightest flirting between you, the two of you knew that the ceremony your father organized to celebrate your safe return would not be the last time you and Anakin would see each other.

The excuse was soon invented. You offered to help your father with all security matters on your planet, which inevitably meant having to interact a lot with the Jedi to keep constant and efficient communication. Evidently, you had chosen Anakin to be the Jedi you’d communicate with if your planet ever needed them– he saved you, of course you’d trust him the most.

Maybe not everyone bought it. Maybe the ones who did still have a few doubts when they realize just how good your communication is. It’s clear then neither of you care. As long as you’re able to see each other with a plausible reason and no one intervenes, it’s enough.

So technically, Anakin was back on your planet today for a scheduled meeting with you to discuss a few things. Nothing else, just following protocol. In reality, the two of you are in your chambers, away from prying eyes. Your naked body rests on top of the ridiculously expensive silk sheets, legs wide open for him to lay comfortably between them.

Leaning back, Anakin grabs your panties to push them up against your core, the fabric folding in a thin line that squeezes your clit in the most satisfying way.

He lets out a low groan when he sees the reaction on your face, staring back at you with evident pride and lust as he admires what a cute little mess you've become for him. Legs spread for him to do whatever he wants, your beautiful body all exposed to his hungry graze except for the panties you're still wearing, a few marks on your neck and breasts from his previous exploration just minutes earlier.

Not having enough just yet, he starts to move his arm rhythmically, causing the fabric to rub against your entire slit. You moan louder this time, looking down at him with pleading eyes as he continues his movements.

One of your hands moves towards your chest, urgently massaging one of your breasts. He smirks at the sight, speeding up so suddenly that you’re practically forced to close your eyes and lean your head back against the pillows. Your mouth stays in the shape of an ‘o’, moans increasing in volume, body tensing in pleasure.

Once he's satisfied enough, he moves his hand away, smirking as he stares at the absolute masterpiece between your legs. "Look at that," he comments in a husky voice, admiring the large stain of your arousal on your panties as his palms slowly trace up your thighs.

Anakin eventually reaches your inner thighs and he squeezes your flesh in a way that leaves you whimpering in both pleasure and pain. And then he squeezes again because he enjoyed your reaction a little too much.

His hand finally reaches its destination, the feeling of one of his fingers brushing against the fabric of your panties sending shivers down your spine. The contact is enjoyable, but you need more. "Fuck, your panties are soaked, baby," he practically growls, continuing to trace up and down in gentle movements.

His fingers stay there, carefully tracing your pussy with your underwear still acting as an annoying barrier that prevents you from experiencing the true pleasure that only his touch can bring you. He looks up at you, lips peppering small kisses up your inner thigh.

At first you thought he’d keep moving upwards, maybe give you the satisfaction of leaving a kiss on top of the fabric, but as soon as he gets close to where you need him most, his lips move to your other thigh to repeat the same trail he previously followed from your knee to the edge of your panties.

You can't take his teasing anymore. Even when you should be used to this kind of behavior from him, you can't stand it any longer. It's all too much, but nothing at the same time.

With evident frustration, you find yourself rocking your hips against his fingers in an attempt to create more friction. The hand previously gripping the sheets moves to his hair, your grip on his light brown locks tightening when he gets closer and closer to your core.

He looks at you with evident amusement, silent mockery shining in his eyes because he knows you’re getting impatient. Sometimes he’s feeling particularly merciful and he actually listens to your pleas right away, but there’s times where he likes to make you beg for it.

The disappointment is evident on your face when you see him move a hand to his hair, releasing his hair from your grip before he uses that same hand to push your hips down towards the mattress to keep you as still as possible.

"Anakin..." you breathe out in a desperate plea, practically pouting.

He seems to ignore you for a few seconds, almost hypnotized by the sight of you so desperate, distracted by the wetness he feels with his fingers. It's only when he lifts his head again to properly look at you that he finally seems to pay your apparent complaint any attention. "Yes, my love?" he asks playfully, as if he has no idea why you would be calling for him like that.

"Stop teasing," you whine, feeling incredibly frustrated as he just looks at you. The underwear you’re wearing is soaked and your body is completely ready for him to do absolutely anything, yet he’s barely touching you with his fingers.

Anakin ignores you once again, his eyes drifting down to your thigh. He’s leaning in once again, this time tracing his tongue against your skin before his teeth are sinking onto it without a warning, making you gasp as your back arches in response.

He barely moves back to admire the way his teeth marked you, using his mouth to suck on a spot just below the shape of them. The thought of how pretty a bruise –his bruise– would look on your inner thigh tomorrow makes his cock twitch.

"Is that an order, your highness?" he finally speaks, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You let out an exasperated sigh. You’re a woman who possesses an intimidating amount of power, but you’re completely defenseless when it comes to Anakin. You surrender all of it when you’re with him.

He has a future queen wrapped around his finger, and that thought turns him on more than anything.

"Please!" you whine, fearing he’ll have you crying tears of frustration any second now if he decides to continue this torture.

To add to your growing despair, Anakin chuckles against your skin. "Now, we both know you can do much better than that," he whispers softly, encouraging you to speak up. After all, hearing your voice is one of the things he enjoys the most; he particularly likes it when it's in the form of breathless words and needy pleas.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment, not knowing what to say at first. Again, you should be used to him being like this, an annoying little tease, but there's something about Anakin that you'll never be prepared for. He’s unpredictable like that, but it’s one of the many things that made him stand out to you.

He's always finding new ways to keep you on the edge, to make you beg for it, to leave you ridiculously wet before he's even properly touching you. The fact that he has so much patience and self-control to keep his teasing for so long is deeply admirable but also incredibly frustrating.

Your breath gets heavier and your walls clench around nothing in torturous anticipation while he keeps his face dangerously close to your aching pussy, his eyes dark as he takes you in like your the most delicious thing on this galaxy and he just can't believe he's lucky enough to have you all to himself– yes, he likes teasing, but that doesn't mean he's not eager to please you, desperate to have his face buried in between your legs to drink up every drop of your delicious essence and stay there for hours.

He just likes to make you work a little for it, because what’s the fun in giving it to you just like that? A person used to getting everything they want from the moment they were born should know what it feels like to be kept waiting once in a while.

The way his eyes focus on you, so intensely and lustful, does nothing to make you feel any less anxious. It's both exciting and nerve-wracking; to have him worship your body in the way he does, to feel completely exposed and vulnerable. It's more than enough to make you feel self-conscious.

Anakin seems to sense your increasing nerves, gripping one of your thighs as silent encouragement. "Come on, let me hear you," he insists shortly after, his voice softer than ever, almost begging to hear you say exactly what you want him to do to you– of course he knows exactly what it is, but it's so different when you say it out loud.

After a few seconds, you finally managed to speak up despite your sudden shyness. "I want to feel your mouth on me, please..." you mutter, reminding yourself to look back at him as you speak. At that point, you thought you might even start crying due to how badly you need him. "Please, Ani...I can't take this anymore."

At first, you thought maybe you should've said more. As your words echo inside your head, you’re convinced that you should’ve tried harder. That they couldn't possibly be enough to satisfy him and he'll probably urge you to keep talking despite your embarrassment. Your thoughts were far from being true, however, and it becomes clear to you when you feel the bruising grip on your thigh and the way he groans against your skin again.

"That's a good girl," he says with a pleased smile, looking up at you for a few seconds before his eyes trail down your body appreciatively.

He knows you're desperate, he knows you're barely keeping it together, and he knows you're trying your best to put up with his seemingly endless teasing. Perhaps it's time to finally reward you for it.

His fingers hook to the hem of your panties, trailing them down your legs before throwing them to the floor. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat in anticipation of what's to come, watching as he looks at your exposed folds with such interest and admiration, it almost makes you feel dizzy.

Before he does anything else, he reaches for a pillow that rests on the side of the bed he sometimes occupies whenever he can find time to spend a night with you, placing it underneath you on your lower back, raising your hips just enough. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible while he pleases you.

His arms sneak underneath your thighs to hold you, wanting to keep you in place as he spreads you wide open, fully exposing you to his hungry gaze. "Beautiful," he lets out in a low voice as he moves closer, "and all mine to enjoy."

You're so sensitive, so eager to receive anything, that you can't help but moan when you feel his breath mingling with your arousal, making you shiver as you lean back against the mattress.

A few seconds pass and you're once again slightly disappointed when you don't feel more. You were already expecting to feel his mouth on you, but nothing was happening.

When you look down, you're met with the hottest sight you think you'll ever see in your life. Anakin is laying on the bed with his head in between your legs, his strong arms keeping them open while his eyes are closed, simply taking in your scent. He stays there, enjoying the smell of you.

There's something so intimate about it, worshiping you in that way, it makes you feel just as good as if he was actually using his mouth.

But eventually he does use it, and it makes your eyes roll to the back of your head almost immediately because you've been waiting too long for this. Long, excruciating minutes of him just teasing your body and leaving you aching for more are suddenly worth it when his tongue is licking one single strap up your slit, humming in delight as he tastes you for the first time that night.

He doesn't stop there. It's almost as if he became a hungry beast after the first taste, diving right in. His tongue presses harder against you a few more times before his mouth captures your clit, sucking on it in such a deliciously good way that it makes you gasp for air as you grip the sheets.

The exploration continues, starting to quite literally devour you. His tongue is eagerly exploring every inch of you, moving around to spread your folds to discover every part of you. Your legs would tremble every time he finds your swollen clit, pleasuring you with a hard suck or a series of rapid swirls of his tongue.

You're inevitably finding yourself in the need of rocking your hips against his mouth, craving more friction, but he quickly stops you by placing a hand on your lower belly to hold you down, making it almost impossible for you to move.

He leans back from you just enough, and that's when you're able to admire the way his face glistens with your arousal, coating his mouth and chin. "Stay still, darling," he instructs slightly out of breath, right before diving back in.

You try to do just that, moaning in response to his vicious assault on your pussy. The wet sounds of his mouth on you echo across the room and the fact that he has absolutely no problem with being loud and messy while he eats you out drives you absolutely insane.

His movements never slow down, rapidly licking up and down a few times before taking care of your clit and repeating the process. While he works on your body, he refuses to move his eyes away from your face, wanting to take in every single second of the pleasure that reflects on your features, even having the nerve to smile up at you as his tongue continues to taste you.

With the increasing volume of your moans and the fact that it's harder to keep you in place, Anakin can tell you're getting closer to your peak. The prospect of feeling and tasting your orgasm encourages him to continue at an even faster pace.

He makes sure to press his entire mouth against you, sucking as much of your arousal as he possibly can. The wet sounds increase even more when he begins to practically make out with your pussy, doing his very best to drive you closer to the edge.

One of your hands moves to his hair, tangling your fingers in it as you feel the knot in your stomach becoming impossibly tighter, breathing heavily as you try to keep it together for a few more seconds. "I– fuck, Ani, it feels so good," you moan out desperately. "I don't think I can–"

Before you can reply, you feel a powerful wave of pleasure running through your entire body. A loud cry escapes your lips as your intense orgasm takes over, making it impossible to form coherent words or do anything other than tremble and gasp for air, his name slipping past your lips in a breathless whimper.

Unlike what you expected, Anakin gives you no room to relax, continuing to move his mouth against you just as viciously as before, his nose repeatedly brushing against your clit because he's that pressed to you.

He groans against your folds, the vibrations doing nothing to ease the extreme pleasure you're feeling, unable to take a break as he hungrily tastes you. It's almost animalistic, the way he seems to be entirely concentrated on drinking every last drop of your arousal, not caring that you already reached your orgasm and you seriously need time to calm down.

You try to shove him away, pulling at his hair while attempting to close your legs too. Evidently, he's having none of it, spreading your legs wide as the muscles on his arms tense slightly due to the strength he uses to keep them in place and pressing his face to your core more insistently. He looks up at you with darkened eyes, silently demanding for you to take it.

Unable to do much about it, you continue to cry out in pleasure, the overstimulation and the fact that his attack is not slowing down only bring you closer to come, your second orgasm quickly approaching. Another explosion happens deep within you, making you close your eyes as your face contorts in a kind of ecstasy that borders pain.

His movements finally slow down when he feels you come against his tongue again, allowing you to climb down from your high. Anakin is considerably more gentle now as he uses his tongue to taste your release, loosening the grip on your thighs, fingers gently caressing your skin.

Once he's satisfied, he moves away from your sensitive core. A smirk appears on his face when he leaves a tiny kiss on your clit, watching as your body trembles from the contact. It's barely a soft peck, yet it has you instantly whimpering and spasming.

Your eyes remain closed, feeling the way he crawls on top of your body once again. His hand brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, satisfied with how pretty you look after he gave you two orgasms in such a short period of time.

The blissful moment of relaxation doesn't last very long, however, because you quickly feel one of his fingers slowly slipping inside your tight and wet entrance.

Opening your eyes with evident surprise, you notice his eyes already looking down at you, grinning when he sees the expression on your face after the unexpected intrusion.

"Please," you let out in a soft cry, pouting. "It's too much, Ani..."

"Shhh," he promptly replies in a soothing tone to calm you down, his finger already fully in. "You can take it."

Another pathetic little sound escapes your lips when he adds another finger in the same slow, tentative manner. He gives you a few seconds to prepare, his fingers knuckle-deep inside you before he starts to move them.

Anakin's face hides in your neck, a satisfied groan crashing against your skin when he feels your walls clench. "That's it," he whispers, his movements increasing just enough. "She has to be nice and ready for me before I fill you up with my cock. Isn't that right, my love?"

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker fic #anakin x reader #anakin x reader smut #anakin skywalker x fem!reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker imagine

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first-edition · 22 days

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Pie

Dean Winchester x fem1reader.

All your time of knowing dean winchester he’s never turned down the chance to devour some pie. He loves it more than breathing. But there might just be something he craves more to eat than pie.

Cw- not proof read (sorry not sorry for errors), smut, oral fem rec. vag fingering. Female parts mentioned, clit, core, no real description of reader, no y/n used, overstimulation.

MINORS DNI THIS FIC CONTAINS 18+ LANGUAGE AND THEMES

You lay your back against the plush sheets of the bed back arching mouth open as your boyfriends , dean winchester, head is buried in between your thighs and has been for the last hour and a half. He hasn’t been letting up a single moment drawing out 3 orgasms from you thus far.

His arm grip around your thighs keeping you steady in place for him. Your moans echo off the walls of the bedroom. Your fingers grip onto his hair as he pushes his mouth deeper into your cunt drawing out a groan from him.

His lips are firmly pressed around your clit as he sucks and licks every part of you the emmense pleasure filling you once again. Fanning the flames he lets go of one of your thighs and moves his hand under his chin sitting up a bit to soley focus on your clit before pushing in two finger and digging upwards to your g-spot.

“Ngh.. d-Deann ah.” You whimper out knowing your legs will sooner or later give you. He looks up to your face his pupils lust blown the serotonin just from seeing you come undone at his demise only forcing his thrusts of his fingers to speed up.

You begin to writhe away but the muscle hes built up from years of fighting never falters as he wraps his arm across your waist keeping you still as well as adding pressure to your lower abdomen as to provide more pleasure.

To think this all started with him and sam arguing about pie and the excessive amount of whipped cream he’d put on it. Your snide comment about how he never eats anything as well as pie took a turn for the better as he set his slice aside and grabbed you out of your seat throwing you over his shoulder.

Your hand leaves his head as you grip the sheet beneath you. Your jaw dropping open as the knot within you coils up threatening to break. The vibrations of deans groans are just enough to allow your release. Your thigh clench around his head but he dosnt let up pulling his fingers from you his hands hook themselves in the back of your knees and pushing your legs back to you before he continues to praise your clit.

“D-dean.. ah dean..” you gasp. Your pleads boost his ego more as youre clawing for anything you can grab onto. Your legs begin to shake as the over stimulation hits you. As much as he wants you fucked out asking for mercy as you lay under him of sit utop him as he plows into you, he wants to prove a point with the pie and take you the fuck out on his tounge. And hes done just that.

Dean finally lets up pulling away from your core the sensitivity pulsing through your body as he carefully closes your legs together licking his lips.

“Y-you were saying…hm? About the pie and i?” He asks chuckling after. You pant too fucked out to respond. He leans to you kissing your chest and neck before making his way to your lips. You give him a small smile and nod your only form of speaking until your vocal cords rest a bit after the musical number you beheld dean with.

“Mmhm,” he replies with. You giggle pulling him down to him and kissing his lips all the most wanting more.

#dean x reader #dean winchester #Dean Winchester smut #dean x reader smut #Dean Winchester x reader smut #dean x y/n

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cottagec0relover21 · 8 days

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(This is my first time writing NSFW, and a over 2k words, so I'm excited to see if you guys like this)

"Hungry Love. Let us Feast"

[Laios Touden x gn!reader]

Warnings: NSFW content below - long fic? - mentions of reader having AFAB genitalia - mentions of cannibalism (nothing gory don't worry)

Laios liked monsters. And he liked eating them. He had an... odd fascination with them, but who were you to judge, when you liked the idea of cannibalism as an analogy for love? Exactly, you were in no position to judge your partner.

You hadn't told him that, though. That you liked the idea of "consuming each other", or that you wanted him to bite each other as you were in bed, treating each other like a fine dish.

—Is everything okay, love?— Laios placed a gentle hand over (y/n)'s shoulder, stirring them away from their thoughts.

They nodded, smiling up at him softly.— Yeah, just thinking— he sat by their side, crossing his legs. He had taken off his armor, wearing the clothes from underneath. They couldn't help their eyes traveling down towards the v-neck of their shirt, the strings loose for comfort.

—Thinking of what?— he asked curiously.

—Just...— should they tell him? No...— about us— they kept their soft smile as they talked for a while about different topics, relating one with another, love, food, monsters. Ugh, monsters. Don't eat them, eat me (y/n) thought to themselves, unable to hide the expression of slight annoyance on their face as the topic was brought up.

He noticed this and mid-rant stopped— Are you alright? Are you tired? We've been walking a lot today, maybe you should rest— if there was something he liked more than talking about monsters in this world, that would be you. He cared about (y/n) more than anyone could imagine or describe.

—Ah, yes... well— they hesitated, looking at their hands, then at his face, and then back at their hands as they fidgeted with their fingers in an attempt to calm their nerves.

They wanted to say how much they wanted to be... consumed, devoured. But would it be weird? Maybe for Laios not too much?

—I've. .. wanted to tell you something for a long time— they mumble— I– It's nothing bad... I think— they waved their hands as they tried to not scare him with their seriousness. Laios looked at (y/n), silently waiting for them to speak.— Have you ever heard of cannibalism as a metaphor or analogy for... love? Or sex even?— they closed their eyes as they said that, bracing for something bad that never came.

Laios put a finger to his chin in thought— Well if I'm being honest, I think I heard of it once or twice, when I was younger and studying literature, but I never delved in much deeper than the fact that it's a thing— he answered with their usual tone.— Why do you ask?— Laios looked at them for an explanation, curiosity clearly sparked in his honey eyes.

(y/n) gulped, trying to ignore how their cheeks started to burn with an incoming blush. Were they really gonna talk about this? They had already told Laios and piqued his curiosity, and he probably would try to pick up the subject sooner than later if they decided to just leave it at this. So gathering courage, they spoke.— I would like for us to– uh– how do I put it?— (y/n) searched for the right words to voice their ideas— to treat each other like a meal when we have intimacy— they blurted, trying to finish the sentence as soon as possible.

—Treat each other... like a meal...— he echoed, raising an eyebrow— so you mean you want me to eat you?— he concluded.

—Ah– well, yes and no, I mean it not in the literal sense, but in a figurative one obviously— they explained— you see, I'd love it if you spoke to me more...no– I...— they sighed again. Gods above was this difficult.— I want you to describe or treat me like a meal. I want us to enjoy ourselves as if we were... "feasting on each other"—.

Soon enough their explanations worked their way into Laios's brain, and he understood exactly what (y/n) was asking for. He smiled, already coming up in his brain with a few ideas. He'd have to think more about the subject though, after all, he always wanted the best for you.

That night, when everyone had gone to sleep in the rooms of the abandoned house they had chosen to pass the night in, Laios approached (y/n) from behind as they were getting into bed.

—Sleepy?— he whispered in their ear, their strong arms hugging them by the waist. They froze at the sudden interaction and slowly relaxed.

—Not really, but we need the rest, don't we?— they smiled, trying to turn around to hug them back, but Laios didn't budge in their hold. —Uh, dear?— they mumbled, this time trying to look behind them.

That's when they felt his lips softly spread kisses on their shoulders, going to the back of their neck and ending their path under their ear. His breath was warm as he spoke— I'm hungry...— he mumbled against their skin. His voice didn't sound like it usually did. This time it sounded... dominant almost.

(y/n)'s breath hitched at this, suddenly feeling themselves grow hot in the cold of the night.

—Should I see if Senshi has any leftovers?— they asked despite their nerves.

—What for? I've got a whole meal right in my hands already...— he let his hands wander, one going down to grip and squeeze at their thigh. The other one traced its way over their neck and up to touch their lower lip.— It would be a waste if I didn't eat you, don't you think? ...so much to delight myself with—.

He let go of them and guided (y/n) to lie down on the bed. They obliged, excitement and pleasure already cursing through their veins as Laios crawled and watched from on top of them how they looked at him with a shy expression, their hair all messy over the soft pillow, a few strands on their face.— Oh how beautiful you are...— Laios whispers, licking his lips and moving the strands of hair away from their pretty face. His lips softly collided with (y/n)'s, who returned the kiss as they tangled their fingers at the back of his honey haired head.

Licking at their bottom lip, silently asking for permission, (y/n) parts their lips, allowing their tongues to dance lovingly. One of his hands stays by the side of their head to keep himself up, while the other moves the spread their legs a bit further, allowing him to come closer, his chest now pressing against theirs.

A string of saliva connects their lips when they break the kiss, and they're both left already panting, thinking about what's next. Laios stutters for a moment as his fingertips touch slightly under (y/n)'s shirt— May I?— he looks up at them through lidded, yet soft eyes.— I'm dying to discover what my meal is for tonight— he let's his hand further under their shirt once (y/n) gives them the okay to go ahead.

His big and somewhat calloused hands cup one of their breasts, massaging it for a moment, his index finger reaching for their nipple and flicking lightly at it. —Mhh... you're so perfectly soft, my love— he uttered, peppering kisses all over their collarbone.

(y/n) sighed, a hand coming up to their lips to contain the moan that wanted to escape from their lips, caused by all the attention they were suddenly receiving.

—Don't...— Laios said firmly, looking up at them from their collarbone.— I want to feast your flesh, and I want to listen to the way you feel when I'm devouring you. So don't— his hand traveled slowly down from their chest to the hem of their pants, feeling the goosebumps on their skin.

Laios felt his erection twitch in the captivity of his own pants, but he bit his lip, focusing once again on the task at hand. Eating.

He slid their pants off easily, underwear gone along with them, taking the opportunity to get rid of his own shirt as well. His breath already agitated, he gulped down the sudden urge to just dive in between their legs and taste them without a word. He continued to gently massage one of their breasts and kissing their neck. Lips starting to trail downwards, he pinched softly at one of their nipples, kissing his way down towards the other breast and sticking his tongue out to play with the nipple of the other.

When their legs twitched, threatening to close in the slightest around him, he moved his hand to hold their thighs open with a strong grip. It wasn't enough to hurt, no. But it was strong enough to let them know, without a word, that it was not happening under his watch.— Can't have a feast without the main course, can we?— he chuckled, trailing kisses down their body and finally positioning his face in between their legs. (y/n) looked away, but quickly looked right back down at him, embarrassment and excitement mixing in their stomach.

He slid a finger over the slick of the entrance, watching mesmerized at their juices as he heard a soft gasp of surprise come from their lips.

Kissing both of their thighs for a few moments first, he looked up to them and whispered— Thank you for the meal, my love— and closing his eyes, his tongue stuck out to lick in an upward motion, testing the waters. Once he heard another gasp, accompanied of a soft whimper, he pressed his face right into their cunt, tongue lapping at the juices as his nose pressed against the soft bundle of nerves slightly above.— Gods, I've been starving— he mumbled against their clit, his warm breath making them shiver.

Sticking his tongue inside of them, then swirling it around their clit, their flavor stuck to Laios's tongue and lips, smearing itself around part of his cheeks and nose as he hummed eagerly against their pussy.

It went on for a while, a long while. And he seemed thrilled at their reactions. What if he licked like this? What if he bit their thighs? What if he raised their legs and pressed his face as much as he could into the sweet liquor of their pussy? What if he held your hips in place with enough strength to make you unable to stop yourself from being completely devoured by him?

He shifted his gaze up towards their face— Gods you sound divine. You're so perfect— lidded eyes looked at them, as one of his hands moved towards the entrance his tongue was just exploring.— Can I?— always so polite, he asks for permission to keep exploring more.

— You shouldn't play with your food— (y/n) says in a breathless whisper. Looking back down at him— but... I'll allow it— Laios smiled softly at their words.

His finger teased the clit first, procuring they were even more wet than before as he slowly pressed kisses all the way back up their abdomen and across their chest until they reached their lips.

Gently teasing the entrance and then pushing his middle finger in, he was met with the warmth and the tightness of their insides as they moaned into his mouth.

—Relax sweetheart...— he whispered near (y/n)'s ear, moving to press a kiss on the space between their ear and their jawline— We're going to be here a while. I like taking my time to enjoy a good banquet— his finger pumped in and out of their pussy beautifully, their slick only providing them with lewd sounds everytime he dipped his finger back in or out. Laios bit down onto their neck, procuring to leave a hickey that everyone was most probably going to be able to see in the morning, and (y/n)'s hips stuttered upwards against his fingers.— You sound so delicious sweetheart— he praised, moving a second finger up to their entrance and penetrating them with both now, eliciting a rather loud moan to escape from them.—Take your time, I'm not stopping until I get to taste your sweet release— Laios mumbled against their jaw.

Gods was that night going to be a beautifully long one.

#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #fanfic #laios touden #laios x reader #laios touden x reader

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kaciidubs · 5 months

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i’ve come back a lot sooner than i expected 🤭 hear me out.. 9th maknae member reader (skz) x Mingi (ateez) 🤯 Reader and mingi have been in a secret relationship for at least a year and both Companies are preparing on announcing their relationship to the public/fans. (it gets better 😼)

Both groups: (ateez + stray kids) don’t know that they’re dating 😱 The boys arranged a massive sleepover for both groups to hangout and reader gets really hot and bothered by mingi teasing her the whole night. They end up excusing themselves (sneakily) and they have the most mind blowing sex ever. All of the other boys over hear and were shocked 🤯 They act like nothing happened as they didn’t want to assume they were dating but later on at an award show it was finally announced that Mingi and Reader were dating. Skz boys went crazy and was practically babying their precious maknae 🫶🏻

kaci my favourite writer 🥰

(p.s sorry for how long this is 💀)

This one's been sitting for a while, mainly because it's already a wonderful thought as is! So, here's just a few thoughts to expand on it~ ❣ Warnings: 9th Member! Reader + Song Mingi [Ateez], smut, fluff, slight humor ❣ ❣ Additional tags: essentially a crossover for Staytiny all around the world~

While the rest of the members were in the living room, you would be bent over the bathroom sink with Mingi giving his all in rearranging your guts in the most quick yet efficient way possible - though, that way didn't include him being the quietest while doing so.

"Mm, jesus, fuck-"

"Mingi, be quiet."

You'd think he was the one currently getting his guts rearranged from the way he struggled to contain his moans, leading you to shoot him a warning glare through the reflection of the bathroom mirror.

"We might as well go and fuck in front of them if you're going to be this loud!" You seethed with a hushed scold, gripping the edge of the counter to keep your balance with his unwavering thrusts.

You could only hope that your combined groups were too occupied with the movie they were watching to notice you and Mingi missing.

Sharp eyes locked onto your own through the mirror, a sideways smirk stretching his lips, "You'd like that, wouldn't you? It's not like they don't suspect it anyways." Snapping his hips forward, he continued, "We can just give them a nudge in the right direction."

Biting back a moan, you dropped your head between your shoulders to focus on the orgasm he'd been teasing you toward since he arrived at your shared dorm; subtle grazes and risque touches keeping you wound up and ready for anything.

A hand found its way around your throat, pulling your body up at an angle so that your gaze met his once more; captivating and hypnotizing, yet still filled with a love that had you falling for him all over again.

"I love you," the words fell from his lips with ease, honest and true, "and I don't want to keep hiding it."

You were, too - he knew that better than anyone, and having to hide it not only from the world, but your band members, the closest people you have, had been eating you both up since day one.

Gripping his forearm, you nodded softly, "I love you too, baby - just a little l-longer to go."

His lips curled into a smirk before driving into you with a newfound fervor.

Neither of you would catch the knowing side eyes or smug smirks of your members when you each returned separately to the living room to catch whatever remained of the movie.

The 'little longer' would eventually come during an award show, with the thoroughly discussed plan between your managers and PR team of revealing the relationship to everyone during a collaborative performance.

Part of it was Mingi's plan to do a performance together, but with the way your schedules aligned, you figured doing it live as opposed to uploading it on youtube was the easier choice.

With the stage - quite literally - set, you and Mingi performed your arduously practiced routine in front of your fellow artists and hundreds of screaming fans, and as the song came to an end the moment you've been waiting for was upon you.

Getting ready for the ending pose, Mingi pulled you into his side and pressed a loving kiss to your temple, while you hugged him with a dazzling smile to the camera focused on you both - and to say the reactions were worth it would've been an understatement.

The wild screams of your colleagues and fans was enough to pierce through your earpiece, and shooting a glance into the idol space you could see all eight of your members going absolutely insane - sneaking a glance to the Ateez table to see almost a mirrored reaction.

Leaving the stage to take off your earpieces and mic packs, the return to the Stray Kids table was nothing short of a spectacle as Changbin swiftly wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"You think you can just go off and get a boyfriend without telling us?! You're too young!"

"Innie and I are literally just a few months apart," you laughed, trying to pull away from his partial choke hold.

"Yeah, a few months too many! You're our baby!" Jisung all but wailed, squeezing your cheeks much to your dismay.

Seungmin scoffed, "The fact that we knew and you're still acting like this? Hyunjin's dramatics is rubbing off on you."

"Wait- You knew?!"

"It's not like the two of you were the sneakiest..." Minho's nonplussed tone made a wave of embarrassment wash over you, the memory of the movie night quickly dawning. "Plus, trying to hide anything from Wooyoung is like trying to limit yourself to one of Felix's brownies - it's impossible. Changbin hasn't stopped talking about their theories since they first started scheming."

Managing to untangle yourself from Changbin's hold, you found Chris standing in front of you now, a firm expression on his face.

"Are you happy?"

You could hear the lingering, unspoken words behind his question and you offered him a gentle smile, nodding, "I am, I really am."

Face brightening with his signature smile, he pulled you into a quick hug, squeezing tightly, "Good, because you're definitely telling us how everything started between you two, later."

Separating to go back to your unassigned assigned seats - with a few words of congratulations from Felix and Hyunjin - you looked across the aisle to catch Mingi already staring at you, his lips pulled into a proud smile while the rest of his members gave you teasing, yet supportive, cheers.

[unedited]

#✧. ┊ kacii answers #✧. ┊ lovely ihrtlix #i don't quite know how to tag this since it's not fully skz #song mingi x reader #song mingi smut #ateez smut #song mingi fluff #skz 9th member #stray kids 9th member

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farfromstrange · 2 months

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Interview With The Vampire | Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Reader

-> Main Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Reader (she/her)

Summary: You are the first journalist to interview Hell’s Kitchen’s resident vampire vigilante after he requested you personally to tell his story. He’s offering you a way out of your miserable job—to make your voice be heard. You’re desperate and curious, so you decide to take the risk. Most people only know him as Daredevil, but you are about to learn who’s really behind the mask. How hard can it possibly be? As it turns out, interviewing a vampire is a lot more complex than you expected it to be, and Matthew Michael Murdock has set his mind on ruining you for any other man to come.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), alternative universe, blood play, marking, scent kink, slight Dom!Matt, unprotected p in v, oral f!receiving, biting, vampirism, angst, religious imagery & symbolism, Catholic guilt, mentions of violence, allusions to suicidal thoughts, lots of plot, age gap

Word Count: 12.2k (this is a beast)

Other Characters: Vampire!Elektra (mentioned), Ben Urich (mentioned)

A/n: I finally got this one edited. This is a beast, y’all! I drew inspiration from Anne Rice’s Interview With The Vampire, but particularly the 2022 AMC series (I fell in love with it then and there), but it’s not based on it, so I just played around with the idea and this came out. It’s a lot, but it wasn’t enough for a full-blown series, so you’re getting a big ass One Shot instead. I used my usual Smut tag list, but since this is slightly Dead Dove Do Not Eat, heed the warnings and proceed with care! Don't read it if you don't want to. Anyway, I hope you like it!

Read Me On AO3!

The sun has long set over the Big Apple. Artificial neon, cars, and ceiling lights burning in the highrises along the riverfront cancel out the darkness that has befallen the country’s east. Noise melts into a flood that rolls over people’s senses, but most in New York City have grown numb to the city that never sleeps.

Sirens follow cacophonies of screams. Teenagers get into clubs with their fake IDs, adults get drunk in bars or go to work the night shift at their underpaid jobs, and the other half cry themselves to sleep, knowing they will have to get up in the morning and go through the same hell all over again.

Life has become a miserable existence, and it leaves human beings wondering, ‘How much longer do we have to endure this before we all finally drop dead?’

The system fails them. The law fails to protect them. All they can do is lie down and wait to die. And they will die sooner or later. That’s inevitable.

In Hell’s Kitchen, in a penthouse with a view of the Hudson through colored windows that gloss over during the day and show the city throughout the night, resides someone who most of the city only knows by an alias—Daredevil.

If anyone crosses him, he will suck them dry. It’s not a metaphor, I’m afraid; his reputation precedes him. Criminals fear the red eyes that come with fists and a sharp set of teeth that will surely run them into the ground. The rest of the city feels a little safer with him, but so far, no one has dared to question his nature.

Fear is known to work as a paralytic. And this man living in the penthouse by the Hudson is the personification of what one might consider fear-inducing. Without the fear of others, he would not be thriving.

An apex predator like him lives for the thrill of the kill. When the adrenaline spikes, it makes the prey start running and the blood taste so much sweeter. It is to a creature of his kind what a good glass of century-old red wine would be to a human being; he savors every last drop of it.

Two years out of your Master’s degree at Columbia University, you have become one of those hard-working adults who fall into bed later than they should, and you lie awake at night, wondering how much longer you have to exist before you can live.

You interned at the Bulletin; you ran the true crime and mystery column for over a year before the newspaper shut down. A billionaire from downtown Manhattan bought it to start his own magazine, and you were the only employee he didn’t fire. Instead of relying on your top-tier education and experience though, he has banned you to the lifestyle and beauty column. He’s a beast if you have ever seen one.

On a Monday in June then, after the sun has risen and is now falling again, you find an envelope on your desk. You glide your fingers over the fancy paper. The letters are written in handwriting that resembles the old letters from the 18th century you had the pleasure of using as research material for your Bachelor’s thesis.

Your heart skips a beat. Could it be…

It is no secret that vampires exist.

Over two decades ago, scientists published papers on the existence of blood-sucking creatures after years of valuable research, and now governments around the world have set out to burn the inhuman species out before they can cause any more damage. Vampirism though is older than humanity itself and unless law enforcement has evidence of homicide, vampires have the right to exist amongst humans.

They are excellent at hiding their true nature, that much is true. The lore that has been passed down since the beginning of time is only partly true. They know how to adapt and rise from the ashes like elegant phoenixes. The misconceptions surrounding their existence stem from fiction, horror, and fear, but they persist.

And a rule has been established in society ever since the truth was revealed: don’t talk about vampires!

Don’t talk about them unless it’s in a fictional context. Don’t put your research out there. Don’t fraternize with them. Don’t risk becoming prey. Don’t be fascinated by them, and God forbid, don’t you dare write articles about them for the public records. If you want to know about vampires, you have to dig, and you have to do so quietly or society will deem you crazy and a freak.

The worst thing to be is not a flying android or a super soldier with a shield; the worst thing you can be, in this day and age, is a vampire.

You were a curious child who turned into an even more curious adult. At times even a bitter one because she couldn’t get the answers she yearned for and had to do it herself. So, of course, the We Don’t Talk About Vampires rule came across as rather absurd, learning about it back when you were merely a teen.

You started researching, and you found out more than you thought you would—more than you thought you could. You wanted to cover the issue in the Bulletin back when you still worked there, but since humans were raised to fear the very mention of vampires in the real world, no longer romanticizing the concept but rather running from it, the truth shall remain hidden. Again, that seemed absurd, but you had to accept it to get ahead.

You kept researching to the point you convinced yourself you could be one of them if you tried. You felt like you understood them, but nothing could ever fully answer all of your questions to the point it felt truthful. Honest. Real.

Growing up, everyone told you dead things aren’t supposed to walk. They aren’t supposed to breathe and exist among the living. They are cruel, and vampires are killers that leave trails of bodies the government is hiding from us. Greediness exceeds common sense. The human mind tends to get sick and twisted, and those who don’t fit in hardly ever stand a chance.

Hell’s Kitchen is particularly quiet on the issue. Rumor has it that the vigilante chasing criminals at night and leaving the worst of them dry at the shore of the Hudson while, at the same time, surrendering those he deems worthy of rehabilitation to the authorities, is one of those vampires.

They call him Daredevil; the savior of innocents and the downfall of the vile. Only a handful of people know who he is. The truth is caught in a spider web of lies, unable to come out unless someone were to tell his story for the world to hear.

That Monday in June when you open the mysterious envelope on your desk, everything changes.

He addressed you personally. Your name resembles a masterpiece, the letters swirling at the edges.

You don’t know me, but I know you.

It’s strange to read your name out of the mouth of a stranger.

I must admit, Miss, I’m a big fan of your writing. And I’m not talking about the lifestyle and beauty column Mr. Doherty of the ‘Silver Lining’ has confined you to.

No, I am a big fan of the work you used to do for the New York Bulletin. I remember your name headlining many articles on crime here in Hell’s Kitchen—a column my late friend Ben Urich used to call his home.

It’s a shame that the paper was shut down. I tried to prevent it, but the disappearance of half of humanity and Wilson Fisk’s irreparable damage to the city’s foundation tied my hands.

The token female journalist reporting on unsolicited beauty advice and lifestyle choices no one is going to follow in the days of social media and fake marketing. It must be frustrating, right? Not having a story to tell. Not getting recognized for your impeccable talent. The Bulletin gave you a platform, but Mr. Doherty and his goons took that away from you.

What I’m asking myself is, are you satisfied? You were probably imagining a different future for yourself. A woman of your caliber must want to be more than a mere object used to make a bottomless magazine look better on the market.

Excuse my overstepping. I read one of your essays on the magical and the mythic—lore versus reality—the other day, and it inspired me. My life has been taking quite a few turns lately, so I required some new… let’s call it insight.

You don’t know me, but I am one of those creatures you are fascinated by. I’m the kind of creature people have been telling you not to write about because the weak minds of the public would not receive it well. The Catholics, the church, the fragile and fearful human beings that can’t imagine anything in fiction being real and want to remain the superior species—trust me, I know what it feels like to be backed into a corner. To be abandoned. To be underestimated. Not quite like you, I admit, but I have a few years of experience in and with this world to show for myself.

I imagine you’re tired of your position. I imagine you’re dissatisfied with human idiocy. You crave answers to your questions. Questions you have been asking yourself ever since college failed to answer them. My kind is being censored—partly for good reason—but that doesn’t sit right with you, does it? To live life in a monotone line with no clear way out of this boring rhythm you have had to fall into?

I can offer you a different path. A story. Answers to your questions. And the unfiltered truth of a 242-year-old man.

You are going to find a card with my address attached to this letter. I can assure you, sweetheart, we both want the same thing. I will wash your hands if you wash mine. Think about it, and come find me when you have made your decision. Preferably after the sun has set.

Yours sincerely,

The paper crumbles in your hands, but only at the corners. Your eyes are glued to the lost drops of ink, the blue blood of an old fountain pen caving under too much pressure.

He chose his words carefully. Every paragraph circles around your head. You breathe in, and it suddenly feels as though the whiff of the unknown is an inhalable drug, twisting your brain inside out.

The pull threatens to submerge you in a stormy ocean. You’re flailing your arms around helplessly, but there is nothing for you to hold onto. All buoys have drifted into oblivion, leaving a sea of utter emptiness behind, and in the midst of it, there you are, drowning.

In a moment of clarity, you fold the letter back down on the desk. It lands with a thud, and you look around frantically, checking if anyone is watching you. They aren’t.

M. That’s all he’s giving you. And the fact he is over two hundred years old proves the rumors to be true. He’s standing by it, but only to you. He wants to reveal himself to you, show you his true face for a story, but he’s a vampire.

You’re alone. You can wash his hands, but is just showing up enough for him? You don’t even know him.

You’re in trouble. This time though, you didn’t even do anything. You did your job, and he caught an interest in you. How does that work?

Your heart skips another beat. It should not, but it does. The danger is exciting. It shouldn't be exciting. You hate what your body is doing, but how can you make it stop? You can’t. You can’t do anything but take it.

This stranger has got you in a chokehold, but in his hands, you might as well surrender to your certain demise. You don’t consider vampires inherently evil, but there is a reason people warn you not to walk alone at night in Hell’s Kitchen. He’s dangerous, no matter his nature, and he is not supposed to lure you in the way he does.

But you’re a curious kitten, and he is offering you the holy grail of answers to questions you have been grappling with for years. He hit the nail right on the head. And it doesn’t even scare you how well he knows you.

This is a gold mine. Realistically speaking, telling a vampire’s story could make or break your career as a journalist. If you do it for the magazine, you’re done before you can even bring your words to print, but if you do it individually and you do it well, people will certainly eat it up. The question is just, are you going to play your entire life safe, conforming to your boss’s view of you until you get the freedom you crave, or are you going to take the risk and fly?

The answer is as clear as day, but it takes you a moment to process. It’s as though someone is in your head, steering you in the direction of whoever this M is. Daredevil. This vampire who wants you to interview him, and for what? That’s still an open question you don’t have the answer to. But you do know what to do.

You scramble for your laptop, your notepad, and the letter in the envelope. The clock strikes four. You have another two hours on the clock, but you can’t be bothered to stay.

Upon hearing the sound of your shoes hurriedly scraping against the linoleum floors, one of your colleagues turns in her chair. “Where are you going?” she asks.

“I, uh, have somewhere to be,” you tell her as you brush past her.

“What, now?”

“Yeah. I forgot I had an appointment.”

“What about Mr. Doherty?”

You stop on your way out, looking back over your shoulder. “If everything works out,” you say, glancing through the window to his office at the other end of the hall, “He’ll have my letter of resignation by the end of the week.”

She gasps softly. “You’re quitting?” her voice is barely above a whisper.

Almost sinisterly, you chuckle. “That’s the plan, yeah.”

“But—”

“Tell your daughter Happy Birthday from me. I gotta go.”

Your steps echo for minutes still, but you are long gone with the wind.

Silver linings are considered an advantage that comes from an unpleasant situation. The name has proven to be entirely unfit for the magazine that replaced a big piece of Hell’s Kitchen’s history. The Bulletin had cultural value as much as it was laden with decades of the city’s stories told to the average person.

Wilson Fisk was the dynamite that sent New York alight. The Bulletin’s destruction was mere collateral damage in the fight to get the city back on track. You have had so many reasons to leave presented to you, yet you never took them. If you had, maybe you wouldn’t be here, making bad decisions on what started as just another Monday in June.

The fact is though, you didn’t leave, and you are here now. Facts are what matter. They count. Your hypothetical past, present, and future have no place in this reality because you can’t travel back or forward in time. Vampires may exist, and the Avengers time-traveled to save the world, but things aren’t quite as easy once you look at the bigger picture. You are not a superhero, you’re just a journalist chasing the kind of story that will finally make her voice be heard.

You know that Ben Urich, at least, would be proud of you.

His address weighs heavy on the small card you pulled out of the envelope earlier that evening. You passed it on to the cab driver, and he began to navigate the dark streets of Hell’s Kitchen. The luxury condominiums in this part of the city can be counted on one hand. You know exactly when you’re there.

The sun has once again set over New York City. You’re wide awake, not quite sure though if you’re ready to face what you are walking blindly into. Even your driver refuses to take you past a certain point, and that is how you know that you’re not dreaming. This is real, and it’s supposed to be terrifying.

How come you’re not scared then?

You slip twenty dollars to the cab driver, then climb out of the backseat. The salty air from the Hudson River a few blocks down wafts around your sensitive nose. In the distance, you can hear waves crashing into the docks as the wind picks up in speed. The boats must be moving wildly by now, swaying from side to side and possibly even making the fish in the depths of the water seasick. You would be if you were them.

With every step, you grow closer to your target. On second thought, maybe you should have brought more than just a pathetic bottle of pepper spray and your precious laptop. You could have brought your grandfather’s cassette recorder, at least that would leave a mark if you hit someone over the head with it.

Do vampires get concussions? That is another question you can add to the seemingly endless list in your mind. It’s a confusing place as of late, and the weird sense that someone is playing with the controls won’t leave you alone. Either you are overthinking, or you are worse off than you originally thought.

The apartment complex the card directs you to stretches high above you. You look up, seeing not a single light on. That’s odd, you think, but then again, you are meeting with the city’s most notorious man. If he is who everyone says he is, and if the rumors are even true, that is.

As you are about to approach the entrance, your fingertips start to burn. A gasp escapes past your lips. Staring down, the cubical piece of paper goes up in flames. You are mere feet from the door, nowhere near close to an open source of fire, and the card starts to burn like a wildfire.

You pull back, your heart hammering against your ribcage. The ashes fall to the ground, but before they can hit the asphalt, they vanish.

“What the–” before you can finish, the doors before you swing open toward the inside. The lights turn on. Someone even has called the elevator for you.

Another step forward, and a voice stops you. “Fourth floor, down the hallway, first door to your right,” the voice says through the speaker. Only then do you notice the lack of a doorbell.

Everything in you is screaming for you to run, but you are rooted in the spot. He dragged you here with a mere letter, and you were more than ready to jump. Desperation was the only thing that drove you here. Your brain seems incapable of rational thought.

What if that is what he wanted all along? To get you complicit by playing on what you so desperately need, which is a story and a way out of this boring everyday life that is threatening to slowly kill you.

He’s like a siren, luring you into his deadly trap, but even knowing all of this, you still can’t find it in yourself to run.

The second you enter the building, the door shuts behind you, and your only way out is officially locked. You made the decision; you have dug your own grave, possibly quite literally, and now you have to lie in it. It’s better to die chasing a good story than dying at a desk in an office that doesn’t respect you.

You are a disgrace, you can hear your father’s voice in the back of your mind. He always warned you not to be too reckless or your bad decisions will eventually catch up with you. He always taught you not to trust strangers, and to stay the hell away from those who disgrace God, but you have never cared much about being a good girl.

Your thoughts are as morbid as your obsession with the walking undead. It is time you embrace what people are already saying about you.

The elevator ride feels like an eternity. It goes up and up and up until it finally stops on the fourth floor. The walls smell like nothing but a faint hint of bleach. It’s clean, parquette not carpet, and the walls are kept in a shade resembling a mixture between crimson and maroon, and it is blending into a sort of marble.

The metal doors slide open. Again, you hesitate. A sweet whisper echoes in your ear, dragging you toward the edge. You breach the border between the elevator and the hallway that waits behind it. The voice is distant, and it doesn’t sound human—it reminds you of a siren’s song, calling for you. He is calling for you, and a fog settles over your mind. You’re not in control anymore, he is.

You imagine him to be an old man, possibly middle-aged. Vampires stop aging when they’re turned. Their mind doesn’t. You’ve read the research plenty. They are wise beings, more intelligent than human beings could ever fathom. That makes them dangerous.

Their venom rivals the intoxicating feeling of heroin, you’ve heard, and it heightens your senses to the point all you can feel is the one who bit you. Research suggests it’s a million times stronger than an orgasm, for both the vampire and the human being.

Part of you has always wanted to try it. Part of you wants to know what it feels like to be sucked dry. You want to know what it feels like to be carried into a new dimension by someone who knows how to play the human body like a fucking piano, eliciting the sweetest melody through your very essence and the symphony of your moans.

This M—Daredevil—is inherently dangerous. He’s as mysterious as they come; a man in a mask lurking in the dark corners of Hell’s Kitchen every night, turning the fight for justice into his hunting ground.

It’s as though he curled his fingers, and you followed.

You walk the dark hallway down to the door on the right. Paintings litter the walls. Masterpieces, blotches of white, red, and color. You recognize the red marble as a decorative theme on the wallpaper. Tracing your fingers over it, the rough drywall scratches at your skin.

You reach out a shaky hand toward the golden knob. Before you can turn it though, the door already flings open. It must be witchcraft.

Red appears to be his favorite color. At least judging from the hallway, that is true. When you step into the room with a pounding heart and blood pooling in your cheeks though, the inside of the room is a lot more… human. You wouldn’t have guessed it from the gloominess surrounding you on your way there.

A leather couch and armchairs stand in the middle, facing toward the window front. Colored windows, as you have gathered from the rumors. They are see-through now though, showing the city skyline and the moon up high. The chandelier on the ceiling is the only piece of furniture you would consider old. Browns meet hues of blue and dark green, a forest at midnight, and you suck in a sharp breath. The apartment is beautiful.

You look to your left and see a bookshelf stretching the length of the wall. You can’t help but run your hand over the backs. You would have expected original editions from the 18th or 19th century, but when your fingers trace over the bindings, you are met with the bulging of Braille underneath the elegant golden writing of the titles. None of them seem to have collected dust. It surprises you to only find a mere handful of classics that haven’t been transcribed in Braille and a realization you did not expect starts to crawl its way forward.

“I stole that one from a library in Paris.”

Your racing heart stops beating. The book you’ve been holding falls to the ground, its worn-out leather cracking further around the spine. The thud is deafening. You gasp, turning around. Your shoulders fly up as the tension ripples through every last muscle in your bone. Your bones ache just from how stiff you’re standing, but you can’t move.

The man before you moves as quietly as a mouse. You didn’t hear him coming. The moonlight reflects off his dark brown hair, making it appear almost ginger. He’s wearing a simple suit without a tie, and the white of his shirt is as pristine and clean as the cut of his beard. You can see chest hair poking out from underneath the two open buttons, as dark as the locks on his head. His jawline is irresistibly sharp, leading up to a pair of plump lips he is wrapping around the brim of a crystal glass filled with rum.

Your heart remains frozen. Not a single drop of blood pumps through your veins, yet your cheeks burn brighter than a bonfire on a pitch-black night.

But his flawless appearance is not what catches your attention the most. Looking up into his eyes, wanting to know whether they are as red as those set into the devil’s mask, you find nothing but your terrified reflection staring back at you. It’s as blurry as the picture of your face in a still ocean’s water, your wide eyes staring back at yourself.

The red glasses are all you can see. Round with a black rim. Silver would have looked better on him, or maybe even gold. The black reminds you of an endless pit, a sinister embrace of vampire stereotypes, but you can’t look away from the maroon that won’t allow you even a glimpse into his eyes. They are shielding him from the world, and his eyes from curious, stupid humans like you.

He nods toward the ground. “You gonna pick that up?” he asks. His voice reminds you of rumbling gravel.

He looks like a man. He talks like a man. If you didn’t know better, you would say he is human. There seems to be blood in his cheeks and air in his lungs.

You have to pull yourself together. Clearing your throat, you bend down and pick the book back up.

“Thank you,” he utters your name. “It’s been a while since I’ve received visitors that don’t work for me.”

You put the book back on the shelf. Your lips are sewn shut; you can’t find the words. Every time you open your mouth like a fish on dry land, you close it again, and it is embarrassing to be standing in front of him with your guard down.

“Welcome to my home,” he says. You wish you could see his eyes to know if he’s mocking you. “Do you want a drink, or do you need another minute to process?”

He is mocking you. His tone is gentle, as is his voice, but he smirks like a smug motherfucker, and your anger boils to a tipping point. The candle is about to burn out.

“I–” you stammer. Internally, you curse yourself for being such a fool.

“Another minute it is then.”

You don’t need a minute though. “You’re blind,” you blurt out.

The beautiful—deadly—stranger nods. “Yeah.“

“How?”

“Accident when I was a kid.”

“But you’re…” you leave the missing part of that sentence hanging in the air like a noose.

“Say it,” he murmurs. You want to say it sounds like a growl, but you’re not sure. He isn’t asserting dominance or trying to force you into submission by scaring you away, but he is toying with you regardless.

You take a deep breath. The word, the truth, numbers your tongue and your lips with its weight. “A vampire,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, matching his.

His smirk broadens. He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek for a moment, then releases it as it darts out to wet his bottom lip. “I’m a blind vampire, yes,” he answers. “We’re rare, but we do exist.”

Blind vampires. In all of your years of fascination, that has never crossed your mind. You used to believe that they had healing abilities that far exceeded your own. You were wrong. He lost his eyesight before he got turned into a vampire. He lived as a blind human being and didn’t regain his most crucial sense when he died.

He came back to life, but he died. It is surreal to stand across from him. He’s not just letters on a piece of paper, he is very much real. And he’s blind.

“Oh, my God,” you curse.

That elicits a soft chuckle from him. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come,” he says.

“I was considering not to.”

He sees right through you with those empty glasses. “That’s a lie.”

“How would you know?” you counter.

“I can hear your heartbeat. The blood pumping in your veins…” His head tilts ever so slightly in your direction. You take a step back. It’s an instinct. “Your pulse picks up when you lie, or when you’re nervous, or both,” he states. “When you first saw me, your heart skipped a beat. It did again when you lied to me.”

Your eyes trail down to his thick thighs perfectly fitted in his tailored trousers. His thick digits pat the rhythm with his fingers on the fabric. Thud-thudthudthud-thud. You place a hand on your chest. He wasn’t wrong; your heart is racing.

His smirk turns into a smile, but only briefly again. It’s a glimpse of humanity he doesn’t want you to see. “I like that sound,” he says. “Has anyone ever told you that you smell good? Sweet, sour, and a little salty. Natural. You don’t use a lot of artificial perfume, but you like cherry chapstick.”

You swallow, taking a whiff of your arm. Besides your deodorant masking the scent of your nervous sweat, you smell nothing. How good must his nose be? His hearing? His sense of taste?

“Right now, sweat is dripping down your back, and your muscles are tense enough to strain against your bones every time you breathe. Your heart just skipped a beat again. You find it weird,” he muses. “I can’t turn it off, but I get it must be strange for you.”

“You–” The blood has collected in your head, pushing the temperature in the room to an all-time high. “Get out of my body!” you snap.

He laughs. “That’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear.”

“And I never thought you would ask for an audience with me, but here we are.”

“Here you are.”

You want nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face. He looks so smug, standing there with his drink, wearing a suit too fancy for his own home. He’s fully in his element. It’s scary how alluring he is, too. You don’t want to think that way, but as soon as your eyes gaze upon him again, your chest contracts, and you forget how to breathe.

He’s a wolf, and you’re a lonely little sheep that doesn’t know any better. That lonely little sheep just wants to be a part of something bigger, even if that means surrendering herself to the big bad wolf. He wants a taste of her, and the sheep would give him that in a heartbeat if he just asked.

You blink. There is a voice in your head, and it isn’t your own. Far from it. You don’t want to be associated with this stranger. She thinks she knows you. She thinks she knows what you want—the sheep in the eyes of her natural enemy. This voice is the most irrational you could be, and you need to stop letting her win.

And yet you—not just the voice of the lonely sheep you appear to be—would follow this man anywhere, even to hell if he asked you to.

Your eyes drill knives into his skull, but they are also full of curiosity. Can he hear your thoughts? Your heart beats in your throat. You can taste it on your tongue. If you bit your lip, you would bleed, and he would probably fall into a frenzy. Still, your teeth dig into your bottom lip. What if he can hear your thoughts—hear how fucking needy you are? You’re pathetic. What he must think of you, standing across from him, smaller than human life itself.

You want to read him, but he is far from an open book. He’s not Braille you can run your fingers over, and even if he was, you don’t know how to read it. He’s an enigma. His face is set in stone; an iron mask you can’t penetrate.

His chest heaves with another chuckle. He sets the crystal glass down on the coffee table, taking a step forward. “No, I can’t read your mind,” he says.

You flinch. “What?”

“Your breathing pattern. The way you look at me. I can sense that you’re thinking about something.” He adjusts his glasses. “It’s just… Most humans ask me if I can read their minds, you know. I can’t. Some vampires can, but my senses are the only heightened ability I have.” This time, when he chuckles, a hint of bitterness dances in his voice.

“At least you’re not in my head then,” you say.

“No.”

“Good.”

A pregnant pause follows. You clutch your bag to your chest, your fingers digging into the frame of your hidden laptop.

“Can I offer you a drink?” he asks, pointing to his empty glass.

You wave him off. That’s the last thing on your mind. “No, thank you.”

Sometimes at night, you fantasize about diving into the abyss of darkness. It looks and sounds a terrifying lot like him. You want to know him. You need to know him. When it comes to him and this—whatever this is—the lines between want and need are blurring into an unidentifiable mess. It’s an ocean of emotions with no land in sight. A total eclipse of the heart, if you will. You’re losing your mind.

“What you can do–” You straighten your shoulder, hoping it will add height to your beaten confidence. “You can tell me your name. Sir,” you say.

He nods. “I suppose it would only be fair, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, it would.”

“Matthew. My name’s Matthew.” The softness of his features as his lips move to the rhythm of his words takes you back anew. His eyebrows raise slightly, and you catch a glimpse of a pair of beautiful, unfocused hazel eyes that steal your breath away.

Matthew. It is a name that easily rolls off the tongue. It suits him.

You repeat his name aloud. “That’s an odd name for a 200-something-year-old man,” you point out.

Matthew scoffs. “My parents were both Catholic.”

“I suppose you’re not?”

You hit a sore spot. His head dips, fingers running over his nails and tongue tracing his teeth. “Not anymore,” he says.

God died for him a long time ago, and all churches burned down.

Your grip on your bag loosens. “Then why Daredevil?” you ask.

His lips part. “I, uh, have the Bulletin to thank for that one. After centuries of existing in this world, and being despised for no matter what I do, I’ve decided to embrace it. I am Daredevil, not even God can stop that now.”

Matt grabs his glass, turning away from you. He doesn’t use a cane to navigate from the couch to the mini bar on the other end of the room. You carefully follow his movements. One of his hands remains at his side, snapping his fingers as he navigates the familiar terrain of his home.

He uncaps a half-empty bottle of Whiskey to pour himself another glass.

“You know, Matthew,” you prompt, daring to step forward an inch, “as big as your reputation is in this part of the city, Silver Lining is not the kind of magazine that would cover your story.”

“You still came,” he says.

“I could lose my job if anyone knew I came here.”

“And yet you’re here and not where you should be.” He turns his head over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t risk losing your job if it wasn’t important to you, would you?”

You stammer, “I–” He’s got you. You’re a fish with a hook in her mouth.

“If Silver Lining Magazine won’t cover my story, why are you here?” Matt turns back to you, leaning back against the shiny Mahagoni of his minibar. It offers a beautiful contrast to his strong physique and the slight paleness of his skin. “Could it be because you’re fascinated by the mythic?” he asks, teasing. “By werewolves and witches and vampires?”

It’s your turn to scoff. “I won’t confirm or deny. My boss wouldn’t let me write a vampire vigilante exposé even if I begged him to.”

“And that’s why Mr. Doherty doesn’t deserve you.” Your body visibly recoils when he pushes forward, moving just an inch toward you. “Your curiosity is a virtue,” he purrs. The moonlight sets your reflection in his glasses alight.

“Is that why you lured me here?” you ask him. “Because my curiosity is a virtue and you consider yourself better than the people in my life?”

“I didn’t lure you here, and I think you know that. That’s not what this is.” The distance between you starts to shrink, backing you into a corner. “I believe you came here because the thought of interviewing a vampire and sharing your findings with the world on your account excites you,” he says. “You want to be heard. You want to be taken seriously as a journalist, and you want to make people happy.”

The only way for you to come out of this with your pride and dignity still intact is to put up walls before the already existent labyrinth of walls keeping your heart guarded and your soul safe. “Again,” you ask, “why me?”

“Why not you? As I stated in my letter, I’m a fan of your work.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, about that. How did you write that if you’re blind?”

“I didn’t, my secretary did.”

“Of course.” Of course, he has a secretary. “I… I just don’t get it,” you say. “You’ve been hiding for so long–”

Matt cuts you off with an urgency you didn’t expect, “Things have changed. Circumstances…” he trails off.

“Wouldn’t it be a suicide mission?”

His answer is silence. You let out an exasperated sigh. “If you want me to interview you, you have to be honest with me.”

“I’m not on the record yet.”

“Right. Maybe you can answer this though—off the record, of course—how can you be certain I didn’t call the cops or the FBI before I came here?”

His eyes crinkle. “I’m not stupid, sweetheart,” he says.

He’s amused. You’re amusing him.

“Don’t call me that,” you growl.

He’s spreading you open, holding up a mirror for you to look into. It’s your miserable self in all its glory, and he knows you better than you know yourself.

You ignore the sharp pain in your left ribcage as you pull the arrow out of your heart. “Unless someone holds up a sign that they are pro-vampirism, how would you even know I’d listen to you and not just refer you to the Journal of Psychiatry?”

“Are you telling me you don’t believe in vampires?” Matt quips.

“That’s not… Answer my question!”

The sound of your heartbeat must sound almost like the rapid firing of a machine gun, that’s how fast your pulse is racing. Your veins threaten to burst with the excess blood. It’s a heat like no other. You’re a witch at the stake, and Matt is holding the torch to your gasoline-doused body.

He clears his throat. Your face falls at the words that tumble out of his parted lips, and the rapid firing turns into a deafening silence and a monotone line on a heart monitor.

“After what I’ve learned from reading Dr. Rice’s research on the phenomena of vampirism, I can confidently say this species is no different than an animal like the great white shark or the Homo sapiens sapiens—our kind,” he recites. “Vampires are a medium of fiction and propaganda to induce fear, but they are also a widely misunderstood species that is being silenced rather than heard. Our species, the human species, likes to consider themselves superior, even when we’re in a position of being someone’s natural food source. Dr. Rice’s research is based on a comprehensible set of facts, and isn’t that what we have been relying on ever since the beginning? Our psychology makes it possible for us to change the narrative in our favor, and more often than not, we ignore the very facts deemed by humans as an intellectual importance to spread the message of an entirely different agenda. Dr. Rice’s research only proves that egotism and humans themselves will be humankind's certain downfall.”

“My investigative journalism essay,” you breathe out.

“Published by Columbia University.”

Your heart restarts with a rush of adrenaline. “How… how do you know all of this?”

“I may be blind,” Matt says, “but I know how to read between the lines.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

The alcohol in his drink seems to have little effect on him. “I know you have questions, and I’m willing to answer them if you promise to publish a detailed report somewhere other than Silver Lining Magazine.”

You look down at your bag, then back at him. “Ben Urich could have told your story in a way that would’ve made people listen,” you murmur. “I don’t have an impressive career like him.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “but you could have easily written ‘Attack on NYC’. Ben was a good man, an even better journalist, but he could not have written your college essay. And he could never have been you.”

Your name rolls off his tongue—not a pretentious nickname that makes you want to vomit but your name, and it flicks a switch within you.

You glance around the spacious living, pulling your laptop out of its confines, and you bridge the distance between you, finally. You notice he smells of sandalwood cologne and scentless soap. “Okay,” you cave. “Where do you want me to set up?”

Session 1.

The spacebar clicks underneath the tip of your index finger. The white of your screen fills with a series of red sequences as the microphone takes in every little sound around you. Except for the two of you and the fading footsteps of one of Matthew’s assistants though, the world has fallen silent in the dead of the night. He’s sitting across from you, legs crossed, head tilted; your life is about to change.

“So, Mister Murdock,” you begin, “tell me. How long have you been dead?”

His mouth opens in a wide grin. “242 years,” he answers.

“And what happened the year you died?”

“Well, it was 1782. I was a good few years out of law school. I was a good lawyer, but I wasn’t successful. That year, I met a beautiful woman at a banquet. I wasn’t rich—trust me, I was beyond penniless—but she had been adopted into a wealthy family, and that made her one of the richest women in the room. Everyone wanted her, but when I sensed her across the hall, she only had eyes for me. And she was the first woman to not see me just because I was blind.” He chuckles sadly. “I thought she was the woman of my dreams, the love of my life, but a few weeks later, after letting her into my life, I realized that she didn’t look at me that night because she was interested. She was hunting me. El— Miss Elektra Natchios…”

The year 1782 becomes apparent before your inner eye. As he tells you about the night he met her, you can see the dark-haired beauty making her way across the ballroom. Red lips and a gown to die for. Her dark eyes were full of mischief, but the passion in them could have knocked a grown man off of his feet. And that is just what she did to poor Matthew.

“I was going to marry her,” he tells you.

He went to church regularly. His knees were bloody from praying, his senses already heightened before he died. God’s soldier, that is how he puts it. He was told that the accident that left him blind happened for a reason, and he had to fight a war that went beyond the country’s fight for independence.

That summer, Elektra drained him. He didn’t know what she was. She fooled him. He was obsessed with her. Her dark eyes he couldn’t see lured her in, and it was the venom in her blood that became his downfall after she dug her teeth into him.

Matt tried to beg his priest for forgiveness, but he didn’t even make it past the marble stairs before the doors locked. He knelt in a pool of blood—both his and that of the first human he ever sucked dry to survive as a newborn vampire—offering an eternal sacrifice to Catholicism, but God abandoned him on his doorstep.

The church walls would have been set on fire if he had touched them from the inside.

You look up from your notepad to find him now standing at the window. He’s not looking out, of course, but he seems so deep in thought, the memories that aren’t your own but his start to dissipate, and you’re brought back to the here and now.

Matt poured his heart out to you. You expected answers, but not this kind, and certainly not of this magnitude. You see him in an entirely different light. He’s vulnerable, fragile, and human. He has endured trauma that killed him, but he couldn’t die because the woman he loved made him immortal. It’s a bigger curse than growing up with the belief that an accident made you God’s soldier.

He lost everything. For centuries, he has had to live with that. It’s killing you, feeling his pain, the pure agony that radiates off him.

Your voice is quiet when you ask him, “What was it like?” You don’t have to say it out loud for him to know what you are referencing.

Matt chuckles, the sound a mere breath in the atmosphere. “Like she took my soul from my body, setting fire to my belief system and already heightened senses,” he says.

You swallow. “That sounds… overstimulating.”

“It was. Is. My heart stopped, but when that happened, something else awoke inside me. The hunger… the hunger was the worst part. It’s insatiable. One hour passes, and you feel like you’ve been starving for weeks.”

“Like you’ve been possessed by a demon?”

“Like I am the demon.”

“But you’re not.” You should stop the recording. You’re not on track; you’re incorporating your feelings into Matt’s story, but you can’t help it. The words tumble out of your mouth without a second thought, a train that cannot be stopped.

He raises his eyebrows, you can see it in his reflection in the windows. “Are you religious?” he asks.

You shake your head. “This isn’t about me.”

“Are you?”

The veins on the back of his hands bulge as he balls them to fists at his sides. Your throat is a desert, and your heartbeat resembles a storm that burns right through it, sending the sand flying in all directions of the horizon.

You adjust in your seat, crossing one leg over the other. He takes a whiff. He’s smelling you, and that doesn’t help the speed of your pulse to calm down.

Tapping your pen on your notepad, you watch the red sequences fill the white space of the recording program. It moves with the sound of your voice when you finally dare to answer. “It’s a complicated question because there is a difference between believing in God and believing in the church,” you say.

“Do you believe in God then?” Matt asks. It’s as though he’s trying not to seethe at the mere mention of someone he used to worship. You make a note of that.

“There is so much bad in this world. So much cruelty. I can’t…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t know how to believe in a God that would let the things humans do to each other happen. If God existed—if he was as merciful as Christians like to claim, he wouldn’t let this happen. And I’m so sick and tired of people using their faith, and their beliefs in God and the church as justification to be disrespectful. I don’t understand it. How can anyone? Why is someone who has to drink blood to stay alive—someone who didn’t even choose this life—worth less and the devil’s breed when humans do worse things to each other? Why would God allow us to start wars that kill innocent people? Children? It’s just not fair that we treat ourselves and others as though we are already in hell, and we’re just supposed to accept that God doesn’t care—” You stop yourself, the tears burning behind your eyes.

Matt turns back around. You can’t look away. “When I was still human,” he murmurs, “I used to believe everything that happened to me was God’s will. The accident, God’s will. Me going blind, God’s will. I went to confession, prayed until my knees were bloody and bruised. I tried convincing myself that every scream I heard from down the block, every person who lost their life or their innocence was my responsibility. God made me this way for a reason, right?” The scoff is as bitter as the liquor in his glass. “I fell apart, you know. I was a kid, so I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand what was happening to me,” he tells you.

You hold your breath. The glasses slip from his eyes as he takes them off with shaky fingers. You are met with the most beautiful pair of hazel eyes. Emotions dance a heated tango in a tornado. If you look closer, the green specks bring life to his eyes. It’s human nature in the purest sense of the word.

Your reflection stands in his irises, his unmoving pupils, and the tears glisten in his eyes. They’re as red as blood, watered-down crimson essence. You want to reach out and stroke his cheek, but that would be crossing a very big line that you can’t bring yourself up to touch.

“I studied law because I thought it would change something,” he continues. You listen. It’s the only thing you can do—listen. “It wasn’t enough. Nothing I ever did felt like it was enough. I lost my father. Jack. I didn’t know my mother until it was too late. Maggie. I had no one. No money, no prospects, just me and those voices in my head, telling me I was supposed to be God’s soldier.”

“You’re not,” you cut in.

He shakes his head. “I prayed; I crawled up the stairs of the church, and I spent hours repenting for my sins. I bled myself dry for Him. I sacrificed myself. I sacrificed my youth, my heart, and my soul, and I got nothing back. I begged for help until my voice was sore, but nothing… God, nothing was ever good enough. Until Elektra came around,” he says.

“She changed everything for you. It makes sense. She turned you into a vampire, but she also loved you.”

“She did love me, in her own twisted way.”

“It’s what you deserved,” you say.

He isn’t yours, but the pang you feel in your chest is treacherous. Your heart cracks like a porcelain vase, jealousy creeping in like a parasite of toxic waste.

In response, Matt only chuckles bitterly. “She made me believe again, then took my soul and crushed it in her hand.” The correction makes your shoulders slump. “Instead of feeling like my world ended though, I felt at peace when she sucked the blood out of my veins and fed me her venom,” he says. “It’s sick, I know. I was aware I died that night, that she turned me into a devil who could only survive if he drank the blood of others. The Catholic in me struggled to accept it, but I had no choice but to embrace what she made me.”

“And where is she now?” you ask.

“Gone.” The light in his eyes has fully disappeared now. “I stayed with her for a while until she died in my arms. She showed me what love is, and she showed me heartbreak. She made me hungry for blood, awakening the devil I’ve been trying to tame. She taught me how to feed, how to hunt, and how to chase. But she also cursed me,” he says. “I only exist for myself now. I only bleed for myself. No God, no church, and no more religion. I’m not Jesus, I’m Judas, and I retired the cross the day I was crucified.”

You have run out of questions to ask. Too overwhelming is the sight of his walls crumbling down, this stranger you now know better than any living being seems to. You no longer see money in this, or a story to chase, you only see Matthew, and the halo above his head he still believes is a pair of horns. The world broke him. His faith in God broke him. It crushed him, and he lost everything. How broken he must be.

“Not such a pretty story when I say it out loud, huh?” He scoffs.

The spacebar clicks again. The recording comes to a sudden halt. One hour and fifty-eight minutes, the first session of your interview with the vampire. You need to put a halt to it now because what you are about to say or do as you reach your hand out to brush his cold, dead skin is not something that should be found on a record. And you won’t ever tell.

Matt pulls away when your warm fingertips brush his. You’re standing across from him now, so close he can smell, hear, and feel all of you at once.

Your touch is the holy water that burns his skin, but the fire sustains him and shoots straight to his core the same way the blood rushes to yours.

“It’s not a pretty story, no,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, “but it did tell me what I already knew.”

“And what’s that?” he asks.

“That you’re not evil. You’re not the Devil. You’re misunderstood. You’ve been beaten; you’ve been abandoned, hurt, and broken. That doesn’t make you a monster. Trying to make this city a better place does not make you a monster.”

“If you only knew the things I’ve done…”

“I know the rumors suggest that you were the one who fought Wilson Fisk and got this city back where it needed to be. You’ve saved countless women from the worst of fates. You are the reason the innocent people of Hell’s Kitchen feel safe. By picking up that mask, you became a hero, not a villain, and that is the story I want to tell.”

In lightspeed, he has moved you from the window to the other end of the room. Your back hits the wall.

Matt towers over you in all of his intimidating glory. His eyes spark red, but you hold his unfocused gaze. He has such beautiful eyes. This pull between you is far from human; it’s unhealthy, and it is exactly where he wanted to get you. You’re trapped, pinned underneath him like a deer caught in headlights.

Exhaling, your breath strokes his cheeks. He closes his eyes, savoring the taste of you. Every particle in the air, he inhales. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. Oh, what you wouldn’t do to suck that tongue into your mouth.

Your pheromones play his head like a puppeteer pulling the strings of his marionette. He growls. “Do you have any idea how dangerous I am?”

The moonlight catches his sparkling white teeth. This time though, you come face to face with the sharp edges of his previously concealed fangs. Your jaw drops open. He’s ethereal.

“I could snap your neck—” Matt places his hand on your neck, “I could make that heart stop beating, take the air from your lungs. I could eat you…” He traces the vein in your throat from your jaw to your collarbone. “I could bite you and suck your blood until you’re empty. I could kill you, sweetheart. My kind is your natural enemy. You shouldn’t be here.”

You shudder. His nose brushes the sensitive skin below your ear. He’s so close you can smell him. On inhale, and his scent consumes your senses. He is all you can feel now. You reach out to hold onto his arms, his muscles tensing under your teeth. He’s big and strong, and those hands have a mind of their own as they begin to wander but never where you need him most.

You shouldn’t be here, yet you came. He asked you to him, and you complied. Is this your fate now? Chasing after your big bad wolf like the helpless sheep that you are?

Your walls clench around an agonizing emptiness, your swollen clit brushing against your soaked underwear. Whatever he is doing to you, it’s the cruelest form of torture.

A strangled noise breaks out of the back of his throat, rumbling in his chest. “You have no idea how badly I want to taste you,” he breathes.

“Do it,” you beg. “Taste me.”

He utters your name again. “Stop.”

“Please.”

Your tone shatters him. When he kisses you, finally, fireworks explode in the universe around you. All the stars seem to finally align. Your heart opens, and it sucks him right into you. Your soul yearns for him. He’s so close yet so far away.

The moon stands between you, but you cross even that ocean as you push against him, forcing your tongue into his mouth. He takes like heaven and hell; he’s the apple Eve bit into and cursed her for all eternity. But he’s also the snake, the one who compelled you to take this journey of bad decisions and jump right off the cliff’s edge. You melt into him like a broken candle.

He pulls away. Those fangs are alluring, as sharp as a knife’s tip. You want to know what it would feel like gracing your skin, digging into your as he thrusts his cock into your tight cunt. The thought alone sends your mind into a spiral.

Your lips are swollen, but he has yet to draw blood. Matt looks as though he wouldn’t dare, his eyes darting around in a darkened conflict he feels might cost him more than your dignity. You are begging for it, as is your body, but he’s holding himself back. He’s the one who tied himself to an invisible pillar, keeping his hands locked behind his back. But that is not the Matt you want.

You lean your head to the side, exposing the length of his neck. All control has slipped from your fingers. It’s in his hands now—you are. He cups your head gently. A mere few inches lie between your fountain and his lips.

You press a kiss to his calloused palm—a desperate and needy kiss, tracing your tongue over the lines that tell his life’s story in a way no interview can retell—and it is then he is forever done for. He’s doomed, and you are the second woman to pull him under the pits of hell.

Saliva drips from his fangs. You hold your breath. He hisses, a weak admission of surrender; the words die miserably on your tongue when his lips close around your pulse point with all his might, and his teeth drive home.

You moan aloud. Your fingers tangle in his hair, forcing him deeper as he sucks the dark red essence out of your vein. The sensation is more than you bargained for. It’s a drug that wrecks your system. The synapses in your brain backfire with all their might, and what follows the initial explosion of pleasure shooting white hot through your being is complete and utter silence as this God of a man feeds on you.

The invisible string between you glows a bright crimson. It slings around you, tying you together like the roots of a tree. It’s an eternal sacrifice. You are giving your all to him, the very core of your existence that is now flowing into his mouth. You swear you can hear his thoughts mingle with yours. Yes, more, please. You taste so good. Your knees buckle, but you remain standing strong. He makes sure you don’t fall. Don’t slip away from me. I need you.

A tear rolls down your cheek. You could sob. It feels so good—too good to be true. In that moment, you become one. There is no telling where one begins and the other ends. The coil in your stomach tightens, and the only pain you feel is the pleasure threatening to overwhelm you. He’s taking everything as you give him everything, but it is not enough. It has never been enough.

When your body struggles to catch up with the lack of blood, he pulls away. His fangs drag out of your neck agonizingly slowly. You whimper at the sudden loss.

Matt catches you as you stumble into his arms. “You okay?” He cradles your face, brushing the hair out of your face. Your blood stains his lips. Blinking up at him, the force of your metaphysical connection slaps you awake.

You cease to exist in all solar systems but his.

He pokes the tip of his index finger with the sharp edge of one tooth, sliding it over the two holes that are pulsating with the work of your heartbeat.

“I shouldn’t have—” he begins.

“No,” you say. “You did exactly what you should have.”

“I couldn’t stop.”

“But you did.” You wipe the blood from his mouth. “And I felt you. I only felt you.”

The living room passes by you. Before you know it, your back lands on something much softer than a concrete wall. He’s not a monster, that one, but he surely is an animal.

You taste your blood on Matt’s luscious lips as he devours your tongue. It tastes of copper and a little bitter, but that is what makes him moan. That sound is the last thing you could ever grow tired of.

His palm rests on your chest. Your heart pounds against his palm. “You’re so alive,” he says.

You cradle his face in your hands. “And you’re more human than you think.”

If he wanted to pull your heart out and hold it, you would let him in a heartbeat.

He leans you back. He strips you bare. He kisses down your body like you are a fucking masterpiece for him to explore. That is how he sees you.

Your head falls back. The kisses wander from your hips to the inside of your thighs. Every kiss brings his breath closer to your center. Matt pulls them apart. He opens you up to him. Your scent clouds his senses, and he groans, but he doesn’t touch.

His fangs graze your skin. “Mine,” he growls.

You gasp. He bites into the sensitive flesh. Hard, passionately. Your legs wrap around his head, trapping him there. He sucks, and he sucks, and he drinks, and the wetness pools out of your cunt in an obscene amount. This is foreplay to him. It drives you toward the edge leading to an abyss you are afraid you might never be able to crawl back out of. There is no bottom, it is just a pit, and he’s pushing you closer and closer, and—

Your back arches, but he pulls away before the coil can snap into a million butterflies. He pries your legs away from his head, spreading them further on the mattress, as far apart as they will go.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner have been served on a silver platter. He breathes in. The scent of your soaked pussy sticks to the hairs in his nose. It isn’t enough. He breathes in again, your arousal sweeter than fiction. You’re everything and more. He wants to taste that part of you more than anything, suck up the slick that is soaking the sheets—and you didn’t even think that was possible—but he waits because he needs to savor it. He doesn’t want it to be over too soon. neither for him nor for you.

The blood is still dripping from his tongue and his fangs, and the raw inside of your thigh. He runs his finger through it. The sting runs from the wound to your folds, then back down. Still, he doesn’t touch. He plays with the blood, sucking on his fingers until they’re clean, and then he dives back in for a taste. He doesn’t bite, he kisses and sucks, but he doesn’t push it further. He doesn’t hurt you.

You’re his saving grace; he has to worship you. Pain only has a place in pleasure.

“Matthew,” you moan.

He chuckles, kissing where his fangs left deep indentations. “No one will ever touch you again,” he purrs. “I’ll make sure of that.”

You try to protest, but the words die on your tongue when he leans in, capturing your clit with his hungry mouth. The wound on your thigh closes. The blood from his lips mixes with your juices, and you cry out at the intensity of it all.

He eats you with the ferocity of a man starved for weeks. He eats your pussy like he ate your blood, savoring every drop but still feasting for the taste to spread out in his mouth like wildfire. Sour, sweet, and copper. He sucks your sensitive clit into his mouth. His tongue drags through your folds, up and down, and then the tip slides inside, tasting your walls. He grows bolder as your moans accelerate.

Matt cradles your thighs. He forces your hips back down to the mattress, stronger than the average human man. You have to endure his beard scratching and burning, and the pace he has set.

The orgasm creeps up on you. Before you know it, he has plunged his tongue into you, and your body convulses around him. You scream into a pillow as you come.

You are each other’s forbidden fruit. No prayer in the world could keep you apart.

Faintly, you can hear him say, “Good girl.” Your legs quiver. He pulls away, then comes right back like a boomerang.

He’s warm now. He was cold before, but when he kisses you this time, he’s warm. He’s hot. You run your hands over his bare chest, the scars that lie under the dark strands of hair. You tug at it, and he moans. You can tell he is a little insecure, but by pressing your lips to one of the cuts on his shoulder, he relaxes.

What he must have endured, what he must have lived through before he died and was resurrected in the same breath, just without a beating heart—you don’t want to think about it or you will break, but you can still feel him through the crimson tie that holds you together, and you know that he has suffered enough for more than two lifetimes. You wish you could take it all away from him. You wish you could have saved him before it was too late, loved him more than the woman who turned him, but turning back time is an impossibility. You are both acutely aware of that.

“Hey.” Matt tilts your head toward him. “Where did you just go?” he asks.

“Thinking about you,” you murmur.

“Me?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to be your salvation.”

You. His salvation. He kisses you, softly this time. He pours gratitude into his lips and bleeds them out in poetry as they slide into your mouth, and you swallow every last drop.

If someone had told you a week ago where you would see yourself on that particular Monday, you would have laughed at them. And if someone had told you a week ago that you would be making love to the devil, you would have called them crazy. But it’s happening.

He thrusts into you without a warning. His thick cock fills you like nothing and no one ever has before. Your cunt has been molded to fit him, you’re sure. You take him in, and you moan at the stretch. It’s a pain so delicious you could fall apart right then and there just from the feel of him inside you.

Every thrust drags the tip of his cock along your sweet spot. Every added sensation drives you closer to your death.

Your body tingles. He explores your face with his lips rather than his fingers, moving to your neck again. You cling to him, oh-so-desperate for him. He likes you like that, and you like him like that.

“You’re fucking with my head,” he tells you. “Offering your pussy to a vampire. Letting me drink your blood. Begging me to fuck you. You’re in my head, baby. Can’t get you out of my system. Fuck.”

You are his downfall, his salvation, but he is all of those things to you as well—all of those things and more. If he could read your mind, you would tell him that. Words can’t do justice to how you feel. Not right now, maybe not ever.

“Bite me again,” you beg.

His thrusts falter. He searches your body for any sign of regret. His fangs come out, and he buries them deep in your jugular vein. The floodgates open wide. Your walls clench around his cock, your clit pulsates, and the wave crashes into you.

You come as he devours your neck and your blood. You transcend into another dimension, far away from everything and everyone but never him. Never Matthew.

The sensation of you wraps around him like a weighted blanket. His balls tighten, your blood unfolding its taste on his tongue. You are all over him, inside of him, everywhere at once. He falls head-first, dragging you down with him.

He comes with a shout that is only muffled through his teeth buried in your flesh, his cum spurting into you and filling your cunt to the brim. Your eyes roll back. You’re flying and falling all at once.

Oh, how good it feels to be consumed by him. To be fucked and sucked dry. You would have never expected this to come out of your week, let alone your life, but now that it has happened, you are floating on cloud nine.

Dizziness threatens to take over, but before you can pass out, he forces himself away, allowing your heart to catch up with the lack of blood in your system. He collapses on top of you. His cock softens, but he stays inside. You need him there. You want him there. And that is the only place he wants to rest tonight.

He heals the wounds on your neck. “You have a mark,” Matt rasps, tracing your skin with his finger.

You choke out, “Yours.”

“Yes, you are.” He kisses you there. Once, twice, even a third time. “Mine,” he says.

You’re his. He’s yours. It doesn’t get any better than this.

The minutes tick away on the obnoxious clock on the wall. Matt pulls out eventually, wrapping you up in a blanket. He coaxes you to drink, but you’re barely lucid. Only when he begins to stroke your hair you start coming back to yourself. You thought you might regret it, but as you look at him, his almost guilty eyes staring back at you, all you can do is reach out for him.

“Session two tomorrow?” you ask.

He chuckles and retorts, “Have I not scared you away?” There is some truth to it though.

He’s covered in your blood. It sticks to his lips, his hands, and his chest. It’s sickeningly intimate, in a way.

You shake your head in response. “You could not possibly.”

He listens to your heartbeat. You’re as honest as they come.

“Okay,” Matt says. “Session two tomorrow then.”

That night, you fell in love with the Devil, but he also fell in love with you, his angel in the form of a reckless journalist, and the only blood he ever wants to taste again until the end of his miserable, cursed days.

Matt Murdock (Smut) Tag List: @shouldbestudying41 @theradioactivespidergwen @cheshirecat484 @1988-fiend @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-girl-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #vampire!matt murdock #matt murdock angst #daredevil #x reader #interview with the vampire #charlie cox #alternate universe #reader insert

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mavnagerie · 3 months

Text

big love

* luffy may be too experimental for his own good…

monkey d. luffy x reader

summary: the strawhats have stopped at an uninhabited island for the night and you and luffy go out for a walk. well when he goes gear 5 to get big so he can show you the island from above… things get freaky 🤓

warning: no proofread we die like men. this isn’t super long. pre established relationship (luffy x reader, slight zoro x reader x luffy). kinky; sorry. gear 5 luffy. GIANT! gear 5 luffy. holding you in his palm and having his way with you. cunnilingus and grinding. no dicks here today (aside from one mention at the end). public ish sex. (i might be forgetting something im just so exhausted)

authors note: requests are open

luffy was always a confident and kind guy, deserving of the honor that had been bestowed upon him when his devil fruit powers had grown with him as a person.. but now you’re sitting here, watching as luffy, exploring his new form, shifts his body like he had never had his powers to begin with. floating in front of the two of you, his hair moved like the clouds in the sky around his face.

lying on the deck of the sunny next to zoro, you both watched as luffy grew and shrank his arms and legs, but deep down luffy knew that he could grow to immense heights, big enough to hold the sunny in the palms of his calloused hands. he could jump kaido like jump rope if he so pleased yet he was sitting here playing with his limbs like a child playing with his toys.

sighing, you laid your head on zoros chest. “wake me up when he’s done dicking around and actually wants to relax” you mumble as you quickly doze off, a bad habit you had picked up from both zoro and luffy. sooner or later, zoro is asleep too, as luffy continues to goof off.

although you and zoro had been asleep, the rest of the crew decided amongst themselves that you would dock for the night on an island that seemed a little uninhabited, at least on the side you all had stopped on. although the sunny had plenty of food and resources for the straw hats, being on land for a night wasn’t always bad.

being hooked awake by luffy was one of zoros biggest pet peeves so he always shook you awake first so that you could wake up zoro.

“y/n… cmon wake up..” he shakes your arm, taking your hand and kissing it. “cmon!” he’s patiently waiting like an obedient dog as he hears you begin to stir awake.

“whats wrong luffy?” you blink your eyes at him before realizing the sun was sitting and you three were the only ones left on the ship.

“nothing princess, we’re stopped for the night. get up so we can go eat dinner” he smiles, nodding to zoro, asking you to wake him up. you can’t help but smile at his cute face before sitting up, leaning over zoro, finding his hand and gently squeezing it before shaking him just a little. you whispered to him before he woke up, groaning in your face.

“cmon get up big guy..” you smiled, kissing him before standing up next to luffy. you walked past him, he watched as the skirt around your waist formed to your body as you stood. before you felt his big hands around you, stretchy arms pulling you back into his chest.

“do i not get a kiss?” he looks down at you, with such a pathetic sad look on his face. turning around in his arms, your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. zoro is now standing next to the two of you, looming over the both of you as you pulled away from luffy. you kicked your leg up as you popped off of your foot, going to grab a book before meeting the others to go down to the rest of the crew.

“you ready?” luffy commented as zoro had already made his way down to the camp site. you smiled as he grabbed you, using his stretchy arms to grab ahold of a tree before pulling you and him both down to land. doing stuff like that with him had always made you nervous but it was something about his hold on you, around your waist, that made you trust him.

getting down to the rest of the crew, they smiled at your presence. sanji asking you if you wanted anything, totally ignoring luffy and zoro. as you sat between the two, sanji only glared at them as he handed you a drink.

the night proceeded as usual, stories and laughs shared by the straw hats resounded in the pit of the forest right off the coast. the sunny bobbed in the ocean peacefully while the night grew colder. the fire between the 10 members burned bright but there came a time where they all needed more wood. while almost everyone had done a task beforehand , there sat you, luffy and zoro who had been the lazy ones upon the stop.

namis voice rang in your ears as you woke up from drifting off against zoros shoulder. “hey! can you and luffy go get some more wood??” she said looking down at the two of you. you blinked at her… she looked annoyed. ‘OH. luffy is being frustrating. got it.’ you connected the dots in your head as you sat up, nodding to her.

grabbing luffys hand, you just ran off into the forest. “come on luffy.” you groaned.

———————

the two of you had turned your little trip to the forest for wood into a romantic little walk, walking hand in hand until you were both sitting at a ledge somewhere on the island looking over the starry sky.

“the ocean is really calm tonight.. did we really need to stop?” your voice was soft, wrapping around luffy and holding him like a warm blanket. he liked hearing you talk, he loved listening to the words that left your lips like a king listening to the jester aim to amuse him. he didn’t have much of an answer so he just shrugged as he put his hand over yours.

an idea struck luffy and before he even remembered to say anything to you, he was standing again.

“oh are you ready to go back?” you looked up at him as he stood over you, steam rose from his skin and you already knew what he was about to do, scooting back a bit as his hair grew white and his clothes shifted with him.

“no, i wanna show you something.” he speaks through the clouds of his hair covering his face before they cleared. luffy transformation from regular old luffy to gear 5 has become progressively easier for him, almost on command at this point, so when he does this it’s nothing new but maybe seems like he’s showing off… which you didn’t mind. you liked seeing your beautiful captain all confident and happy, but sometimes he took advantage of how much you loved seeing his confidence.

beginning to stand up to let him show you whatever he had planned in his head, you watched as he got a running start, throwing himself off the side of the ledge.

“LUFFY-“ your voice escaped you in a worried shout before you watched the ledge, a gasp leaving you as his body grew past the size of ledge. his feet planted in the ocean as he grew larger than life, towering over you like a skyscraper. you were speechless, knowing he had this ability but barely able to fathom the idea of him being this big.

he crouched down, waving at you with a big smile. “luffy!!” you shouted, grinning ear to ear despite the shock in your voice.

“what princess??” he speaks, lowering his tone so he wouldn’t be so loud to you or frankly, the rest of the island.

“you’re so…” you laugh before he reaches his hand out.

“big? i know!! now get on, i wanna show you the island” his hands were out in front of you, cupped together like a landing pad just for you. as you stepped onto his fingers, you roll into his palm with a small “uph” as he cups his hands around you, cradling you so you don’t fall.

you pull your long skirt back down your legs, covering them as you find a comfortable place to sit in the dip of his large hands.

“you’re so cute, princess” he smiled down at you before standing up again. he could see the sunny from this side of the island, he was sure they could probably see luffy from over the treetops if they stood on the sunny but regardless they were clueless to his gargantuan form. the sun had long set over the horizon so as the stars dotted the skies, luffys smile seemed to beam brighter. he held his wrists close to his chest , opening up his palm so that you could see the island from above, watching the sea from high up as well.

“isn’t it so cool?” he smiled, watching as you observed in awe.

“is this really what you see?”

“always..” he smiles. bending his finger back to you, you placed your hand on his fingertip, holding it while you stood up. he watched as the skirt around your legs shook with the wind, observing your hair and how your eyes glowed under the stars. standing there in his hands, he brought another finger up to your stomach, tickling you, wanting to hear your laughter. you buckled over giggling as his fingertip pressed against your belly.

“luffy quit!!” you giggled as you feel back into his hands. he then lowered you closer to the ground again, leaning down into the water, sitting down with you in his hands. he grabbed you with one, holding you gracefully between his fingers, the meat of his middle finger pressed right between your thighs. a sigh left you as he held you there, holding his finger out to you with his other hand.

his ears almost perked up at the noise. “what was that??” he teased. your face was flushed. “n-nothing!” your face was flushed, getting embarrassed. but his hair billowed around his head as he got a little excited, wanting to hear that precious noise again. a noise neither him nor zoro ever heard enough. “cmon.. do it again!” he whines cheekily, moving his finger underneath you again, hoping you’d react. you held in your voice to spite him, although your face did nothing to hide the pleasure growing between your thighs.

“it’s like when you ride zoros thighs..” he mumbles, watching as you succumb to his wangs and begin idly to grind yourself on the space between his knuckles. he uses very delicate touches to take the fabric of your skirt between two of his fingertips and pulls it up, wanting to watch as your panties dampened with pleasure. you began to fold to him, scared of his size due to luffys recklessness but he began to prove to be just as gentle when he’s 20x your size than he would be regularly.

“is this okay, princess??” he thought he’d ask just in case, even though you’ve become to seem like you’re enjoying yourself. your hands now planted on his finger, grinding up against him.

“yes luffy…” your voice escaped you in a moan , noticing as he moves his fingers in order to pleasure you.

luffy relaxed, watching as you let yourself go, grinding against his finger as you’d do to his thigh in the past. he used his finger tip from his free hand to lift your chin, wanting to see your face. seeing how your lips parted, your tongue resting on your lower lip as you panted through your moans, feeling almost helpless to his gaze.

“cmon princess.. cum for me” his breath was warm, arousal spreading in a dark flush across his cheeks. he noticed your grinding was becoming more sporadic, as your moans grew louder, crying out for him while rubbing your wet pussy against him. his name poured from your lips as you came, falling forward onto his finger while writhing against him. your hips pushing against him as he placed another finger over your back to keep you stable.

as you recovered from your orgasm, you sat up, with his finger still between your thighs. he took his other hand, grabbing you gently before placing you back on the ground, close to the ledge of the cliff.

“you’re so cute..” he mumbles, petting your hair back gently as he sank down further into the ground, being closer to you. his nose close to your face. your eyes were lidded as you stared up at him, wanting to grab his nose in an endearing sense but still being clouded by arousal.

“can you eat me out?” you asked, bluntly, knowing what you wanted from him but not knowing any better way to ask.

“like this?? giant and all??” he tilted his head to the side, not even really realizing you’d want to keep going.

“mhm” you hummed, your face pink with embarrassment, taking your skirt and pulling it up, exposing your panties to him.

“i can try, but i don’t wanna hurt you, princess” he plants his hands down next to you, his fingers caressing your skin from your stomach to your legs. he watched you intently as you slowly pulled your panties off. the pad of his thumb found your pussy, rubbing over it, watching as it glistened under his finger. you bit back a moan as his aimless touch sent a shock through you.

“fuck” he mumbles to himself. “you’re so small..” he knows how delicate you are, how he can just hold you in the palms of his hands. how any movement could hurt you so he had to be gentle. no foreplay could’ve prepared you for his tongue against your pussy.

leaning in, you watched as his warm mouth opened, his tongue falling against your wet pussy. warm and rough, rubbing perfectly onto your clit. the noises leaving you were perfect as he squeezed his fingers around your thighs, holding them apart so his lips can close around your mound, sucking and licking at anything he could.

his name fell graciously from your lips as he stimulated your clit, pressing his tongue as precisely as he could against it, humming so you’d feel it. this caused you to jolt, resulting in him pressing his finger tips against your hips in order to keep you down.

“fuck nothing will ever top this, luffy..” you whined. luffy knew how good zoro could fuck you, how good he could fuck you. and this was an ego boost. knowing you were coming up on a loss at words as his tongue throbs against your needy clit. you watch as his lips pull away from your mound, his tongue finding its way to your hole, teasing you.

luffy licked at your folds like a dog on a hot day licking at its water bowl. what would’ve been kitten licks in his normal size were almost orgasm inducing swipes across your clit. you were in desperate need of being filled by something by the way your pussy clenched around nothing, throbbing.

“you’ve been such a good princess” he speaks softly, praising you after your moans and cries blessed his ears once more. “you wanna feel me inside, don’t you..” he grins cheekily, watching as you nod, your cheeks red and your eyes lidded. you just needed your pirate king…

his tongue narrows, pressing the tip of his tongue to your hole, pushing past your folds as he tasted your pretty cunt.

“oh luffy..” you sighed as he filled you out. your hands held onto his fingers that wrapped around your thighs. holding onto him tight as you ground yourself onto his tongue. you babbled as his tongue moved inside of you. gentle for him but rough for you.

he could feel your tiny hands gripping around his fingers just a little harder. your eyes almost squinted shut as you watched him close his mouth around your pussy again, sucking in so he could stimulate your swollen clit.

you could feel yourself coming close as you continued to grind helplessly on his tongue. his name was slurred in your words as overstimulation and his warm tongue mixed together to create a perfect storm off the side of this islands cliff.

“f-fuck.. luffy i’m gonna..” your head tilted back, hitting that peak. “fuck i’m gonna cum..” you could hear him but especially feel him as he hummed against your pussy, acknowledging your words. he pulled you closer against him with ease, stuffing you as full as he could get you, without breaking you open.

sucking at your clit, you felt that winding knot that had been building and building break, snapping into a million pieces are your back arched off the ground, crying his name into the forest as you came on his tongue. he groaned happily around your pussy, watching as you writhed against him. slowly he pulled away, watching as you begged for him to stop overstimulating you.

he was slow to pull his tongue away from your drenched cunt, watching as a string of his spit connected to your wet cunt. he left a quick kiss to your wet pussy before finally letting go of you. he rubbed his thumb over your belly.

“you okay, princess?” he asked, watching as you slowly relaxed again. you had covered your face when releasing his fingers, you uncovered your face as you looked up at him, nodding.

“w’so good..” you mumbled, your cheeks flushed. you watched as your precious man had began to shrink back down to his normal size, holding onto the cliff so he could throw himself back up to your level.

once he had done so, his hair began to steam again, turning back into his normal self, while he found you on the ground, pulling you into a kiss. “you did so good for me, princess. we should do that again some time.”

“we should” you smiled against his lips, your fingers in his thick black hair, pulling him in again. “you’re rock hard right now though, i can feel it against my leg..” you giggle.

“i am. i wasn’t going to say anything though, i knew you’d be tired.” he shrugged.

“don’t worry baby, i’ll take care of it. just give me a few minutes and i’ll let you fuck me.” you smiled as you moved to kiss his neck, tasting his salty skin against your lips.

“i love you, luffy.” you leaned back to look up at him with a soft smile on your cheeks.

“i love you too, princess”

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece smut #mavnagerie’s fic #monkey d luffy imagine #monkey d. luffy x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #monkey d luffy #monkey d. luffy #monkey d. luffy smut #gear 5 luffy

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gunnerfc · 4 months

Text

Did it Hurt? (When You Fell From Heaven) | Hayley Raso x Matildas!Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend spends the entire day telling you terrible pickup lines after you jokingly said she was bad at flirting.

Warnings: bad pickup lines from google! 🥴

WC: 1.6K

AN: currently down bad for her (shoutout to all the tiktok edits I’ve watched 😩), so more fics for her are coming soon I fear 🥴😩

Waking up this morning, you were thankful you weren’t allowed to room with Hayley during camp. You had decided to tease your girlfriend about her ‘bad flirting’ last night during a small team bonding session. The mandatory curfew had saved you last night and you didn’t have to be questioned by the Real Madrid player.

That is until you were up and ready to head to the team breakfast. Hayley had been waiting for you, still in disbelief that you said she was bad at flirting. When you opened your hotel room, you were greeted by your girlfriend impatiently tapping her foot with her arms crossed.

“Good morning, babe,” you sang as you exited your room, hoping you could get Hayley to focus on anything other than your previous comments.

“Yeah, yeah good morning. What do you mean I “can’t flirt”? Hayley questioned as you walked side by side towards the banquet room at the end of the floor that the team was staying on.

“Umm..” you started, your voice higher than normal as you felt the glare from the winger. “I was just joking, baby. Don’t worry about it,” you laughed nervously right as you reached the opened doors. You could hear most of your teammates already eating and you hoped that maybe Ellie or Teagan would call Hayley over to their table and you wouldn’t have to explain further.

Ellie was your saving grace, shouting Hayley’s name the moment she spotted the shorter of the pair. You let a sigh of relief escape your lips as you fixed your plate and found a seat with your three Arsenal teammates.

“Rass still upset about your little comment,” Caitlin teased when you sat down. You sent the forward a glare, not bothering to respond as you started eating.

“What little comment,” Steph asked from her spot next to you. She had opted out of the bonding session last night in favor of calling Dean back in England.

“Y/n/n said Hayley was bad at flirting,” Kyra said with a mouth full of food. Her actions earned an eye roll from you and Steph and a laugh from Caitlin.

“Why’d you say that,” the older of your tablemates questioned, having zero context to the conversation that took place without her.

“I was joking… for the most part. I don’t think she’s bad at flirting now, I just think her pickup lines were a bit cheesy when we first started dating,” you answered before continuing. “She’s way better now, but no one let me finish my sentence last night before they started making jokes.”

Caitlin and Kyra took it upon themselves to repeat some of the jokes they made last night, giggling even more each time they said something. You shook your head at their words, knowing you would have to make it up to your girlfriend sooner rather than later.

While you were recounting the events from last night to Steph, Ellie was still teasing Hayley at their table. “I need to know what some of the things you say are,” the blonde laughed, ignoring the glare your girlfriend sent her way.

“I don’t know what Y/n considers “bad at flirting” so I don't know what to tell you,” the winger groaned, trying to rack her brain for what she could have said that made you think that.

“Well, why don’t you just make your flirting extra bad, that way Y/n can see that whatever you were saying before isn’t actually terrible,” the defender offered even though she changed your wording.

Hayley didn't respond but was considering what Ellie was saying. If you thought she was bad at flirting, then she’ll show you bad flirting. You split after breakfast, everyone heading back to their rooms to get their things for training. You didn’t see Hayley again until she got on the bus and took her usual seat next to you.

“Did it hurt?” your girlfriend's voice pulled you from your thoughts as she sat down. You sent her a confused look, having no idea what she could be talking about. “When you fell from heaven,” she continued, a teasing grin and a raised eyebrow gracing her features.

You took a deep sigh knowing you had started something you were going to regret. You just shook your head at Hayley’s words, not knowing how to respond. She didn’t say anything else for the rest of the bus trip to the field and you thought she had just made a one-off comment.

You were proven wrong as you sat in one of the cubbies in the locker room with Hayley to your left. As you were trying one of your boots, you felt Hayley lean closer until she was almost level with your ear. “Y’know even if there was no gravity on earth, I’d still fall for you,” the winger whispered in your ear, a bright smile on her face as she held back a laugh at your shocked face.

“My god, rass..” you groaned quietly, knowing she was saying the worst pickup lines she knew to drive you crazy.

Hayley is normally extremely focused on training, always wanting to do her best even if it wasn’t a game. Except today, she was on a mission to annoy you and so far, she was succeeding. Though you weren’t entirely annoyed, you found her cheesy pickup lines cute.

Tony had started training with some stretching and a few light jogs around the pitch to get everyone ready. During each activity you were told to do, Hayley was right beside you with something cheesy to say. Her bright, teasing smile never left her face.

You found a moment of hope that you wouldn’t have to hear anymore when Tony split everyone into small groups to play a few scrimmage matches. You weren’t in the same group as Hayley which for a moment meant no new cringe pickup line being sent your way. Until your two groups were facing each other and your side got a corner.

As you stood inside the box waiting for Steph to send the ball your way, you felt your girlfriend move to defend you. With your focus solely on the ball, Hayley took the opportunity to distract you. “I hope you know CPR because you’re taking my breath away,” the winger mumbled so only you could hear her just as Steph sent the ball into the box.

It was a perfect ball for you to head into the back of the net if you hadn’t been shocked by your girlfriend’s words. Hayley laughed as the ball was cleared by her side and patted your side as she ran past you. You shook your head to refocus and took off towards the other goal in defense.

Training ended soon after and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You were mentally preparing yourself for more lines the entire time you changed before heading back to the bus but they never came. You thought that Hayley might have decided she had said enough cheesy things to you to last awhile but you were once again mistaken when the winger took her seat next to you.

“Aren’t you tired, baby?” Hayley’s voice was laced with what seemed like genuine concern as she sat down.

You went to answer that you were feeling fine but she beat you to it. “You’ve been running through my head all day,” the teasing smile made its reappearance. You groaned with an eye roll at her words, knowing she wasn’t going to give up that easy.

The ride back to the hotel was spent with numerous teasing lines from your girlfriend that didn’t stop until you were back inside your separate rooms. You were rooming with Charli at this camp and she graciously offered you the shower first. You quickly took a shower so Charli could also have time to take one before team dinner.

You offered to wait for the blonde but she knew you and Hayley were inseparable and would be walking to dinner together and she didn’t want to hold you up. Just like this morning, Hayley was waiting outside your door though this time in comfortable clothes and with wet hair. You didn’t comment on the fact that she was wearing your Arsenal hoodie.

“Your hand looks lonely, baby. Can I hold it for you,” she giggled while holding her hand out for you to take. All you could do was laugh softly as you intertwined your hand with hers.

“Y’know… you never let me finish what I was saying last night,” you stated with a raised eyebrow as you two walked hand-in-hand down the hall.

Hayley didn’t respond verbally, but you saw the questioning look on her face. “I was saying that you were bad at flirting in the beginning, when you were too nervous to speak to me, and instead made up cheesy pickup lines. But now, you’re better because you aren’t nervous anymore,” you explained, pulling her to a stop in front of the doors.

The look on Hayley’s would have made you laugh normally but you found it adorable in the moment. Her eyes closed as her cheeks had a dark tint of red coat them. With your hands still intertwined, you pulled her smaller frame into yours, giving her a quick kiss on her lips.

“But even if you were absolutely terrible at flirting, I wouldn’t care. I’d still love you the same,” you whispered against her lips when you pulled away.

“I would’ve made up for it in other ways,” Hayley winked as she backed up, her words meaning something way more inappropriate than anything she’s said all day.

You playfully rolled your eyes at her words, your cheeks heating up this time. You let her pull you into the dining hall, bright smiles gracing both of your faces. She might have annoyed you a tad bit with everything she said today but you wouldn’t actually complain. You meant what you had told her, you would have loved her regardless if she was the best at flirting or not.

#woso x reader #auswnt x reader #matildas x reader #real madrid women x reader #hayley raso x reader #hayley raso

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miniwheat77 · 1 year

Text

Sensitive. (Captain Price x Reader.)

!NSFW, Smut, Cursing, unprotected p-in-v sex, alcohol, fingering, age gap MINORS DNI! (THIS HAS BEEN RE-EDITED AND REVISED SO I WILL BE REBLOGGING IT.)

Being the only woman on base with task force 141 was obviously challenging. Aside from Laswell who was there every once in a while, it was just you on a base full of men.

Everyone was on base, awaiting orders to go after Makarov since Hassan had been eliminated. You went out on missions when instructed to, but for the most part it was silent. Nobody had any idea how long any of it would take. It could take even months until Makarov was tracked down, they just had to wait until Laswell had information.

Dealing with the rest of the men in 141, their bickering, their whining. Their inability to do normal every day things. Like laundry, picking up after themselves, all of that. Even in the military you expected them to be a little bit better, but they weren’t.

It seemed a little sexist to you that you were the only person to ever do anything around base, but on the other hand. If you swapped with them, you'd be doing hard labor or outdoor chores which you didn't really like. You didn't mind cleaning or doing laundry. It was pretty easy.

The only thing that you weren't much of a fan of, was the constant talk about women.

Sex, sexuality. You were a virgin despite being in your mid twenties. You'd never admit it, but you were. It wasn't always your favorite subject and for some reason, you had never matured enough to desire sex with someone. Sure, you got aroused. But it never drove you to want to have sex with someone.

The first time anyone was ever suspicious of you being a virgin was in a game of ‘never have I ever.’

You almost fell for one of the questions and this worried you.

They were onto you. You could tell by the way Soap asked the question and gave everyone else a subtle look. Sort of like ‘We're suspicious you're a virgin and we're gonna find out sooner or later.’

You knew you'd never hear the end of it if they ever found out you were a virgin, and you knew, as sex deprived men, they'd unintentionally look at you like a piece of meat. I mean, they already kind of do it. Unintentionally of course. Unless it’s Soap.

Soap always tried at you. Flirting with you. Spending as much time as he could with you.

He was into you and you could see it from the start. The only person you ever seemed to want to talk to, was your captain. John Price.

The only thing with that is, he's your captain and he's pretty straight forward. Never much for holding a conversation. He wanted you to finish your tasks, and that was it.

The only time you ever really got to talk to him was when he was taking over your watch. He'd come up a few minutes early sometimes and talk to you about random stuff. You enjoyed the conversations, and you knew he did too. Sometimes you'd save some of the sweet snacks from your MRE's and share with him up there, and maybe you did it a couple times on purpose so you could share with him. You thoroughly enjoyed his company, even when you knew he was only passing the time.

The first time something really crossed your mind with him, was when you were telling him about something funny from your childhood. He happened to place his hand on your thigh for a brief second. Just one split second and every wall you had built came crashing down.

Every night you were wide awake thinking about him, his fingertips drawing shapes on your skin, or his hand between your thigh. It’s completely forbidden, you shouldn’t think about him that way.

His lips looked soft and kissable, and you could only dream of the way his facial hair would scratch against your skin. His sweet tongue gliding through your folds. Wrapping your hand in his hair. The thought of his facial hair scratching the skin between your thighs. You were starting to lose sleep, couldn't focus, wouldn't finish your lunch in time which meant you hadn't been eating as much.

You were completely and utterly taken away by the thought of your Captain, and if one of the guys found out about this? Game over for you.

You were taking watch and you couldn't think straight, so you watched the cameras while sitting down.

You were so stressed out, and so caught up by him. So addicted to the thought of what sex would be and feel like with him. He has to be so rough. Rough hands, enough to leave bruises with his fingertips. He was strong and masculine. He was brash when he needed to be and sometimes he got angry. You were there for a lot of his outbursts and despite how intimidating he was, it only fueled the burning fire inside of you further. You just wanted to experience it for yourself.

"Earth to Y/N." He snaps in front of your face.

He startles you, you jump back. You hadn’t realized he was there, you’d never even heard his footsteps. It was bad.

"What? Sorry.." you trail off, your face heating up immediately. "Been trying to get your attention kid." He chuckles. "Sorry. Been a little distracted lately." You smile. "That's alright love, we all do it occasionally. It's just part of the military, yeah."

You nod your head. "Anything specifically bothering you?"

"Uhh.. yeah.. but.." you swallow hard. "I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it."

"Hey." He rests his hand on your thigh and you almost don't hear what he's saying. Swallowing hard as you looked at his hand. You thought about how it would feel if it crept up your thigh, his fingers going insi-

"You can always talk to me, you know? All hours, all the time. I care about the welfare of my team." He smiles. He’s trying to be sympathetic but all you can think about is his massive hands on your skin.

You nod your head. "I'll be able to talk about it soon, I just need to think it through a little more." You smile.

—

A few weeks later, after being horribly embarrassed by Soap, you were frustrated in your small room.

He'd made a couple comments about how for "someone who isn't a virgin, you sure do seem like a prude." Causing the other men to laugh, causing you to blush a deep shade of crimson. He kept it up until you finally left.

You couldn't sleep. And you couldn't take this feeling you were feeling anymore.

You stood up, and walked out of your door. Making sure nobody would see you, or where you were headed. Peeking around every corner.

You were wearing your night clothes which nobody really seen. Some shorts and a t-shirt. You shivered a little as you made your way for his door. You gave a small knock and when he opened it, your stomach fell. Your cheeks heating up.

White t-shirt that hugged him perfectly. Still wearing his camo cargo pants.

"Y/N?" He asks. You freeze.

"I.. I" you stutter.

"You're ready to talk hm?" He smiles.

You nod your head. "Come in."

He closes the door behind you, and motions for you to sit down at the little table that’s up against the wall. He notices your attire.

You sit down and he offers you a glass of bourbon, which you take. You'd become accustomed to the taste since being in task force 141.

"So what's going on up in that head of yours, kid?"

You breath out. You hated when he called you that, despite there being a significant age gap, it didn't bother you any.

"I.." you swallow hard. "I know you're my Captain and I'm not really supposed to talk about this stuff with you. But.. everyone here talks about.. sex. Constantly. It's pretty much all I ever hear about anymore." You let out a small laugh.

"And.. sometimes they flirt with me. And it's okay. But.." you look down.

You see him run his tongue along his bottom lip. He adjusts the way he’s sitting.

"But you're a virgin." He crosses his arms.

You look up at him quickly. "How.. how did you-"

"Sweetheart, on my end? It's all I hear about. They talk about it constantly when you aren't around. Besides. Don't take this the wrong way but you are pretty... Quiet and reserved." You nod your head. "I just.. can't imagine how much fun they would have torturing me if they found out, if I told the truth."

He laughs just a little bit. You could tell this isn't really his thing.

"So.. I have another question.” You say nervously.

"Yeah sure, anything, lay it on me." He leans back, crossing a leg over the other.

You close your eyes. "I.. I know this is wrong. But.. will you.. take it?"

Your voice is so low it's almost a whisper.

And he looks confused. So beyond confused that when it finally clicks what you're asking him, his eyes widen like saucers. The glass he'd brought up to his lips making him cough slightly as he drew it back, sputtering on the drink inside. Once he regains his composure, wiping the spilled bourbon from his mouth. "I-I'm sorry. What?" He places his glass on the table. "Do you mean you want me to..." You keep quiet.

"Y/N... This could get both of us in much more trouble than you think."

"I know…”

He sits there for a second. That sweet innocent look you have in your eyes. And maybe he lets it get the best of him. Jerking off in his bed after hours, being hard for no reason because of how deprived he feels. He always felt this way in the military. Months and months on end, no real human contact from women.

And sometimes, the glances he'd take at you. Your pretty thighs, that young virgin pussy between those sweet legs. It's hard to lay out the pros and cons when you were right here, right now. Ready for him to take all of you. This was so beyond shocking to him, you're so young, what the hell did you want with him? And he wonders, if he tells you no, who else would you ask?

He sighs. "Okay." He breathes. "Okay I'll do it. But.. I've got to warn you." He looks at you, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "I'm not very gentle."

You swallow hard, nodding your head. "That's okay."

"Tomorrow. Just.. tell them you're sick and can't make it for evening training. And meet me back here okay?" You nod your head.

—

You were so beyond nervous that your skin felt clammy and you were shaky. You barely got any sleep at all.

You told them you were sick and when they took your temperature, it was actually high because of how nervous you were. So they put you on a 3 day rest. You didn't know it yet, but you were gonna need it.

When everyone left, you made your way to his room.

You knocked and he opened the door, letting you in quickly. Shutting the door behind you. He moves toward the table, picking up the bottle of bourbon and pouring a glass full. Almost to the brim. He picks it up. "Here." He passes you the full cup of bourbon. "Finish it, Cmon. All of it.”

You start gulping it down, flinching. You wanted to draw it back but he kept tilting the cup up with his hand. Your head tilting back further, the taste getting worse with each gulp you take.

You finish it, not even flinching as you set the cup down. "Atta girl." He smiles. "It'll help take away the sting. You’ll be buzzing soon.”

He walks over to his bed, sitting down on it. "Cmere baby." He breathes. You make your way over to him, and he pulls you closer by your hips. "Have you ever been touched before? At all?" He asks. You shake your head. You began to feel the small daze from the bourbon. "Why me, love?" He asks. You smelled tobacco and cologne on him, he was fucking intoxicating. "I.. I don't know. I trust you."

He runs his hands up the side of your thighs and up onto your hips, pulling your shorts and panties down your legs, revealing you to him. The first time anyone has ever taken a look at your most precious parts.

You grip his wrist as he rubs his fingers over your opening. A whimper leaves your lips.

He breathes out. He can smell the arousal on you.

He grasps the hem of your skimpy tank top and pulls it over your head. You tighten your thighs together, so turned on you can barely think straight. "Captain-" you gasp out as his fingertips brush over your nipples. He draws his tongue against 2 of his fingers, bringing them down between your legs, his touch lights a fire in you. He rubs them over the bare skin, your eyes fluttering closed and your hips moving into his touch. He has you right in the palm of his hand.

He pushes his boxers down his legs, revealing his hard cock to you. You swallow hard.

He's larger than you expected.

"Are you sure you want to do this sweetheart?" He asks. You nod your head eagerly. He pushes you back, standing up. He basically towers over you as he presses his lips to yours, and he kisses you just like you thought he would. He kisses you hard and sloppily. He was going to be rough with you, and you were going to enjoy every single second of it, even if it hurt. His facial hair scratches over you, you’re not very good at it, but he knows you’re new. Taking the lead. He’ll show you.

He spins you around, laying you on the bed and positioning himself on top of you. Moving himself between your legs. "I.. I know this is your first time and all.." he swallows hard. "And I hate to do this but we have to be fast sweetheart." You nod your head, and he has a hard time.

You're so innocent and sweet and as much as he loved it, he almost felt bad that he was about to ruin it. Utterly destroy that sweet innocence within you, he was going to fill you full. Make you feel things you've never felt before.

He spits in his hand, rubbing it up the shaft of his cock. Coating the fat tip in saliva. Drawing his hand lower and rubbing the remaining wetness onto your opening, after he glides his hand across your opening, he realizes it was unnecessary. You're already soaked.

He realizes, just as he's lining his cock up with your entrance, this isn't just because you don't want to be a virgin anymore.

This is because you're attracted to him, he thinks about it.

The blushing, sharing sweets with him and no one else. Resisting Johnny’s advances constantly. He has to bring himself back out of it, and you're staring up at him. Nervous and shaky. He presses the tip of his cock at your entrance and slowly starts to sink into you. He knows it's gonna hurt, but he knows you're wet enough. He glides the tip across your opening, gathering the wetness and pushing past your folds.

He clamps his hand over your mouth and slides in completely, one hard thrust and he's bottoming out in you. A strangled gasp leaves your lips and is muffled by his hand, your eyes widen before clenching shut for a second. He knows you're hurt now, you've got tears running from your eyes. "It's okay. It's okay, just relax sweetheart." You're shaking, and he knows it's overwhelming but the worst of it is over now.

He glances down and notices quite a bit of blood on himself, and bites his lip in nervousness. Maybe he was a little too rough.

"Are you okay?" He asks. You nod your head, tears still streaming freely from your eyes. "Your first time.. it's gonna suck."

You nod your head. "You're bleeding pretty badly sweetheart. Do you want me to stop?" He asks. You swallow hard. "No. Please don't." He gives you a couple more minutes, and begins moving. Sliding himself out of you and back into you. You started to get used to him.

Your tears dried up and you stare up at him, still so sweet and innocent despite being deflowered.

"C-captain.. you can go faster." You spread your legs wider for him. He's taken back by how quickly you've adjusted to him. “You can call me John, Sweetheart.” He pants.

He draws his hips back and thrusts into you. Feeling the tip of his dick bottoming out into you, fucking perfectly. You squeeze around him and your wetness allows him to move perfectly. It's the best he's ever felt. He almost can't keep it together, pulling the rest of his clothes off quickly.

He holds your thighs up and fucks into you faster. He watches your arousal drip off of you and onto his sheets. Soaking his cock and his bed. He leans down, kissing you hard. Drawing his tongue down your neck and chest, sliding out of you to pull away. "Lay on your stomach sweetheart."

You skeptically flip yourself over and he leans over you, sliding himself into your hole from behind and thrusts his hips into yours.

He leans down, sucking marks into your skin, biting the skin on your shoulders softly as you moaned into his pillows, the smell of him so intoxicating you can’t form words. He grasps a handful of your hair as he gets closer to his high. Holding you still.

He grasps your hips with his other hand and raises you up, wrapping his arms around your front, and only then do you see the mirror on his wall. Your back is to his chest, his knees are looped into yours. He's holding his hand over your stomach, and his other snakes around to your front, rubbing fast circles on your clit. You can barely contain your moans.

He thrusts faster into you, he's going to cum embarrassingly fast. He hasn't had sex in a few years, your tight pussy pushes him to the brink of an orgasm in just a few minutes. Your moans get louder and he almost can't keep you quiet. Thank god nobody would be around for about another half hour.

You looked down to where the both of you connected in the mirror, and couldn't believe it.

You'd given your virginity away, to your fucking captain of all people. And you loved every single second of it. You felt a knot beginning to form in your stomach. "Watch me fuck you sweetheart." He breathes. "Watch me fill this tight little pussy so full..."

"Here." He grasps your hand, bringing it down. "Rub your clit sweetheart." He takes a firm grasp on your hips, his fingertips would leave bruises just like you'd imagined they would.

And you're right on the edge. Rubbing fast circles on your clit and whimpering as you push yourself up to the edge. You can't help but lean forward into the wooden bed frame, holding onto it for dear life as he ravaged you. "That's it sweetheart," he pants, thrusting harder and harder into you. "Fuck baby- you have me so fucking close." He closes his eyes tight, desperately holding back.

"J-John, I- oh god!" You gasp out.

"Cum for me love, give yourself to me."

A mewl leaves your lips, the sweetest moan he's ever heard as you hit your high and it feels like his blood stops pumping. It's the sexiest sound he's ever heard. He almost blacks out as his orgasm hits him. He groans out, barely remembering to pull out but does last minute, eyes locked shut and he's in a daze as he cums across your back.

When he finally remembers to breath, he opens his eyes.

You still have your eyes locked shut and you're sweaty and still panting. He watches you closely in the mirror. You're fucking perfect. Hair damp with sweat, beads of sweat dripping down your chest. When he looks down at the base of his cock, your wetness still gathered there. He can't help but let out a small laugh. "Shit.. you.." he laughs. "You made me cum so fast."

You blush. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry sweetheart.. I loved every second." He bites his lip. Tilting your head back, his hand resting on your throat as he kisses you passionately.

—

It was supposed to be a one time thing.

You both agreed as you left that day that it was 100% a one time deal.

But.. that didn't last long.

You both couldn't sleep during the night, couldn't focus during the day. Dazed and confused and completely lost in thought, thinking about one another. Thinking about how the other felt, how desperate they were.

He was the first to cave, having a normal conversation with you. He looks at your thighs, knowing the sweet spot that lies between them. "I can't stop thinking about it, you know?"

He interrupts.

"I can't either." You blush, looking down. That innocence still there. "Captain.." you mumble. "Yeah?"

"I didn't.. just want you to take my virginity just because.. I didn't want to be a virgin anymore."

"Hm?"

"I.. I like you. And I know I know. It'll never work out between us. I know that. But.. you touched my thigh that one night I was telling a funny story. And I'd never ever been sexually attracted to anyone before, ever. From that night on you just.. were on my mind. Every night I was up late thinking about you. You've been distracting me for the last couple months."

He releases a sigh, staring at you. He slides his hat off his head.

"Fuck it." He growls.

He grasps your face, kissing you passionately.

The both of you risk your team, supposed to be on watch but fucking each other in the watch tower instead.

It starts out slow but progressively turns into more and more. Riding his cock in the chair in the watch tower as he stares up at the cameras. Trying his best to keep his composure. Thrusting his hips up to meet yours, his filthy words haunted you day and night.

At dinner, if you sat next to him. He'd finger fuck you and you'd palm him through his jeans. Sometimes you'd even free his throbbing cock and stroke him under the table. Sometimes if it was late enough, he'd slap your ass when no one was around. A squeal would leave your lips and you'd stare at him.

The first time he did it, you spun around and glared at him, completely bewildered and all he did was smile and bite his lip, a mischievous grin on his face.

After training in a tank for a few hours, you were left alone to clean up with him. You didn't do much clean up for the first half hour, all he did was fuck you stupid from behind until you were both drenched in sweat and completely fucked out. It was a wonder you hadn't been caught.

Anytime you were in a room together the sexual tension was thick. He struggled not to jump you and fuck you right where you sat every single second of every single day. He wanted to bury himself in your sweet pussy forever.

When John was making his way to the mess hall, he ran into Soap one night. It was probably around midnight.

"Cap." He nods his head. "Soap. What's up, can't sleep?"

"Eh. Not really." Soap picked up his water bottle. He'd been eating some chips.

"What about you?"

"Thirsty." John mumbles. Soap can't help but laugh. John looks at him in confusion.

"What?"

"I know you're fuckin her, Captain."

Johns blood runs cold. "What?"

"I know you're screwing Y/N but don't worry. I won't tell anyone." John is bewildered for a moment. "I- I uh.."

Soap can't help but laugh. "I've never seen ya so.. soft, cap." Soap laughs. "You're happier than you ever have been."

John didn't want to admit it. He loved every second he spent having sex with you, but there was more to it than that. The few times you'd fallen asleep on his chest. You were warm, comfortable. And it was dangerous how much he liked you.

"Alright. Ya caught me. How'd you find out?"

Soap laughs. "Seen ya leaving her room late last week. Could only mean one thing." John laughs.

"So.. I can't believe she went for your old ass." Soap laughs.

John rolls his eyes. "Yeah right. You're just mad it wasn't you."

Soap laughs. "Maybe just a little."

"So.. I gotta ask." He smiles. "Was she a virgin?"

"Uh.." John hesitates. "Yes."

They both jump, you've completely startled the both of them. You've got your arms crossed.

"Oh.. hey Y/N." Soap smiles nervously. "So you were a Virgin huh. I fuckin knew it." He shakes his head. Soap shakes his head. "It's only a matter of time until everyone else finds out."

"You keep it quiet Soap or so help me-"

"What are you so worried about?" He asks.

"We risk our entire mission."

"You're a Captain for christs sake, almost everyone answers to you. Nobody here is gonna rat you out, just have some fun. Who cares." Soap laughs. He grasps his water bottle, walking away.

You went to turn back to look at John but he grasps your arm, spinning you around and pinning you to the countertop. He kisses you hard, lifting you up onto the countertop. He pulls your shorts down your legs. Moving himself between them. "This is a bad idea Captain." You pant.

"Yeah, maybe. But I don't care." He smirks, lining himself up with your entrance.

#price mw2 #captain price #john price #captain john price #ghost mw2 #price x reader #price x you #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #soap mw2 #soap mactavish

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nobody7102 · 11 months

Text

The 4th

Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, Fireworks, Loud sounds

A/N: I told you I was running off of a big bong hit and lavender ices coffee, lol

Master-list

--------

As Beau stands in the kitchen, his hands hard at work covering ribs in marinade and dry rub for later on in the day, Y/N opens the front door, waddling her way into the kitchen with grocery backs and a package.

Looking over his shoulder Beau smiles as Y/N enter’s the kitchen with her left arm carrying the package and her right holding the groceries. Hoisting the package and groceries onto the counter Beau starts to clean off his hands.

“Did the store have everything?”

Y/N nods and her hands move to start to take the groceries out of the bags. “We should have decided to have a baby sooner” she jokes “When I walked in, as soon as anyone saw the bump they let me grab whatever I needed” as soon as everything’s unpacking she turns to Beau placing a hand over her bump. “They had everything for the potatoes and the steaks”

“Well thank you for going all the way to the store for me Baby… you really didn’t have to” Walking over to Y/N he leans down and places a kiss upon her lips as his hands rest over her bump as well. “I after I get the ribs on the grill I should be able to get started on the steaks”

Y/N smiles as Beau runs his hands along her bump “Then I’ll probably do the potatoes when you start on the steaks” her hands rise up to push some of Beau’s hair out of his face “Ohh… by the way…” the corner of her mouth turns upward into a slight smirk “I got you a present… but you have to open it later”

Beau raises his brow with a slightly surprised smirk upon his face “A present?... Baby you know you always scare me a little bit when you say that right?” He jokes.

Shaking her head, Y/N chuckles “No no no, I promise… its not a bad present like the paint color for the nursery” Her smile grows wider as she remember’s Beau’s surprise to see they were painting the nursery a sage green color. But to be fair Beau said that she could do whatever she wanted with it and he would be there to help.

__________________________

As the morning passes into the afternoon, Beau stands at the grill. Cooking away as Y/N relaxes in a chair on the patio watching Beau grill, every once and a while getting up to check on the potatoes as they cook inside the kitchen.

As Y/N watches Beau, she can’t help but frown a bit at every firework people in their neighborhood decide to set off early, hating how Beau subtly jumps and gets startled every time a firework goes off. Acting as if it doesn't bother him in the slightest, but Y/N sees how he goes far off for a few seconds every time.

Not long after the food is done and Beau and Y/N set the patio table for themselves, laying out paper plates and the food. Ribs, steaks, mashed potatoes, grilled veggies and garlic bread (as per Baby Simpsons request).

They take their time as they eat, enjoying the weather, the food, and each other’s company and after a while Y/N notices how the sun starts to set and gets up.

Taking her and Beau’s plates as she stands. Beau starts to get up to help her, Y/N raises her finger. “Tsk Tsk Tsk, sit down” she hums and points to his chair.

Letting out a chuckle, Beau listens’ knowing better than to argue.

Waddling her way back into the house, Y/N disposes of the paper plates and puts their utensils in the sink before grabbing a pair of scissors and the package from earlier and bringing them back outside with her.

She sets the box and scissors down in front of Beau before taking a seat back in her chair. “Tada!” she hums.

Beau raises his brow at the box before taking the scissors and opening it. Taking out the packaging on the inside, his brow furrows in slight confusion as he pulls out a box for wireless headphones. “Baby… what is this?” Letting out a sigh, Y/N’s eye’s soften as she gazes at Beau. “Do you remember how we were talking last year… about how you wanna watch the fireworks but you know you shouldn’t” she reaches her hands out and pushes back some of Beau’s hair.

“When you were talking earlier this month about how you can’t wait for Peanut to be here and how you think Peanut would love to watch the fireworks… it got me thinking about how you said you used to love watching fireworks before you enlisted… and so I went online… and I got you some soundproof wireless headphones” she gives a soft smile “You can download this app that pairs with the headphones and you can control how noise canceling they are… and since they’re wireless you could play music if you wanted to or watch something…. But i figured… now you could just watch the fireworks again and now worry”

As Y/N explains how the headphones work and why she got them, tears start to form in Beau’s eyes at how Y/N thought about him

“And if they don’t work then that’s totally fine but I figured you could try it out and if it works then great and if no-” Before Y/N has the chance to finish her sentence Beau gets up from his chair and leans down to Y/N as she sits and presses a kiss to her hips before pulling her into a hug, burying his face into her neck.

“Thank you baby…. Thank you so much..” he mumbles against her skin.

_____________

As the sun finally sets. Y/N and Beau sit in their driveway, looking out on the water.

When they were looking at houses, the real estate agent talked about how you could see the city beach fireworks perfectly from the house and they were right. Every year they could watch the city fireworks from their living room window as Beau and Y/N snuggled on the couch with the music cranked loud enough to drown out the echoing booms from outside.

Holding Beau’s phone in her hand, Y/N connects the headphones and adjusts the soundproof to fully drown out any noise. Looking at the time Y/N looks over to Beau as he holds the headphones. “Two minutes till they start… Do you wanna put them on now?”

Beau nods and places the headphones on, before reaching out and taking Y/N’s hand in his, looking out at the water in the area where the fireworks will be. As they wait for the fireworks to start, Beau squeezes Y/N’s hand every few seconds. Anxious to see if the headphones will actually work.

And after a minute, Beau squeezes Y/N’s hand tightly as the first firework of the night goes up into the air, and Y/N’s attention focuses on Beau’s face. Ready to take him into the house and resume their usual Fourth of July night activities if her plan fails.

And just like that the loud BOOM of the fireworks goes off and Beau watches in awe as the green and blue fills the sky before he turns to Y/N with the most giddy smile on his face ever as it dawns on him that he can’t hear a thing.

Y/N smile grows as she leans over to Beau and plants a kiss on his cheek before both of them turn their attention back to the fireworks.

----------

Tagging: @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts @bobfloyds @auroralightsthesky @fanboygarcia @beachbabey @sarahsmi13s @writercole @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @lewmagoo @sailorscuttle @shawnsthighs @ohtobeleah @sweetlittlegingy @t-nd-rfoot @mothdruid

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #beau simpson #beau cyclone simpson #cyclone #cyclone simpson #jon hamm #beau cyclone simpson x reader #cyclone x reader #cyclone simpson x reader #jon hamm x reader #admiral beau cyclone simpson #admiral cyclone #admiral beau simpson #admiral cyclone simpson

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hailuchiha · 3 months

Note

May I request a lil scenario for Itachi fucking his pregnant sis? Maybe he knocked her up or maybe he didn't ;)

will try my best, anon!

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

!! 18+ NSFW!!

!!MINORS DNI!!

!!ALL characters involved are 18+ NO MINOR CHARACTERS!!

incest; noncon; lactation; surprise pregnancy; sibling incest; NO underage characters

Knock Knock

He knew before she even suspected.

Because, of course, he knew.

To her, it was just another one of those things Itachi did now. He'd randomly push her up against a wall, a door, down on the floor, or on his bed, pull her top layers away to nuzzle and lick and suckle at her breasts till they were aching and swollen.

She thought her brother must be awfully bored with his missions to be finding new ways to entertain himself. Especially when said ways of entertainment came with high risks of getting caught, since their parents didn't go on many away missions now.

Still, she figured, it wasn't a big deal. This was nothing too extreme and she knew she'd get used to his hungry mouth and wandering hands sooner rather than later.

She even stopped questioning him about this newfound obsession.

He would smile smugly seeing how needy he'd get her every time just by playing with her breasts.

And then it happened.

Sasuke was gone on a week-long training camp with team 7, and their parents were away on a diplomat mission.

With the house to themselves, Itachi made sure to make the most of their time.

He was sitting on the couch, making his sister ride him, her knees around his waist and arms around his neck while his face was pressed into her soft, ample chest.

Soft, stilted sounds escaped her panting lips as her thighs twitched around him each time his powerful thrusts pushed into her, his lips on her skin completely taking away her ability to think.

Her eyes shot open, mouth agape as he painted her insides with spurts and spurts of warm cum.

Itachi didn't seem to be surprised. If anything, he kept suckling like his life depended on it, drinking her milk to sate his thirst.

She bit her lip, and loosened her grip from where her nails had dug into his nape. It didn't seem like Itachi even registered the pain.

"F-Fuck," she breathed out, her voice a quiet sob. "Oh god, onii-chan..."

Itachi only hummed, crushing her against him by the waist and switched to her other breast and drinking just as fervently.

With a hand pressed firmly against her mouth to mask any sounds, she threw her head back, overwhelmed by the sensations, vision blurry as her brother kept drinking her milk, the sensations pushing her over the edge again and again as her cunt clenched around him, as she came a second and third time.

Soon, he repositioned them, laying her on her back and positioning himself over her. Itachi kissed between the valley of her breasts, up her chest, her neck, and finally slotted their lips together in a sated kiss.

"Mmm I should've gotten you pregnant ages ago."

#itachi smut #itachi uchiha #itachi uchiha smut #itachi uchiha x you #itachi uchiha x reader #itachi uchiha x sister #itachi uchiha x oc #itachi x oc #dead dove do not eat #should be enough warning #answered

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noras-dc-shenanigans · 1 year

Text

Mute Billy Batson

Billy (age 6) is with his parents when they die in a plane crash on the way back from a dig, and while he survives, he gets several large cuts from parts of the plane slicing into him. One of them hits his throat, permanently damaging his larynx (vocal cords).

Obviously, Awful Uncle Ebenezer doesn’t want to deal with a weepy mute kid who also has trouble swallowing and breathing properly, so as soon as he gets the inheritance he kicks him out. Billy gets picked up a few days later, is too scared to tell them his name, so he gives them a fake. They investigate, find nothing, see the scars and assume he’s one of those kids that was born outside a hospital and raised on the street.

Put him in the system under the new name, he goes through a lot of homes that also don’t want to deal with a mute kid who has eating/drinking/breathing problems. The last few before he runs away take advantage of him not being able to speak and only knowing a tiny bit of sign language. He runs away, gets caught, next home is the same, runs away and makes sure to stay un-caught this time.

He meets a deaf homeless person, they teach him sign language, he manages to get by with doing odd jobs and getting help from people in the area (other homeless people, prostitutes with soft spots, older people with no grandkids of their own).

Age 10 gets chosen by the Wizard because Black Adam will be arriving sooner than he anticipated, and I figure there are two ways for this to go:

A- Because he can’t speak the word, Billy is now permanently stuck as Captain Marvel, much like Black Adam is. This is the more angsty version cause the Wisdom of Solomon would warn him against being seen close to the people he used to know—it’ll likely get them targeted. So poor Billy is stuck all by his lonesome until hero/es come along.

B- Billy discovers he can use sign language to change by creating a special sign just for SHAZAM and thinking it while doing the sign with both hands. It mostly only works because as Champion of Magic it’ll do a lot of stuff for him that just flat out wouldn’t work for literally any other magic user.

(Later, Zatanna just gets so frustrated watching him do magic and Constantine just stares, drinks, and walks away with a very firm “F*ck that.”)

But either way, eventually, maybe a year later (Billy now 11), the Justice League has noticed this new, mysterious hero that never says anything and pretty much vanishes once the heroing is done.

(I think the League should only be 2/3 years old, and Batman & Superman had been heroing for maybe 5 years before that. Any other Leaguers you decide to include are newer and started up 1-2 years before whatever caused the League to be formed. Diana only just left Themyscira for the Event too. So they’re new enough not everyone immediately goes “Hey it’s you!” but organized enough to be able to find/recruit other heroes now.)

So of course, Batman and Superman decide to come introduce themselves. They find the new hero taking down a massive robot and lifting the man inside of it out by the collar like a misbehaving cat and manage to get close to him while he’s handing the villain off to the police.

They introduce themselves, ask if they can have a bit of the hero’s time, he blinks but nods and then points up at the tallest building in the city. They agree, Supes gives Batman a lift, and a few minutes later the other hero joins them after having moved the giant robot to an empty lot so that the city can deal with it out of the way.

Cue the JLers trying to ask the guy questions, and he automatically starts to answer in sign language but grimaces and stops because Billy has rarely met anyone who knows enough to understand him. But, of course, this is Batman we’re talking about, who even if he doesn’t have Cassandra yet still knows basic ASL. He asks what his name is aloud and in sign, and the other hero just lights up, huge grin, and starts signing away at rapid speed.

They learn his name is Captain Marvel, and he was chosen to be the new Champion of Magic to replace the old one who went evil right before the guy who gave him the powers died of extreme old age. (They really wish they could say they consider this strange, but they’ve met/worked with Constantine. They’ll believe pretty much anything if you put ‘magic’ in front of it.)

They chat for a while, then decide to invite him up to the Watchtower, so that, if he’s interested, he can meet the other Leaguers (they’d only be the originals and a few more they’d recruited so far) and they can have an official interview to join the Justice League. Cap agrees, gives a little wave, then zooms off to finish helping with the clean-up.

A few days later, Superman escorts Marvel to a zeta tube in Metropolis and up they go. They introduce Marvel to the other Leaguers, Batman translating, before Martian Manhunter offers to mind link them all so that they can understand Marvel himself. Cap agrees. Then they get this:

“Uh, hi, can you hear me? Oh, wow, is that how I’d sound out loud? Cool! I haven’t talked to anyone in years! Not many people know sign and most people aren’t willing to stand there waiting for me to write stuff out so I don’t get a whole lotta conversation. Anyway what did you guys wanna know?”

And all the Leaguers just, like, have theirs hearts squeeze in their chest because here’s a young man, can’t be older than 25 at most, just so happy to be able to talk to people. Who doesn’t know the sound of his own voice. Who despite that, still remains so chipper and friendly.

They don’t need a telepathic link to unanimously decide that Marvel is joining them.

Besides, having a magic user that isn’t either a young women who’s busy performing or a middle-aged alcoholic is very much welcome.

#DC #dc prompt #writing prompt #billy batson #Captain Marvel/Shazam #Justice League #Mute #Sign Language

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aegontaargaryens · 1 year

Text

of love and duty | aegon ii targaryen

summary: the love you bore your mother is what prompted you to agree to the duty of marrying your uncle. the duty aegon bore to the crown and to his family is what forced him to agree to marry his niece. it would never be a marriage of love, but always a marriage of duty.

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x f!reader

note: there is literally no canon in this at all. aegon is genuinely not nice in this, but he's also terrified sooo. let me know what you think!! and if you want a part 2 <3

word count: 2.8k

They say, oftentimes, that a sense of duty can be found in an action of love.

What they often forget to mention is that a sense of love can oftentimes be the catalyst for unwanted, but wholly necessary actions of duty.

The Conquerors Crown, the magnificent piece of Valyrian steel that once sat on the white hair of Aegon the Conqueror, now rested atop the head of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the first of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. The Realm’s Delight truly looked the part as she stood in front of those kneeling in front of her. The cries of joy were electrified, the roars of the dragons flying through the sky rumbled the floor below.

The history books would say it was a sight. The Greens kneeling alongside their niece and nephews, their swords promised to their half-sister and the woman their grandfather had sworn to defeat in hopes of his own blood sitting the throne.

Although, said grandfather’s head was rumoured to have been a favoured treat for the notorious Blood Wyrm. So, it seemed to many that his years of hidden treason had been for naught. Others would say it differently.

There were many things that prevented the Dance of the Dragons. The Blacks never left Kings Landing after the family dinner King Viserys I had orchestrated the night he met the Stranger. Ser Otto Hightower met the Stranger just hours later while his daughter begged for the life of her children to be spared, her knees pressed to the ground as she begged her childhood friend to remember that her children were the Queen’s own kin.

Instead of responding to the accusations that she would willingly slay her own kin, Queen Rhaenyra no sooner announced the betrothal of her eldest child, her only daughter, to the eldest child of Alicent Hightowner and King Viserys I, Aegon Targaryen.

Their marriage would dispel all the concerns of potential kinslaying, the Blacks and Greens would be united. One day, the grandchild of Queen Rhaenyra and Dowager Queen Alicent would sit the Iron Throne.

The tears had slid silently down your cheeks in the comfort of your own chambers after the news was brought forth. The Queen, your mother, had gripped your hands so tightly as she looked at you silently, awaiting your confirmation that you would do your duty to her, to the realm.

Trying to keep the tears at bay as you nodded your head towards your mother, willing yourself to speak. “I will do my duty, my Queen. Not because I wish to, but out of the love I bear for you, for my mother, for my brothers... and for the future of this realm.”

“This was not the life I ever wished for you, my heart. I would have seen you travel the world on dragonback like you always so wished. See the great wonders across the Narrow Sea and eat only cake. Perhaps one day, you will still.” The devastation in her words was evident in your mother’s features as she placed a gentle kiss against your forehead.

Aegon was... Aegon. He was a selfish drunkard, his endeavors in the Street of Silk well known by the small white-haired bastards that found themselves paraded through the streets by their mothers, by those wishing to gain a favour with the Royal family.

You knew your duty; you had accepted that the love you had for your mother would one day be the push for necessary but unwanted duty.

--------------

The wine dribbled down his chin as he tried to contain his guffaws, his stomach hurting as he bent forward in an attempt to contain himself.

“This is no laughing matter, Aegon! This is our saving grace, the protection you and your siblings needed. You will do your duty as your sister; the Queen has demanded.” Aegon quirked an eyebrow towards his mother as he pressed the sheet closer to his bare stomach, the wine staining the white sheets a pretty purple.

“Ah yes, dear Mother. I have done everything you have ever asked; I suppose allowing myself to be a dragon dressed for slaughter will be no different. If you truly loved me, you would have allowed me to disappear on Sunfyre when you told me the news of my father’s death.”

He didn’t have time to react before Alicent’s hand connected with his cheek, his eyes closing in fear of a ring scratching his cheek as it had so many times before. Aegon could feel the involuntary tear slip down his cheek as the animosity grew in the room. Regardless of how much love he showed, his mother would never love him, no one ever would.

“You are a fool, my son. I have only ever pushed you to do your duty out of my love for you, your duty is what will keep you alive. Love will not.”

With that, the Dowager Queen turned on her heels and out of the room, her dog of a sworn shield following closely behind as the door shut tightly. Seconds later, a wine goblet splattered against the wall, Aegon’s fists tightly gripping the sheets as he felt himself fall to the bed.

There was no love in duty, of that, he was sure.

-------------

It didn’t take long for the wedding preparations to begin and be finalized. The joining of the two sects was necessary for peace in the realm, for those against the ruling of Queen Rhaenyra in favour of her half-brother Aegon Targaryen to finally be put to rest.

It took less than a full turn of the moon, to be exact. Your dress had been commissioned by your mother, it was meant to be a glorious display of the houses Velaryon and Targaryen. The sea blue and the blood red mixed well with the black undertones included, your maiden cloak a beautiful display of everything you were not, a beautiful display of a true Velaryon.

Even you could admit, despite all of this, you did look like a true Princess of Old Valyria in your wedding attire. Your husband-to-be likely did as well.

“Oh, my heart. You look beautiful,” cupping your cheeks while she spoke, your mother’s eyes reflected in your own as the unspoken words travelled amongst you. She was grateful that your love for her knew no bounds, that you would bind yourself to a man to guarantee her ruling would be successful, would be smooth.

“Thank you, mother. The dress you had made is beautiful, the silk underneath is far more comfortable than I was expecting. I’m sure Aegon will be pleased.”

Rhaenyra smiled slightly at your words, her hands moving up to gently press a fine comb, embroidered with that of a Seahorse, into your hair. "Your grandfather had this comb commissioned for you upon Driftmark. I think your father would have been honoured to know that you’ll carry a piece of him with you on your wedding day.”

“Which one?”

Your mouth snapped open before your brain could process the words falling from your mouth, the instant look of regret flashing in your eyes at the hurt expression that fell upon your mother’s face. A sigh left her lips as she made her way to sit on your bed, gently patting the spot next to her.

“It does not matter, not to me at least. You came from my womb; I endured hours of labour to push you from inside of me. No one can take that away from us, not the realm, no one. Your husband, especially, cannot take that away from us. You are my daughter, a true Targaryen, and that is all that will ever matter.”

Pressing your head gently to the side of hers, you nodded slightly at your mother’s words. The door swung open a moment later, the sauntering figure of Daemon Targaryen entering the room.

“I believe it is time we make our way to the sept, Tala. Perhaps you should go find your husband and instruct him that he will ride with us as well.”

---------------

“What do you mean, you can’t find Aegon?”

“Sunfyre remains in the sky. He could not have gone far; he is likely bedding a whore in the Street of Silk or drinking himself into a stupor, so he doesn’t have to remember marrying our half-sister's bastard.”

Alicent gripped Aemond’s chin harshly, shaking his head tightly as she glared at her son. “You must remove those thoughts from your mind, and the words from your vocabulary. Those words are treason, and they will have your head on a spike if you speak them again.”

The door slammed open, startling both of them away from each other as the missing man in question stumbled into the room. His tunic was crumbled, his hair greasy, and his cheeks likely stained with whatever Dornish blend had found its way into his hands that day.

“Aegon! We are to be at the Sept in an hour’s time, where have you been?”

Shrugging, Aegon grumbled incoherently in response. “Avoiding my doom, perhaps. Wed Aemond to my betrothed, he’s always been able to complete his duty with little complaint.”

Aemond scoffed in response to his words, preparing to argue against the proposition only to be interrupted by the sound of a knock at the door. The wood creaked open a moment later, as your eyes took in the sight in front of you, you attempted to withhold the grimace that threatened to take over your face.

“Princess! I didn’t realize you were meant to meet Aegon in his rooms before going to the carriages.”

You shook your head with a neutral smile upon your face as you looked at the three faces in front of you. “I would like to have a moment alone with my betrothed, if that is acceptable with you, lady Alicent?”

Nodding her head with a pained smile, Alicent ushered Aemond and herself out the door, allowing it to gently shut behind her as you turned back towards the man who would be your husband in an hour’s time. You could immediately tell he was likely drunk or was facing the consequences of his actions from the night prior.

“Do you plan on bathing before our wedding, or is your intention to show up and make it seem as if we’re holding you against your will?”

“Hm, aren’t you?” Clucking his tongue at your words, Aegon’s backside connected with the bed as he sat down and glared across the room at you as his hair fell into his face.

Scoffing at his words, you gestured towards the window where the dragons could be seen flying. It had been decreed that the dragon pit was hindering the growth of the dragons, preventing them from prospering in ways that they could in Old Valyria. They would fly free unless they begin killing those who lived in Kings Landing or nearby keeps, they would not be held in a dark pit, or chained any longer.

“You could leave at any moment you want. There are no guards holding you hostage here, Sunfyre remains free and I’m sure willing to take you wherever you wish. You’ve had no issue hiding at other moments, Uncle. No one is stopping you from leaving, I’m most definitely not.”

Aegon’s anger had him pushing himself to his feet and towards you, a fiery look in his eye as he looked towards you. “And give your mother more of a reason to kill my family? More of a reason to feed my mother to your stepfather's dragon?”

A sarcastic laugh left his lips before he continued, “I have never been one to care about duty. I bear no love for your side of the family. I can acknowledge that I owe the Queen, your a mother, a sense of duty. The only reason I have not taken flight on Sunfyre is because I have a duty to protect my mother, a duty to protect my brother’s and my sister.”

“Your duty is to abide by the decrees set by my mother, the Queen. My mother has decreed that we are to marry to guarantee your family and all their allies fall in line with her. You have a duty to our future children, the future Kings and Queens of the realm.”

Another sardonic laugh left the man in front of you as he gripped your chin, his Indigo eyes glaring into yours. “Do you truly think me a stupid man, sweet niece? I will put no children in your belly, I will fuck all the whores in the Streets of Silk before I lay with you. I will be the first to die, the moment you have a babe. The only use I have for your family is that of a breeder, and you the one to be bred.”

He laid a hand on your stomach to emphasize his words, pressing a hand against your empty stomach to prove that it would remain that way. Empty.

Feeling yourself shiver at his words, Aegon was obviously not yet done, “I have no love for you, sweet niece. When I fuck you during our wedding night, I will likely be so drunk nothing will come from it. I owe you no duties, I owe you nothing. I will do what I have to, to keep myself, and my mother alive.”

A small tear trickled down his cheek, your finger subconsciously moving up to wipe it from his face. His words cut deep, you knew he held no love for you, nor for your mother, but you never realized how distrustful he was of your mother and your kin.

Gently caressing his cheek, you could tell he was embarrassed to lean into your gentle touch, “No one will kill you, Aegon. My mother is not a kinslayer, you are still the child of my grandfather, her father. We are family, uncle.”

Pulling back from your hold, Aegon glared at you, his eyes still full of unshed tears and his mind full of worries that would never be settled. “You will know no love from me. Our marriage shall be one of duty, one of convenience. Never one of love, I will take paramours and quite frankly... I do not care what you do.”

Walking back towards the bed, you could see the remainder of his wedding clothes staring up at him. “I’d like to finish getting prepared for this horrible day. If you’d make your leave, niece.”

Not even bothering to dignify him with any more words, you immediately left the room, your own unshed tears finally making their way down your cheeks as you made your way down the hall.

You had always known your marriage would not be one of choice, or immediate love. The eldest child of a Queen, her only daughter. You knew one day you would be wed to the highest bidder, the string that would tie two families together and guarantee the loyalty of another house to your own. It was always a subconscious hope that perhaps it would one day lead to love, one day lead to a type of kinship that would be written in the songs, and in the stories. In a matter of a few simple moments, those childhood hopes had been dashed and replaced with a sense of mourning for what would never be.

-----------

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby see these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words,” the Septon gestured for you and Aegon to begin, the guests holding their breath as they waited for the fated words to leave the mouths of the bride and groom.

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am his, and he is mine, from this day, till the end of my days.”

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am hers, and she is mine, from this day, till the end of my days.”

Aegon’s unshed tears from before were never more evident, his hands shaking as he gripped yours, his eyes conveying every concern that rippled through his mind and body. You felt almost... sympathetic towards him. The concern that this necessity for duty prompted, the terror that made its way through his body.

The ceremony continued as your mind wandered, before you knew it, Aegon’s hand was pressed gently to the back of your head as he guided your face to his own. His chapped lips pressed against yours, a quick connection binding two sides of a family out of duty, not of love.

The cheers from the crowd were ignored as you stared directly into your husband’s eyes. The resentment, the anger, even the fear, were never more prominent than in that very moment. To Aegon, his biggest duty was done. His duty now was to guarantee that he and his family remained alive, in whatever way he had to do so, it would be done.

A love for you would never stand in his way.

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