hello everyone, welcome to my blog. my name is anais, i’m east asian, and 18 years of age. i have been in the formula 1 fandom for around two years now, but i'm still learning all the tidbits and facts behind the sport! my favorite drivers are yuki and alex. i love music (even though some of my friends say my music taste is basic) and reading. i've always wanted to write for a fandom and never had the guts to, but i've decided to give it a shot on this blog. feel free to leave a message or like! :)
📣: requests are closed, sorry! just started my new job and im swamped with work :/
my works:
im boredddddddd (new ✨)
ka12
pool maintenance 💦 (new✨)
cl16
bite me!🩸 (new✨)
ka12
under 2k word count masterlist
shapeshifter!reader au blurbs
2023/2024 grid
shapeshifter!reader series: a spinoff - (on hold ⏸️)
when the clock strikes 12’
yt22
money, money, money
- birthday celebration?
- suikerbrood
mv1/33
i promise
dr3
👻anais' halloween blurbos 👻
yt22, op81, zg24, pg10, gr63, cs55
come over, baby!
- headcannons - pt. 1 - pt. 2
op81
lovers in every timeline
cs55
kimi x tiger shapeshifter! reader masterlist
ka12
friendly neighborhood boyfriend
eo31
i'm a feminist obviously (but i wouldn't mind him saving me)
ka12
strategy
ln4 *(18+)
amortentia
cl16
navigation support:
#📝- full length works
#anais talks🎙 - responses to any requests or questions from my inbox
#💬 - small blurbs based off of thoughts from you lovely people :)
request rules!
- when requesting, feel free to ramble and add any details you would love to see! i can't guarantee it makes it in the fic, but it does make it easier for me to hash out a story.
- i don't mind requests to write a fic in the same universe as one of my old fics i.e. shapeshifter!reader or rancher!oscar, etc. as long as you have an idea of a plot and not just "make a sequel of ____"
- i'll write for anything really but nothing too dark like noncon, incest, underage, etc.
- please understand if i don't end up writing your request, it's nothing against you i promise!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
BIRDS SING WHEN YOU POST. PLEASE BITE ME WAS THE BEST KIMI FIC IVE EVER READ, it’s the most acc depiction of him too omg the desperation was so hot akahsjssh❤️i need more
thank you anon 💋💋
i didnt know vamp!kimi would be received with this much love! i would love to write a some more in the future :)
bite me…… omg. the desperation and yearning ….. and the way you write kimi…….. ough too good. i love vampire kimi thank you for introducing me to him..
haha i tried my best to convey those emotions. thx for reading!
ur comments really fuel me and give me motivation to keep writing so thank you for that :)
kisses,
anais 💋💋
p.s. i'm open to seeing more vampire!kimi in the horizon if anyone has ideas 👀
Hey if you’re okay with writing ka12 smut i’d like to see what you think about how would Kimi look like when he’s submissive during sex. Like a kimi antonelli x fem reader smut where reader rides him (sorry if my mind’s horny af😭). You don’t have to immediately write it ofc i’d just like to see some sub!kimi stories since there’s barely if any at all. Thanks again and love your work! ❤️❤️❤️
hey anon!
thank you for your compliments <3
i have posted the fic here. hope you like it :)
non famous!kimi antonelli x twitch streamer!reader
w.c.: 1.4k
summary: kimi's bored = entitled to your attention ?
(mdni 18+) - pwp oneshot.... things get from 0-100 really quick but its all consensual, edging, teasing, p in v, kind of oral (m receiving) (?), someone tell me if i need to add anything else
a/n: anonymous request for sub!kimi - decided to make it streamer!au bc i just love writing aus what can i say
there's a sign that you hang on your door, in big and bold letters. streaming! it says, in flashing neon pink. don't come in please!
kimi's not dumb. he can obviously read it.
yet, halfway through your stream, your door creaks open, and a familiar figure slips in. he wears a baggy black hoodie emblazoned with your twitch logo, trying to blend himself in the darkness of the room. it's big enough that the hood of the sweatshirt falls over the top of his face, only showing a mischievous smile, sharp canines framing the corners of his lips.
by the time you look back at your chat, it's going faster than your eyes can follow.
21:36 baconator556: is anyone's screen glitching why'd she pause
21:36 ronaldmcdonald'sleftthumb: what are you looking at?
21:37 g_retep: who's behind the cameraaaaaaa
"what are you talking about, chat?" you laugh, nervously scratching the back of your neck. "you guys are tweaking."
behind your set up, kimi giggles, deeply impressed by his success with breaching the door.
you thank god for the shitty microphone with terrible noise sensitivity that you hadn't gotten a chance to replace yet.
"anyways, chat, let's get down to business here," you say, as your sim sets her kitchen on fire. "we are here to game, and game we shall."
kimi eventually makes his way to the temporary bed that was set up in the corner of the room, a rickety double that was on the verge of collapsing.
it was set up simply for naps in between streams, or time you spent doomscrolling in between editing your content.
still, he dives headfirst into the giant pile of comforters and blankets—no pillows—on the bed, not even cringing at the loud creak that the springs give. he carefully arranges the bedcover around him, an eyesore that read "freak in the sheets," along with an image of a google sheets document, a joke that kimi thought was so funny that he just had to purchase off a sketchy website for twelve dollars.
he looks like a little babushka, if you took away the image on the bedcover that displayed a warped 'freak' which flattens the curls atop his head.
emboldened by your position at the monitor meaning that you unable to chastise him, he sticks sticks out his tongue, teasing.
that little twat, you tell yourself, mentally blocking out his figure. trying to distract me.
kimi pulls out his phone a few minutes after sitting in his freak-in-the-sheets-burrito.
you think kimi doing what he should be—distracting himself with his phone while you stream, watching racing replays over and over in man-made mountain—but instead, a text pops up on the right side of your screen.
im boreddddddd... want u xx
you choke on your spit. thank god you made notifications only visible in your screen, away from your fans' prying eyes.
"one second chat," you say tentatively. "i just got an—email. yes, an email from work, give me one second."
your fingers fly over the keyboard.
kimi i swer to god ifv you dont behavw RIGJT NOW
you back up your message by giving kimi a pointed glare from your desk.
he responds with a stupid grin.
kimi gives you approximately ten minutes of peace before he keels sideways on the bed in his blanket bundle, a sideways matryoshka nesting doll.
the bed gives an audible groan of rusty springs and unstable wood.
then, to your horror, he starts making these whiny groans that echo off the walls.
22:03 ceoofsecks: WHAT was that.
"HOLY fuck," you say, immediately on damage control. "i totally forgot my wicked whims add-on was installed guys. that was so weird. let me try and turn it off."
smiling to the camera and clicking exaggeratedly, you feel around on your desk with your other hand before throwing a box of tissues at kimi's head.
to your satisfaction, it nails him right in the head, bringing the noises to a stop.
your eyes almost bug out of your head a few minutes later.
kimi has turned into a bump on your bed, cosplaying as a (mostly) stationary hill.
however, there's a mistakable squelching that fills the air, an unholy schleck, schleck of wetness on skin.
the blankets are hardly enough to muffle his moans.
22:07 twizzlerizzler: GIRL WHAT
22:08 nuttinbutt295: is someone underneath your desk or something cause what is that sound
"what the hell—NOBODY is underneath my desk," you say, frantic, scrambling to press your mute button. "mods, ban that guy!"
you were definitely going to get a tos violation for this.
in a last, distraught attempt, you surge forward, you grabbing ahold of your pc power cord and looping it around your fist.
"sorry guys, ending stream early!" you ramble.
you yank the cord as hard as you can, cutting the screen to black.
kimi squeaks in surprise when you peel the covers back.
he lies there, panting, cheeks a blushy red from exertion and the lack of oxygen underneath the mountain of blankets.
his pants are carelessly tangled around his thighs while his black hoodie is pulled up over his pecs, showcasing the muscular plane of his chest. kimi's dick twitches, heavy and leaking against his abs.
"tesoro mia," he says, beginning to sit up with a satisfied smile on his face. he reaches at you with slick hands, desperate for the touch and embrace he craves.
to his astonishment, you shove him backwards with all your strength.
"shut up," you snarl, words sharp enough to spear a realization in kimi's heart. his teasing has consequences. "you're bored, huh? i'll give you something to do. hands to the side."
although he looks shocked, he obediently sets his arms down, hands tentatively palming the sheets. in a last-effort attempt, he looks up at you with sad puppy eyes, begging you to touch him, but you aren't falling for his tricks.
instead, you reach down and deliver feather-light touches to his underside of his dick, finding it humorous as he screws up his face, hips pistoning up and hands gripping at the sheets, knuckles white, trying to follow your instructions.
"you wanted this, didn't you?" you drawl out, tracing a vein on his cock. it throbs, almost painfully, under your touch. "out here moaning in front of my fans, competing for my attention. what do you do now you have it, mm?"
"i— ngh, i—" he begins, moist eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks.
and, just because he made things extra hard for you, you decide to repay the favor by licking a long stripe on the side of his dick. he tastes salty in your mouth, but the way he pants at you, wide eyed, trying so hard not to place his hands on your body, he looks oh-so-sweet.
when you get bored of teasing his cock, you change it up by sitting on it. there's enough pre-cum for you to slide down easily, down to the base.
it feels heavenly, the stretch, the fullness, the weight of him in you, slotting together like pieces in a puzzle.
kimi's mouth opens immediately, keening with punched-out gasps as your pussy gobbles down every last inch of him.
your brow wrinkles.
"what'd i say, kimi?" you huff out. "i thought i told you to be quiet!"
pausing from fucking yourself down on his cock, you reach up to pull the front of the hoodie up into his mouth for him to bite on—to muffle his pathetic cries.
kimi's close; you can tell from the way the muscles in his stomach jump when you run your hands over them. they're painfully flexed underneath your fingertips, just like his biceps, almost shaking with effort to hold back, to wait.
you almost want to give in at the sight of kimi laying there in the swirled cocoon of sheets. his chest jerks up when he hiccups, but the sound is muffled by the fabric in his mouth.
he's doing so good, heeding everything you ask him to do.
but no, you tell yourself, this was caused by his own doing.
you make him cum like this, hot and deep right inside of you with the pace you set, then ride him to overstimulation as you chase your own high.
kimi looks boneless, absolutely fucked out on the freak-in-the-sheets bedcovers. he stirs slightly when you flop towards him to give him a kiss on the cheek.
"ya still bored?" you tease, lips brushing down to the column of his throat, where his whale-tail necklace sits.
he giggles lazily, hand curving around the base of your neck. below, his dick wavers.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
summary: a new bombshell has entered the villa. a new pool boy arrives at your father's estate.
(mdni 18+) - kind of an asshole!reader, but also mean!charles, brat taming, p in v, belly bulge, unintended voyeurism (?)
a/n: a little treat for charles' first win since 2024 :)
“whatever,” you scoff. “it’s not my fault he was moaning so damn loud. no wonder the neighbors put in that complaint to father.”
your friend laughs through the speakers of your phone, lightly rattling the device against the pool deck chair as you lather another generous helping of sunblock onto your skin.
“whoever heard it probably thought you were filming some type of kinky porno in your backyard.”
“hmph, i have pretty good idea who it is. he probably enjoyed that shit before he had to go and ruin it all by calling it in.”
you stood by what you said. your nosy neighbor, mr. christian horner, was always a little creep. he probably watched the entire thing unfold, from you seducing then sucking off the pool maintenance boy, all the way from his third floor balcony with binoculars before calling your father to tattle-tell.
“figures. how’d you deal with the aftermath though? my dad would’ve cut my allowance for an entire week.”
“i didn’t.”
you pause dramatically to let the suspense brew, taking the time to sip some of the freshly-squeezed lemonade on the glass table next to you.
“father just threw a few hundo bills at the pool maintenance company to keep quiet and had me write a pitiful little sorry letter to mr. “horny” next door and that was that.”
she whistles.
“wow. you’re like … what’s her face? that little girl from charlie and the chocolate factory with the obsession with squirrels and, like, fucking nuts or something.”
“veruca salt?” you offer, biting back your giggle.
“yeah, yeah, veruca! imagine having that kind of influence on your parents — like a spoiled little brat.”
you gasp dramatically, throwing your half-capped sunscreen onto the recliner next to you, instead opting to occupy your hands with grasping your phone to your mouth.
“you did not just call me a spoiled brat.”
“well…” your friend stretches out, voice teasing. “you got the poor pool maintenance guy fired after sucking him off in plain sight, and then proceeded to get away scot-free from your father. that’s kind of pampered behavior.”
“for your information,” you snip back, “not only were we on own private property, mr. horny was literally peeping, and on top of that, carl or carlin or whatever his name was doing kind of lousy work at pool cleaning anyways. he always left a leaf or two floating on the water. i should've gave him one star on the app for not doing his job.”
“-maybe because you were busy sucking his dick,” she mutters under her breath.
“HEY, i heard that!”
your friend giggles on the line. she somehow always knew the best ways to annoy you.
but then again, she also knew the juiciest questions to ask.
“mhm. sure. so…who’s the new guy that they are going to send in placement? is he cute?”
“oh girl,” you say, propping your sunglasses up on your head and adjusting your skimpiest bikini. “i can’t wait to find out.”
ferrari pool maintenance prided themselves at being fast and efficient at the jobs. that’s why your father hired them after all, to take care of the infinity pool, indoor pool, and saltwater pool, along with the jacuzzi situated on the other side of the property. they dealt with cleaning, chlorinating, and testing the water — awfully boring stuff.
however, you discovered early on that their company had another appeal — their pool boys. dressed in their company red with hair like it was from a l’oreal ad, it didn't make sense why they were in your backyard, strutting around the perimeter of your pool scooping leaves instead of strutting down a runway. did they have some type of modeling clause in their job contract?
whatever it was, you were never one to lose an opportunity when it was right in front of you. especially in the form of a fit red figure approaching your pool chair.
“hello,” the new guy says, french accent molding it to an "allo". he towers over you with a huge pool skim net in one hand and a length of tubes in another. “i’m charles, your new pool maintenance technician.”
he flashes a smile at you after his sentence, dimples dotting his shaded cheeks. his hair ruffles stylishly in the wind.
holyfuckhewasgorgeous.
your friend, sensing a new voice, blurts out.
“WAIT SEND A PICTURE I WANT TO SEE—”
you don’t hesitate to jam your thumb towards the general direction of the red button on your phone while maintaining eye contact with the pool boy.
“charles," you say, testing out the word on your tongue.
mm. this will do.
you're three licks into your strawberry popsicle, tongue suggestively swiping over the tip, when charles speaks up from the end of the pool, mid-leaf-sweep.
"i know what are you doing, you know."
"yeah," you shoot back, cupping a hand over your eyes to see him better, "and what is that?"
annoyingly, he just laughs, shoulders shaking under his obscenely tight red shirt.
"it's a real pathetic attempt at seducing me," he snorts.
to add insult to injury, he continues scooping the sad, wet leaves from the bottom of the pool without sparing you even a glance.
your brows wrinkle.
you? pathetic? seducing?
your shock and confusion only lasts a second before you automatically smooth out your features. all of the money that you spent on face masks and anti-wrinkle cream using your father's black card shouldn't go to waste.
sitting up, you draw in a deep breath.
deny, deny, deny.
"i'm not seducing you," you huff. "jeez, can't a girl can't eat a popsicle these days without being accused? besides, i'm not into guys who scoop dead leaves out of people's pools."
charles dumps a dripping net full of pool skimmings into a neat black trash bag.
"mhm. sure. tell that to my good friend carlos sainz. you might know him. choked on his dick a few weeks back?"
ah, so that was his name—carlos.
"i-" you sputter out, mind racing for an excuse. there was no point in hiding it anymore. you decide to go for the angle where you laid everything out there.
"well, part of your job is to keep your clients happy, which—"
"which involves sweeping leaves and dumping the right chemicals in your pool and usually does not include having any genitalia in anyone's mouth." he says, tone disapproving.
yet, you can see it in his eyes when he turns back towards you. it traces down your scantily dressed body.
you smile when the tip of his tongue, pink and wet, inadvertently peeks out to lick his lips in salivation.
"usually?" you echo.
charles slams you roughly back against the canvas of the pool deck chair, with absolutely no consideration of the fact that each one was artisanally crafted.
it creaks concerningly.
"hey!" you cry out on instinct, "my father imported these from italy! they're fucking expen—"
your words die off in your throat as he climbs up onto the recliner to hover over your body, knees bracketing around your sides firmly. his green eyes bare into yours, demanding, in the type of way that makes you feel immobile, predator on prey.
"ask me if i care," he spits.
there's a small part of you that jerks back in offense. a pool boy? talking to you in this way? yet, under charles' gaze, the rest of your body gives. instead of biting back with a response, you let out a noise of indignation and lay back, pliant.
charles scoffs, face so angelic but his words so sharp: "that's what i thought."
under your watchful gaze, he lifts one of his hands to cup your jawline firmly, and capturing your lips with his.
charles tastes like summer; all citrusy and minty. you wonder what you taste like to him. strawberries and lipgloss, perhaps.
he only pulls away when he gets his fill, a fact evident from the trail of spit connecting the both of you. it's wiped away by a flippant swipe with the back of his hand.
"so fucking easy for it, aren't you?" he hums, the same hand beginning to trail down your body. it leaves goosebumps in its wake as it skims over the swell of your breasts and the plane of your stomach.
his hand stills when it reaches your navel, finger toying at the little coquette bow that adorns the seam stitching of your bikini bottoms.
toying—playing with his food.
"say it," charles teases, breath hot against your pebbled skin, "how easy you are, that even a pool boy can get you this way."
humiliation settles in your bones, but you realize the truth in his words. how pathetic you were, splayed open and vulnerable. the flare of anger that typically would have engulfed you lights a flash of heat in the depths of your core.
"no, i- " you grit out, but it comes out more hesitant than defiant.
charles can see right through you.
he raises a brow, prompting.
"i'm- i'm so—" you swallow. "i'm easy for you, charlie."
getting what he wanted, a corner of charles' mouth quirks into a dimpled smirk. his fingers switch to a hook that catches atop the lining.
then, he yanks.
your bikini set lies in a crumpled heap next to the canvas deck chair, torn off and discarded by charles. his khakis crown the pile.
"yes, yes, yes," you whine, breaths rapid as he pistons his dick into you, "i want—"
"i want," he snips. i bet you get everything you want, you spoiled little thing. and still, you want more, no?"
he laughs cruelly, just to see you whimper underneath him.
"i want, i want, i want," he mocks, thrusting forward harder with each time.
the chair squeaks underneath the two of you, mixing with lewd squelches, charles' groans, and the gentle gurgling of the pool.
"charlie, hah, please,—"
you can feel him stretch you obscenely wide, cock bottoming out each time. you can't do anything but take these big gulping breaths, the kinds that people tell you to do when you are having a panic attack, squeeze your eyes shut, and dig your nails into the wood of the deck chair for purchase. a nagging pressure builds in your stomach.
you suddenly feel charles hand grasp your jaw, forcing your chin downwards.
"fuck, look, baby,"
your eyes jerk open from the unexpected pet name and the firm grip on your jaw, and you have to blink a few times to understand.
next to charles' bruising grip on your hip, you see the bulge of the tip dick through you, protruding each time he snaps his hips forward.
god.
wrenching a hand free from your steadfast iron grip on the chair, you reach toward your navel where the bulge is.
when you press down with the heel of your hand, you think you see stars.
after charles comes with a strangled, breathy "fuck" a few minutes after you, he's gentlemanly enough to drape a nearby pool towel over your body before starting to slide his khakis back on.
"bigger and better than carlos, eh?" he jokes, buttoning the front of this pants.
you just snort, baring him a straight answer.
your mind flits back to carlos, who you certainly felt was respectably big. although, it might have not been accurate since half of the time he was down your throat anyways.
whatever.
"it was good enough where i hope they don't fire you."
he nods, amused at the answer, before scurrying off to finish his job.
you bathe in the afterglow for a while after charles leaves.
it's what you deserve, after all that work.
tendrils of sunlight warm the slivers of your bare skin where the pool towel doesn't cover, sending you into a sleepy, hazy state. the leaves rustle gentle, a lulling melody in your ears.
you're about to be sent into dreamland with visions of ruffled brown hair, green eyes, and dimples, when your phone jerks you awake, buzzing incessantly.
lazily groping towards the general area, you feel for the vibrating electronic before raising it to your ear.
your friend, probably back to hear the tea.
"holy fuck girly," you start off, sighing in contentment. “no joke, that was genuinely the best fuck of my li—”
“hi darling,” you hear your father cut in instead, voice stern. “i just received a call from mr. horner. now what’s this i hear about the new pool boy charles?”
warnings (mdni 18+): humping, dub con-ish (?) in the beginning because he's lowk in a hunger frenzy but everything is still very much consensual dw, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap guys) graphic descriptions of blood
a/n: ok so what if vampires just get rlly feral and horny when they are starved what then. also im sorry this is lowk putting merc in such a bad light
a REQUEST by @alexisheresworld!! i hope i did your prompt justice :)
the call lights up your phone at the worst moment in the small, near-silent brunch cafe. your ringtone, a traitor to the peace, completely overtakes the shop's calm ambient music with its merry little jingles.
many of the shop's patrons shoot you a side-eye and the cashier, who was oh-so-sweet when delivering your flaky pastry, now delivers a firm glare at your direction.
way to go.
it was your first day in china, and you've already pissed off the locals and embarrassed yourself.
"er, hi?" you whisper into your phone, trying to cover the embarrassment by using a hand to shield your face.
"hello my dear," the voice on the other line responds, voice tight.
who the fuck is this? some creep? you say to yourself mentally. who starts a call with that?
you remove the phone from your ear to glance at the contact, before your heart drops.
toto wolff.
a brief realization settles in that you were talking to your boyfriend's employer, his boss, his team principal.
"—it's torger here, em, toto wolff," he is saying when you raise the phone back to your ear.
"right! toto hi, yes," you respond back, almost a little too quickly. "is everything alright?"
toto sighs, and you can just visualize him in his office, a hand clutching his forehead and the other throwing an imaginary headset in frustration.
"there's been a situation," he starts off before his voice drops an volume, "—with kimi. the, ah, food shipment was ordered late then delayed, so he wasn't able to eat."
your polite, cautionary tone with toto completely goes out the window.
"what..? how does that happen? he hasn't eaten since australia!"
you were never one to play with when it came to kimi's wellbeing. every feeding was planned out, on time, in order to prevent the vampire "hunger frenzy" that was well documented in the media. mercedes had paid a pretty penny in order for the blood dispensary to send discreet deliveries to satiate kimi's hunger.
this time, toto's tone sounds apologetic, almost.
"yes, i understand. we are hoping his previous feed can last until after the race today, but we are checking to see if any shipments can be expedited. for now, it seems like kimi has shut himself in his drivers' room."
we are checking...taking a page out of ferrari's book, huh?
"the race is starting in a five hours and we really need kimi... out in the garage by then. he's refused to talk to anyone and keeps asking for you. will you be able to get here—?"
toto didn't have a chance to finish his sentence before you snip back, angered at mercedes' incompetence.
"don't touch him before i get there. mercedes better fly the bags to shanghai, first class, priority shipping, whatever you need to do, now."
"kimi, open up please," you whisper through the crack of his drivers room door. "it's me."
a hiss sounds through the flimsy aluminium— a warning sound that would typically scare off anyone else.
however, ten months into your relationship, you were practically immune to his tactics—he was all bark and no bite—so you yank open the door anyways.
at once, familiar metallically sweet scent wraps around you, beckoning you forward naturally like a moth to a flame. it's the smell that naturally seeps from kimi, lulling you into a familiar sense of comfort.
the room is a mess. sergi's resistance bands were all over the floor, his mercedes team kits laid in crumpled heaps on the ground, and stack of unsigned fan cards sprawl everywhere, corners creased and bent. kimi curls up in the middle of it all, back heaving, gasping.
"-i need, i need," kimi repeats like a broken record.
fuck.
once you slam the door closed, you hurriedly drop down in a kneel by his side. kimi stirs at the sound of your knees thumping to the ground, letting out a weak whimper at your presence.
your fingers loop into his brown curls in order to raise his head towards you, allowing you to assess his features in a desperate attempt to see how far he is gone.
kimi's eyelids flutter open and closed, exposing wandering eyes and pupils blown so wide that you could barely see the whiskey brown of his irises.
when his hazy mind finally lets his eyes lock onto the sight of your face, his mouth immediately drops open, wet and pink, exposing his fully extended fangs.
it's like the sight of you unlocks something feral in him — something dark and untamed.
unstable hands scrabble frantically at you, yearning.
"kimi, i—"
what the fuck did toto expect you to do? you weren't a vampire expert. the majority of the knowledge you had came from google searches and vampire movies that kimi complained were inaccurate, and of course, from kimi himself. however, it didn’t take an expert to know that kimi was in no condition to head out the the garages.
wrenching yourself from kimi's grasp, you ransack his bags, looking for anything substantial. notebooks, his paddock pass, and racing gloves make their way from his shelves onto the floor, and yet you come up with nothing.
behind you, kimi stumbles up out of his curled-up state. he looks as desperate as you feel when his fingers wander towards you again— towards your body. you can feel the imprint of his muscled body press against you, firm but with no warmth. his mouth finds a home on pulse point.
as far gone as he looked, kimi had some type of semblance to restrain himself from breaking the skin. still, he did not restrain from clamping down hard enough to satiate his biting instincts and break the delicate vessels that lie underneath.
a strangled gasp leaves your mouth.
kimi must be able to feel it — the thing he hungers for, lusts for, all in one, close enough that he can almost taste it.
you try to fumble through his bag again to find any hidden compartments with an emergency blood supply while kimi's hands begin to wander up under your shirt, tracing. vessels, veins, arteries with names he doesn't bother learning.
it's only when kimi's hand start to dip under your belt when you realize his intention.
you stand up quick enough that you feel lightheaded and push him away with great difficulty than before.
"why don't you lay down on the couch," you suggest instead, breathless.
as much as you want to reciprocate, you restrain yourself. it's not him— the kimi you know. he's under some type of spell of hunger, yes, a hunger spell, that somehow makes him act like this. you just have to keep him at bay long enough for mercedes to come with the blood bags, and then he will be normal again, the sweet and kind kimi that just so happens to have a pair of fangs.
he whines like it's painful when you are severed from his touch, and you have to practically wrestle him into a lying position on long end of the the small l-shaped couch.
kimi settles for grasping ahold your arm, grip bruising, while you sit at the head of the sofa. it's subtle, but you can see the way he twitches, hips jerking up subtly.
fuck.
you're not sure how long you can hold this up for, seeing your boyfriend in this state.
fumbling for your phone, you dial toto.
one ring, two rings, three rings, go by.
"the person you are calling is unavailable. please try—"
sergi.
"you have reached—"
rosa.
"hi there! it's rosa venegas. i'm not available to take your—"
you grit your teeth.
bono.
"hello?"
"ohmygodbono," you exhale in one breath. "no one is answering my calls. is there an update on the delivery or...?"
his english accent peeks through as he speaks.
"everyone is trying to fix the issue. i heard it was on it's way, but i'm not sure the exact whereabouts of the shipment. i'm really sorry. is everything alright there with kimi? do i need to call anyone? the medics?"
you turn your head to look at kimi. his eyebrows are scrunched, almost in pain, and he mouths at the pulse on your wrist. when he looks up at you, his irises, edging out toward the sclera, are almost jet-black.
you're quick to voice your refusal to bono. the chance of this incidence spilling to the non-mercedes media would skyrocket, ultimately causing the ruination of kimi's career. they would chalk up his success to his supernatural abilities and call him a monster behind his back.
"i'll manage," you sigh.
bono sounds unsure but ultimately murmurs an agreement before hanging up.
kimi lasts all but ten minutes before he starts hyperventilating again, breaths heavy. your bare touch becomes insufficient; he needs more, craves more.
"mi bella, per fervore," he moans, voice all slurred. he resorts back to his native language, mind too hazy to translate.
your eyes rake over kimi's writhing body before flickering back to your phone where a google page is pulled up to a frantic search.
google spits out one singular match: here are results with the keywords "vampire", "hungry", "horny".
you pull up the anonymous post, last updated twelve years ago.
vampires in heat ??? the title reads. i read somewhere that apparently some vampires get frenzied, both in hunger and lust when they are starved long enough. is this real? can anybody confirm??
nuttinbutt295 replies: 100% real. i have a friend who is involved in that stuff and his boyfriend literally went ballistic after he missed his feeding time once. some omega in heat shit. crazy stuff. you didn't hear it from me though.
right.
you weren't sure how much you could trust a user named nuttinbutt295 from twelve years ago, but it was all the information you had. a confirmation of kimi's symptoms.
from the look of it, kimi was already too far gone. quote on quote ballistic. in heat.
with the promised delivery nowhere in sight, what else could you do but to quench kimi's thirst?
you both have done this before, but never in this state.
kimi's anguished pants become low guttural moans when you finally comply with what he's begging for.
your perfect pussy, enveloped around his needy cock.
it's slippery and wet in the place where you meet. kimi slides in like he belongs there, like he's meant to be there. it's how a plant reaches for a sun and a river reaches for the ocean— instinctual and natural.
kimi manhandles you with his muscular arms, moving you up and down his dick like it is nothing. gone is his weak, fatigued state. he moves with a sense of purpose now, tongue tucked in the corner of his mouth next to his fangs in the way he does when he's concentrated.
he somehow hits that spongey spot in you that makes your toes curl and eyes roll into the back of your head every time. you wonder if he uses his heightened senses to feel that rush of ecstasy in you.
all too aware of your position entrapped in the paper thin walls of kimi's driver room, you force yourself to bite your lip to constrain your moans, yet there's nothing you can do to quiet the lewd slaps of skin on skin that echo through the room.
"kimi— hah— fuck—"
a cry bubbles up in your throat, vulnerable and mortifying, causing you to muffle it by biting down on your bottom lip hard.
you realize your mistake the same time kimi smells it.
blood.
a scarlet rivulet drips from your mouth from the wound, tracing a trail down the swell of your bitten-raw lips.
kimi's head snaps from its home in the crook of your neck to face you, watching the rivulet like a child at a candy store. his breaths quicken, brain going into overdrive.
it's primal instinct, the way a wolf zeroes in on its prey, senses sharpening.
kimi's mouth chases yours, and you feel him ferally licking up the sweetness dripping from you. his hips lurch and thrusts become frantic.
a fountain of ichor, flowing just for him. so addictive and syrupy, ambrosia on earth.
"bite," you suddenly whisper into his mouth, voice thin and ragged.
kimi's rhythm falters minutely.
your voice raises a pitch higher, firm.
"bite me, kimi."
kimi can see it when you come on his cock, pushed over the edge by his bite, body shaking in his arms. he hears you too, ears ringing with your strangled gasp. best of all, he tastes it—the rush of adrenaline in your blood that he licks up from the wound on your neck as he chases his own high.
when he finally comes, seed pumping into your sopping pussy, his eyes glow black and his mind goes blank.
you both bathe in the calm afterglow, lazily redressed.
kimi laps like a puppy dog at your neck, catching the drizzles of thick blood.
he moans in contentment.
"that good, huh?" you giggle, running a hand through the sweaty curls that line the nape of his neck.
"mm, like morphine," he replies, tone light and hazy.
he reminds you of those videos online of the soup-shaped kittens, bellies full and satisfied.
a sudden sharp rap on the door the both of your attentions.
an employee with mercedes insignia plastered all over his shirt scoots in, a medical-grade bag filled with deep maroon liquid in his arms.
his face goes white when he sees the sight in front of him.
"the— the delivery for kimi..?" he stutters.
although you understand the poor employee has done no wrong, you can't help but to sneer at the sight of the overdue blood bag while kimi reattaches himself to your neck.
"tell toto that there's no need for that anymore," you instruct.
lando had taken you to many places over the course of your relationship — the crystal beaches of bali, cloud forests of costa rica, and snowy swiss alps, to name a few.
they were breathtaking of course, but you figure your favorite sight of all was something else entirely.
you run a hand through lando’s curls, and he has enough consciousness in his glazed-over eyes to strain upwards towards your touch despite his limbs being tied down spread eagle on the bed. a sheen of sweat dots his temples, making him looking like he just finished in singapore — if you ignored the fucked-out look on his face.
cute.
your fingers trail down towards his stomach, past his still-heaving chest, and swirls into the pool of his own spend from the last two times that you’ve jerked him off with your hands while he writhed with your name on his tongue.
“oh lando,” you say slowly, watching the glistening viscous liquid streaked against the swells of his abs, and it sparks something feral inside of you. “i think you can do one more for me, mmh?”
and just because you can, you reach over to teasingly rub over his flushing tip.
the reaction is immediate. lando lets out a ragged, keening moan, and his cock, despite being soft against the freckled plane of his abdomen just minutes ago, twitches and starts to become hard again.
with the genes of a champion encoded within him, you knew lando always had that streak of competitiveness in him, always reaching to take and take, determined to push his limits, so of course, like a good boy he is, lando nods.
you smile.
“i thought so.”
scrambling up, you climb into his naked lap and sink down on his hard cock, pre-lubed from your ministrations before. it feels long and thick, taking you a few tries to fuck yourself down all the way before your ass sits flush with the base of him. although you feel a wave of selfishness, moving so fast when he was so sensitive, you couldn’t help it — it was like your mind had been taken over from a wave of lust.
“ah—” he gasps out, hands scrabbling in the air for purchase as soon he feels your warmth enveloping the entire curve of his dick “too fast, too fast, i can’t—”
he pulses inside of your heat as you rabbit your hips, length twitching too quickly, too soon.
“do you want me to stop, lan?” you mock sweetly, purposely reducing your body’s movements in order to lean forward and wipe a big fat tear that drips down the side of his face in a shiny streak. it’s pathetic, the way he looks when he cries with overstimulation — the rims of his eyes red, lips quivering — the opposite of the cocky, confident demeanor he prefers to showcase. it sends a thrill through you, drawing out this side of lando that was hidden from the public.
his answer comes back in a hoarse string of words.
“nononono keep going, keep going, please,” he whines with breathy little huffs, sounding more pathetic than he looks. lando’s hips even piston up automatically as he begs, actively seeking for more friction now that he was chasing his third high again.
and who were you to deny the pretty little thing in front of you?
lando is still sprawled on the bed when you lift your digital camera to your eyes. you can tell the moment he recognizes the device when his eyelids flutter slightly — he was the one who bought it for your four year anniversary, anyways.
“smile,” you say jokingly, but he’s too far into subspace to even listen.
the shutter clicks and the photo loads up on the lcd display.
he’s beautiful — the epitome of adonis laid out beneath you.
(mdni 18+) - fingering/handjob, cum eating, risky behavior, public setting (gala)
a/n: happy valentine’s day <3
many people say that oscar had a “polite cat” look to him — the kind that made you mm and awee and want to pat him on the head.
and usually, you would agree, but there’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now.
there’s a teasing, devilish glint in his eyes, more like a lion zeroing in his prey, and his lips is stretched in a smile that looks more like a knowing smirk.
it’s almost like he knows that he has you impossibly turned on, right at his work gala.
in an effort to be the more sensible one, you send him a disapproving glare, even as you squeeze your thighs together in an effort to ease the feeling and your fingers grow twitchy against the silverware. mark webber and his wife were sitting straight across the both of you, for god’s sake.
and yet, all oscar offers you is his smirk and a humorous twitch of his eyebrow.
halfway through the meal, when oscar catches your eye, he stops circling the rim of the glass with his fingers and lifts the glass to his lips. then, he leans back farther than he should before baring the length of his neck to you. in your stunned stupor, your vision centers in on two moles that you are all too familiar with that dot the side of his neck, before trailing towards the thick column of his throat that bobs as he takes a drink of the maroon liquid. afterwards, he sticks out his pink tongue to swipe at any traces of the wine on his lips.
you bite your own tongue to prevent yourself from saying anything stupid.
the other members at the table stay none-the-wiser as oscar continues his little act, chatting to mark across the table or sampling a few bites of his buttered halibut before doing something mundane in a downright sinful way that made you want to push him against the table and fuck him dumb, dinner guests be damned.
however, you realize, two can play at this game.
after a quick glance around the table, your hand reaches out below the tablecloth and straight towards the zipper clasp of oscar’s suit pants. teasing, you experimentally brush the tips of your fingers against the fabric, where his dick has obviously chubbed up.
next to you, oscar’s eyes widen imperceptibly, and he chokes on his words to mark. it makes you want to giggle.
you wonder would happen if you pulled him out and stroked him there, right under the table, to teach him a lesson for teasing you. would he beg you to keep going? or would he chastise you and punish you for being bad at home? maybe he would pull you away to his mclaren and ruin his leather seats with your juices straight after the gala.
before you could find out, you feel a strong hand grip onto your wrist under the table, preventing you from moving your hand.
oscar.
you find that his conversation to mark has stopped, and instead, he’s looking at you again with a darker look in his eyes.
“oh baby,” he drawls, lips close to the curve of your ear. “if you want it that bad, you better be able to take it.”
before your brain, still processing from his words, can catch up, oscar reaches underneath the tablecloth and hitches the edge of your skirt up.
you let out a sharp gasp that you quickly muffle with a dinner napkin.
“oscar, what are you-?” you croak out, voice raspy from biting back your words all evening.
his fingers make quick work in pushing your lace panties to the side, dipping themselves in the slick dripping from your pussy, and slipping into your core. he pumps them into you, hand flexing, slow at first, then into a steady rhythm that he knew you liked. the second his thumb drifts up to press at your clit, you think you are going to faint, right there into your salad.
you must bite your lip bloody in an effort to look composed and normal when you come all over oscar’s hand.
your head feels dizzy from coming so hard and your mouth tastes metallic, yet you smile your “everything is normal” smile to mark’s wife across the table and snatch up your fork to shovel the newly served dessert into your mouth like everyone else is doing. you hope no one has noticed.
below you, oscar’s hand rescinds from the mess between your legs.
no sooner had you placed a bite of the dessert, a slice of cake, in your mouth when mark clears his throat and speaks up.
“you sure are enjoying your dessert, aren’t you, oscar?”
you spare a sideways look at your boyfriend, only to almost choke on the sweet frosting.
oscar’s fingers, the ones that were in you half a second ago, were now in his mouth. he licks them with relish, tongue obscenely dragging across the tips of his digits, licking them clean.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
a/n: practicing writing more smut fics (bear with me here 🥴)
you knew max would do anything you wanted him to, even if that meant dropping to the ground and barking like a dog, tongue lolling like when he was in subspace last night. willing and eager, you usually had max right in the palm of your manicured hands.
yet, in the hazy lighting of the nightclub, bass reverberating in a hypnotizing thrum, max's entire personality seemed to have shifted into something you had never seen before.
max has you pressed against the door of the dingy club bathroom now, tits smushed against the plastic laminate. one his hands circles around the nape of your neck, holding you still as his cock drives into you.
"you better thank the gods that no one's in here," he hisses, accent thick. "or else they would have to hear your bitchy whines"
you pant in response, tears spilling out the corners of your eyes.
it didn't start off this way — max had been oh-so-sweet just twenty minutes ago, smiling his giddy little smile as he brought you a redbull vodka and a gin and tonic for himself.
he had danced with you, moving your bodies with the crush of people and letting the flow of alcohol numb your senses.
and when he left to replenish your rapidly diminishing drink at the bar, you supposed you should have known what would happen when max came back to you engaged in a friendly conversation with a random man on the dance floor. the man had seemed nice enough, talking about his recent trip to monaco.
if you weren't so focused on your conversation, you might have noticed the sharp glint in max's blue irises, different from the round-eyed gaze usually reserved for you.
thinking back, when your mascara still held perfect and your panties weren't a ruined mess on the floor, the signs were there. max started becoming more clingy than usual, nimble fingers threading its way around your waist as you nodded along to the man's words. he even tried ducking his head into the junction of your neck, trying to suck a hickey on your neck.
when you didn't bat an eye to his antics, even after he attempted to grind against your ass, he resorted to pouting directly beside you, sending scathing glares toward the man, who continued talking ecstatically, gesturing in the air with a cigarette between his fingers.
you had brushed it off easily, dismissing his mild horniness because of the carcinogen laced smoke wavering in the air and from the alcohol surging through both of your systems.
however, max's limit came the second the man offhandly commented on your skimpy little outfit that was no more than a scrap of material.
aside from the gurgles of water flowing in the drippy pipes, the only sounds echoing in the bathroom were the wet slaps of skin-on-skin, max's breathless huffs, and high, keening noises that were ripped from your throat.
if your face wasn't pressed up against the cold material of bathroom stall door, you would have seen the way max's eyes fixated on you, watching how his dick disappeared inside of your wet heat.
"maxie, please, i-" you are barely able to stutter out, hands flying everywhere to try to grab onto to something, anything for purchase as his thrusts get faster. "s' too much-"
max's hand adjusts on your waist, griping tighter underneath the scrunched up fabric of your minidress, no doubt leaving uneven oval bruises where his fingers rest.
"maybe you should have thought about that sooner," he grits out, hips stuttering erratically, "-before you took the chance while i was gone to talk with some douchebag."
although his words are firm and rough in an attempt to chastise you, you can hear the obvious notes of jealousy seeping into his words.
jealous much? you try to shoot back, but it only comes out as a stuttery "je-je-jealous-" as his cock hits a spot in your pussy that has you seeing stars.
max seems to get your mocking quip, as he spits out a low growl into your ear, with no consideration for poor clubgoers who could be in earshot outside the bathroom door.
although you knew max was pretty strong from way his muscles always stretched out the short sleeves of his shirts, you realize you underestimated his strength when he easily pulls you off his dick and pushes you onto your knees with a shove of his hand.
his dick glistens in front of you, throughly coated in your juices and slightly bowing from the weight. the tip is a blushy red, twitching in the way that you know means he is close.
"for that, i'm coming on your face," he spits.
you reach up, attempting to wipe at the mess that max had left on the bottom of your face— streaks of his cum, traces of your salty tears, and even hints of your own juices. some of it drips slowly down your chin. however, the back of your hand never gets a chance to reach your face, as max shoots out his hand and firmly grasps onto your wrist.
“no,” he says firmly.
no. the one word that you know all too well, but from all the times you’ve said the same thing to him. often paired with stern shake of your head or a sound of disapproval, you said it most often to max when he had his hands tied up, unable to touch, while he begged you to please please please to let him come.
but now, with his seed on your face and you on your knees in front of him, it was his turn to say it.
"no." he repeats. "leave it."
you nod. obediently.
when you walk out on unsteady feet, your lips are coated in a different sheen. it's thick and glossy, shining under the laser beams and disco lights of the club.
max walks behind you, back to his normal considerate self, gently guiding you around the people lining the border of the undulating crowd.
you're no more than two steps from the exit when a hand comes out to grip your shoulder.
it's the man from earlier, paying no mind to max. there's a beer in his hand now, and he lightly sways back and forth, completely wasted. judging from his state, it was probably his fourth or fifth bottle.
"ah, you're back," he slurs. "i was wondering where you went."
he gestures to your face.
"you touched up your makeup eh?" he suggests, waving his hand in a way that sloshes half of his drink onto the floor. "new lipgloss, yes yes."
Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, oral (f!receiving -> reader), somno (dubious consent), semipublic (does the kitchen count?), face riding, natasha loves food, sort of proofread -> credit to my friends, please let me know if i missed anything!
WC: 636
Nova Notes: my first installation of BILLIE BARNES & NOVA! enjoy xx
You’ve learned that Natasha loves to eat. Having spent most of her life within the strict rules of the Red Room, she likes to savor and enjoy her food now that she is able to. She usually favors traditional European cuisine—its comforting, aromatic essence probably being the appeal. She’ll explain to you the details of the food, the notes, the ingredients, how they come together to create the taste. To her, food is an art, but even among all of those flavorful combinations and exquisite cuisines, you are her favorite meal.
Natasha wants you, needs you, craves you. She could starve for days, but if she has you, she’ll be full. Best part? She’ll eat you anywhere.
Kitchen?
You’re hauled onto the counter, butt dragged to the edge, leaning back on your forearms as Natasha throws your legs onto her shoulders and starts lapping at your core. Her tongue teases your slit, from bottom to top, barely grazing over your most sensitive part. You beg her to stop teasing. She responds with a firm lick up your pussy. When she reaches the top, she finally pays attention to your clit. Her lips latch on, sucking while her tongue swirls—no, spells N-A-T-A-S-H-A. You moan softly as you throw your head back in ecstasy. The sounds are obscene, and you’d be worried about getting caught if she wasn’t so fucking good at this.
Shower?
She ambushes you, playfully pushing you against the cold tile on the wall. She sinks down to her knees, bringing her hands up to the back of your thighs to hold you steady. Turns out…you need that support more than you thought you would. By the time she kisses her way down to the spot just above your clit, your legs are already wobbling from anticipation. When you cum? You lose all balance completely, and Natasha has to lift you up to hold you against the wall as her tongue works you through your orgasm.
Sleeping?
No worries, Natasha was craving a midnight snack anyway. You don’t register it immediately, but a harsh suck and tug on your “precious little pearl” breaks you out of your twilight daze. She’s not directly in your line of sight; you have to pull the sheets up slight to see her ravaging your core. She pauses, and acknowledges you by turning her head and pressing chaste kiss to your inner thigh. You fling the sheet behind her and bring your hand to her head, twirling her hair in your hands softly. You don’t like to push, you never do, but something tells you to in the moment. Gently, you guide her head to face your pussy once again. She follows you, more than eager, and continues until she’s satisfied.
Cuddling in bed?
She’ll lift you on top of her, and suggest you “ride her till dawn.” You made a joke about that once. Now you regret it. Kind of. Not really. The ache in your thighs is nothing compared to the pleasure you get from grinding on her face. Natasha helps, of course. Her hands are placed on your hips, helping to rock you back and forth. Sometimes, her mouth catches your nub, suckling it while her tongue cradles and swirls. Then, she releases it, allowing you to continue your ministrations as you please. You brace your hands on the headboard to give you more stability because your legs are spent. You don’t know exactly how long you’ve been at it for. All you know is that you did in fact ride till dawn—evidenced by the morning sunlight passing through the windows as the sun begins to rise.
So yes. Natasha loves to eat. She’ll tell the others that her favorite food is homemade, or from some obscure European style restaurant...but you both know that you taste the sweetest.
warnings: graphic descriptions of blood, allusions to sex
summary: kimi's real hungry. luckily, you're there for him!
a/n: inspired by all those pictures of kimi’s ridiculously sharp vampire-like canines.
picture credits from pinterest
even before you shove the silver key into the lock to crack open your apartment door, you can detect a sickening sweet smell, like that of overripe fruit, that seeps through the invisible cracks all around you. it only strengthens in intensity when you crack open the door, enveloping you in a drowsy haze.
the glow of the moon, red through the polluted fog, shades your apartment a maroon color. it supplies just enough light for you to see where the hook is to hang your coat.
"kimi, i'm home," you echo softly.
you know that he's in the house somewhere.
even so, it's still dead silent by the time you place your keys in your catchall tray and slide off your shoes.
"kimi," you try again, louder.
it stays dead quiet.
your leather bag bumps your leg as you cautiously make your way to the kitchen, making viscous gurgles as it shifts.
if the bag inside popped and made a mess inside your purse like last time, you were genuinely going to kill kimi.
once you arrive at the kitchen counter, you gently pull out the blood bag. the medical-grade plastic and its contents squelch as you heave the pouch onto the flat plane of marble. you watch it spreads from an amorphous form into the neat rounded-rectangle shape of its container as it lays flat. you give it a couple of experimental pokes for fun, watching as the liquid jiggles in ripples.
it can't help but feel insane to you. two months ago, you were the epitome of a perfect, model employee of mercedes hospital, but now, you were doodling hearts on the labels of blood bags to mark the freshest batches of nutrients for your boyfriend. however, you reason, it was better than kimi flying out and satifying his hunger via fresh prey. you were basically doing the hospital a service — a favor — by preventing its morgue from filing up with "unidentified" blood-drained bodies.
lost in thought, you don't realize the coldness that seeps into the room.
not until it clamps down on your neck.
kimi's canines, sharp, yet not extended into fangs, digs into the delicate beating skin of your neck. they lay gently against the pulse point, internalizing the tantalizing thrum of life that he lacked.
when you don't make an effort to move away, he bites down harder, yearning to break the skin and taste the sweetness that flows out.
you roll your eyes.
he always acted like a madman when he was starved.
combing your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck, you yank his head away with minor difficulty. there was no doubt it that his teeth marks were starting to bruise in splotchy purple-blue marks, layered on top of previous barely-healed marks.
he flashes you a cheeky grin when met with your glare.
“i said no hickeys, kimi. i don’t own enough turtlenecks to cover all of them up.”
“ah, mi bella,” he retorts, reaching up to your neck to gently thumb the marks. “it looks so beautiful though.”
you huff, bringing your eyes to match his intense gaze. his usual whiskey brown eyes flicker red.
“well, i don’t want all the other nurses thinking i’m a freak—”
kimi purposefully digs his nails into the sensitive depressions on your neck, earning a hiss from you. it stings, but with an ache that hurts so good, a pain that makes your senses go fuzzy. your eyes flutter.
he laughs at your response, colorless lips curling up at the corners.
“ … and you were saying?”
you weren’t in the mood for his silly games.
“behave, kimi,” you snip, albeit with no heat, pushing his hand away. “or else i’m leaving the apartment window open for you to go hunt for your own food.”
to this, he crosses his arms exaggeratedly like a little child who doesn’t get what he wants, because you both know the embarassing truth.
for a vampire, he was terrible at hunting.
this whole thing started with his pathetic hunting skills anyway, as he tried to jump you behind your own apartment building, only to be noticed by you midway through his attack. he seemed more like a hissy cat than an actual vampire, swiping at you with claws that hadn’t drawn blood in days. it was more pity that led you to bring him bags of blood from your workplace.
“now hurry and drink up, i know you’re hungry,” you tease, shoving the cold bag into his arms. you pat his cheek twice as encouragement.
he grudgingly takes the blood bag, jaw tight, eyes flicking up as if daring you to tease him any further. it only takes a second for him to extend his fangs into the prominent long fangs associated with vampires and another for him to sink it into the bag.
it always intrigued you to see him feed — the way his pale skin seeps back with color, the way he shudders faintly as he drains the blood, and the way thick drizzles of the red liquid spill out the corners of his mouth, dripping in scarlet rivulets down the side of his neck. it trails tantalizingly slow into the neck of his shirt, staining the material. as kimi drinks, his head slowly falls back against your cabinets in ecstasy, exposing the tinted length of his neck. the dim light of the moon only helps stretch the shadow of the blood bag against the walls.
you swallow thickly.
it mirrors the way you were last night, arching against him, hands fisted in the sheets, neck thrown back in pure euphoria.
you can’t help but wonder what if —
what if you were that euphoria for him, his essence of life, his supply of youth? all you had to do was to bare our neck and wait for the sting of his fangs and then it would be you he would be addicted to, not the filmy sacks of PVC plastic with the blood of some faceless person.
when you snap out of your thoughts, kimi is looking at you with a dark look in his eyes. there’s no doubt he has sensed your heightened emotions.
the drained bag crumples easily as he scrunches it with his hand, allowing a few weak spurts of leftover blood to leak out of the punctures on the sides.
he leans over to you, a satisfied grin on his blood-stained lips.
“grazie mi bella,” he says, inches way, accent thick.
kimi leaves a kiss on the side of your cheek, a wet imprint that engulfs your senses with the heavy twang of iron, before turning away to dispose of the bag.
before he does, you grasp the back of his shirt and pull him backwards.
“wait.”
he looks at you curiously, head cocked like a puppy. it’s a drastic contrast between the bloody fangs that sits at the corners of his mouth.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
summary . . . During your first date with Yuki in Faenza, he compliments your curly and you start talking about how difficult it is to maintain. By the end of the night, you're already so enamoured by him
request . . . yes!! based on this request!
word count . . . 1.1k+
warnings . . . none!
faceclaim . . . N/A
alexavia yaps . . . okay so um hello i'm back.... ayway my keyboard is lowkey broken and tweaking so i'm begging you ignore the million typos! sadly not proofread </3 i used the ristorante cinque cucchiai for inspo on the restaurant they went on their date to so you can look at that for imagination!!
. . . The pink hues of the setting sun peeked slightly over the Faenza clock tower, painting the streets in a washed out colour. Wind rustled the trees surrounding the plaza as you walked to the restaurant you'd be having your date in, the breeze raising goose bumps on your exposed arms, jacket hanging on your shoulders.
From a distance, a small house-like building appeared, sitting in the middle of a patch of grass with two routes paved around it. As you pushed through the glass doors, a wafting aroma of delicious food filled the air around you, the sounds of utensils clinking against glass plates echoing throughout the room.
White tables and chairs were spread throughout, but you weren't searching for an empty one, but one occupied by the man who'd asked you out when he saw you in the Red Bull garage. To be fair, you were still in denial that he'd actually wanted to take you out on a date, Yuki Tsunoda, a professional Formula One driver.
Still, you found him sitting in a table set up by the corner, with an excellent view of the outside gardens. When he noticed you standing by the entrance, he motioned for you to come over, a soft, small smile on his face.
Returning the expression, you crossed the room, before sitting in the seat opposite to him. He extended his hand for you to shake, and you noticed the slight tremor in it, which somehow filled you with…. relief?
Relief that maybe he was just as nervous as you are for this date.
Clearing his throat, Yuki shifted slightly in his seat before speaking, pulling your attention from adjusting your jacket on the chair to him. "I hope you had a good trip on the way here, Faenza is beautiful."
"I did, I loved walking around in the plaza, it's gorgeous." You replied, the corners of your lips lifting up at his slightly relieved expression. Maybe this date wouldn't be as awkward as you thought it would be.
A waiter came over to you, handing you two pristine white menus with gold writing and listing the dishes of the day along with the wine options. Yuki gave her his order before gesturing for her to take yours, which you chose at random since everything on the menu looked good anyway.
She nodded and gave you two a knowing smile, leaving you to continue the conversation you'd been having beforehand.
For a moment, silence settled between you, not uncomfortable, but hesitant like neither of you wanted to be the first to break it and risk saying something wrong. You reached up absentmindedly, fingers brushing through your curls as you exhaled.
Yuki's gaze flickered up, lingering just a second longer than necessary before he spoke. "Uh,,can I say something?" he asked, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks and ears.
You looked back at him, nodding. "Yeah, of course."
"I like your hair," he said, scratching the back of his neck, a sheepish grin on his face. "It suits you. The curls, I mean."
The compliment caught you off guard, warmth blooming in your chest as you let out a small laugh. "Thanks. It looks good until the humidity hits." you joked, pausing for a second befor continuing. "Then it's just… chaos."
That seemed to ease him, his smile widening slightly. "I get hatw you mean." he said. "One of my friends has curly hair, he says it's a bother to style before racing. He once told me that he has to wash it in the hospitlality bathroom sink to make it look good."
You tilted your head, amused at his friend's efforts. "Let me guess, one gust of wind and all the effort is gone?"
"Exactly!" he replied, laughing softly. "And don't even get me started on how long it takes to wash it properly. God, the stories I've heard."
"Imagine taking the effort to wash for like, what? Two hours? And in the end you end up with wet frizz which ruins it all." you huffed, shaking your head at the memories, although a smile still painted your face. "I'm extremely jealous of people with straight hair."
He let out a laugh, raising his hands up in the air at your words. "Thank god I have straight hair then."
The conversation began to flow more easily after that, the initial nerves fading as you both found comfort in the shared complaints and quiet laughter.
Your food came a few minutes later, plates steaming from the heat, the food arranged fancily with some kind of sauce drizzled over. You took a sniff, mentally melting at the declicious aroma, and picked up a spoon to start eating.
But while he thought you weren't looking, Yuki snapped a picture of you, smiling to himself softly at the sight.
Gods help him, he was already so smitten with you.
Some time later, night time had fallen and you'd decided to talk a walk with him. The stars shone in the sky, clear and blinking as if sending signals to you.
"So, will you ever teach me your hair routine?" Yuki asked, hands in his pockets as he walked beside you.
You laughed slightly, brushing a stray curl away from your face, giving him a brief glance before facing the road ahead of you.
"My hair routine? I thought you were glad to have straight hair."
"Maybe someday I'd want to show up to the paddock with pretty curls."
His smile widened as he heard your muffled laughter, watching as you struggled to gain composure. The sight alone made butterflies slowly creep to his stomach, heart beating a little faster than normal.
"Sure, Yuki, sure. We'll get you a perm if you want curls so bad." you shook your head, cheeks aching from his jokes.
If you were having so much fun already, only on your first date, you couldn't begin to imagine your second.
He glanced at his watch before looking at you pitifully, his nose slightly red from the cold breeze. The light of the moon reflected on his face, highlighting his features. You swallowed, forcing a small smile, understanding that it was time for you to go your seperate ways.
Stepping forward to give him a brief hug, you exhaled slightly, closing your eyes as he embraced you, the sound of crickets somewhere in the bushes grounding you.
"See you soon?" he asked, voice hopeful.
"Yeah, see you soon."
As you watched him walk away, you turned back to walk to the plaza, where you'd parked your car.
It was… weird. How attached you'd gotten to Yuki only after your first date together.
