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inevesgf · 2 months ago

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BITE ME • CHARLES LECLERC

the vampiric nature of charles slips into the depths of intimacy as he lets his desires lead the way, treating you to a night of pleasure.

content + warnings: +18 vampire!charles, pure smut, p in v, oral (female receiving), table sex, slight fingering, dirty talk, praise, creampie, no use of a condom (practice safe sex!). word count 1.5k.

decided to write a little vampire au since i love all things vampires (and charles leclerc)! if you would like to find other works from this special or read my other works, click the link here ⋆·˚ ༘ * happy fictober! notes + reblogs are heavily appreciated. yes .. title is an enhypen ref soz.

a vampire’s ability to seduce was incredulous — all it gave was a look of the eyes, a glint of desire in them, to get you soaked.

your boyfriend, charles, was a blood sucker — a monster, even — though his heart was anything but malicious. charles loved deeply, heavenly, peppering you in any form of love you desired. smalls gifts, forehead kisses, acts of service — he would feed you the appreciation he knew you deserved.

charles was aware when you wanted it, he could practically smell the desire radiating off of you. the way your pulse quickened in your neck, your blood pumping through your veins. he was a vampire — of course — but he would never dream of sinking his teeth into your pretty skin unless you wanted him too.

your body laid sprawled on top of the dining room table, legs spread as charles laid between them, sucking on the sweet flesh of your thigh. the feeling of his fangs dancing delicately around your skin made you gasp, your muscles tensing in an attempt to keep you from squirming as he worshipped your body like a saint.

vampires were sexual creatures of the night, their touch possessive and firm as they stalked their prey. to charles, you were anything but prey, yet a snack who had willing given themselves to him. despite his vampire nature, charles was one to please, mapping the skin of your body as his lips made their descent.

“you’re so sweet, amore,” charles’ voice hummed between your legs, his stubble brushing softly against your thigh as his lips swam inches away from your cunt. his words sent a shiver up your spine, your darkened eyes of desire pooling into his as you caught your bottom lip under between teeth.

his lips kissed softly on the side of your cunt, eliciting a moan from your pale lips as they parted into an o shape. “just like that,” you hummed, a soft whine slipping through as you praised the man. your body grew desperate, waiting impatiently or his tongue to work his feverous magic exactly where you craved him.

charles chucked dryly at your words, his eyes sparkling with a readiness to please as his tongue darted out, flicking the bud of your cunt painfully soft. a moan escaped your widened mouth, manicured nails digging into the doily below that sprawled upon the table.

charles’ mouth opened to suck on your clit, his tongue flicking the bud as his teeth pressed against you, his fangs tickling your sensitive skin. “fuck,” you moaned out, an exclamation of your pleasure falling from your mouth so eloquently despite the brutality of the attack on your cunt.

charles hummed against your dripping core, the saliva trailing from his mouth coming to soak the table below as his tongue dipped inside, sitting snug between your tight walls. his curved nose pressed against your clit, the sensation doubling as your hips slightly rocked, your body desperate for the attention you ensnared.

as charles ate you like a man starved, the familiar sensation pooled in your stomach, your cunt throbbing as it twitched under his mouth. before you could exclaim your undoing, charles’ lips pulled away, his fangs glistening as his hungry eyes looked into yours.

a whine fell from your lips at the loss of contact, your legs shaking as a hint of disappointment ruptured through your body. you were so close, teetering on the edge of complete pleasure from the consummate elegance of his mouth against your pussy.

“why’d you stop?” you grumbled, the disappointment evident in your voice as you stared up at him, your eyes widening in a sense of confusion. all charles did was laugh softly, his calloused hands coming to rub the smooth skin of your thigh.

“what’s the fun of having you cum on my face when you can on my cock instead?” his filthy words had you reeling, your stomach turning in excitement as the glance of his green eyes danced around the curves of your body. you nodded in agreement, your cunt pulsating in need as charles began to rid himself of his pants, pulling the waistband of his boxers down in its wake.

“fuck,” you grunted, the need overcoming every ounce of your body as charles’ undressed himself, “need you so fucking bad.” despite your usual elegant facade, you had a dirty mouth on you, and charles ate up every word as if they were a full course meal as he took his hardened cock in his hands. his stroked it teasingly, letting his pupils pool into yours as he egged you on, desperate for the begging tone to fall from your lips again.

you knew what he wanted as his cock twitched under his fingers, the precum glistening which only excited you more. “need you to fuck me full,” you begged again, the dirtiness laced in your words eliciting a soft groan from charles, “please fuck me, charlie.”

all it took was an utter — a whine — of his name before charles aligned his hardened cock with your entrance, your slick decorating the tip more as it pressed into you. a sharp hiss escaped your mouth as he entered, the stretch of your cunt welcoming and warm. taking a hold of your hips, charles’ eyes found yours once again, a glint of desire decorating his pupils as he groaned. “look at me while i fuck you,” he instructed, his hips starting their rhythmic rock as he began to fuck into you, your cunt consuming him whole.

charles’ pace picked up quickly, his body slamming into yours as the sound of skin slapping filled the dimly lit dining room. small grunts and curses fell from his pale lips as he thrusted in and out, his fangs poking through as he bit down on his bottom lip.

“fuck, so good—“ you moaned out, your eyes drifting to where you met as the desire in your stomach only bubbled more. a glistening ring formed around his cock from where you cunt had swallowed him, your excitement visible through the slick decorating his base. the comparably pornographic scene had you stirring, little whines and moans escaping your parted lips in pleasure and enjoyment.

��feels good, amore, huh?” charles grunted, one hand coming up to grip your chin as you pulled your gaze back to meet with him. the eye contact was erotic, charles’ pace only growing as your eyes stared into his. “mhm, yeah,” was all you could moan out, the parted o of your lips still plastering your visage as pleasure rocked your body.

when charles was content with your matched gaze, his hand fell from your chin, his hips still fucking into you with great speed. his thick cock slipped in and out of your cunt feverishly, hitting the spot that made your body tremble over and over again.

charles’ fingers delicately traced the flesh of your thigh, making intricate circles around the bruises and bites he had decorated you with previously. his cold digits slid up your skin, sending your body into a shock as they began to finger at your clit.

the combined feeling of charles cock fucking into you and his fingers dancing around your core had your body trembling, the moans ringing throughout the air louder than before. “making me feel so good,” you grunted as charles’ pace began to speed up, the rock of his hips mimicking that of a maniac as he chased his high alongside yours.

in response to your subtle praise, charles hummed, sweat beading around his forehead as his skin slapped against yours, his fingers working their magic around your reddened clit. “so close, aren’t you?” charles groaned, his tone laced with a teasing desire that pummeled through his whole body. all your fucked out brain could work out as a response was a nod, the moans telling the same tale as your stomach twisted into a tightened knot.

“cum for me, bella,” charles demanded, a slight hint of a beg drifting through his words as his cock twitched inside, ready for his own release. you didn’t need charles’ order to push you over the edge, your own slick already leaking around his cock as you finished, the help of his fingers melting you in his grasp.

charles fucked you through your high, his cock throbbing as he pumped his cum deep inside of you, his body shaking in pleasure and satisfaction. pulling his cock out of your tight cunt, the milky liquid slowly leaked out, pooling underneath you and onto the wooden table that had taken the role of the bed in a time of need.

the air smelled of sex, the filthiness of it all overpowering as you came down from your high, a small smirk decorating your lips as charles hummed. “everybody will know you’re mine, amore. they’ll know how much fun we had when they see those marks on your neck,” charles’ teased, his words a bit breathless as he composed himself. in an attempt to match his tone, the tinge of desire still lingering in your body, you pursed your lips. with a glint of mischief in your eyes, the challenging words fell from your mouth in a whisper:

“oh, you love it? then bite me.”

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 9 months ago

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I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 7

AO3

Summary: As they continue their stay at Coombe House, Rosie and Frankie find themselves ever more drawn to one another

Warnings: Language, mild injury description (blood), tension that makes me want to rip my own eyes out??? i think that counts

Word Count: 3.5k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

The chirp of crickets filled the air, a warm afternoon breeze blowing the grass this way and that as the Riveters played in the river, laughing and shouting as they splashed one another from the comfort of their rowing boats beneath the glow of the midday sun. People had warned Rosie about the temperamental British weather before he'd left Brooklyn, but it seemed the heavens had made an exception for their trip. Considerate, really.

Frankie had laid out a picnic blanket on the grassy slope overlooking the water, a half-eaten packet of crackers and a battered copy of The Young Visiters lying in her wake, the book so well-worn that its cover was halfway hanging off. The only problem was that Frankie herself was nowhere to be found, and Rosie sat quietly beside her blanket like a dog awaiting its master, thumbing the corner of his book, unable to finish a whole page without looking around for any sign of her.

The sound of footsteps muffled by the soft ground caught his attention, craning his neck to watch her bounding up behind him. She was wearing a stark red blouse and a pair of shorts that ended just above the knee, and for a moment he had to stop himself from staring at her legs as Frankie crouched beside him. Letting out a grunt, she tucked her feet beneath her as she sat down, holding out the teacup she had been carrying. "Here. Drink this."

It didn't even occur to Rosie to question her demand until he had upturned the cup, a foul, acrid taste stinging his tongue. Swiftly spitting whatever the disgusting liquid was back into its cup, he spluttered in revulsion. "What in God's name is that?!"

Frankie guffawed, a pink flush tinting her cheeks. "Pappy got distracted and accidentally poured his juice and his coffee into the same cup."

"So naturally you had to bring it straight out here to make me drink it?"

"Of course," She nodded as if it were obvious, rolling over to lie on her stomach, feet crossed over and swinging back and forth in the air. "In my defence, I'm only here so that I'll feel better, and that did work."

Rosie couldn't help but smirk, even in spite of the bitter taste that coated his tongue. Pilfering one of her crackers, he turned back to his book, shaking his head in silent, teasing disapproval. He assumed she had taken up reading herself, but instead, she began letting out a low, tutting sound, shaking her head. "Fuckin' horse riding?"

Putting down his book once again, he frowned down at her. "I thought you liked it here - are you still complaining about 'rich people hobbies'?" He raised a hand in quotation, mimicking her own words.

"I just don't get it," She continued to shake her head, watching the riders with narrowed eyes. "I mean - buy a bike? Cheaper. Don't have to feed it. Bikes also don't shit all over the place - I almost stepped in some on my way over here." The distaste was thick in her tone, and he couldn't help but smile, even as he scoffed in disbelief.

"You're so biased."

"I just don't think you have to spend obscene amounts of money to have a good time - if anything, I'm frugal."

"I can see that - you've read that book half to death, the poor thing."

"I think it's funny. At least I don't read depressing books about poor people dying like you," Frankie chuckled, jabbing a finger at his copy of Of Mice and Men. "Not exactly therapeutic."

"She's so judgy!" Rosie declared, lying backwards in the grass beside her blanket so that they could actually see each other's faces. A grin was plastered across his face, stuck still as he looked up at her - at the way the corners of her eyes creased when she laughed, and how her smile was always ever-so-slightly lopsided. She stared back at him, a twinkle in her eyes as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Hi," Frankie spoke sweetly.

"Hello."

It was silent for a long moment, their eyes locked, gentle smiles creasing their cheeks. Rosie felt the sudden urge to lean in.

"Hey, Frankie!" Bailey's voice rang from down in the river. He raised his head to look down the hill to the water, where Pappy was whispering something too quiet for him to hear, seemingly telling off the younger pilot for his interruption.

Frankie missed this part, too busy scrambling to her feet so she could descend the slope, anxious to hear what Bailey had to say. Rosie sighed, his head lolling back into the grass. Sometimes he was glad he was such a peaceful man, otherwise he swore he could've wrung Bailey's neck.

"Yeah, what's up?" She asked as she reached the edge of the water, the breeze blowing her hair out of place. Bailey paddled closer, ignoring Pappy's glare as he muttered his response to a conversation she hadn't heard the rest of.

"What? I'm allowed - he doesn't get a monopoly just because he fancies her," The man frowned, looking up at her with a smile as he approached. "Tennis rematch this afternoon?"

Frankie pushed his first statement out of her mind with a shrug. "Absolutely. Prepare to be destroyed," She grinned, shaking hands on the deal.

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Bailey and Frankie were both equally dreadful at tennis. His serves barely ever made it across the net, and she frequently tripped on her own feet whilst scrambling to return the ones that did. They spent most of their matches yelling at each other in frustration, and the staff at Coombe House frequently had to tell them off for disturbing the other residents. But the pair were determined to get a single good game in before the end of their stay.

They'd been going for an hour. They had made no more than four successful passes in all that time, and at some point Frankie had skidded on her knee, grazing the skin and leaving a thin rivulet of blood running down her shin. "Fuck!" She yelled, just clipping the ball with the edge of her racket as it zipped past her, hitting the fence with a thud.

"You sure you wanna keep going?" Bailey called from across the court, eyeing the wound on her leg as she scrounged for the ball, which had rolled under a nearby hedge.

"I don't wanna stop until we get a proper back-and-forth going," She shook her head, wiping dirt off of the ball onto her shorts as she poised for another serve.

Rosie wandered the path past the tennis courts, his footsteps crunching against the gravel, altogether too distracted as he neared the end of his book to notice the chatter rising over the hedge before a familiar voice let out a whoop. Using his thumb to mark the page, he descended the stone steps leading down to the courts, spying the pair on the furthest of the three, tucked out of the way of the other players. They had finally gotten a rhythm going, letting out wordless exclamations of joy whenever they managed to successfully bat the ball back across the net, laughter mingling with the incessant sound of rackets colliding with the ball.

"Hey, you got it!" He cried, teeth bared in a grin.

"SHUT UP!" The pair yelled simultaneously, desperate not to break their concentration. Rosie chuckled, his smile fading slightly as he noticed Frankie's injury, the top layer of skin on her right knee now a bright patch of red, blooming with blood as it pooled in droplets on the surface.

"Gotta keep it up Rosie, I'm winning!" Bailey declared gleefully, sending the ball spinning back towards Frankie, narrowly missing the net.

"You're winning?" She cried, diving forward to return it, almost losing her balance but managing to clear the net. "Are you fucking blind?!"

"Hey, Frank, are you ok?" Rosie called, thumbing the corner of his book. Another line of blood had begun to seep down past her kneecap.

"It's nothing," Frankie sent the ball spinning towards Bailey, but he was just too slow, and it soared past his head into the shrubs. She let out a shriek, racket held above her head in victory. "See! I win!"

"Alright, alright," Bailey shook his head in defeat, crouching down to rummage for the lost ball. "Just go clean yourself up, it's distracting."

"Thank you," Rosie agreed with a nod. She held her racket out to him as he approached, and he accepted it without a second thought, only realising after a moment that he had no idea what to do with it. But by then Frankie was already at the top of the steps, peering down at her bloody knee. "C'mon, let's go in," He said as he caught up, discarding the racket upon a nearby bench, his palm skimming across her back as he guided her towards the house.

As nasty as the graze appeared, Frankie appeared completely unphased, a testament to the roughhousing games she had played as a girl. They made their way through the halls of Coombe House, the staff shooting her a few sideways glances, largely in fear of having to clean any blood out of the antique rugs. He followed her up the main staircase and through to their corridor, making a beeline for the shared bathroom at the end of the hall.

Frankie entered without a word, perching herself on the edge of the porcelain bathtub and hiking up her leg, leaving a muddy footprint on the clean, white rim as she attempted to pull out a few tiny stones with her fingers.

"Stop it!" Rosie seized her wrist, wrenching her hand away and shooting her a confounded look as he crossed towards the sink to wash his hands.

"I can do it," She whined, throwing up her hands.

"Not after trying that shit - you're banned from trying," He shook his head, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Frankie almost snorted with laughter at how serious he was taking their present situation. Rosie took a moment of silent consideration before leaving the room in search of a first aid kid, and she let out a long sigh, tapping her foot impatiently against the polished wood floor.

By the time he returned, there was a white towel crumpled on the floor, stained scarlet by the blood she had wiped away with it. "Who raised you?" He scoffed, crouching down on the floor in front of her, tossing the stained towel aside.

"Speaking of, you should meet my dad," Frankie grinned, kicking off her dirty shoe and placing her foot in his lap as instructed. "You'd like him."

Rosie began to disinfect the wound, carefully removing the debris, and she fought the urge to wince at the stinging sensation. "I'm sure I would, he raised you," The words came forth faster than he could process them, and for a moment he paused, one hand hovering above her injury, the other gripping the bare skin of her calf to keep her from moving. Their position wasn't compromising per se, but it wasn't exactly proper either. Nevertheless, the sudden thought of someone intruding on them made him squirm, and he got up to lock the bathroom door without a word.

Frankie's brow raised at this, the sudden, deliberate movement raising all sorts of questions. "God, this is taking an interesting turn," She blurted, internally cringing at the type of subtly-suggestive jokes the boys she used to work with in the garage liked to make.

He turned back to look at her. "... Were you just flirting with me?"

"I think so, yes."

Rosie frowned, considering this very seriously as she searched his expression for some indication of how he felt. "... Hm." Without another word, he resumed his place in front of her, beginning to dress her knee.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Frankie was almost irritated, but she could feel the sweat clamming his palms as they touched her bare skin and suddenly he wasn't as calm as he seemed. She fought to hide her smirk as he finished dressing the graze, nodding in satisfaction at his work. "There." His voice was quieter than usual, unsteady.

"Thanks," She spoke hurriedly, her perch on the edge of the bathtub becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Pushing herself up to stand, Frankie bent down to grab the blood-stained towel off of the floor. "Oh, I'll clean that before it stains-"

"No, that's ok, I can do it," Rosie assured her, seizing its other side. Neither of them was quite looking the other in the eye.

"You sure? I mean, it's my mess, I really don't mind-"

"I'm sure."

Frankie nodded slowly, letting her grip on the towel slip away. "Alright then," She turned to the door, unlocking it with a click, and by the time Rosie looked back to where she had been, she was gone. His heart had been thumping in his chest, too fast for comfort, and only once he was alone could he heave in a long, steady breath to slow it down. Glancing down at the floor, he chuckled.

She had forgotten her shoe.

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Steam filled the bathroom, rising to the ceiling and coating the windows in a film of grey as Rosie sank beneath the hot water, revelling in the feeling as it covered him completely, the feeling of warmth seeping through his skin as if it wished to take rest within his very bones. He splashed a handful across his face, blinking away the droplets on his eyelashes as he let out a sigh, leaning back against the side of the tub.

Frankie had spent almost all of last night's dinner talking about her tennis match with Bailey, hardly sparing him a second glance. He knew he shouldn't have taken issue with it - she was friends with all of the flight crew by now - but he found himself staring, as if waiting desperately for her to meet his eye. He hadn't seen her at breakfast at all. She deserved the lie in - that's what he told himself. But it was becoming increasingly impossible for Rosie to think about anything else.

The bathroom door swung swiftly open and shut, and he slid downwards until the water reached his chin, desperately trying to cover the most indecent parts of himself. He could've sworn he'd locked that door. It was almost midday, but Frankie was still in her pyjamas, brow furrowed as she read the newspaper she was holding in one hand, a glass of orange juice and a cigarette steadily burning away in the other. By the look of her, she hadn't realised he was there at all, taking a seat upon the closed toilet lid as she used the light of the windows to read by.

“Morning,” She spoke nonchalantly, such a calm acknowledgement of his naked presence that it was almost more jarring than the intrusion itself. For a moment Rosie could do nothing but gape, his mouth opening and closing like a dying fish as he searched for something to say.

"... Do you mind?"

Her gaze flitted away from the newspaper and met his eyes for a moment. He shrank farther below the surface of the water, praying to God she couldn't see anything below the rim of the tub. Her expression showed no recognition of what he was referring to. After a moment of silence, Frankie shrugged. “Nothing I haven't seen before.”

“It's everything you haven't seen before!” Rosie cried, almost bolting upwards again before remembering what was happening.

"No, but like. In general," She was peering back down at her newspaper, finishing off her juice. Her cigarette was almost entirely burnt out, but she took one last puff before tossing it into the empty glass as if it were an ashtray.

He blinked slowly. "Frankie. Why are you here."

"Sun's on this side of the house," Frankie replied as if it were a normal answer to give - as if her room didn't have electric lighting, as if she weren't sitting a mere ten feet away from his nakedness. Even in a bathroom as huge as this one, it was making him nervous. She seemed to be able to sense it. "D'you want me to leave?"

"Yes. I think so."

She nodded, standing up to go, her eyes still locked on the paper as she made for the door. Before he even knew what he was saying, he spoke. "Wait."

Frankie looked up, smiling slightly at the way his head peeked over the edge of the bathtub, his cheeks flushed bright red. "You don't have to... if you don't want to. I mean, as long as you're not lookin'-"

"I didn't come in here with the intention of staring at your arse, Captain," She shook her head, chuckling as she returned to her perch.

"Why did you?"

"I told you. Good lighting."

He shook his head. It sounded like bullshit to him. But if it was the story she was sticking with, Rosie wasn't going to keep prying. "Just throw me a towel, will ya?" He shook his head, reaching an arm out to catch it as she tossed one across the room from where they had been stacked beside the radiator.

Frankie kept her word, turning her back as he rose out of the still-warm water, wrapping the towel around his waist as a single, wet curl dangled in front of his face.

"Uh. Frankie?"

"Hm?"

"You're sitting next to my clothes."

He'd left them folded in a pile on the floor where they couldn't get wet, which just so happened to now be right next to her feet. She bent down, snatching the pile and holding it out to him, her gaze still purposely fixed on her reading. But as he reached out to take it, his belt slid from atop his shirt, landing on the floor with a clatter.

"Shit," Frankie muttered, and the pair moved to retrieve it simultaneously. She caught a glimpse of him and for a moment she froze, her face heating up and turning a fierce red. "Uh, no, this is weird, I'm just gonna... go."

Leaping to her feet, she began hurriedly making to leave, gaze fixed on the door handle to prevent it from wandering anywhere near him. Rosie nodded hurriedly, attempting to shrug on his shirt whilst still holding up the towel with one hand. "I'm sorry," He blurted, although what he was apologising for he couldn't quite say.

The moment he spoke, she turned on her heel, tossing her newspaper onto the floor. She'd been back and forth across that room so many times she was starting to feel dizzy. Or maybe it wasn't that. Her heart was beating too fast for her body, and she let out a huff of air as she crossed the room towards him, taking his damp face in her hands. Rosie's chest rose and fell over and over as he stared back at her, their noses almost touching from the closeness.

She wasn't sure she'd ever seen eyes so... blue.

His breath hitched in his throat as she tilted her head upwards, their lips in line with one another's. He'd barely have to move to kiss her now, warm breath fanning his cheek.

A knock came at the door, and Frankie pulled away so fast it was as if she'd been electrocuted, unable to breathe as she waited for whoever was outside to speak.

"Sergeant Bevan?" The voice of one of the staff members came, a warm, American lilt to her greeting. "There's a call for you downstairs."

She swallowed hard, her throat so dry it hurt. "I'll be there in a sec," Frankie called in return, her words shaky. Pausing for a moment, entirely unmoving, she broke the stillness with a firm nod, reaching for her stuff as she stepped towards the door.

"Frankie, wait," Rosie whispered, moving to follow, careful not to speak loud enough for the woman outside to hear. "Just wait a sec, can we-"

"I need to go," She met his eyes, and for a moment he was drowning in the sheer indecipherable nature of her expression. Her thoughts had always been a mystery to him, and now was no different.

He stepped behind the door as she opened it, obscuring himself from the view of anyone outside, fighting the urge to reach out to her as she left. The door closed behind her with a gentle click, and then he was alone, the room feeling suddenly twice as large and empty as it had before. Rosie let out a deep breath, pressing his forehead against the wood with a faint thud.

"... Dammit."

#masters of the air #masters of the air oc #masters of the air fic #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #mota oc #mota fic #frankie x rosie #oc: frankie #pappy lewis #charles bailey #fic | i'm your man

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