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dear-aubade · 1 month ago

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Kisses After Midnight

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader Smut

Summary: Joel gets back from a long patrol in the middle of the night. It’s clear that his baby missed him very much.

Notes: smut, sub!reader, soft!dom!joel, praise, dirty talk, unprotected piv, Joel calls reader every pet name in the book, teasing, slight orgasm denial, dd/lg vibes sorta (but no use of ‘daddy’), let’s play a game called how many times can the author use the word ‘sweet’ in one fic

For it being the end of the world, you and Joel had a pretty good life. He’d been in Jackson for about eight months—eight months in which he gave his heart to the sweetest little thing to ever walk the earth.

Your very existence seemed to be a mockery of the times you lived in. You were soft and sweet, edges not yet roughed. He didn’t know how you’d gone so long staying as doe-eyed as you did—hell, he didn’t know how you ended up with him. He felt far too…jaded. Far too rough to be with someone so beautiful and untainted.

And yet, you were drawn to him. He still remembered the first day you knocked on his door, asking in your honey-sweet voice, I told Maria I’d give you a tour of the town. Is that alright, Mr. Miller? Oh, he’d just about died then.

Things only took off from there. Something would break in your house, and he’d be called over to fix it. Then you would bring him some bread you baked as a thank you, and then he’d say, Well this is too nice, darlin.’ Why don’t you let me return the favor by putting some shelves up in your living room? He’d seen the piles of books at your bedside—your love of reading deserved to be displayed.

Somewhere along the way, you and Joel just…fit. Something clicked, and soon he was moving into your pretty little house, placing kisses to your pretty little lips, waking up pressed against pretty little you.

Yes, for the end of the world, you and Joel were doing quite nicely.

Except on long patrol days, that is. Oh, Joel knew how much you hated it. Now that you’d gotten used to sleeping in Joel’s arms you didn’t want to give it up, not even for a single night.

But Joel had a part to play in the community—he couldn’t stop working, no matter how much he wished he could spend all his time with you. He’d press kisses to your quivering bottom lip, murmuring reassurances that he would be back the very next night.

Which brought him to now. He’d spent a day and a half out in the cold with Tommy scanning for Clickers, thinking about his princess the entire time ice and wind battered his face. Finally, after a day and a half without seeing you, he was shaking the snow off his jacket and stepping inside your shared home.

Joel was quiet as he took off his shoes and shed his outer layers before heading upstairs. Once inside your room he stripped down to his cotton t-shirt and boxers, then slid under the covers beside you. He wrapped his large arm around your body, pulling you into him and was delighted to find you were wearing nothing but one of his shirts. He nuzzled the top of your head with his nose, then placed a kiss in your hair. “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

You let out a soft yawn, still groggy and half-asleep. “Hm?”

He chuckled lightly and kissed your cheek. “Wake up, pretty baby.” Normally Joel would never wake you up in the middle of the night, but you had explicitly asked him to do so every time he got back from a long patrol. He still remembered your teary eyes the morning after the one time he’d tried to let you sleep and just greet you in the morning. He’d never tried again after that.

Now you began to really stir, blinking your eyes as you looked up at him with a soft, sleepy pout that he wanted to kiss. However, it melted away when your eyes grew a little more alert. “Joel?”

He brushed the hair from your face. “Mhmm. I’m home,” he whispered before kissing you soundly on the mouth. He pulled away just slightly, eyes dancing over your face. “I missed my gorgeous girl’s eyes…and those lips, especially.”

You leaned up to plant another firm kiss to his mouth before holding to him, nuzzling your face into his neck, letting out a soft breath of something almost like relief.

He kept you pressed to the warmth of his body, “Was my little girl lonely ‘round here?” he murmured, rubbing your back gently.

You nodded into his neck. “Missed you.”

He chuckled, kissing your neck, holding you close. “I’m right here now.” His sweet thing. His nose brushed along your jaw and neck, taking in your scent. “Let me ease that pretty little mind a bit, hm?”

Your breath hitched and you nodded, eyes getting a little more glossy…

“C’mere, babygirl…” he whispered, cradling the back of your head to pull your lips to his. Joel’s hands roamed over the curves of your body, mapping out each and every familiar piece of you, his palms warm and strong against your skin. He nibbled at your bottom lip until you parted your mouth in a gasp to allow his tongue to slip inside.

Joel soon broke the kiss, panting softly before he started trailing his lips down your throat and collarbone, nibbling and sucking as he went. “Missed that pretty little voice,” he murmured in that low voice of his. “Can you use it again for me sweetheart?” Joel knew how you got when he spoke to you like this. He knew you would be putty beneath him in no time.

You nodded, letting out a strained, “Mhmm.”

Joel pressed your back to the mattress so you were looking up at him. “Use your words, babygirl,” he reminded, dipping to kiss up your throat again. “Or do I need to make you?” His teeth caught on the sensitive skin below your jaw.

You gasped. “I-I can use ‘em.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, pulling away to look at your face, studying your expression. His fingertips brushed the edge of your neckline. “Can I take all this off, baby?”

You nodded, eyes big and wide. “Yes Joel, please.”

He let out a short, breathy chuckle. “So polite.” With that he got to work, pulling the shirt over your head with one swift tug, leaving you bare beneath him. He looked you over greedily, tracing his hands over your sides, squeezing your thighs, making you squirm. “Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned, eyes falling over your body. “Look at my sweet baby.”

You let out a soft whine of impatience, but Joel cut you off. “Ah—you gonna be a good girl?” He knew you would be. You always were. He just liked hearing it from your strawberry lips.

You nodded, eyes doe-like. “Yes, promise!”

He smiled. “Always listen so well for me.” He sat up a little to remove his own shirt and throw it to the floor, but swiftly leaned back down to kiss you deeply. You tasted like honey on his tongue and his hands slipped along your sides to rest on your hips, locking you in place.

You uselessly tried to buck against his strong hold, trying to press the apex of your thighs closer to his, but he was having none of it. He chuckled. “Needy girl…always gotta have me ‘s close as possible, hm? So greedy, baby.” His sentence was punctuated by a nip to your neck.

“Jus’ missed you.”

“I know darlin’, I know.” Such a soft, sweet voice you had. He met your big, glassy eyes as his fingertips dragged along your neck….your collarbone…until he grasped one of your breasts with his large hand.

He silenced your gasp with his kisses. His sweet girl—so sensitive, you were. You whimpered into his mouth as he brushed his thumb over the peak of your breast.

How had he been apart from you so long?

You were aching. Joel always likes taking his time with you, you knew that, but sometimes all you wanted him to do was pin you down and ravish you instead of playing you like his favorite instrument, stringing his fingers along each little spot that would make you sing….

Joel’s warm mouth closed around your breast and you let out another soft whimper as he flicked his tongue over the peak. Your hands were in his hair, threading through the salt-and-pepper curls while his tongue and teeth were at work.

Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Joel,” you whined, voice quivering.

“Don’t worry pretty girl, I’m gonna give you what you need.” His fingertips dragged down the center of your tummy, drifting farther and farther below…

“Oh,” Joel cooed, and you moaned softly as his fingers dipped into your wetness. “You’re so ready for me, sweetheart.”

You felt like you could cry from the need, the white hot flames that needed to be fanned and then extinguished. “Joel—”

“I’ll take care of you, darlin’. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

His thumb found purchase on your bundle of nerves and you keened, arching your back, trying to get closer closer closer while he stoked the fire between your legs. He held you the whole time, murmuring how beautiful you were, how pretty your little voice was, how good you were being for him.

You could feel yourself slowly unraveling; the thread of your very being was fraying, coming apart as you climbed higher, higher—

He removed his hand.

Oh, you whined at that, your climax being ripped away so cruelly and carelessly. “No, no, Joel I—”

“Shh, shh baby.” He quieted your protests with a kiss. “I just had to get you ready for me—want you to finish around my cock.”

His bluntness made you squirm, and you’d been so lost in your pleasure that you hadn’t realized you could feel his hardness against your hip, thick and heavy.

Joel shucked down his boxers and tossed them to the side while you lay there waiting, aching for that fullness you knew so well—

You squealed as he tapped the wet tip of his length against the bud atop your slit.

He chuckled and silenced your high-pitched noises with gentle shushing. “I gotcha, honey,” he murmured.

Then he slid inside.

Joel let out a soft groan next to your ear as he fully sheathed himself within your wetness. “So tight for me baby—“ He cut off with another grunt, sliding out before pushing right back in.

He was so big, his strong arms holding you as he rocked his hips, filling you up, up, up until you swear you could feel him in your tummy. Your walls clenched against him, breath hitching with every thrust.

“My baby,” he crooned, ducking his head to kiss along your neck and shower you with praises as he held you to him. “My sweet babygirl. Missed you so much out on the trail, thought about your pretty little pussy the whole time—”

Your head fell back with a gasp as the tip of Joel’s hardness tickled that spot deep inside that had your toes curling.

He chuckled. “Is that the spot, baby?” He pointedly thrust again, making you moan, and grinned knowingly. “Oh, I think it is, hm?” He picked up his pace again, hitting that spot over and over and over.

You felt something start to coil in your lower belly, something familiar and white-hot. Joel reached down to rub circles into your clit, which made you let out a high-pitched whimper and clench around his length.

You were babbling mindlessly, thoughts empty save for him and how good he was making you feel. “Joel, Joel, I—oh please—I need—”

“I know what you need babygirl.” His teeth caught on your earlobe as he kept his pace. “Can feel—fuck—can feel you clamping down on me. You gonna finish for me already?”

You nodded, your lips parted in a silent gasp of need, eyes big and wide as you whined out a desperate, “Mhmm!”

You bucked your hips into his, and this time when you felt your legs tighten, your breath fail, your tummy coil, Joel murmured hushed affirmatives you your jaw and neck and ear—

You cried out as you fell over the edge. Your back arched, your muscles seized, and your vision blurred with overwhelmed tears as you felt the warmth of Joel finishing inside you soon after.

“That’s it sweetie—fuck, so good for me, such a good girl falling apart on my cock, taking me so well—”

You were letting out desperate needy noises, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as the crackling heat lingered.

“I know, I know,” he murmured, claiming your lips, swallowing your whines with his mouth. “You did so good baby, so good….look at you, my pretty girl, my baby….”

Your body went lax, melting against him, each coo and murmur bringing you deeper under.

“That’s it…I’ve gotcha…” Joel maneuvered you as if you were light as a feather so that you were laying side by side, still connected, him still thick and warm inside of you.

Completely blissed out, you nuzzled into his chest, relishing in the feeling of his strong arms around you. Your eyes drooped.

“Tired already, babygirl?”

“Mmm.”

Joel hummed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “That’s okay, darlin’. Just fall back to sleep. I’ll be holdin’ you the whole night through.”

Soon the fog overtook your mind completely and you drifted off, comforted by the knowledge that your Joel was home again.

#bambi writes #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #n$4w #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller

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pseudowho · 2 months ago

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"Jesus fucking christ...okay, just one more-- one more try--"

Kento leaned round the door to the bedroom, loosening his tie, to find the bedroom covered in...confetti. Boxer confetti. Boxers, everywhere, like some awful boxer party that he hadn't been invited to, with boxers old and new and forgotten and uncomfortable and his favourite and those joke ones he'd 'won' at the work raffle and--

"My love," Kento said, his voice tight, because why, why is this happening, why, "I hesitate to ask, but...why?"

"Ugh!" You roared, stripping another pair down your thick thighs, and slapping them onto the floor. Kento looked down, peevish. He looked at his boxer drawer. He raised one fine, work-weary eyebrow.

"Why do I not get to enjoy the sexy delight of wearing your boxers? Why, Kento?" Kento was silent still, his eyebrows gradually lowering, as you continued, frustrated to near-tears, "Apparently it's because my arse is so fat--"

"--I beg your pardon--"

"--and my hips are so disgustingly fucking wide--"

"--beautiful, gorgeous, stunning--"

"--that I can't wear a single pair of your boxers. Not one. Not...not even the ones that are too big for you." You finished weakly, breathless. You pursed your lips against the tears. Kento simply watched you, sighing softly through his nose.

"I won't accept the way you speak about yourself. I won't endorse it. I don't condone it," Kento rumbled, gentle, and threw his suit jacket aside to step over to you. His hands found your waist, and travelled down to trace the dimples of your thighs. You cringed, pushing his hands away.

"Don't-- they're horrible--"

"They're not," Kento whispered against your neck, "they can't be, because I left them with my fingertips."

"Don't be ridiculous--"

Kento silenced you with as cold a look as he could give you; he could tolerate you denying your own beauty, but he would not tolerate you trying to steal it from him.

"Enough, for tonight," Kento hummed, eyeing the mess of boxers, "I'll tidy up. And you'll wear my sweatpants, so I can look at you."

"...respectfully?"

"Disrespectfully."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento had disappeared for an hour, every evening, for a solid month. It wasn't unusual; he would often bring his paperwork home, in an effort to be near you if he must work.

Still-- a full month of nightly overtime was rough. You imagined his pen and keyboard, cracking under the pressure as Kento typed with blue flame engulfed hands, his tie around his fist, and murder in his eyes.

You forgave it; you knew it would never be his first choice. You arrived home a week later, your self-loathing all but forgotten, to hear measured, repeated grunts from the office. The door-- usually closed-- was open. You tiptoed closer, pushing it wider, and frowned.

"Kento, are you...doing squats?"

"Yes," he grunted, straightening up with an impossible weight upon his shoulders. You watched him for a full minute; his thighs looked thicker, his ass bigger.

"I...don't get it. Why?"

"Need...need bigger boxers," Kento answered. As if it were the simplest thing in the world. Because, to him, it was. You found yourself blinking back tears for the second time that month.

"...oh."

Kento huffed, a bead of sweat curving round a crooked half-smile, "Oh, indeed."

You sniffled, swallowing around the lump in your throat. You sat in the doorway, rueful as you peered up at him.

"Can I...watch?"

"Respectfully?"

"Disrespectfully."

If you'd like to read the original 'Breeding Hips', please enjoy it here!

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bywons · 12 days ago

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GOING OVERDRIVE ★ NRK

𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬──── 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗄𝗂 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖾

【 𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐑 】｡ 𝖻𝖺𝖽𝖻𝗈𝗒!𝗋𝗂𝗄𝗂 & 𝖿!𝗋 1166w 𖥔 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 ━━━━ 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 ❛ 愛 ❜

する ܃ badboy riki back on bywons ? :0

reb𝑙ogs ꪆৎ 𝑓eedbacks 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾

“whose bike is that?”

riki whips his head around the instant he hears your voice from the porch of your house. your eyebrows are jotted together, a suspicious look on your face as you stand a few feet away from him.

he notices the thin shawl draped over your shoulders, barely clinging on as the cold night breeze threatens to carry it away.

“come closer,” he whispers, an urgent tone in his voice. you obey him, rolling your eyes as you stand in front of the revving bike. “why are you wearing a shawl in this weather—”

“don’t try to change the subject,” you scold, narrowing your eyes and pulling the shawl tighter around yourself, “whose bike is this, riki?”

a low chuckle answers your question as he turns off the engine and climbs off the bike, his signature oversized leather jacket swinging from his shoulders— one which you’ve probably seen him in since day one. with the signature smirk on his face, riki motions towards the bike, “yours for the night, princess.”

you playfully hit riki’s arm, although he catches it right in time like he always does. riki uses your wrist to pull you closer, pulling a soft gasp from you too.

he has always been like this, showing up unannounced, usually at the most inconvenient times. whether it was bringing you random snacks he swore you’d love, sneaking you out of family dinners for a quick joyride, or revving his bike outside your house just loud enough to annoy your neighbors, he thrived on chaos. and somehow, he always managed to rope you into it.

it was always something with riki.

you sigh, slowly pulling away your hand from his soft embrace. your teeth clatter against each other in the nippy weather. looking up at him, you say softly, “seriously riki, whose bike is that? are you even allowed to drive? plus im outside my house at 3am without my parents knowing—”

“relax,” riki interrupts, his smirk softening into something calmer, almost reassuring. without missing a beat, he shrugs off his oversized leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. the sudden warmth of the jacket, paired with the faint scent of him—leather and something fresh, like mint—wraps around you, silencing the rest of your protests.

you blink up at him, caught off guard. “riki…”

“you’re shivering,” riki points out, trying to ignore your doe eyes at him, “i don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“that’s not the point,” you mutter, tugging the jacket closer to your body despite yourself. it’s far too big for you, the sleeves hanging past your hands, but the warmth is impossible to ignore. “you’re dodging the question.”

“im not dodging it,” he says casually, leaning back against the bike just to stare better at you, “it’s my friends, he owed me one and so i thought to make the best of it. im also nineteen so yes, i can drive. and about your parents…”

he pauses, pulling you closer yet one more time until you are pressed against his warm chest again, conducting yet another wave of solace within you.

his smirk returns, this time teasing but somehow softer as he tilts his head, his dark eyes glinting under the dim light. “well, they don’t have to know, do they? unless you’re planning to rat me out, princess.”

your breath hitches, his words sending a mix of irritation and warmth through you. “riki,” you start, but he cuts you off again, leaning in closer so that his face is just inches from yours. he cups your face with one hand, while the other grabs the extra helmet from the handlebars of his bike. riki presses a caring, soft kiss against your lips which makes you forget your tensed thoughts about the night.

when he pulls away, he’s already slipping the helmet over your head, his smirk never fading, “just relax, and trust me.”

“just don’t make us crash,” you scoff, watching riki climb on the bike before you do the same, your head finding his shoulders to rest on as soon, as he starts his bike.

as the bike speeds through the quiet streets, the cold night air rushes past you, but riki’s warmth and the scent of leather and mint keep you grounded. you rest your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing. at moments like these, you thank nishimura riki the most to add little exciting shenanigans in your life, without which you would be incomplete.

the roads are nearly empty, save for a few early risers—shop owners rolling up their shutters, joggers making their rounds, and street vendors setting up their stalls. after a few more turns, he slows down, eventually parking the bike near a quiet riverside. the view takes your breath away—the sky painted in shades of dawn, the water reflecting the soft glow of the rising sun. the world feels still, peaceful.

“okay,” you say, stepping off the bike. “this is actually nice.”

riki dramatically puts his hand over his chest, “a compliment from you? surprising.”

“don't ruin the moment,” you scoff, swatting at his arm and earning a hearty laugh from him— as well as a soft kiss on your forehead.

a soft wind blows by and you pull rikis oversized leather jacket closer to you, the mint scent sinking in. “cold again?” riki asks, hugging you from behind and resting his chin upon your shoulder.

“you should be cold,” you nod your head, “you gave me your jacket.”

riki adjusts his own jacket over your body, “that's cause it looks better on you.”

you mumble a small “thanks,” feeling your cheeks warm despite the chilly weather.

for a while, you both sit on the grass, watching the soft hues of dawn paint the sky, the lake reflecting shades of pink and gold. the world feels quiet, almost like it belongs only to the two of you. riki absentmindedly tosses pebbles into the water, and soon, you’re competing over whose skips the farthest.

at one point, he chuckles, nudging your shoulder. “you know, if your dad finds out about this, you’re probably getting grounded for life.”

and that's when reality hits you and you whip your head towards riki, eyes wide in horror, “what time is it now?”

“uh, like 4 am, why?”

“my dad wakes up at 4:30 for his morning run!” you exclaim, quickly getting up on your feet, “if he finds out i'm not home then i’m dead!”

riki stares at you for a second before realization sinks in. “oh… oh, shoot.”

riki rushes back to the bike, and you’re right behind him. the moment you both hop on, he tries to start the engine.

tries.

but nothing happens.

“…riki?” you say slowly, dread pooling in your stomach.

riki gives an awkward chuckle, turning the key again. still nothing.

you grip his arm. “riki.”

finally, he exhales, looking back at you with a nervous smile. “baby…i think we’re out of petrol.”

taglist────open tags in the reblogs ! network tag. @/k-labels @k-films @k-nets CLICK ME

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jeonstudios · 3 months ago

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fontana di trevi | 01

you seek out a vampire to help you with something.

pairing: vampire!jk x sadgirl, blood donor!reader

genre: vampire au, angst, fluff (really a sadgirl fic lol)

word count: 7.6k

warnings: blood, needles, talking about how you euthanize cows and such? suicidal thoughts (not graphic or elaborated? very straightforward?)

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 1/2

It’s a freezing cold December night when you step into the dark alleyway, your thighs having gone numb under your jeans a while ago. The sun set hours ago, and the only light present is that of a few scattered streetlights.

Your pulse quickens as you take another cautious step. Something moves further in, where the light barely reaches, and since there’s no snow yet, you hear the slight crunch of frozen fall leaves under… footsteps. From the dark, a tall figure approaches slowly in a way that would have anyone’s blood chilling.

“I have a proposition,” you state, trying to stand somewhat tall.

"A proposition?” a low voice inquires, and you have to tilt your head up to look at the face that emerges from the shadows. “I’ll fuck you, but I’m not turning you for sex.”

“That’s not what—I don’t want sex or to be turned.”

He directs his full attention to you, and in turn, you get a better glimpse of his features. He looks like a man; incredibly handsome with jet black hair, eyebrows, and eyes, but his skin is paler than anything you’ve seen, and there’s the tiniest smudge of something red tinting the corner of his mouth. Though his eyebrow is raised, he doesn’t look very entertained.

“You can have my blood. All of it, if you just take it quickly.”

He lifts his hand to slowly wipe the red from his face. The outfit he wears—a black leather jacket and black pants—looks human but is definitely too cold to wear this time of year.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t simply take it if I wanted to? Why would I need your permission?”

“I’m just saying. Take it if you want it?”

He looks at you, seemingly at least a little intrigued by the odd human in front of him. You definitely understand that most people run the other way at the sight of this big, intimidating being.

“You realize ‘all of it’ means you’ll be dead, right?”

You nod. “Do we have a deal?”

“Regardless of if I wanted to or not, I literally just… ate, so I physically can’t. Not for another week or so.”

You feel your shoulders drop slightly, and you blink, trying to improvise a plan.

“Okay, well… Do you want to meet here in a week, then?”

At that, he tilts his head. “You want to die here, in a dirty alleyway?”

“I don’t care. So yes or no?”

“If you want me to do this, give me something in return first, okay?”

You look at him in confusion. “You’re getting my blood?”

“Who's to say your blood is even good?”

Trying not to let his words discourage you, you look around, thinking. Maybe you should’ve played harder to get? At least in the sense of giving him a hunt? You don’t want to waste any time, but he might not be your best option.

“Fine, do you know if there are other vampires around here? How do I find them?”

It took you three weeks to even find this one, and maybe it was more luck than anything, so setting off on another search doesn’t sound too exciting. These creatures really do live in the shadows.

“No, listen. Whether your blood is delicious or not, it would certainly be helpful to have it. But…��

“But?”

“Let me stock up on it first. Meet me at my place and let me take some every week for two months and then I’ll take the rest.”

You look around again, unsure if you should just try to find someone else. Two months is not ideal; it’s too long, and you’re sure you could manage to find someone else in the meantime.

The vampire senses your hesitation and takes a step closer.

“You want it to be quick, which means you’re scared of pain. People around here, my kind, tend to drag it out. Pain and fear equal adrenalin, which gives the blood a certain… flavor that some enjoy. Agree to my compromise, and I’ll make it quick and practically painless.”

He gives you the smallest of smiles, barely a hint of one, but it feels wicked and makes a cold shiver run down your spine. You know he’s not trustworthy, but he’s getting a lot out of the deal, and you have nothing to lose, really.

“Okay. What’s the address?”

In the middle of the day a week later, you find yourself in front of a big two-story house. It’s nice, looks pretty expensive but… like a regular house? It’s painted white and definitely not blood-red or even black. Aligning more with your expectations is how the house is partially obscured from the road by huge, towering spruces and how it seems to lie just a little bit further from the neighboring houses. There’s a thin layer of snow on the ground now, but you’re not sure whether it’ll stick.

After confirming that no, there is no door bell, you lift your fist to knock on the door. Vampires have crazy good hearing anyway, right? You’d assume so, given the fact that they’re always portrayed as super fast, super strong, super… attractive, and with super hearing, super vision, just… super all around. The mythical creatures don’t officially exist to the world, but in your little town, everyone knows they do. And they do. You found one. So if they drink blood and are super attractive—at least this one—it’s not too weird to assume there’s more truth to their pop-culture portrayal.

You can see how the town’s vampire believers and enthusiasts shake their heads in disappointment at your relative indifference, but truth be told, you’d probably be more curious about the vampire whose home you’re about to step into if the situation was different. Or maybe you’d have some self-preservation and run the other way?

The door opens almost soundlessly, and when you look up, you meet those black, bottomless eyes. It really is his color, you think, your gaze drawn to the short-sleeve, black button-down he’s wearing, the top three buttons or so left undone. With it, he’s wearing black pants on the looser side. He looks incredibly handsome, and very effortlessly so. His hair is shiny and looks soft, and like it naturally falls into that slight side-part.

“Are you gonna come in or just stand there and ogle me?” He isn’t smiling teasingly; he just looks at you, unimpressed.

“Sorry.”

He turns to retreat back into the house, and you’re left to enter through the open door. There are no lights on inside, and when you close the door behind you, cutting off a majority of the daylight, you start to feel like you’re truly inside a vampire’s home. Still, it’s light enough for you to follow said vampire’s back after hastily removing your coat and folding it to leave over the boots you step out of. Since you assumed he needs access to the veins in your arms, you picked out a gray t-shirt and a black zip-up hoodie that’s a little too big on you, paired with jeans. Nothing fancy—you’re not there to impress him.

With quickened steps, you catch up to him as he wordlessly leads the way into his kitchen, a place you doubt he uses much. Vampires don’t actually eat, do they? Either way, the room is clean and feels almost... sterile, despite the walnut cupboards and dark gray countertops.

On the short end of a wide, matching walnut dining table, a bunch of supplies are laid out. He gestures to one of the two chairs positioned around the corner of the table, but as you sit down, he turns to leave.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to do this,” you admit, pulling the zipper of your hoodie down and slipping one arm out. “I mean, I’m sure it can’t be that complicated in… theory, but I don’t think I can do it on myself.”

“I’m just gonna wash my hands,” he explains, and there seems to be a very slight trace of emotion in his voice and on his face that you interpret as amusement. He thinks you're dumb.

Oh. Well… does it really matter if his hands are squeaky clean or not?

Water hits the sink with a familiar sound as you focus on the table, inspecting the supplies. There’s a needle with a tube attached to it, a tourniquet, some syringes, antiseptic wipes, and a few empty blood bags. A voice in your head wonders if maybe he changed his mind and will simply take everything at this moment because those bags look pretty big, and you’re not sure you can fill them and still walk out of this place.

The water stops, and you sit pretty and wait until he positions the other chair in front of you, a little to the side. You’ve never been a fan of needles or having your blood drawn, so you focus your eyes the other way, to a specific part of his kitchen window and the overcast outside. You hear the sound of paper and plastic ripping, and you feel his cold fingers place and tighten the tourniquet around your upper arm and feel for your veins before he wipes the area clean.

“Scared of needles?” he teases arrogantly, and you see how he reaches for the sharp object on the table.

“Bodily reaction. I can’t help it,” you explain before holding your breath and waiting for the poke.

It comes soon after; an uncomfortable but not too painful prick. With one hand, he moves some things around on the table, and you try to keep as still as possible, loathing the feeling of a needle jolting around in your vein.

“You’re not curious as to why I know how to do this stuff? Or worried that I don’t?” he wonders, releasing the tourniquet and seemingly fastening the needle to your skin with some tape.

“No. I guess it doesn’t surprise me; blood and vampires seem to go hand in hand.”

He surprises you by letting out a quiet chuckle before placing a red stress ball in your hand. “Squeeze this. I’ll be back to change the bag in a few minutes.”

Nodding, you watch him rise from his chair and leave the room.

Left to your own devices and with the filling blood bag taped to the chair’s armrest by its thin tube, you close your eyes.

The house is entirely silent, and you have no idea where the vampire went. After he moved the stuff around on the table, you were able to count exactly three blood bags with a printed 450 ml on them. That adds up to somewhere between one and one and half liters and around 30% of your blood volume if you’ve calculated correctly. According to your brief research, a human doesn’t typically survive losing more than 40% of their blood unless given emergency medical attention. You probably won’t feel too great after today, but you most likely won’t die. You think.

Slowly, the minutes start to tick by, but you feel okay so far. You’ve got a good rhythm going for the stress ball, squeezing, holding, releasing. Squeezing, holding, releasing. The silence has your mind wandering.

“You can stop for a bit.”

The vampire’s sudden voice has your eyes flying open. He hadn’t made a single sound, returning to the kitchen. Catching your breath, you nod, keeping the ball still in your hand. You don’t look at the needle in your arm, but you see the bag full of dark red that the vampire sits down and trades for an empty one, attaching the tubes before he fastens them in the same way to the armrest.

When he’s done, he lifts his hand, and you spot one of his fingertips covered in red. For a split second, he observes it, and then he puts the finger to his tongue. At first, it’s weird to see, and you almost want to tell him that it’s not hygienic to taste other people’s blood. That is before you remember that other people’s blood is what sustains him.

He looks to be assessing something, and suddenly, you’re worried he might not like it.

“B positive," he focuses on you, but you give him a slight, confused shrug because you have no idea what blood type you are or what it means in this context.

“Is that… okay?”

“It’s… meh. Not the most common but also not the rarest. Most of my kind prefer A or even AB, though.”

“Oh."

Of course, your blood is substandard. You nod toward the filled bag on the table. “Will you have any use for this then?”

Truly, it would be just your luck to not even have the scary creatures, who roam the night in search of victims to drain, want your blood.

“Yeah. Doesn’t matter. I can always use it as a backup if I don’t get the chance to feed in time. Squeeze.”

Per his order, you resume squeezing. The rest of the process goes relatively smoothly, although you’ve started feeling a lot… weaker by the time the second bag is full and the vampire is about to switch it for the third.

There’s a lot about blood and the human body that you don’t know, and you’re silently wondering what the recovery rate is and if you can really give him this much every week. Does he plan on taking less next time or has he not taken it into consideration?

“Why do you want to die?”

You blink at his bluntness, looking at his uncaring face. He obviously doesn’t care to hear the longer story, and you don’t care to tell it, so you settle for a shorter, more condensed version.

“There’s something wrong with me. I don’t belong here.”

“Didn’t taste like it.”

“Maybe not physically.”

He doesn’t dig further, but when your blood starts trickling into the third bag, the vampire stays seated. You still close your eyes, afraid that you’ll stare at his face otherwise, and he didn’t particularly seem to like that.

You’re not sure if it’s just the blood loss or a combination of having slept poorly for the last few weeks and being in a calm, silent environment, but you’re feeling tired. Really tired. And cold.

“Squeeze harder,” his voice instructs, void of emotion. You do your best to follow his instructions, squeezing the ball tighter even though it’s getting difficult.

“We’re done.”

You open your eyes, finding the vampire much closer than before and his fingers swiftly removing the needle from your arm.

“Okay, so… uh…” you start, finding it hard to choose words or even think of what you want to convey in the first place. “Do I come back… same time… next week?”

“No. Make it two weeks.”

You look at him, confusion written across your features, but it’s hard to focus your eyes on his face. It’s blurry, and there are dark spots infiltrating your vision.

“I took as much as I could, and while you won’t have time to replenish everything in two weeks either, I’ll at least get more out of you than in just one week.”

He smiles, and if you had the energy and maybe (mostly) the common sense, you’d be scared by the way he truly looks so wicked.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

The vampire takes the stress ball from you and rises from the chair with the used supplies in his hands. You grip the armrests best you can, but your right hand slips, and you stumble a little, trying to stand. It’s so incredibly cold, and you feel dizzy, nauseous, and weak, putting your hoodie back on properly.

Very quietly, you hear him move around the kitchen, and while he hasn’t explicitly told you to leave, you’re very much assuming he wants nothing else. So on unsteady legs, you make your way back to the front door, where you grab your coat to haphazardly put it on, and you step into your boots, unable to bend down to tie them properly.

You’re able to make it to your old but trustworthy car that you parked on the street, but when you sit down in the driver’s seat and close the door behind you, you realize that you definitely can’t drive as it’s proving more and more difficult to even keep your eyes open. You can’t walk home, you have no one to come pick you up, and even if there probably is a bus stop somewhere around here, you don’t think you’d make it there.

So with your last burst of energy, you pull the lever under the seat to push it back a little, leaving your boots on the floor as you bring your feet and knees up. Your coat finds a new purpose as a makeshift blanket, and you cover as much of your body as you can with it. Fully knowing that as you close your eyes, you might never open them again, you don’t care that much. Dying is what you want, anyway.

Surprisingly, you do open your eyes again. It’s dark when you do, and it’s so, so cold. Your heart is beating hard as it tries to circulate blood that just isn’t there anymore, and it’s with a low groan that you move, trying to reach for the phone in the pocket of your coat.

It’s seven p.m.. You met with the vampire at two p.m., and the visit took less than an hour, which means that you got into your car at maybe a bit before three, and so you’ve been passed out for four hours. It takes you a while to come to properly, and even when you do, you feel weak, groggy, and stiff. Ideally, you shouldn’t drive, but you have no other means of getting home, so you decide on a route consisting of smaller roads with lower speed limits and less traffic.

It’s no wonder you feel like you’re on death’s doorstep because when you do some further Googling on blood donation and blood volumes at home, you calculate exactly how much someone of your size would have. And you find that the vampire took 38% of that.

Three weeks later, you’re knocking on his door again. He opens it, an eyebrow raised and looking even more unimpressed than last time.

“I’m sorry I didn’t show last week, but I was sick,” you inform, hoping he’ll accept your apology. “Didn’t think you would’ve wanted to see… that.”

“You’re right.”

That’s all he says before he turns, leaving the door open for you just like last time. Well, you take that as a sign that you’re forgiven, and so you follow him inside.

Trying to keep up with him, you’re feeling even smaller and weaker around the tall vampire than before, and truth be told, you are. Because according to those Google searches, while it takes the body only approximately 24-48 hours to replace the blood plasma, it takes four to six weeks to replenish the red blood cells and recover fully. And that’s from having one bag of 450ml donated; you left three and it’s only been three weeks since. Essentially, the vampire is taking your blood a lot faster than you can produce it.

Like last time, you sit down on the same chair in his kitchen, but since he wasn’t expecting you, he has to retrieve the supplies from elsewhere. You remain quiet while he organizes everything, stealing a few glances at him in the meantime. This time, he’s wearing a black t-shirt and black shorts, and you’re amazed at just how… ordinary he looks. In the best way possible, of course.

Without being too tight, the shirt does a very good job at showing off his physique: it hangs wonderfully off his shoulders and dips slightly between his pecs. It exposes the prominent veins stretching across both his arms and hands, and you wonder if vampires also ‘live’ in the way that he has a heart that pumps blood around his body. Or if he’s really ‘dead’ or ‘undead’ like some media describe them?

“What?” he questions, having caught you staring.

“You look very human,” you say quietly. “Like a college guy.”

An athletic college guy. The one who’s just a little too handsome to be exact.

The trace of amusement that flashes across his face is so faint that you’re not sure you didn’t simply imagine it. He doesn’t respond to your observation, only sitting down and reaching for your arm. His large hands feel a little warmer against your skin than you remember them doing last time, and you turn your head when he prepares the needle. There’s a pinch and then the immediate relief when he loosens the tourniquet.

“Here,” the red stress ball is placed into your hand again. Looking down briefly, you watch your own hand squeeze it, but the red fluid flowing through the transparent tube is too off-putting, and so you close your eyes again.

A minute or so passes while you keep squeezing the ball to some sort of rhythm tied to your breaths. It won’t be long. Soon, everything will be over.

Somewhere, you lose track of time, and to regain some sense of reality, you flutter your eyelids open. Only to see the vampire stare coldly at you. You freeze.

“I thought you left,” you admit, the surprise clear in your voice.

“I’m keeping an eye on you,” he explains, face still stoic.

You look at him dumbly. “No offense, but why? The point is to kill me, anyway?”

“No, it’s to take as much as possible,” he corrects you. “To a reasonable extent. And then kill you. Here, let me change the bag.”

You close your eyes once more as he switches the full bag to a new, empty one. The dizziness comes a lot quicker than it did three weeks ago, but then again, you’ve been feeling more or less weak and faint ever since that first donation.

“Okay, we’re done.”

You look at him, surprised. “Already? But you didn’t even fill the second bag fully?”

“I took too much last time, and like I said, I want to get as much out of you as possible.”

For the first time, you think you see a hint of a discreet fang when he gives you a blood-chilling smile.

The process of removing everything is quick, and before you know it, you’re putting your feet into your boots again. You feel faint, like your knees might buckle under you any second, but you don’t feel weak to the point of passing out for hours in your car; you do that when you’re home in bed instead.

Suffering from what you gather is immense anemia, you don’t have the energy to really do anything between your visits to the vampire besides lie on the couch and watch TV. You quit your retail job the Monday after finding him in that alleyway, confident (and correctly so) that you wouldn’t be able to handle really any job at all.

Even rotting away on the couch with your eyes glued to the screen, you can barely understand what the shows are about. Your brain struggles to place the people and remember the plot lines, and you find yourself almost daydreaming instead. Though it’s mostly just flashing images of the vampire whose name you still don’t know.

If your heart wasn’t already so strained, it would beat harder for him in some kind of fear-filled attraction. He’s absolutely gorgeous—and there’s definitely something almost drawing you to him—but he’s also so, so intimidating. If the end goal wasn’t to die, you’d for sure be running for the hills and looking over your shoulder late at night.

Next time, there’s a slight smile pulling on the vampire’s lips when he opens the door.

“Still alive?”

You chuckle quietly, looking down at your boots. “Unfortunately.”

Taking off your coat reveals another simple outfit with no other purpose than granting the vampire access to your arms while keeping your freezing body warm. This time, it’s a thick, brown cardigan over a t-shirt, paired with somewhat baggy jeans.

The contrast between your clothes is almost funny. Even indoors, you’d be freezing in the half-open thin, white dress shirt he wears messily tucked into black, also thin-looking slacks. The gap in his shirt makes you want to reach out and touch his pale chest, but of course, you keep your hands to yourself.

Once again, you follow him inside, and while you don’t need him to, he guides you to the same spot in his kitchen where the stuff is all laid out.

Sitting down, you slip your arm out of the cardigan and place it on the armrest. The vampire washes his hands and then comes to sit down in front of you, reaching for the tourniquet to position it around your bicep. With the elastic band tightened, he rips open an antiseptic wipe to clean the inside of your elbow, and then, he prepares the needle like always.

You look away, holding your breath until the pinch comes and for a few seconds after.

“The whole thing about vampires losing control around blood… I take it that’s just storytelling?”

“Depends,” he answers, and despite not looking at him, you just know he’s got one eyebrow raised and a hint of a cocky smile on his lips. “If we’re hungry and someone happens to bleed around us, yeah, it can be more… tempting. Also depends on what sort of blood we prefer.”

“And you don’t like mine,” you state, your foggy brain concluding it the reason he seems to not care about the vulnerable blood right in front of him.

He laughs this time, a really nice sound that has your strained heart almost skipping an important beat. “I changed my weekly feeding to Thursdays, so I’m still quite full. And your blood isn’t vile, it’s just not what I personally go crazy for.”

“Oh,” you let out, looking at him before something dawns on you. “Wait. You eat once a week only? How much do you eat then? Or… drink?”

He nods toward the bag he just secured to your arm. “Someone of my size typically only needs about two of these a week to survive and not maniacally hunt and kill, but to really thrive? Between two and three liters, so four to six bags. I usually go hunting Friday or Saturday night when most bars and pubs are full. It’s surprisingly easy to find a few drunks stumbling around who won’t even realize what happened the day after.”

“So you don’t… kill?”

“Not if we can help it. There’s been… an increase in vampires around here, and if people drop dead? No, it’s less suspicious and only a little more work to find a few victims instead of draining one dry.”

“Makes sense.”

“Mhm. I typically don’t have to beg women to come with me, either.”

Something ice cold travels through your body at that last sentence. You wonder whose blood was on his lips that night when you found him.

“I can’t believe you’re telling me this, though? You seem like you’d tell me to mind my own business.”

Even more, you can’t believe you asked.

He smiles. “I don’t know. Like I said, people will occasionally find out what I am, find me fascinating, and ask a thousand questions. I’ve always thought it to be incredibly annoying, and I’m not really supposed to tell them anything even if I wanted to—which I don’t—but it’s been… odd, not being questioned by you. At all. Almost boring, like I’m not interesting to you.”

His answer surprises you, and for a moment, you imagine teenage you, not bubbly per se but at least a bit more naive than the current version. Would she be the type to annoy him? You don’t think so.

“Objectively, you are interesting, but I can’t believe how brave people are? If things were different, I wouldn’t have gone out looking for a vampire in the first place. And if I somehow stumbled upon you, I would’ve run the other way because you’d terrify me.”

Slowly, he smirks at your honesty.

“I scare you?”

You’d be lying if you claimed the cold, calculating aura around him didn’t.

You’re not sure if he has any super powers like in the movies, but honestly, he wouldn’t need to be able to lift a bus to kill you. The scariest thing about him isn’t how he could end your life in a hundred different ways either way, it’s how he could drag it out and extend your suffering before doing so. Of course, your body and instincts find him scary, but in a way, your mind… doesn’t? Then again, you’re here because your mind wants him to kill you.

“I don’t know.”

“Hm,” is all he says, his eyes falling to the blood bag. “I have to change it. Hold on.”

“Okay,” you mumble, finding it hard to concentrate. Your heart beats so hard it hurts, but at the same time, your breathing is slowing down. Closing your eyes, you feel him move stuff around.

“How are you feeling?” he suddenly asks, but it doesn’t sound like he cares too much.

“Honestly? Terrible,” you admit, keeping your eyes closed.

You keep still when you feel his hands on your arm, but then you hear a little… rip.

“Fuck.”

Curiously, you open your tired eyes, seeing the vampire hold the empty bag up to inspect it.

“This was the last one I had. This brand is fucking terrible quality; how do you make blood bags so weak they rip?”

“You don’t have anything else to collect it in?”

He sighs defeatedly, “No, it needs to be in these kinds of bags so I can store and freeze it properly.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I’ll have to stock up on them and maybe take more next time.”

You nod slowly and understandingly. That will probably be the last time, then.

About a week and a half later, you find yourself on a bench downtown, your hands in the pockets of your coat to keep them warm. It’s Saturday, and on the other side of the street, a few people are standing in line to be let inside your town’s best version of a nightclub. You’re not certain what exactly brought you here, and you’re sure that if the happy, club-dressed people took the time to observe their surroundings, they’d notice you staring and look at you weirdly in turn.

“Hello?”

Registering the almost rude-sounding voice, you blink as you turn your head. It’s a guy.

“Huh?”

His face looks skeptic, and he’s got his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. He’s not wearing a jacket or coat of any kind over his white t-shirt, so you gather he’s in the middle of a night out. Probably left a bar for a smoke and spotted you.

“I asked you what your name is? Like three times?”

He’s good looking with black hair and dark eyes, but the tone of his voice is very unattractive, and you have no interest in him whatsoever, knowing he isn’t just looking to be your friend.

“Oh. Uh…”

You don’t say it. It’s not that you don’t remember your name or that you’re making a conscious effort to deny him the information, but it’s like your thoughts are at a standstill.

“Beat it.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. His lips didn’t move.

“And who are you?” he asks, irritation dripping from his words, and this time, his lips are moving. However, his eyes are not on you but on something behind you.

Just as you’re about to turn around, the man in front of you leaves. His steps are quick, his mission abandoned.

“What are you doing here?”

Of course. It clicks the moment the vampire comes into view, and you’re surprised you didn’t immediately recognize his deep voice. He’s wearing that same leather jacket and some black pants, an outfit still very much inappropriate for winter. Though, something about him feels… wilder, almost a little uncontained? You can’t put your finger on what exactly.

“Uh, people-watching,” you inform as he rounds the bench, sitting down next to you.

Because he’s beautiful like no other, you glance discreetly at his face. He’s so masculine, but in certain lights, you glimpse something softer. You particularly like his nose and its rounded tip. It gives him such an attractive profile, you think, gaze traveling over his features and lingering on his dark eyelashes.

“Why? Isn’t it cold as hell for you?”

“Uhm, I don’t know? And I guess?”

From looking straight ahead, he turns his head, redirecting his full attention to you. The light from the closest street lamp reflects in his dark eyes.

“Is there any truth to that whole ‘vampires are designed to lure humans in’ thing?”

He grins. “I lure you in?”

“You’re more intimidating than you are attractive, actually,” you admit earnestly, wincing a little on the inside at how it came out a bit like an insult. He’s definitely attractive, and maybe the fact that he is so attractive is part of why he’s also so intimidating. “I’m just wondering what you looked like before.”

“I’ve always looked like this,” he explains casually, once again peering out over the cold, dark street. “Vampirism doesn’t change anything besides, like, skin impurities and conditions. I would’ve shown you a picture, but there were no cameras around when I was human,” he smiles cheekily.

“Anyway, you should go home. It’s really cold and not really safe at this time either,” he encourages.

You nod, realizing that he wants to protect his backup supply. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll see you next week.”

“Mhm.”

You expect him to get up and leave, confused when five seconds pass and he hasn’t moved. The feeling seems to be mutual because he turns his head to look at you again.

“So, are you leaving or not?”

“I am.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

You look away, clearing your throat a bit awkwardly and realizing that you might just have to tell him, since he doesn’t seem to be leaving before you. “I don’t think I… can. I walked here, but I think I overestimated myself.”

The vampire looks you over briefly, probably just to be sure, but you both know that your main health concerns aren’t visible.

“Where do you live?”

“Oh, not that far. Like less than a ten minute walk, but I…”

“What’s your address?”

“124 Conch Street.”

“Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up.”

Puzzled, you follow his instructions and slowly rise to your feet. Though you’ve been sitting stranded on the bench for almost two hours, the dizziness returns the moment you stand.

But the vampire isn’t satisfied. “Get up on the bench and undo your coat up to your waist.”

This time, you give him a skeptic look.

“Just do as I say,” he holds his hand out for you.

Slowly and still confused, you take it, and with his aid, you step up onto the bench.

To your surprise, he lets go, and before you know it, he’s unzipped your coat from the bottom up to your waist, positioned himself in front of you, and grabbed your thighs. Instinctively, you place your arms around his neck as he hoists you onto his back and starts walking.

“What are you doing?” you breathe quietly.

“Taking you home in an inconspicuous way. It looks like we’re a couple, does it not?”

“Definitely an odd and unexpected couple if so, but I guess?”

“You’re a pretty girl, you know?”

Your lungs hold your breath for an extra second before slowly releasing it, and then you hum, but it’s only to actually provide him with an answer. You definitely don’t think you’re anywhere near pretty enough for someone like him. He doesn’t call you out on your vague answer.

You’re not the most common sight, couple or not, and people still watch you as you pass them. Unsure as to how to meet their curious gazes, you don’t; turning your head forward instead. When you’re so close, you inevitably catch his scent, only to find that he doesn’t smell like a whole lot. There are traces of soap, laundry detergent, and maybe a hint of cologne, but not much else. No lingering smell of sweat or anything like that.

He walks you through the city and past the alleyway where you first found him. It’s quiet, except for the muted sound of his footsteps as well as those of a man a bit ahead, evidently hurrying to get home and away from the cold.

“Are there more vampires here?” you wonder, looking around the silent street and thinking it might not be as empty as it seems.

“Yes,” he confirms casually.

It has your brain working, and the surroundings reminding you of why you’re with him in the first place.

“How are you going to kill me?”

If he’s caught off guard by your straightforward question, he does a good job of not showing it.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. But I’d rather not bleed out,” you say, body aching at the mere thought. Although you’re certain there are much worse ways to go, you really don’t like the feeling of severe blood loss.

“It’s the easiest way though,” he explains. “It’s not as easy to drain a body without a heartbeat to move the blood around.”

“Are you familiar with livestock?” you ask, thinking back to what your three-year-older cousin once told you as you biked past a field of cows one summer when you were ten. “You can kill the animal and then ‘deblood’ them by hanging the body upside down and cutting their throat. The blood will drain easily. Do you have a bathtub?”

“You’re… a person though, still,” he says, and though he doesn’t falter in his steps, you can tell your words don’t sit quite right with him. “There’s no dignity in an ending like that. And don’t you care what happens to your body?”

To say you’re surprised is an understatement. You thought vampires were all bloodthirsty monsters, only biding their time until they can rip someone new apart. The messier, the better. The vampire, who’s carrying you on his back, made no effort to appear nice either. At least not at first. Now, you don’t even know.

You shrug slightly. You’re not a spiritual person, and you’ve never believed in something like an afterlife. “It’s just meat and bones. I won’t be here anymore, and no one’s going to be looking for me, anyway. There’s no use in keeping things ‘pretty.’”

He doesn’t say anything in turn, and you wonder how much about you he knows. How much about your life he realizes.

The vampire’s smooth movement lulls you further into relaxation, and you lean your head partly against your own arm, partly against him. He doesn’t say anything.

Way sooner than if you would’ve walked with your own two legs—if you would’ve made it home at all—he puts you down in front of your apartment complex. You search your pockets, locating your keys in the left one.

“Going home now? Since you can’t enter without permission,” you joke tiredly, unlocking the front entrance with the key fob.

The vampire raises his eyebrows. “I might as well make sure you don’t somehow trip and spill all my blood on the way to your apartment,” he smirks, grabbing the door and opening it wide without breaking eye contact. “And you shouldn’t believe everything you see or read.”

The smile he’s wearing as he makes a show out of stepping inside the building is another chilling one. You can’t say that you expected him to hit an invisible wall or anything, but for some reason, it would’ve almost felt… nice if that were the case. Considering your situation, you’re not sure why.

The elevator is empty and waiting for you, and after getting inside, you press the button for floor two, the vampire coming to stand beside you.

“Is there anything that is true regarding vampires?” you ask quietly as if someone would hear you inside the elevator.

“Besides the fact that we drink blood?”

“Yeah. Are you like, immortal and stuff? Super old?”

He chuckles. “Kinda. I don’t think anything’s truly immortal, but we do have a longer life span, yes.”

“What about senses? Can you hear my heart beat right now?”

“Yes. It sounds like it’s about to burst through your chest.”

Yeah, because it’s strained to hell and back, trying to keep you alive even in the condition you’re in.

“And super speed, super strength and all that?”

“Mhm, although we’re not so fast we go blurry. Are you impressed?”

“I don’t know? What do you use it for? I can’t think of even one thing having those powers would improve in my life.”

“Tough crowd,” he chuckles, avoiding your question as he follows you out of the elevator.

You understand that being physically superior is helpful when you’re a literal predator, and yeah, maybe being able to walk a tiny bit faster to work every morning would’ve saved you some time, but what else? Oh, yeah, one time, you had to throw away a jar of pickles because you simply could not get it open. Being stronger would’ve definitely helped you then.

Reaching your door, you’re quick to unlock it and pull it open to head inside, ignoring the two envelopes lying on the floor in your hallway. The vampire stays at the door, watching as you start to remove your coat two or so steps away from him.

“Are those… bruises?”

Turning your head as you make your way to the wardrobe to put the coat away, you see the vampire looking almost worried. You look down at the skin on your arms.

“Yeah.”

“Let me look at them,” he urges, holding his hand out.

“Why? They come with anemia; why does it matter?”

“Still, I want to see. Come over here.”

Despite looking oddly insistent, he makes no effort to actually enter your apartment.

Your eyes widen as you look at him. “You really can’t come inside without an invitation, can you?”

He sighs exasperatedly. “Technically, no, I can’t step inside unless you give me permission.”

It makes you laugh a little in wonder. “Wow.”

He rolls his eyes, but you can tell it amuses him a little too.

“Listen, I’ll be fine until we meet again and if the bruises are still there, you can look at them then. I kinda don’t actually want to invite you in, is that rude of me?”

“No, it’s not. Very reasonable, actually.”

“Okay, then I’ll see you Friday?”

He nods politely and steps back. “See you.”

You watch him leave, his footsteps sounding through the hall as you bend down to pick up the envelopes you’ve been ignoring for days. They’re probably bills, and you’ll be dead soon, so who really cares if you pay them or not?

Mindlessly, you approach the door to close it, your focus on the white paper in your hands. You put your finger under the fold to rip the first envelope open, wincing when the paper cuts through your skin instead.

Holding your finger up, you inspect the damage and the little bead of red that’s forming next to the invisible cut. You look at it, furrowing your eyebrows at how you feel like something’s… missing? A moment later, you realize what it is, and your body freezes.

The footsteps have stopped.

It dawns on you, as you look at the blood, what the vampire was actually doing tonight and why he looked wilder than usual. Early Saturday night, lurking around the clubs until he found you and had to abandon his plans.

He was hunting.

Your eyes widen and your heart stops as you hear it. One footstep. Then another. And another. They’re speeding up, and soon enough running toward you.

Before you’ve had a chance to shut the door, it flies wide open. Panicked, you move farther into the apartment, but you fall backward and by pure instinct, crawl back as quickly as you can.

Despite claiming that he couldn’t enter without your permission, the vampire falls to his knees, then all fours, to reach you. You’ve never seen anything as scary as the bloodthirsty creature grasping the air, trying to get you. He moves so quickly, and his hand is just about to grab your foot when it’s like… he’s held back by something.

You're breathing heavily, trying to understand what’s happening. Why doesn’t he just move another three centimeters? He licks his lips in frustration, exposing fangs that are definitely longer than you remember. Meeting his eyes, they’re cold like never before, and he exhales angrily. He’s still reaching for you, and frozen in your spot, you look over at him, briefly wondering if his feet got stuck or something when it hits you.

He can’t step inside.

You sit there, your feet mere centimeters from his grasping hand when there’s a sound down the hall, and in a split second, the vampire seems to snap out of it. He looks at you, appearing to realize what he’s doing and somehow gaining control over himself. Looking around, he gets up, and he leaves. Quickly and without a word.

Wide-eyed and with your heart beating painfully, you remain on the floor, wondering what the hell just happened. Even when his footsteps are long gone, you’re too afraid to get up and close the door, worried that he’ll return and be able to reach you.

You’d like a very serious word with whoever established the ‘no entering without permission’ rule but also decided that the vampires could cheat it by keeping their feet outside and crawling inside.

You sleep a little uneasy the following nights, thinking a lot. Of course, your thoughts are mostly occupied by those cold, black eyes, thirsty for your blood.

<previous | next> happy halloween <3<3

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bi-writes · 9 months ago

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you're cooking when you notice him. you finish dicing the onion on your cutting board, and when you look up, you smile when you see the looming shadow that takes up the space behind your curtains. (mercenary!ghost x fem!reader, 18+)

"hi, spooky skeleton," you giggle, turning around and dropping the onions into the pot. the sizzle warms your apartment, and when you turn back around, you smile wider when he's come out from the shadows, closer, already on the other side of the kitchen island and only a few steps away from you.

he's geared up. vest thick and heavy strapped to his chest, the hood of his rain jacket over his head to further conceal the skull mask he wears. he stands tall, back straight and eyes narrowed, what little you could see of them. you put the cutting board down, twirling the kitchen knife you hold in your hand before holding it out in front of you, putting the sharp tip against the center of his chest.

"slow down there, big boy," you coo. "did you do as i told you?"

he snarls a bit before fishing a phone out of his pocket, tossing it onto the counter. you look down at it, watching the video playing. it's your mark, slobbering in tears, begging for his life. he pleads, holds up his hands, shakes his head, says that he's sorry in every language he knows until there's a satisfying hole in the middle of his forehead, a lone trail of blood making its way down his face. you think it looks like he's crying tears of blood. it's oddly poetic.

you look back at him, meeting his dark eyes, and you draw your hand back, setting the knife down. with your other hand, you drag your knuckles down the side of his masked face, puckering your lips and blowing him a dramatic kiss.

"such a proficient one, you are," you murmur. "what is that? third one this week?"

"want m'prize," he growls, and you step closer hooking your fingers into the collar of his vest and blowing him another kiss. then, you reach for the kitchen drawer next to you and pull it, taking out a thick envelope and handing it to him.

"you're making them very happy, ghost," you tap the plastic of the skull, giggling. "they like you a lot. got time for another?"

he clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side, and you squeak when he reaches down and grips both sides of your ass with two big hands. you laugh, but it turns into a breathless moan when those hands slip under your skirt and tug at the lace of your panties.

"i want the real prize, want wot 'm owed," ghost says lowly. you stand up on your toes, pressing your mouth to his over his mask. you let your hands fall, pressing on the backs of his hands, encouraging him to slip a few fingers under the lace and prod the entrance of your sticky cunt.

"you want it, baby?" you whimper. "do you?"

"yes--" you feel him bite from under the mask, and you stick your tongue out, licking over the line of his bottom lip, your pride swelling when you feel how shaky he breathes as you tease him. "give it t' me--"

there it is. now i have you.

"well..." you press your pelvis to his, rocking against his fingers, and he hisses when he feels the way you soak the fabric of his gloves. he wants to eat it, he wants to have you, he wants what he was promised. "gotta do somethin' for me first, ghost. gotta job for you. can't pay you for it though, not the way you like."

you think you see him smile under the mask, the corners of his eyes crinkling as if he likes what he hears. as if he knows what it is you will give him if he just does as you say.

"y'know wot it is tha' i want, don't you, swee'eart?"

yes, you think, and you respond by giving the front of his mask a kiss, one you think he reciprocates by the way he cradles the back of your head.

i know what it is that you want because...i want it, too.

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lostinlovingrevery · 16 days ago

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Indecisive

70s DOFP! Logan X Curvy! F! Reader

A/n: This got away from me.

Plot: You're indecisive about everything- and soon you become unsure about Logan. He makes sure to get rid of those doubts of yours.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ only!, DUB-CON (like a lot but reader is super into it), kinda rough sex, dom! logan, oral (f! recieving), logans a total munch, doggy style, the claws come out, readers described as curvy but not super relevant to the plot?

Word Count: 3960

You weren’t sure about him.

You met Logan a few weeks ago, you bumped into each other at the local park near your apartment. One look at him made your knees weak - you had never seen a man look so good before.

Tall- much taller than you, muscular, wearing a tight black t-shirt that stretched across his chest and looked as if it would rip and he dared to flex at all. Over that, a black leather jacket, a little worn at the shoulder. Dark blue jeans, that hugged his hips and thighs, sporting a thick belt, with some interesting design that you couldn’t make out - because you couldn’t just sit and stare at his crotch the entire time. His face was very nice to look at anyway, with a sort of slicked back style and a widows peak hairstyle that was very distinctive, mutton chops going down his jawline and stopping at his chin. Pretty hazel eyes that stared right through you- an intensity that you couldn’t help but blush under.

He’s so handsome!

You had been distracted, busy staring down at a notebook that you had your arm cradling as you walked the path you were so familiar with. You were in the process of starting a business- a florist shop, and there were hundreds of things to decide. Which was unfortunate for you, since you were the most indecisive person on Earth.

What to eat for breakfast, what shoes to wear, what drink to order, what lipstick to put on,

It goes on and on, your day is constantly full of questions, comparing your choices and trying to pick the best one. Honestly it’s a wonder how you managed to get this far in life, considering you could stand in the middle of the store for eternity comparing the colors of a dress you like- unable to decide what you thought looked better on you.

Should I go to school?

Should I start a business?

Should I keep seeing him?

After you finished fumbling apologies to him, while he gave you that cute little smile that made you practically want to melt under his stare- he asked you out. It surprised you, seeing that you were a girl on a more…curvier side. It wasn’t that you were unattractive, you knew your body well and you certainly weren’t indecisive on your confidence; even if you do meticulously craft your outfit of the day to make sure you look good as possible- even if it is painstakingly long process that it takes for you to even decide your outfit… Logan though, didn’t seem like the type to go after girls like you. He seemed the type to be inclined towards thinner girls, girls that looked like super models off the runway. You didn’t hold any bitterness towards that thought, everyone had a type.

You weren’t sure about saying yes, since you merely just met him- and he, sensing your indecisiveness, gave you a time and place. The way he took charge, helped you make the decision and it displayed how obviously interested he was in seeing you again attracted you like no other.

So you showed up, you had a good time with him. He made you laugh, charmed you like no other man has. You shared your first kiss with him that night- one that you spent in your bed thinking about all night, giddy and blushing. The next few weeks went by and he would call and set up another date, and another, and another

The initiative he took turned you on like no other. His quiet assertiveness brought you a certain comfort you weren’t familiar with- the way he was sure of himself. The cocky confidence he’d bring during your conversations- it would make you laugh, the way he’d smirk and say something snarky.

It was great, until tonight. Doubts started creeping into your mind, as you picked up on little things about him. Things that screamed trouble and heartbreak. You didn’t mind the trouble, not at all. It was the heartbreak that scared you. You felt yourself falling for him, but you weren’t sure if you should let yourself. He didn’t seem like the type to want to stick around- after you heard his stories of the travels he’s had. While he certainly seemed eager to see you, he hasn’t brought up anything about becoming serious, and you haven’t slept together yet- your own personal way of screening potential lovers.

It’s not like you want to hold out on purpose- you would’ve jumped his bones the moment you met, but you’ve been burned by men just wanting to sleep around - and you did not appreciate being led on by a potential of something real, when really it was just physical.

Tonight's date with him went by, and you felt something weird- your own doubts may have been playing in. It led you to question if you should keep this going. More of being unsure of your life.

For now, you decided to put the decision on a backburner while you undressed and took a shower, letting the warm water flow over you as you attempted to plan your day tomorrow. The sound of the shower meant you didn’t hear Logan coming into your apartment.

How could he not stop by?

You were acting differently tonight, not as happy, or perky. You weren’t holding his hand as often, smiling as often. Your mind seemed to be in another world. He had the feeling, after observing your little quirk of being unsure over things, that maybe you were feeling unsure about him.

He didn’t like the feeling.

Since he met you, he was obsessed. You have captured him in every way possible. It wasn’t easy to get his attention, Logan was always looking for the next thing, something better. The most it came to relationships for him was one-night stands, one where he seduced someone with a smile and a few cheap compliments, brought her back to a cheap motel, and got his rocks off- and left before the night even ended. He had his own place but he didn’t need women who had the misfortune of encountering him trying to seek him out again, because he wasn’t interested in pursuing anything that was more than physical.

Until he met you.

God, you drove him insane. He thinks about you more than he cares to admit. Your pretty lips that curve into that smile that makes his dick twitch. Your curves, that he’s traced with his eyes so many times that he can picture you perfectly in his mind. He stared at the way your breasts bounced when you laughed, the way your hips moved when you’d walk away, the love handles that were barely prominent in your usual clothes unless you were wearing something tight, he wanted to grip them as he fucked into you hard and completely undo you. He was addicted to you and he hadn’t even gotten a taste of you yet. A true taste. Your lips were so sweet, and he’d capture you in a kiss multiple times a night- never able to get enough of the sugar high you gave him.

It wasn’t just your beauty that captivated him. You were fierce, intelligent, and very passionate. You told him all about your little business you were starting, and your time in college, you’ve gone on a tangent more times about everything ranging from politics to flowers. He loved that passion he saw in your eyes and heard in your voice, it was something he hadn’t even realized he was looking for, something that he was missing.

You’d downplay yourself more times than once, always riding about how indecisive you were. You weren’t indecisive. You were passionate. You wanted to make sure you enjoyed everything life gave you, you didn’t want to miss out. Maybe you took a little longer to decide on whether you wanted to try the blue fruity drink, or the red. Logan didn’t mind that though- it made the world slow down when you took your time. His world was rushed, he never took a moment to appreciate where he was till he was with you.

He was excited about you- which is why he never pushed you toward any more…physical connections. He knew you’d open up to him when you were ready. He just had to keep himself satisfied by getting himself off to the thought of you every night since he’d met you. How badly has he resisted the urge to rip off your pretty little dress that hugged your curves and ruin you. He knew he’ll get that chance eventually- he was arrogant like that. He was willing to take time, especially considering he still had to tell you about who he was- something he wasn’t quite sure how to approach, since it hadn’t been an issue before with his no-strings-attached lifestyle.

Seeing you pulling away from him sent him into something dark and possessive. He could see where your indecisiveness was an issue- but he refused to let it be that way. You were the best thing he’s come across in over a century, He certainly wasn’t going to let that go over some uncertainty.

He knew you wanted him. He could smell it off you every time you met up, he could see it in your eyes the way you traced over his figure, a small blush coming to your cheeks and you’d quickly look away. How’d you get flustered when he’d get closer, putting his hand on your knee and squeezing, before letting his flinger flit underneath the hem of your dress, teasing you.

He had no problem getting rid of your doubts.

You stepped out of the shower, steaming filling the bathroom, as you grabbed your robe, something silky and small, barely covering you even as you tied the robe shut. You used a towel to dry your hair, and brushed your teeth, unknowing of the man lurking in your living room- waiting for you to come out.

After you brushed your teeth, your hair- you were ready for bed. You stepped out of the bathroom, steam pouring out through the doorway into the dark hallway. You begin turning towards your bedroom when a voice reaches your ear, and sends goosebumps down your arms.

“You take a long time in there.”

You turned around with a gasp. Logan was standing in front of your door, a faint smile on his face, and a look in his eye you’re not sure was anger or lust. His hands were in the pockets of his jeans, as he stood there. You swallowed, your heart beginning to pound.

“Lo…Logan what…What are you doing here? How did you get in?” You asked, trying to hide the fear you felt beginning to rise in you.

“Wanted to see you.” He says, taking a step forward. “You rushed out tonight.”

“I…I’m sorry I was just…I was tired, long day.” You stammered. His eyes went down, tracing over you, and it occurred to you that you were barely clad in your robe. You pulled it shut around your chest area, attempting to keep yourself covered. A frown came across his face.

“Don’t do that.” He says stepping closer to you. “Don’t cover what’s mine.”

“Excuse me?” You say with a bit of disbelief. “Logan I…I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…hurt your feelings or something but you coming in here like this is…is…”

“Is what doll?” He smirked. He was in front of you now, towering over you. You avoided looking at him, annoyed because his proximity to you was making your thighs clench together. You knew it was wrong, he practically broke into your apartment. Any other sane woman would be screaming their heads off, telling him to get out, throw things at him!

Yet the closer he stood to you, the less fear you felt, and more curiosity of what he was planning came to mind.

“Not sure what to say?” He asks a quirk of arrogance in his tone. You swallowed, and you finally looked up at him. He brought his hand up, his pointer finger tucking underneath your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He smirked. “Feeling indecisive again sweetheart?” He coos.

“Logan…”

“Feeling unsure about us?” He asks. You blink in surprise, your expression confirming his suspicions. He tuts, shaking his head, his hand slowly but firmly grabbing your face, his thumb and finger digging into the fat of your cheeks, forcing your lips to pucker. It was a move of dominance you hadn’t seen from him before, and you were ashamed to say you absolutely loved it. “How about I make that decision for you?” He says in a low voice. His lips crashed onto yours in a messy and rough kiss, your hands coming up to press against his chest - you’re still unsure about pulling him closer, or pushing him away.

Before you could react, he grabbed you, his arm around your waist as he lifted you, before roughly bringing you to the carpeted floor with him ontop of you.

Holy shit

He let go of you, his hand reaching down, ripping the belt of your robe off, and the silk fell to the side, exposing you completely to him. You gasped.

“Logan!” You reached your hand out, for what you didn’t know. He grabbed it, and your other hand, pinning them above your head as he used his knees to kick your legs open, his thighs pressing against yours-keeping them spread. Your skin felt on fire, embarrassment at being exposed like this running through you, making your body shiver as Logan stared down at you, his tongue coming out to lick his lips as if he was looking down at a full course meal. You knew it was wrong- you shouldn’t let him do this, but arousal began coating your heat between your legs, you felt yourself aching for stimulation- and you couldn’t help but find yourself loving how he took charge of you. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had fantasies of him taking you like this before…You just never thought that would ever happen.

“Fuck, you’re even more beautiful than I imagined…” He mutters, his eyes trailing over every inch of you. He used one hand to keep yours pinned above you, as his free hand moved to grope your breast, his thumb rubbing over your nipple as it hardened under his touch, making you whimper as you began to squirm under him. “Don’t act like you don’t want this sweetheart.” He looks back up at you, “You’re soaked, see?”

His hand let go of your breast, two fingers swiping through your folds, making your hips jerk up, as he chuckled, holding the two fingers up and examining the slick he collected on them. You watched with wide eyes and parted lips as he brought them to his mouth, his tongue coming and tasting you on his fingers. He let out a deep groan as he closed his eyes, sticking his fingers into his mouth and taking the rest of your essence.

“Fuck.” He hissed. He let go of your wrists, his arms going under your thighs and lifting your upper half up to his face as he was still on his knees. You yelped, your hands came down to the floor, as you attempted to make up for the awkward position he dragged you in, your thighs thrown over his shoulders as he held a death grip on your hips.

His nose pressed to your mound, taking a deep inhale of you, and you covered your mouth as your face ran red hot at the filthy action.

God, he’s filthy!

He licked a long stripe from your hole to your clit, and let out an involuntary moan. His tongue ran rough circles around your clit. Your head tipped back, your eyes rolling. He began eating you out, almost desperately, his tongue dipping into your pulsing cunt, before licking another stripe through you, and nipping at your clit. It made your hips jerk and a whine escaped you.

You couldn’t take this, the way he was munching on you like a man starved, how your lower half body was suspended in air, you had no control. You melted into him, your hand finally reaching up to grip his hair- making him groan, his eyes opening to look down at you. You felt a honey-tight feeling in the pit of your stomach, and with little control you had, attempted to grind your hips against his face. You snapped, and a heat of release ran through you, soaking his face in your fluids.

You couldn’t completely tell in your post-coitus haze, but you swear he was laughing.

You were lowered down to the carpet, thighs spread and trembling.

“The things I’m going to do to you…” You heard him mutter. You felt his hands grab you again, and flip you on your stomach. His knees kept your legs spread, lifting your ass in the air, and he leaned over your body, bracing one arm next to your head. You heard him shuffling, the clink of his belt.

You felt his tip brush through your slit and gasped.

Fuck, he’s huge

You felt his breath on your ear. “You’re so damn gorgeous darling. I’ve been obsessed with you since we met.” He says lowly, sending goosebumps through your skin. “Tell me sweetheart, are you unsure about us now?” He mutters. Your breath hitched, and you shook your head. He smirked, something devilishly, as he pushed his tip inside you. “Good.” he growls, before pushing himself inside.

You cried out, the mere size of him felt like too much as he stretched you out. “Sshh, you’re alright.” He cooed, his free hand coming up to cup your jaw, while his other braced himself on top of you. “You can take it sweet girl- fuck-” He pressed his head into yours, “You feel so good.”

Your body trembled under him, he moved his hips back, before thrusting into you slowly again, allowing you to adjust to his size. His chest pressed against your back, you could feel the complete weight of him on top of you. Not crushing you- something that felt completely safe and warm.

“Logan-” You whined, desperate for more, arching your back against him. He chuckled, a sound that shot straight through you, making you clench around him.

“I got you baby, just relax.” He mutters, before he picks up his pace, thrusting in and out of you, his hips slapping against your ass. He held onto your jaw, his nose pressing into your hair as you listened to him grunt and growl with each thrust.

He got faster, your arms stretched out, hands attempting to grip the carpet for some kind of leverage. He was going so fast you don’t even know how he managed to have the stamina, as your eyes rolled back, the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you was enough to make you go dumb and pliant. He suddenly slowed down, making deep- slow thrusts where he nearly pulled completely out, before burying himself inside you again, making you cry out. The hand cradling your jaw came up, covering your mouth to hide your noises.

“Much as I like hearing those pretty noises, don’t need the neighbors complaining darling.” He mutters. He picked his pace again, pounding into your pussy, your whole body shaking underneath him. His arm that kept him braced on the floor wrapped around your hip, his hand gripping at your love handles, angling you higher- practically folding your body in half against him.

The new angle made you feel like you were going to pass out. His cock was pounding into that special spot, making you unable to think of anything, as your body hummed with your second orgasm, approaching quickly. You began whining his name into his hand, and he grunted.

“Fuck, fuck keep saying my name.” He growled, moving his hand from your lips a bit, just so he could hear you repeating his name over and over. “Oh fuck-”

His hands released his grip on you, as they came into your view, fists slamming into the floor- and your eyes widened as your watched sharp bone-like appendages protrude from his fist.

Oh shit-

You couldn’t barely react or acknowledged anything, as the tight thread that was growing in your stomach accordance with Logans thrusts finally snapped, waves of ecstasy rolling over your body, over and over as your eyes rolled back, and Logan’s hips snapped against your ass one more time, filling you up with warm spurts of his cum. He whined and grunted, a few lazy thrusts as he continued spilling into you, before finally stopping, his head collapsing onto your shoulder.

Your heart was racing, and you could barely see straight from the explosive orgasm that ran through you, but you attempted to focus on his hands, where the sharp appendages were still out. Your hand reached out, gently touching his, and he loosened his fist as you ran your fingers over his palm. You felt him pressing kisses along your shoulder.

“You okay?” He muttered softly. You nodded, swallowing.

“You’re a mutant?”

“Yeah.” He says. That explains the stamina

You didn’t know much about them, other than the fact that the U.S government announced that they were real and a part of the population. Some people were terrified of the idea- but you simply thought nothing of it. Just cause they could do things some couldn’t didn’t mean they weren’t people either- just like Logan. “That bother you?”

“No…” You shook your head, still looking at his hand. He chuckled.

“You were quick to answer that one.”

“Nothing to be unsure about with that.” You say matter-of-factly. He leaned over and kissed your cheek.

“Good.” He mutters. “Don’t think I’m done with you yet sweetheart.”

“Wait- what?”

You shrieked as he pulled out, pulling you up from the ground.

You spent the rest of the night being completely undone by him. He made sure to fuck out any doubt or questions you had about you and him- at least physically. He plans to make sure you never have to feel unsure about him ever.

Something about Logan doing what he did solidified your decision, it wasn't just how the sex was great- but the way he desperately wanted to show you he cared- that he could take care of you, that he wanted to be apart of your life. He may have acted like he was in control, but every movement, every touch, kiss, thrust- felt like he was begging for you to keep him around. There was still things to talk about- such as the mutant thing, but your connection had officially solidified, as you felt you finally made a decision you can add to your list of 'good decisions'.

The next morning, you woke up in bed, wrapped in his arms. Fatigue plagued you, and you barely could feel your legs after the positions he’d managed to put you in- positions you didn’t even know existed. He woke from your shifting, eyes looking at you with adoration and a faint smile on his face.

“Morning doll.” He greets, voice low with an edge of sleep.

“Morning Lo.” You smiled, bringing your hand to his chest.

“You hungry?”

“Yeah.” You nod. He sat up, an arm still wrapped around your shoulder as he leaned over you.

“What d’ya want for breakfast?” He asks. You looked up at him with a raised brow, reminding him of your indecisiveness and he chuckled, a small shake of his head. “Alright. Alright. How about waffles?”

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #logan howlett smut #vans daydreams #wolverine smut #logan x curvy reader #this is the first time approaching a certain kink don't judge me #i have a few others in my drafts that are sooo much worse

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luvyeni · 4 months ago

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( SPOOKTOBER ) my vampire boyfriends ! 🎞️ 一钟辰乐 & 박지성 ՞

𝓟 airings. vampire!chenji x fem!reader wc. 1.5k

🕸️◞ WARNINGS. consented somnophilia, biting, unprotected sex, fingering

「 ♱ authors note 」 my second chenji threesome , hope you guys like it , day 2 of spooktober ...

you; chenle and jisung had a special relationship, them being vampires and you being a human, and also being in a poly relationship — not only that; the three of you had a special sexual relationship, meaning any of you could have each other at any time you wanted.

this often led to jisung and chenle going at in chenles office during work hours; not caring if anyone heard them outside the room— who was gonna say something? not only was he the boss, he was a very powerful vampire, no one dared to even come inside without knocking. sometimes chenle would call you up, telling you to wear his favorite with nothing over it but a jacket; calling jisung into the office simply just to watch you guys fuck like bunnies before heading to a meeting.

or both of them forcing you under the table during a meeting to your knees stuffing their cocks into your mouth while the people in the room pretend you aren't there, lord knows what the people would do if they even acknowledged you were there.

most of the time though; you stayed home in the condo chenle purchased for you three; shopping and lavishly spending the money they made, waiting for them to return; sometimes you stayed up and waited for them— other times you often fell asleep waiting for them , but that didn't mean you didn't give them permission to use you even in your most vulnerable moment.

“she's sleeping.” jisung whined; he was so ready to ravish you, both of them were ready to use you, their stomachs churning with hunger and the need for you; you didn't help it either, sending them videos of you using various of toys, sending them videos while they were at work , leaving them hard , they couldn't even get each other off, they didn't need each other , they needed you. “i can smell her from here.”

your scent wafting through out the apartment like always , . “maybe we can wake her up.” jisung said, chenle scoffed. “what did i tell you jisung.” the older boy , who was always more dominant than the both of you said. “she said we can take what we want when we want.” he smirked , jisung scratched the back of his neck. “but she's sleeping.”

chenle even though he was shorter than the tall boy, cornered him. “when has that ever mattered? remember when she woke you up with her mouth around your cock.” he kissed the boy's neck. “you liked that didn't you?” jisung sighed, knowing where he was going with this. “i-i mean yeah b-but.” he groaned, feeling the boys hands feeling down his abs. “but what?” chenle whispered, jisung felt the boys fangs grazing his neck. “you want her right?” his hands traveling down to the waistband. “ye-yeah.”

“so take her.” was the last thing he said before he bit down on the boy's neck. “fuck.” he moaned , that's another thing about the supernatural creatures, the toxins from their bites being like a aphrodisiac— which often came as a plus for your sex life. jisung could feel the heat bubbling in his stomach , turning around the moment chenle let his neck go; grabbing the back of the boys neck , feverishly repeating what he did to him , both of them going at it with each other , almost forgetting you until they heard your moans coming from your shared room. “you hear her?” chenle groaned as the boy attacked his neck , blood drinking down. “i know you smell her, let's go give her what she so desperately wants.”

they finally made it to the room, your scent much stronger, pushing the door open where you laid sleeping. “she was moaning in her sleep.” chenle took his shirt off, joining you into the bed , his hands immediately finding your naked thigh , lifting up your oversized shirt , revealing your bare cunt. “no fucking panties , i don't even think she needs to be bit this time , she's hornier than both of us combine.” jisung took his clothes off , joining the both of you.

“let's see how long it takes for her to get up.” jisung started kissing your neck, chenle working his way into your panties , you moaned. “ fuck , even in her sleep sleep she's wet as fuck for us.” his fingers toying with your clit , your body reacting , whimpers pouring out of your mouth. “ch-chenle.”

your eyes fluttered open , meet the glowy eyes of your boyfriend. “fu-fuck.” you moaned as you felt him adding another finger. “finally you're awake , you were moaning like a slut in your sleep.” he curled his fingers inside you. “ji-ji— i’m here baby , i’m here.” jisung kissed your neck. “he wanted to let you sleep, but i knew you'd be upset if we left you out , guess fucking yourself on those useless fucking toys weren't enough , you needed our cocks to fill you up?”

removed his fingers standing up to remove his fingers. “hey baby.” jisung whispered in your ears , his bulge grinding against your ass , groaning. “ji-jisung , i want it.” you moaned. “what do you want?” he kissed your neck. “my cock? my fingers?” his hands ghosting your clit. “no-no yet , i want it first.” he smirked realizing what you meant. “you want me to bite you baby?” chenle getting back on the bed. “y-yes please.”

jisung turned to other boy , who nodded. “give her what she wants.” you moaned , feeling jisungs teeth piercing your skin. “fu-fuck!” you yelped , he released the toxins into your body , the aphrodisiac flowing through all of your bodies , it was fair game from here , all three of you desperate to touch each other. “please fuck me.” you moaned. “fu-fuck , you're so wet.” jisung rubbed his cock along your folds.

chenle stroked his cock , watching jisung hold your leg up , his cock prodding your hole. “fuck , put it inside.” he cursed , jisung obey the boy , pushing his cock inside you. “fuck sung!” you mewled as he began to rock his hips , his long cock kissing your cervix. “sh-shit your pussy is so tight , squeezing my cock.” he hissed. “ne-need more.”

“yeah?” chenle said , letting his cock go. “you think you can both of us?” you nodded eagerly. “i-i can , i can take it.” you moaned , your body needing both of them , it definitely was the bite talking , and you'd regret it in the morning but you didn't care. “fine , you want us to stretch you out , jisung pull out.” jisung whined. “don't be a fucking baby , you'll get your dick wet.” the boy slipped out of you.

“lay on your back sung.” the boy ordered; ordering you to get in his lap. “no , face me.” chenle slotted himself in between your legs. “fuck chen , i need to fuck her.” jisungs body was burning , the feeling becoming too overwhelming. “go ahead.” jisung , lifted you up , sinking you down on his cock. “fuck!” he hissed as your cunt swallowed him. “don't move.” chenle ordered, you both whined in desperation.

“both of you are a bunch of fucking sluts.” he slid right inside you , it burned deliciously as they both moved inside you , “fuck this feels so good.” jisung bucked into you , his cock was longer , and hit all of your deepest spots— whereas chenle was much thicker and stretched you out , neither one of them leaving you satisfied. “fu-fuck.”

you felt another piercing pain into your neck as jisung bit you once again. “jisung!” you moaned out his name as he licked the wound , chenle on top , pounding into you , never unfilled , both of them thrusted in and out of you. “fuck I'm gonna cum.” you moaned. “sh-shit me too.” jisung legs twitched , his orgasm approaching fast and chenles' cock rubbing up against his mix with the tightness of your cunt wasn't doing him any favors.. “fuck , cum now , both of you.”

with his command both of you cumming with loud moans , jisungs cum seeping out of you but chenle just fucked in back inside. “fuck , gonna cum.” his hand coming up to your throat , squeezing tightly , has he pushed deeply inside you , cumming. “fu-fuck!”

both of you pulling out of your , cum spilling from your puffy cunt. “so messy.” he wiped the blood from your neck , bringing it to his lips , moaning at your sweet taste. “so sweet , like candy.”

“if you both were so horny you should've called me.” you said once you were cleaned up , your wounds all patched up , theirs healed already. “not like you haven't before.” threading your fingers through jisungs hair. “jisung overheard someone talking about how pretty you sound and almost tore his throat out , i can't have people quitting , they're already terrified enough , no need to traumatize them.”

“that's his fault next time i may just fucking do it.” jisung growled. “see what i deal with all day!” you shook your head. “don't pretend you aren't the same , we both remember what you almost did to that human who was flirting with jisung.” he frowned.

“in my defense he asked jisung to turn him and i said i’d happily to bite him , but i might just get a little hungry and drain him of all his blood.”

©LUVYENI

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amourane · 8 months ago

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love notes in music

pairing: drummer!theodore nott x rich girl!reader

genre: fluff, modern au

w/c: 1.2k

summary: you always got what you wanted and the extremely hot drummer was no exception.

warnings: none

a/n: i am here to push forward the drummer theo agenda because yes yes and yes

Trouble was coming. You could feel it in your bones. Maybe it was the extra shot of espresso you had today or the wild predictions in your horoscope, but you definitely sensed something brewing. It didn’t help that Enzo had interrupted your lunch and dragged you back to campus for god knows what reason.

"Enzo if this is another one of your tricks to get me to dance with you it's not going to work. Remember what happened last time?"

You dug your heels into the grass as your best friend continued to drag you across the field. The campus auditorium came into view and you frowned. There was no reason for you to even be there today so why was Enzo tugging you along like bait?

“Yes Y/n I remember what happened last time.”

"I fractured my ankle and I do not want to wear a cast ever again. I couldn't match the darn thing with any of my clothes." You huffed out a breath at the memory of the ugly accessory that the doctors had insisted on your wearing despite your protests.

Admittedly you were a bit of a spoiled brat but at least you knew that you were. Going to a normal university was one of your father’s choices. You would have never gone somewhere so shabby on a daily basis. Truth be told on the first day, you were actually planning to ditch and go grab a chai latte. Then you bumped into Enzo accidentally and the two of you seemed to click.

It was a good friendship. He’d always be able to tell you when you were being a tad bit annoying because of your rich girl behaviour and you’d be able to join him in his multiple activities. One which led to the infamous ankle incident.

“Don’t worry Y/n, you’ll still be able to wear that Gucci jacket-”

“It was an Armani jacket.”

“Yeah yeah.” Enzo pushed open the door to the auditorium, and you were immediately greeted by the sound of drums pounding heavily. The amplified sound hurt your ears. “Welcome to the band.”

“Um...Enzo, do I need to remind you of the time when I broke a guitar?” You nervously watched the live band on stage. Technically it wasn’t your fault that the guitar broke. Enzo never did tell you how to properly use it. “And when did you join a band?”

“Please don’t remind me Y/n also I didn’t actually join the band I’m more of a-”

“Hey Enzo!”

The music stopped. Your head whipped around and your eyes nearly fell out of their sockets at the absolute hunk that had just shouted. His dark hair seemed to glow under the spotlight making him look like some sort of angel. Your mouth ran dry when he waved a drumstick at you. His fingers looked as if they’d been carved out of stone. And his biceps. God his biceps. The guy was ripped. He was a drummer as well. What was more sexy than a drummer?!

“Hey Theo!” Enzo, your backstabbing friend who knew your weakness for hot boys with dark hair that played the drums, embraced him in a tight hug. “The practice is going well.”

“I know!”

Good god, his eyes were like beautiful whirlpools of love. The two boys started talking animatedly about something to do with music. There were a few words thrown here and there that you recognised but other than that you stood watching wide-eyed at the conversation in front of you.

“Who’s the pretty lady?”

Theo turned to face you and seeing his face up close only made you want to kiss him more. He really was gorgeous. You cleared your throat, straightening your skirt. “I’m Y/n, Enzo’s best friend, and you are?”

“Theo.” He offered you his hand, which you shook. Wow, his hands were soft. You were almost jealous. Time to buy new hand cream. “Hey, I’ve heard of you. You’re that girl who nearly broke her foot when dancing.”

Your cheeks flushed. Was this your legacy now? The girl that nearly broke her foot while dancing? How horrible. You would much rather be known for your stunning looks or incredible fashion sense.

“Actually I twisted my ankle but who’s keeping track?”

“Y/n isn’t the best dancer or guitarist.” Enzo chimed in. “She’s really good at maths though, she’s my second brain.” He said it as if you were simply another organ in his body, but you let it slide, trying to make a good impression on the drummer boy.

Theo chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, it's good to know Enzo has a brain to rely on."

You giggled at his remark, feeling the tension ease a bit. "Yeah, he needs all the help he can get."

"Hey!" Enzo protested, a small pout forming. "I'll have you know I'm quite capable on my own."

"Sure you are." You teased, nudging him playfully. Then, turning back to Theo, you asked, "So, what kind of music do you guys play?"

Theo's face lit up with enthusiasm. "We're a rock band, mostly. Some original stuff, a few covers. We're actually looking for a new guitarist. Interested?" He winked, clearly joking.

You shook your head, laughing. "After what happened last time? I think I'll pass. I'm more of an appreciator of talent than a participant. But I might be persuaded to attend a private concert."

Theo laughed, a rich, warm sound that made your heart flutter. "A private concert, huh? I think we can arrange that."

Enzo rolled his eyes. "Oh boy, here we go."

Ignoring Enzo, you leaned a bit closer to Theo, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. "So, Theo, do you always look this good while playing the drums, or is today a special occasion?"

Theo raised an eyebrow, his smile turning into a smirk. "I guess you'll have to come to more practices to find out."

You gave him a once-over, pretending to think it over. "Maybe. I do have a very busy schedule, you know.”

“Sounds like a yes to me. We’ve got a gig this weekend, free up some space in that glamorous life of yours and come.

You tried your best to conceal your excitement at the fact you had just scored yourself a date with a very hot drummer. Forget about trouble today was definitely the best day of your life.

"Alright, I'll be there." You agreed, feeling a flutter of excitement in your stomach. "But only if you promise me a private drum lesson afterward."

"It's a deal. I'll make sure you get the VIP treatment." Theo’s grin only widened and you felt your heart stutter at the sight. He really was handsome and if you didn’t know how he was single but that was good news for you.

“I’ve got some studying to catch up on but I’ll hold you to that.” You offered him a wave goodbye as you made your way out of the auditorium with Enzo. Theo simply smiled, reciprocating your action.

A giddy feeling overtook your body as the sun shone down on you. There were millions and millions of butterflies soaring in your stomach and you could only squeal at the idea of seeing Theo in the next few days. Before your best friend could say anything you spun on your heels, this time dragging him along with you.

“We need to go shopping right now, I need a new outfit for the weekend.”

Enzo could only groan as his feet automatically moved. It was going to be a long day.

#theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys #fluff #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott imagines #theo nott x you #theo nott imagine #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theodore x reader #theodore nott #slytherin boys x reader #theodore nott smut #theo nott smut #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott x you #theo nott #theodore nott x y/n

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princessbrunette · 5 months ago

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⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … BED CHEM ♡

track seven of the short n’sweet series. pairing: kook!pope x reader. based loosely of the song bed chem by sabrina carpenter. enjoy! ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა

you’d heard of love at first sight, but lust at first sight was an experience that hit you like a tonne of bricks in the university library.

the first time you’d had the chance to experience pope heyward in full was when he sat at a booth behind you whilst you were studying. you kind of already knew who he was, and kind of already had always thought he was cute despite knowing very little about him despite the fact he was wealthy and a chemistry major. you’d had the chance to talk to him at a party before, sure — but you didn’t think it was appropriate to bond with a boy with the likes of him whilst you were wearing such a sheer dress. you’d said no more than hi and bye.

“look, dude i’m not sayin’ i’m bad at sex. my girls always cum. all i’m sayin’ is, i feel like i can be better. i don’t know how you do the whole teasing thing. i’m a dude. with dude parts. i get impatient and just wanna go straight to pound town — boom!” his blonde friend rambles, and your ears prick up immediately, tearing your eyes away from your textbook to listen distractedly. it wasn’t your fault— you were ovulating, and plus, popes friend was talking at an alarmingly casual volume. “c’mon bro you take chemistry. don’t you know about the human body n’shit?”

“okay, first of all — what you’re talking about is biology. second of all, i’m trying to study. third of all would you keep your voice down?” you hear him ball something up and toss it in the direction of the blonde and nearly let your giggle slip. you were bored out of your mind and horny, there was no harm in eavesdropping.

“alright alright — but answer me this one thing.” popes pal lowers his voice so naturally you lean back in your booth to listen in. “say i want a girl goin’ crazy. beggin’ for it. what do i gotta do? c’mon pope i know you know.”

“if i give you some pointers will you shut the hell up and let me study?” pope sounds bored, and his nonchalance to the situation makes you flush.

“…yes.”

the darker skinned boy sighs, and you picture him leaning on his elbows, making you work even harder to listen. “okay. put a pillow under her hips. it’s gonna help you hit her gspot a lot easier and she’s gonna be more comfortable which you want. massage her hips when you go down on her and don’t skip out on taking your time down there jj.”

“massage her hips?”

“it opens her up. makes her relax her pelvic floor.”

“alrighty, noted. what else, chief?”

“talk her through it. you know how to do that?”

“damn right i do.” the blonde answers confidently.

“i dread to think what that poor girl has to hear.”

by the end of the conversation, you’re dripping. it’s not your fault — like you said, ovulation can be a real bitch. it gets to the point where you need to get up and walk around before you start humping the study bench, so you decide on strolling over to the water dispenser to refill your bottle that you’d been ravenously sipping down to attempt to quell your growing arousal. you also were feeling curious and wanted to get another look at your crush.

when you walked back with your freshly filled bottle, there he was in all his glory— berating his blonde friend in the hat to simply let him study. god he looked good, expensive. sitting comfortably in the booth in a white jacket, voice smooth and buttery and you couldn’t help but stare, your top set of teeth tugging at your glossy bottom lip. the pair of you lock eyes, but you can’t look away— neither can he. did you look flustered? could he tell you’d been listening? were you clammed up? could he sense the arousal seeping through your panties? you wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow could. he seemed like some sort of sex god.

he was none the wiser, and the rest was history — the boy having secured your phone number before you’d left the library.

after that, the two of you became inseparable. if you weren’t studying together or grabbing food (that he’d refuse to let you pay for) you were on the phone, ranting and raving about the people in your classes or the weird thing your professor said that day. there was chemistry, sure — a bond that you could only see heading towards a relationship. but with all the soft touches, the lingering looks from beneath your lashes, the tension — you were itching to take the next step. you’d desired him carnally from the day you met.

it’s a thursday evening, and pope has an exam the next day. a big one. you’d settled on hanging out via phone call whilst he studied, quickly getting on with your own business instead of getting to be at his side distracting him. it was for the best, and whilst you’d pouted at the promised temporary distance, you knew it was a good idea.

until night falls, and you’re laying on your bed — listening to the scribbling away of his pencil through the line. you sigh, a small smile dusting your face.

“you know, the day we met properly i’d kind of overheard one of your conversations.” he can tell you’re biting back a giggle, and with your joy infectious — he smiles too.

“yeah? did no one ever teach you that it’s rude to eavesdrop?” he teases and you let the giggle free, rolling back over to stare at the ceiling.

“s’not my fault! jj has a loud mouth.” you accuse lightheartedly and he hums in agreement, still scribbling away.

“that he does…” he finishes up what he’s writing before directing his attention back to the conversation. “so what exactly did you overhear?”

you bite your lip, recalling it. “well, it’s not exactly PG…”

his brows perk up in curiosity as his eyes flicker towards your contact image on his screen. “oh? i hope i didnt embarrass myself.”

“no, no not at all… i was intrigued.”

“well don’t leave me hanging.” he truly had no idea.

“you were giving jj…pointers. for the… bedroom.” you relay shyly, suddenly losing all your confidence. simply the memory of that day left your cunt fluttering, already lubricating itself.

“ah. i remember now.” he sounds tense, like he can’t tell how you feel about it. “not exactly an ideal topic for… the library, you know?”

“mhm… anyway, i was pretty impressed.”

you hear him smile, placing his pencil down all together. bingo.

“okay… and what exactly was it that impressed you might i ask?”

you suck in a shaky breath, hoping you don’t come across like some insane gooner all of a sudden. you’d say you’d done a good job at hiding your arousal for him in all the occasions you’d hung out.

“well… all of it. you seem to really know how to make a… make a girl feel good. probably better than i know how to— whatever.” you say the last part quietly, in disbelief that you were being so open. you were thinking with your pussy, you couldn’t help it.

he pauses, and for a split second you feel a wave of embarrassment. but then he speaks.

“at the risk of not sounding very humble, i’d say i have a good success rate.” he sounds so warm, so fond of you — it makes you feel comfortable enough to continue. “in the past—” he adds quickly. “i don’t… talk to any other girls but you now. don’t… don’t wanna…. touch any girl but you now. just to make that clear. you know.”

the tension is so thick and hot that it’s stifling all of a sudden and you’re not even infront of eachother. your mouth moves without your permission.

“how?” you breathe.

“…how?” he repeats, leaning back in his desk chair in his student apartment. it was times like these he was thankful he didn’t have a roommate. it was times like these you were grateful that yours had gone on vacation.

“how would you… touch me?” you’re so quiet that you’re surprised it picks up on the mic.

“uh, well… any way you’d like it. i think it’s important that sexual partners… communicate, and stuff you know? the guy should never be too proud to ask the girl what she likes. so… what do you like?” he licks his lips, staring straight at the wall.

“i… dont really know. i don’t have much experience. not good experience anyway.”

“thats okay—” he coo’s kindly as your voice overlaps once more with—

“i think i like—”

“— oh, no go ahead. what do you like sweetheart?” sweetheart. you squeeze your legs shut at the casual way it rolls off his tongue.

“…i think i’d like you to take the control… be the dominant one i guess. i like feeling…”

“taken care of?” he answers for you and you nod, before realising he can’t see you.

“mhm. yes.”

“well i am pretty confident that i can be that for you. like, one hundred percent confident. can do it just like you want it, pick you up, pull you down, turn you around… all that good stuff. it makes sense.”

you exhale, practically trembling as your legs fall open slightly, unable to stop yourself from trailing a hand down your stomach into your pyjama shorts.

“mhm?”

“yeah. but that stuff comes later, i literally just wanna focus on learning your body first, you know? how to touch you. every pussy is different, not to be crass or anything. i think to answer your question i’d just lay you down and finger you nice n’ slow, figure out the basics. make you feel nice.” he lists it off so… normally. like it’s obvious to him.

you sigh, spreading your juices through your folds and forget to respond for a moment. that is until he says your name and you open your eyes.

“hm?”

“are you touching yourself? to my voice?”

you feel your face get hot, shame creeping up your neck. all you can squeak out is an “i’m sorry.” and he chuckles.

“you have nothing to apologise for. i’m riling you up and it’s not fair but by all means, continue. god i—” he sighs, and you hear him shuffling. what he’s really doing, is reaching down to palm at his erection through his sweatpants— exam long forgotten about. this has all his attention. “—i wanted to be all… respectful i guess. wait until the time was right, but… but i just wanna make you cum. so hard. so many times.” he lets loose a little, reaching down to pull his cock out. it’s then he hears it, that pretty pained whimper whilst you rub yourself— no holding back now.

“i’ve wanted you so bad from the day we first met. but — but wanted to be a good girl. show you i’m more than—”

“i know, and you are. you are. oh my god, screw this exam. i should be there. i’ll tell you what, okay — i’m gonna talk you through this orgasm, but i want you to remember how it feels to cum on your own fingers — ‘cause, well — that’s not gonna be happening anymore. it’s all me now, honey. all me.”

#short n sweet series 🧁#kook!pope #pope heyward prompt

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greyowl-archives · 21 days ago

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Coffee Breath ~ A.H

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

wc: 1.15k

cw: pure fluff, Hotch being soft around you, tb to 1996, kind of a “what are we” platonic relationship vibe

a/n: first fanfic since TikTok officially got banned and this is my way of coping with the loss of all my CM edits. Please be nice 🥹 and please leave your thoughts I’d love to hear them !! :)

Summary: You don’t like coffee, but you don’t tell Aaron that, not when he had first come up to you so sweetly with two cups of coffee in his hands and placed one on your desk. It’s been 14 years and you still drink the coffee he brings you every morning on the job.

Seattle, WA 1996

You brought your hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose as the words on the file seemed to scramble again. The team was called into Seattle late last afternoon and after a nearly seven hour flight have touched down just shy of midnight.

You’ve given up on trying to get some sleep on the plane about halfway through the flight and then barely got any once you’ve collapsed onto the bed in the hotel.

Now it’s half eight in the morning and you’re dreading the fact that you still have the whole rest of the day ahead of you.

You needed something.

Tea preferably, that aromatic herbal one your friend brought back from India. Or maybe you’ll seriously consider getting one of those energy drinks standing neatly in the fridge of the station cafe, each with a ridiculous amount of neon colors and designs on their packaging.

Or maybe…Coffee?

Your face scrunches slightly when you catch the warm, nutty smell that appeared to have wafted in out of nowhere. It pierced through the smell of paper and wood and if you thought it was just someone passing by, it only seemed to get stronger. Your eyes flutter open when there was a soft sound of something being placed on your desk and you’re met with one of the disposable white cups from the office filled just shy of the brim with the steaming brown liquid.

“I uh…didn’t know how you take it so…I brought some milk and sugar as well”

Another series of soft sounds, this time as two small containers of milk and two packets of sugar were dropped alongside the cup, thudding quietly against the napkin.

You finally lifted your head towards the owner of the voice. Young, he couldn’t have been more than thirty years old, his face was soft with brown features, including his eyes which were gentle under his strong brow.

You must’ve been quiet for a moment longer than you thought because then he was speaking again.

“I’m Aaron…Aaron Hotchner? we met yesterday at the hotel when you flew in”

Your brows furrow a bit, your mind finally forcing its gears to whir back to life. You remember him yes, he was wearing that navy FBI jacket and faintly smelled of the same cologne he was wearing now.

Coffee. He had coffee in his hand when he had stepped forward to shake your hand, your half conscious mind barely registering his warm greeting over the smell of the beverage.

You open your mouth to speak.

I don’t like coffee

But at the sight of how his eyes lit up, even just so slightly at the fact that you’re speaking to him, you find the words quickly dying out on your tongue. The poor guy was just like you, the youngest and newest member of a team, in a position so serious that people your age take you too seriously and people older don’t take you seriously enough. The sight of you, as young an ambitious as he was, was probably the biggest breath of fresh air he’d had in a while.

So instead you just sighed, allowed your features to soften and a grateful smile to creep onto your lips.

“Thank you Aaron, I really needed this” you said, reaching for the steaming cup. You nimbly took the milks and the sugars, dumping the components in and stirring it until it was decently combined. The steam tickled your nose as you brought the cup up to your lips, taking a small sip and humming softly as the taste flooded your mouth.

It was bitter and you held back a small grimace as the aftertaste of it lingered heavily on your tongue, not much helped by the milk and sugar you’ve added.

You smiled softly again as you set the cup back down, seeing he was still idly standing just shy of your table, his own files clutched to his side and the same bright look on his face.

“So” You started, shifting a bit in your seat, freeing up a bit space between your chair and the one next to it. “Have you happened to look into the case? I was going to run it through with Gideon but, I figured a like mind might be more fun”

His smile widened at your subtle invitation and he let out a short breath as he stepped up to the chair beside you and sat down. “I was really hoping you’d ask that”

Your eyes followed him as he situated himself into his seat, opening his files alongside yours. And as the two of you lean over the files, surrounded by paper and ink, you don’t seem to mind the coffee breath anymore.

»»» ─── ⋆⋅ ⋅☆⋅ ⋅⋆ ── ・❥・

Quantico, VA 2010

Perhaps a late night at the Shamrock House wasn’t the best idea. You should’ve anticipated a three day weekend was too good to be true on this job.

You lean back from your laptop, your hands sliding under your glasses to rub at your tired eyes, the lingering alcohol weighing down on them. you keep them there for a moment, finding that the darkness and slight warmth of them over your eyes helped with the surfacing tension slowly growing in the back of your head.

And then

Coffee

“Long night (Y/N)?”

You sigh softly and lower your hands from your face, allowing your glasses to fall back in place on your nose. You lean back in your chair, a small smile lightening your face as you greeted Aaron.

“Always a long night these days, handsome”

It earned you a low chuckle from him as he dropped the milk and the sugar packets down next to your cup. Two of each just like always.

“Well I hope you wouldn’t mind if I made tonight just a bit longer. If I’m not mistaken you owe Jack your lasagna and a bedtime story”

You smiled again, fondly as you tilted your head back to look up at where he was standing behind your chair.

“Sometimes I wonder if I owe Jack or you my lasagna and a bedtime story” you teased.

At this he smiled one of his smiles again, the tender ones where you would catch yourself focusing in on his dimples and the soft blush that would adorn his cheeks.

“So I’ll meet you out front at 7?” He asked.

You hummed. “I suppose you will”

He gave your shoulder as squeeze, his hand lingering on your back as he walked away, his fingers briefly sweeping along the back of your neck as he passed.

You let out a breath, waking your laptop back up when its screen started to go dim, and went back to reading, the coffee warm in your hand.

“Thought you didn’t like coffee” You heard Derek’s voice as he came into the office for the morning, his bag slung over his shoulder.

You shrugged.

“There’s some things to like about coffee”

Photo from Pinterest

Galaxy border: @cafekitsune

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #hotch x you #hotch x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #fluff #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female reader

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kerryweaverlesbian · 6 months ago

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Post-canon post-reunion post-reuinion-sex. Dean takes Cas out in the Impala for a drive for the first time since he got back a year after he was taken. Before Dean starts the engine he hesitates and gets a little shy and defensively says "don't laugh at me, okay? I need them." and he pulls a pair of plastic framed glasses out of his jacket front pocket and puts them on.

Cas does not stop staring at him, which Dean can only handle up to the first stop light. There's an heated blush on his face when he barks:

"Quit the surveillance Big Brother. Something wrong with my face?"

"You've aged."

"Jesus."

"It's a compliment. Your resourcefulness and resilience have allowed you to live past the time you were intended to by fate."

"You need to go back to charm school, Thermopolis. 'You've aged' is never a friggin compliment."

"It is. You've aged, and you're taking care of yourself."

There's a touch, light, to the side of Dean's face, tracing gently up under the gap of his glasses to caress his crows feet.

"Cas!" Dean complains, "I'm driving!" But he doesn't push his hand away.

"You're growing," Cas continues, sliding a long finger over Dean's eyebag, "You've lived." He taps the leg of Dean's glasses as he withdraws, adding, "You have defied God."

Dean tries very hard to follow the logic, feeling his face screw up as he does, but he's got nothing. "Huh?"

"Chuck's design for humans was faulty, amateur. There was much he did not account for. In creating the means to live, and live well, with the body you have been given, humanity has proven its superiority to God himself."

Dean scoffs, feeling a little shy again, "It's just glasses, Cas."

"The product of thousands of years of innovation. The work of thousands of people across millenia." Cas pauses for a moment, then asks, a touch breathless, "Can I tell you what I like to imagine?"

"Uh, sure?"

"I like to imagine, when I think of the work of other humans across all of time, that they were doing it all in service of you."

Considering this, Dean lets a Jeep turn onto the road in front of him. "Is it like a sex thing?"

"It's not a sex thing. It is the placement of my desire for you over the will of thousands. My love supercedes their true intentions, their ambitions, their circumstances. I am reappropriating their care to act as a vessel for the depth of my feelings for you."

"Hm. Sounds like a sex thing."

"It is not a sex thing."

"Okay, tell me this, then," Dean says, turning to face Cas at the next red light, "Do you or do you not want me to wear the glasses next time I suck you off?"

"...yes, I do want that."

"I rest my case. And hey - just a tip, from one flirt to another. Next time you want to bring up your hot librarian fantasy, or whatever, don't start by calling the other person old."

"It's not a librarian fantasy, it's a you fantasy."

"Yeah, yeah. Not like I haven't got you-fantasies of my own. How about this: I'll wear just the glasses if you wear just the trench coat."

"I think I could be persuaded," Cas says, and he's smiling, and Dean's smiling, and when he catches a glimpse of his own smile-lines in the rear-view mirror magnified through his glasses, he thinks maybe he gets it. They made it. They're alive. There's proof of it.

#deancas #destiel #to be clear I'm saying disability aides of all kinds are badass #and sexy #'in defiance of god (extremely positive)'#cawis creates

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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Hi lovely! I'd like to request poly!marauders where reader left something out in the rain (like a book or something) and goes to retrieve it but ends up staying out longer to enjoy the rain and when she comes back, it's been a couple of hours and the scold her for being out for so long without even a jacket just like "where have you been?? >:O". Maybe some added cuddles under the blankets at the end? 🫶🏻

Hi sweetheart, thanks for requesting <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 639 words

You decide to go inside when you can no longer keep your teeth from chattering.

“Hey,” you say as you open the door, spotting Sirius and James in the living room, “would one of you grab me a towel? I don’t want to get the floor wet.”

Sirius is lying back, twirling his wand between deft fingers, but it falters when he sees you. “Fuck, baby,” he says, looking from your dripping hair to your soaked shoes. “Where’ve you been? Did you run into a tsunami out there?”

“What?” you laugh. “I’ve been just outside.”

Both your boyfriends’ faces morph into expressions of bemusement, Sirius’ eyebrows coming down while James’ float up.

“Could I have a towel, please?” you ask again, and James hops up, hustling towards the bathroom.

Remus pokes his head out of the kitchen, eyes widening as he takes in your sopping state. “You’ve been outside the whole time?” he asks, incredulous. “Dove, we thought you left.”

You shrug as James comes back with the biggest towel you all have, wrapping it around your shoulders and scrubbing up and down your arms roughly. “I was enjoying the rain. I can do it, Jamie, thanks.”

James ignores you, continuing to towel you off as Sirius sits up on the couch. “You mean to tell me you’ve been outside in the rain for the last hour, and you weren’t even wearing a jacket?”

You’re beginning to get the sense you’re in some kind of trouble.

“Um,” you say hesitantly, “yes, but it wasn’t that bad. I came in when I got too cold.”

“Sweetheart, you’re shaking like one of those little dogs,” James worries, and you laugh, another shiver taking you.

“Merlin.” Sirius rolls his eyes, flicking his wand toward the fireplace to ignite it. “Come here, silly thing. We need to get you warmed up.”

“Good thing I’m making soup,” Remus says, disappearing back into the kitchen. “It’ll be done in just a minute.”

“Thanks, Rem,” you call after him as James shepherds you to the couch. You sit next to Sirius, and James covers the two of you with another blanket on top of your towel.

Sirius gathers you up against him, tensing. “Fuck, you’re freezing,” he complains, but instead of pulling away, he tucks you in closer, arms warm where they wrap around your back and across your chest. “What the hell is wrong with you, staying out in that for so long?”

“I don’t get why you’re so upset,” you hum, resting your head against his collar. “I was just relaxing.”

“It’s so cold out, angel, I don’t know how you could stand it.” James gathers the wet hair off your neck, tying it in a sloppy knot above your head. “You could’ve gotten hypothermia or something.”

You roll your eyes at their fretting. “Well luckily for us all, I didn’t.”

“You could have,” Remus insists, balancing your four bowls like a trained server as he comes into the living room. He passes two to James and Sirius first, then sets down the others to press both his palms to your cheeks. “Merlin, you are cold.” He plants a firm kiss between your brows, setting your bowl in your lap. “Eat that, and I’ll make us some cocoa after.”

“Thanks, Moons,” James says, sidling up to you so that you’re sandwiched between him and Sirius, the both of them sharing their warmth with you beneath the blanket.

“If I say I nearly died from the cold,” you venture, “could I choose what we watch tonight?”

Sirius scoffs. “Yeah, right. There’ll be no rewards for dangerous behavior, babe. You might’ve gotten to choose before, but not now.”

You wonder whether the warm hand he’s stroking up and down your thigh underneath the blanket might be considered a reward, but you decide not to say anything.

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likearhinestonecowgirl · 1 year ago

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Jason Todd Headcanons

Jason who will move you- whether it be placing a big hand on the small of your back to usher you through a busy crowd, or you're in his way, maybe in the kitchen rambling about something you saw on the news. He will wordlessly pick you up, tired and lethargic with bruised knuckles from the night before, and sit you on the counter. He mumbles something, makes a grunt to let you know to keep talking while one hand smooths up and down the inside of your thigh and the other opens the drawer you were blocking.

Jason who is obviously a theater kid- but if this is living with Bruce, moonlighting as Robin Jason, he'd be discrete. He'd say he needs the class as his obligatory elective and didn't take pottery because he doesn't like getting his hands dirty (lie). He'd sit near the back of the theater, but he'd listen intently, and every poetry assignment he'd turn in would be a work of fucking god. Every project, the teacher would ask him to perform instead of doing the alternative (some paper or poem) and maybe, just maybe, he'll say yes if he's comfortable enough.

Jason who hides food around his apartment and safehouses. Non-perishable, like trail mix, granola bars, little ziplocks of cereal. Dick had cut that habit, made Jason comfortable enough to understand he'll never have to worry, he'll never have to fend for himself by himself. Rising from the lazarus pit as an animated corpse turned everything on its head. The neurotic habits came back. If you're close enough, if he spends enough time at your place, it's likely you'll eventually find a baggie of chex mix sitting on top of your fridge.

Jason who is a barb. I'm not explaining this one, he just is. An honorary member of gag city 🫡

Jason who always has a pack of Marlboro menthols on him. Alternatively, when his lungs are feeling extra gross and he decides he wants to quit, he'll start on zyns again (cool mint ofc). There's usually a zyn tower on his bedside table, teetering right beside the glock 47 he most definitely should put in his gun safe but never will, no matter how many times you tell him

"Jason, what if someone comes in and grabs it?"

"No one-"

"What if it falls and goes off?"

"That won't happen."

Before you can get another word his, large hands turn you to face him, practically suffocated you against his chest, one hand on the back of your head while the other dips low and follows the curve of your spine.

"No one in the world is safer than you right now."

Jason who is extremely invested in TLC (specifically 1,000 pound sisters) and never wastes a chance to tell you how shocked and proud he is of Tammy for finally losing weight- even if she's still a bitch

Jason who loves to buy you things. Usually not too crazy, more like stupid little keychains and stuffed animals to build the militia in your room. But he thinks of you all the time and he can picture the look on your face when he comes back with another stupid surprise. Next thing he knows he's got a turtle or dragon or cat stuffed safely in the inside pocket of his jacket while he threatens a few men with his fists.

"They just gave it to me for free." He shrugs, holding a loving grin as he watches you beam over the fuzzy thing in your hands.

But when your face contorts in something accusatory, he holds his breath.

"What?"

"Were you wearing that?" You look over his costume, the Red Hood, the guns hardly concealed on his sides.

"Yea, why?"

"Dude, you robbed them."

Jason who loves to buy you things, who hardly goes out of his way to hide when he comes into some money (obviously by violent means- but who cares when he's gunning down men who sell drugs to kids. Minor casualty). He'd show up with a purse that's ten times your rent, a bracelet the blinds you when it's under direct light, a dress that he knows you have no place fancy enough to wear it to. If you start to ask questions, he'll distract by any means necessary, like standing behind you to slowly untie your sweatpants or unbutton your jeans, inch off your clothing and let his fingertips dip low so you can really feel the old callouses and scars he knows you love so much, before carefully dressing you in whatever nice thing he'd bought.

******i hardly proofread this sos sorry for the typos if they're there lol lmk if i should make more

#jason todd red hood #jason todd #red hood #batman #batfam #dc comics #dc universe #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanon #headcanon #headcanons #dc headcanon

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lay-z · 2 months ago

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🕊 Day 10 – Santa Soap and his most dangerous mission

A continuation to 🌨 Day 2 – Quaint, which means it’s set in the same universe!

Synopsis: At the annual Christmas party on base, you’re torn between making a quick escape and holding out to get a glimpse of someone special.

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: No smut. | military!Reader; cussing; nicotine addiction; friendship; mutual pining; medical inaccuracies; humour; fluff; friends/teammates to lovers

Word count: 2.5k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

You’ve made the internal decision that you’ll clock the next bloody bastard who dares to approach you only to comment on your appearance tonight. The fact that you’re wearing a dress and heels and some makeup for a rare change, has definitely gained too much attention from the wrong crowd.

Standing in a corner of the adapted and decorated event location, close to the ceiling-to-floor windows that lead to the equally decorated large balcony, you pick at the sleeve of your dress with one hand while holding an empty wine glass in the other, feeling yourself getting terribly antsy as the night progresses.

Hell, it has already slipped your mind at this point in the evening, why you even decided to get all dolled up. You hate the attention from male soldiers here on base, especially superiors who might take it the wrong way, though you could care less about the rookies. You stand above their opinions and the rumours about you.

You’re at a point where you’d kill for a ciggy right about now, but you’re trying to quit the dirty habit to start the New Year a better person than last. So, cold turkey, because you’re that determined and petty to quit after both Gaz and Soap taunted you about never being able to do it. On top of that, more alcohol is also not an option, because it would only worsen the need for a beloved cancer stick.

Glancing at the watch on the wall, you see that it’s been barely an hour since you showed up here, and you’re already mentally debating if it’s appropriate to make an early escape back to your quarters. Perhaps you can dodge Captain Price on your way out, the man who’d secretly ordered you to socialize and mingle.

However, in the back of your mind, there’s also that nagging voice that keeps making your stomach twist and knot with questionable words and thoughts, and desires, about your Lieutenant.

You haven’t seen him yet… and most importantly, he hasn’t seen you!

No, you didn’t dress up for Ghost, of course not. That would be so silly and frankly, also pathetic.

“Oh, look at ye!”

Once Soap’s voice reaches your ears over the noise of the surrounding crowd, you fear your eyes might roll back so far into your skull that they might get stuck this time.

You cross your arms over your chest awkwardly, still holding the empty wine glass, “Will you leave me alone already? No, I don’t wanna kiss under your fucking mistletoe and I’m not gonna call you ‘Santa Soap’, either.”

Gaz practically spawns next to Soap, wearing a matching Santa hat like the goofy Scotsman, a drink in his hand, pearly whites gleaming in the dim light as he grins mischievously, “Now, why would you be such a grump on this fine evening, Sergeant? Our Santa here’s simply trying his best to spread the Christmas spirit.”

Meanwhile, Soap nods enthusiastically while fetching another mistletoe from the inside pocket of his dark grey lumber jacket, just like the one you’d previously thrown away when he tried to make you kiss him earlier.

“Did you seriously bring more than one?”

Soap nods innocently, bright blue eyes shining with mirth and liquor, “Aye, ‘course. Cannae show up unprepared, my wee she-elf.”

Gaz snorts, “Always pack enough ammo.” He nods approvingly and takes a sip of his drink.

You roll your eyes again, “Ugh, shut up you two.”

“Aw, are we a bit narky, eh? Need a ciggy that bad already, lassie?” Soap coos tauntingly, grinning boyishly when you scoff and turn your back to them dismissively, a clear pout on your red-painted lips.

“I think she’s just vexed, because our Lt. didn’t show up yet.” Gaz mumbles into his glass, peeking over the rim as he gauges your reaction.

That makes your breath falter momentarily, because have you been that obvious lately?

After you spent that night on guard duty with Ghost a few weeks ago, you felt like you’d made progress with him. He’d opened up a bit about his childhood and past, though he always kept things sort of vague, and in return, you were soaking up each tiny bit of intel you could gather about him, eager to solve the puzzle – or get a glance of the display picture of the puzzles' carton, at least.

The mystery about him didn’t stop your rapidly cementing crush on him, either. And it’s an odd feeling, falling in love, after so many years of successfully throwing yourself into your career instead of focusing on a possible romantic relationship.

Who knew you’d find the latter at your bloody job of all places.

You look down into your wine glass, swirling the last ruby droplet around as you bite your tongue, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Here you are, thinking you were being sneaky with your growing – and much forbidden – infatuation with your superior.

Soap nudges Gaz’ side while you’re not looking, shaking his head at his friend and teammate with his thick brows furrowed chidingly, making Gaz shrug in return, his expression apologetic before he lifts his drink up to his lips again.

“Think I saw him head out on the balcony, lassie,” Soap remarks, his voice surprisingly serious and soft for a change, “If ye’re stealthy enough ye might catch him.”

“We both know that’d be impossible, Johnny,” you retort languidly as you lift up the wine glass to slurp up the tiny droplet, “No one can sneak up on Simon. Plus, he’s not here, so stop lying.”

“Simon?!” The men bark in unison, eyebrows shooting up as if you’d just insulted their mothers.

“Oooh, since when are you two on first name basis?” Gaz inquires curiously, his warm brown eyes getting that familiar spark whenever he smells potential new gossip – gossip you won’t provide this time.

“We’re not,” you lie, smacking your lips as you crave another drink – and a cigarette along with it, “– and if we were, I wouldn’t tell you, Garrick.”

Soap snickers, stepping around you and giving your shoulders a few squeezes. He rubs them obnoxiously until you shrug him off with an annoyed click of your tongue and a glare over your shoulder.

“Could you stop? You’re so annoying.”

Gaz laughs as he watches you and Soap act like cat and dog, his eyebrow quirking with a knowing smile when Soap pries the wine glass out of your hand next, giving your back a soft shove towards the balcony doors.

“Yeah, yeah, and I’ll keep bein’ annoyin’, so ye better take a breather now, sweetheart.”

“Muppets,” you mutter under your breath, getting more agitated by their behaviour, “Both of you!”

Gaz lifts his hands in surrender, chuckling as he takes a side step to let you walk past while you keep mumbling to yourself under your breath.

“Risky,” Gaz remarks, flashing a grin at Soap once you’re out of ear shot, “This might be your best work so far… or a guaranteed arse kicking, MacTavish. You don’t think she’ll notice?”

“Nah,” Soap sighs dreamily, looking in the direction you left in before he perks up again, “Let’s get another drink, eh?”

As you step outside onto the balcony, you take a swift glance around before you immediately regret not bringing your jacket as the icy winds swirl about.

Hugging your arms around yourself, you take a few sauntering steps farther out on the spacious balcony, admiring the fairy lights wrapped around the long railing and the clear night sky as you tip your head back to look at the moon and stars.

It’s still a wonder to you, how unique the sky looks in different countries; have you spent some of your time on deployments simply stargazing whenever you found yourself on guard duty and whenever you felt safe enough to do so.

And suddenly, as the noises from inside, all the chatter and boisterous laughter and music, are simply muffled into the background, you feel utterly lonely and… strangely defeated.

“What the hell am I even doing here?” You groan quietly and sigh deeply, warm breath puffing and fogging up in the cold.

“That’s what ‘m askin’ myself.”

Nearly jumping out of your skin with a gasp, you almost turn your ankle in your pumps as you flinch away from the dark corner to your right.

You can only see the flickering flame of a lighter first, followd by the amber glow of a cigarette tip, blue smoke curling in the darkness and evaporating into nothingness, before the behemoth of a man steps out of the shadows towards you, like the grim reaper himself, living up to his name as Ghost.

“Fucking hell, Simon,” you chide, still breathing heavily as you clutch your rapidly beating heart, though now it’s beating for a whole different reason, “You need to stop scaring people like that!”

“Not my problem you’re jumpy like a little bunny.” He retorts gruffly, though you can clearly hear the smile in his voice before you can see it.

His simple, black balaclava is rucked up over his nose again as he takes another lazy drag of his cigarette while his dark eyes give you an agonizingly slow once over, one that has your heart flutter and your cheeks burn. He keeps the smoke in his lungs as he speaks, “You look nice. Different.” He exhales.

Needless to say, you don’t clock him for that.

“Different,” you repeat under your breath as you look at him; drinking in the exposed, pale skin of his neck, his cheeks, his mouth, as always. You notice that he shaved. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that clings to his muscular thighs nicely, a dark hoodie and black leather jacket along with boots.

He looks nice. Hot, actually. God... he’s so hot...

“Aye, different as in nice. Want me to tell ya that you’re beautiful?” He asks bluntly, taking another drag, “Would feel wrong to tell ya that now, lass. You were already beautiful without all –“ He makes a vague gesture to your face and dress, “– ‘o that.”

“Okay, thanks.” You squeak; your throat now terribly dry. There is nothing you would love more than snatch the cigarette from his thick fingers to take a greedy drag and calm your jangled nerves.

“Mhmm,” he hums, then and doesn’t stop staring; his onyx eyes flickering over your form as if he’s assessing you.

“Why are you out here anyway?” He makes another gesture at your outfit, “Dressed like that. It’s too cold, ya dafty.”

You could ask him the same, but you feel like you know the answer to that. He hates crowds and avoids social gatherings if he can help it, but Price has ordered him to attend just like he did you.

“I just... needed some air,” you shrug and Ghost nods as he fetches a pack of smokes from his chest pocket, flicking the lid open with his thumb before holding it out to you.

Your fingers twitch against your arms, nails clawing into the fabric of your dress while your nostrils flare as you get a whiff of sweet, sweet tobacco. But then, the nagging voices of Gaz and Soap echo in your mind, and if they would catch you smoking out here, you’d never hear the end of it – and frankly, that’s not worth your nerves.

“Can’t,” you croak out, refusing reluctantly. Your eyes flit from his offer up to his eyes while he raises an eyebrow under his mask questioningly, “I quit.”

Ghost snorts, flicking the lid closed again, “Why?” The small pack disappears back into his pocket.

“Someone told me it’s unhealthy,” you jest with a small shrug, hugging your arms tighter around yourself as the cold starts seeping into your bones.

“Hmpf,” he hums again and pauses before he takes another slow drag, “What an arsehole.” He exhales through his nose, smoke curling into the air as he smiles bemusedly.

And then, there is a tense pause as you watch how the golden glow of the surrounding fairy lights reflect in his dark brown eyes, adding a sudden soft warmth to his lingering gaze.

“Can you blow some smoke in my face?” You ask, biting your inner cheek before adding, “I read that’s what pregnant ladies do when they struggle to quit smoking at once.”

“Bollocks.” He barks out a laugh, flashing his slightly crooked teeth you’ve come to adore so much. Teeth who’ve been broken violently and been fixed too many times.

“It’s true!” You whine playfully, chuckling along with him, and then he gives you an odd look, his lips tighten into a line before he speaks, “Close yer eyes.”

Your stomach does a flip at his soft-spoken command, your heart flutters violently as he takes a step closer, taking a long drag. And then, you do as he says and close your eyes, tilting your head back expectantly.

A few seconds later, the warm caress of his breath and thick cigarette smoke brush over your cold skin, making your skin pebble underneath your dress. You inhale greedily, lips parting slightly as you try to catch the taste of it discreetly.

“More?” He rasps and you nod slowly, keeping your eyes closed, “Yes, please.” You utter softly.

Another few seconds later, you hear the crunch of boots on concrete, and then you suddenly feel the tentative press of chapped lips on yours.

Your eyes squeeze together, and you nearly pull back in shock, but his hand is already cupping the back of your head gently, his other warm mammoth hand resting on your waist; his body heat seeping through your dress as he closes the distance between your bodies. The fabric of his balaclava brushes against your face as your noses nudge together before makes you tilt your head.

He kisses you slowly, somewhat clumsily, as if he’s calculating and overthinking each move of his lips, but by God, it’s good. So good, and so much better than you always imagined, because it’s real.

Your hands slip to the front of his broad, buff chest, fingers clutching his open leather jacket and holding on for dear life as your brain starts to shut off. The tip of his tongue brushes against the seam of your mouth and your lips part wider on instinct. His tongue dives in, seeking and rolling against yours almost timidly, and you can taste the nicotine, the whiskey, and the remnant minty taste of his toothpaste.

When a soft moan is torn from your throat, his hand squeezes your hip and his fingers brush through your hair before he grips the nape of your neck, holding you in place when he pulls back, breaking the first kiss you shared.

Your breaths mingle, hot and panting, as you gaze at each other with half-lidded eyes. His heart is thudding harshly against his chest, feeling it clearly beneath your palm, though it matches your own rapid heartbeat.

“...’m sorry, bunny,” Ghost says eventually, his voice rough and husky, his lips still brushing yours as he speaks, “I just... couldn’t keep ignoring that bloody mistletoe.”

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #soap #tf 141 #john mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #cod:mw #reader insert #cod advent calendar 2024

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