STOP PUTTING OC STORIES WITH "X READER" TAGS BRO WITH ALL DUE RESPECT YOUR STORY DOES NOT BELONG THERE....listen... im sure the story is great... BUT im literally gonna combust if i keep seeing ts. Im trying to feed my delusions and yall arnt helping. Sighhhhhhh
Pairing - Carlisle x mate vampire reader you and Carlisle have been paired for centuries, giving Bella just a peak of your love for each other
The first time you heard the name Carlisle Cullen, it was little more than a whisper carried through the slow, secretive channels vampires used to spread unusual news. You had existed for centuries already, turned sometime in 1570s in a world that still burned people for witchcraft and whispered about monsters lurking in forests. You had survived by instinct and restraint when you could manage it, but restraint had always been a fragile thing for your kind.
So when you heard rumors of a vampire who refused human blood, who lived only on animals, you were certain it was nonsense. A fantasy. A story told by desperate creatures trying to believe they could be something better than what they were.
Still, curiosity had always been one of your greatest flaws.
It took you years to track him down. The world was slower then, information traveled by rumor and chance encounters. But eventually your search led you to England, where the quiet doctor moved like a ghost among humans, gentle and careful, leaving no trace of what he truly was.
The night you finally saw Carlisle, you almost didn’t believe it.
He stood alone in a clearing just beyond a small village, moonlight spilling across his pale hair as he finished feeding from a deer. When he noticed you, he didn’t attack. Didn’t bare his teeth.
He simply stepped back, giving you space.
“You’ve been following me,” he said calmly, his voice carrying the soft accent of centuries past. You tilted your head, studying him with open curiosity. “You’re the one drinking animal blood.”
His golden eyes flickered with surprise that you knew. “Yes.” You had expected arrogance. Or madness, instead, he looked… hopeful.
Something strange stirred inside your chest the moment your eyes met. A pull, deep and unexplainable. Like something ancient recognizing its other half after centuries of wandering.
You felt it instantly and judging by the stunned look that crossed Carlisle’s face, he felt it too.
You laughed softly, disbelief coloring your voice.
“Well,” you murmured, stepping closer, “that explains the strange feeling.” Carlisle blinked. “You feel it as well?”
You nodded once. “Seems we’re something rather rare,” you said quietly. “Mates.” The word lingered between you like a vow neither of you had expected.
Three hundred years later, the feeling had never faded, if anything, it had only grown stronger.
When Bella Swan first arrived in Forks, she noticed it almost immediately. She had already been overwhelmed by meeting the rest of the Cullen family, Edward Cullen, Esme Cullen, and the others, but there was something quietly different about the way you and Carlisle interacted.
It wasn’t obvious at first, just small things.
The way Carlisle’s hand would naturally find yours when you stood near each other. The soft smiles that passed between you across the room. The way you seemed to gravitate toward one another without even thinking.
Bella noticed it most one evening while visiting the Cullen house.
She had been sitting on the couch nervously, watching the strange but warm dynamics of the vampire family around her. Edward sat beside her, explaining something quietly, when her eyes drifted toward the kitchen.
You stood at the counter, flipping through a medical journal Carlisle had left open. A small, amused smile tugged at your lips, a moment later Carlisle entered the room. His eyes found you instantly and his entire expression softened, not dramatically. Anyone else might have missed it, but Bella saw.
He walked over quietly, resting one hand at the small of your back in a gesture so natural it seemed like second nature.
“What did you find?” he asked gently. You hummed, pointing at the page. “Your colleague’s theory here is flawed.”
Carlisle leaned closer to read, your shoulders brushing, for a moment neither of you spoke, just standing with eachother.
Then he chuckled softly. “You’re right,” he admitted. Bella stared at the scene unfolding Infront of her.
Three hundred years, Edward had told her earlier. You and Carlisle had been together for three hundred years.
And yet the way he looked at you…
It wasn’t tired.
It wasn’t routine.
It was the same look Bella had seen people give each other during the first days of falling in love.
Warm. Devoted. Completely certain.
Later, Bella found herself whispering to Edward, eyes still drifting toward the two of you across the room.
“They’ve been together for centuries, right?” Edward nodded in agreement. “Yes. three give or take a few."
Bella watched as Carlisle brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, the movement so gentle it almost felt sacred. Her lips parted slightly in amazement. “They still look…” she struggled for the word.
Edward smiled knowingly.
“Hopelessly in love?”
Bella nodded slowly.
Across the room, you laughed softly at something Carlisle said, the sound light and warm. He looked at you the way someone might look at the sun after a long winter, like something he would never take for granted.
Edward leaned back against the couch.
“That’s what happens,” he said quietly, “when you find the person meant for you.”
Bella watched the two of you a moment longer.
Three hundred years.
And somehow the love between you and Carlisle still looked brand new.
"That's... are you sure it's a good idea ?" Surely it wasn't. Well, he did ask, well, beg, to indulge in this little fantasy of his, and you did like the sound of that, but...
You kept overthinking while rubbing your thighs together, the lingerie he generously gifted you hugging your unique curves in a way that made Carlisle want to devour you whole. Hopefully it was in the way he humbly asked of you.
He smiled, patient and reassuring. He grabbed your hand, guiding you to stand in between his spread legs. It was soft and comforting, the way he massaged your upper thighs, how he held you close.
"What are you scared about, lovely ?" He said, pressing a soft kiss to your hip dip.
"What if you can't breathe ?" You whispered, grabbing onto his shoulders.
"I don't need to." He simply smiled and reminded you kindly. Carlisle gently leaned back, taking you with him. He steadied you with his hands on your waist, your knees on each side of his hips.
"What if I'm too heavy on your face..." Your voice shivered as his cold fingers slowly undid the laces of your bra. Warm, open-mouth kisses were placed along your throat. There would be no one else you would trust to touch the thin, fragile skin on your throat.
You wondered what he felt when he pressed his nose so close to your warm, tempting blood. Oh, love... if only you knew. The mix of hunger, lust, and love was maddening. Could you feel it in the way he took a long lap on the length of your throat? Or in the way his long fingers slipped in the delicate lacework of your white panties? Or maybe... in the way his pulsing member rubbed teasingly against your wet folds.
"Too heavy... do you doubt my strength, lovie, mh ?" He grinned softly. Slowly, deliberately, closer and closer to his face. But his silly little doe couldn't stop worrying, her knees digging in the bed and stopping her from getting closer. Now, that just wouldn't do...
If you didn't want to move, fine... but he would get his goddamn meal.
He scooted under you suddenly, laying down on the bed, your soaking, plump pussy hovering above his eager mouth. He only gave you a millisecond, just enough time to push your panty to the side and for you to gasp before engulfing your sweet cunt with his lips and mouth. The shaky whine you let out at the unexpected slimy texture of his tongue sliding messily into your folds. He slurped at your precious fluids, drinking it greedily.
Carlisle had experienced it, and goddamn it, did you feel it? He ate you out so slowly, so good. His wet muscle massages your lips longingly, the pressure steady and firm. He moaned in your sensitive core; the deep sound vibrated across your buzzing skin. Your knees dipped in the bed, your mewls echoing in the room. It wasn't enough for him; it was never enough.
He kept going back and forth, teasing your hole, making your eyes flutter closed, and not yet touching your flushed clit. Not yet, at least. Thanks to his control and patience, he waited until you started rocking your face. But it was still so shy, so afraid. Your worry about his 'survival' is still there. His poor lovie was scared; he couldn't have that.
"Come on, love... use me..." He mumbled, his lips completely covered in your juices. That's when he decided to push further. And by that I mean pushing his well-trained tongue into your twitching, eager hole.
And fuck, you reacted so well for him. You threw your head back, moaning his name so deeply it made his leaking cock pulse against the denim of his pants. Your worry seemed to vanish from your sweet Carlisle. He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly. It was so carnal, so erotic, and God, you felt so fucking good. Maybe too good.
He started to lose control, to lose himself in the warmth of your thighs pressing so deliciously around his skull. The desperate rocking of hips, the flesh around your bones caressing his jawline in the process. The free moans you let out, so good, so real. Fuck, he loved you like this. But he needed more. More, more, and more. Carlisle felt his mind go blank; the lack of fucking friction against his crotch was unbearable, especially when he knew he could find perfect relief nestled in between your thighs. He was having a taste of heaven, and like the sinful creature he was, he wanted to sink himself in it.
He let out a loud growl as he fought himself. But in the end he agreed on one thing. He will not stop until he is drowned in your flooding release. But it was when you whimpered, gripping tightly on his blond hair, that he snapped. Could you blame him, lovely ?
"P-Please..."
Fuck-
The beast in him soared. His hands gripped onto your hips firmly, hoisting both you up. Using his speed and strength, he sprinted to the wall, pinning you to the wall. He held you up, your thighs on his shoulders, legs dangling on his back as his fingers dug into your lower back. His face pressed firmly against your sopping cunt. He sucked on your clit roughly, slurping, ravaging your wetness in his suckling, and saliva dripped down your thighs and his chin.
You panted shakily, holding onto his hair for dear life as you tried to rock yourself against his mouth, seeking more, more, and more. You might be going crazy too. The knots in your belly felt tighter, like a spring ready to explode due to the pressure. You were close, close to losing your goddamn mind.
Carlisle felt it too; it spurred him on better than any drug could ever do. He pressed you harder against the wall, eating you with reckless abandon. He felt so goddamn horny, pressure deep in his lower belly. He couldn't help it. He started rocking his hips against the wall, rough and harsh, and in that moment you weren't sure if you were thankful or disappointed you weren't the one receiving those merciless thrusts.
"Need you... need you so much, baby. Give it to me—fuck !" He moaned, pounding against the wall as he came right against the edge, just waiting to be tipped over. He thrust his tongue so deep in your pussy, hitting the spot that made you see stars.
"Carlisle…! Carlisle !" You cried out, your eyes flashing bright white as your body tensed almost painfully, your head leaning back against the hall as you came utterly and completely undone.
He drank your release as he exploded in his pants, his muscles tensing around you like a vice, marking the skin of your hips with his sheer strength. The pants and little sounds you were both letting out let you come down from your high slowly, almost tenderly.
Carlisle inhaled deeply, still buried against your heat, but the tremble in your thighs kept him grounded enough to regain his control. He finally seemed to notice the way he held you up against the wall. The grip on his hair was still firm, like you were preventing yourself from falling.
"It's okay, baby... shh... I got you…" He cooed quietly. Gently, he lowered you from his shoulders into his arms. The neglected bed welcomed you back as he laid you down on it, letting you relax and sigh in relief.
"I... I'm so sorry, love... You're okay ?" He murmured, kissing your temple and cheeks softly, like a silent praise. You did so well for me.
Your breathy chuckle reassured him, drawing his own smile in the corner of his mouth. He grabbed the blanket and pulled it up to you as you placed a grateful peck on his cheekbone.
"Do you want me to bring you the towel ? Or cuddles first ?"
"Mmh... I'd like a towel... it's too sticky..." You grinned.
Carlisle chuckled and nodded, using once again his speed, and came back within seconds with a warm, wet towel. "There you go, my love."
The cleaning was soft and calm. You talked in hushed tones, you forgiving his loss of control, him asking if anything hurt during the act. Eventually, you two found yourselves naked and cuddled up right up to each other. Carlisle caressed your hair and kissed your forehead. And who knows...?
Carlisle Cullen can’t hold him back and bites you | suggestive language, mention of blood/bites, reader has a fetish to be bitten
a/n: request form an anon and another anon who wanted some carlisle smut hehe, hope you love it as much as i did writing it; enjoy!!
main masterlist ↲
peace and love, penny ★
If you could define Carlisle's state of mind, it would be: hunger. He was hungry, and having you in front of him didn't help much.
The warmth emanating from your body made him harder and more dominant, but he knew that if he abused his strength, he would break you. You were like a porcelain doll that he adored. His arms covered you completely, your breasts touching his cold chest, making your nipples harden and causing you to squirm in his grip.
His desire to devour you was far from nil, his nose tracing your collarbone and his tongue tracing the bone that lay there. His growls echoed in your ears. You wrapped your legs around him, encircling his pelvis and lower back, pulling him closer to you as he slowly pounded into you.
You moaned as you felt his tongue on your neck, his lips planting kisses as he moved. “you smell so good, sweetheart, can't get enough of you,” he whispered, thrusting hard, the head of his cock hitting your sweet spot. You moaned and dug your nails into his broad, cold back, making him growl.
More than ecstatic, he couldn't contain himself and moistened the side of your neck, as if preparing the spot, his sharp teeth grazing the wet area. You squeezed them internally, pushing him to his limit. He sank his fangs into your neck. You moaned with pain and pleasure, grabbing him by the back of his neck, letting him drink your blood.
He sucked desperately and allowed his venom to permeate your bloodstream, spreading through your circulation. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt the itchiness in your body. You knew what he was doing, and you didn't want to stop him.
You squeezed him internally; you were so close to cumming. The venom ran through your blood quickly and painfully. You dug your nails into his back, scratching him in the process. “stay still, baby,” he whispered as he licked the blood that began to flow from the holes where he had sunk his fangs.
His cock twisted inside you, his cum filling you, making sure not a drop leaked out of you. Your core contracted, squeezing him in the process, sucking every drop out of him.
“you're mine now,” he said in a raspy voice, licking the wound from his bite.
The Cullen house had sat empty for the last six months.
It’d felt longer than it sounded. Days seemed to turn into years when you were trapped in a small town that’d just lost the only family worth gossiping about, hours into centuries after the only practicing doctor abandoned Fork’s sole hospital without so much as two weeks’ notice – leaving you and the other nurses in a desperate scramble to pick up the slack while looking for a half-decent replacement. Their house seemed to reflect your skewed perception of time, the weeds that’d usurped their garden having grown just a little too tall, the dense forest that pressed in from all sides having encroached just a little too far. Time had never really seemed to pass for the Cullens, whether it was their collective marble-statue beauty or the way they seemed to float above the rest of you, never fully making contact. Now that they were gone, it seemed to come flooding in all at once.
Even the building itself seemed to have stagnated to the point of agelessness, its many windows reflecting a darkness so thick and so impenetrable, you could only imagine that it had been eons since light had ever graced its halls. It was ancient and unchanged. A lifeless husk, made immortal through the preservation of its corpse.
Your grip tightened around your flashlight, your shoes scuffing against the driveway. You wanted to turn around. You wanted to get back in your car and go home, to your trashy reality television and fleece blankets and locked doors. You wanted to laugh at yourself for driving all the way out here and nearly (key word, nearly) breaking into your old coworker’s previous home. You wanted to do anything but go through with it, and yet…
And yet.
They’d left the front door unlocked. With your sleeve pulled over your hand, you eased the door open, sweeping your flashlight once, twice over the entryway before stepping inside.
You’d had the misfortune of visiting twice before they left town – once when Carlisle asked you to drop off a patient’s file and again on a personal errand, to request that he stop sending flower bouquets and baked goods to your apartment. The first, you’d been unlucky enough to run into him, to be forced to answer his questions about your admittedly poor off-the-clock habits. The second, one of his college-aged daughters had answered the door, and had told you with the brightest smile and the easiest confidence that even if she did relay your message, it wasn’t going to stop. You’d taken her word for it.
Both visits had been brief, but as far as you could tell, they’d left everything behind. Framed pictures and frustratingly abstract art still hung from the blindly white walls, their agonizingly post-modernist furniture standing tall and unaffected by the absence of its users. A fruit bowl reigned proudly on their dining room table, its contents unnaturally fresh. Plastic, you discovered as you stole an apple off the top, turning it over in your palm. At least they had the decency not to leave rotting produce out for the next tenant.
You gravitated toward the kitchen on instinct, running your fingertips over the dustless countertop and opening cabinets at random. This had always been what Carlisle tried to draw you in with – the idea of domesticity, a warm meal after a long shift. Let me treat you to something, and then, when you reminded him that he was a married man, Don’t worry. My wife would love to have you for dinner.
Something caught in the back of your throat, anger and fear and humiliation boiling over all at once. You caught the handle of a drawer and tore it out of its socket, letting silverware clatter to the floor. The island was next, a knife block and baking tray and stack of forgotten paperback books, all swept to the ground before you could think better of it. You grabbed for the first heavy thing you saw – some decorative porcelain monstrosity, misshapen and heavy in your hand. It didn’t take long to find the nearest window, to line up your shot and—
Something wrapped around your wrist, cold stone against warm flesh. You startled, dropping the figurine and cringing into yourself as it broke into more pieces than you could ever hope to count. There was a slight hum, a disappointed click of the tongue. “That’s too bad,” he sighed, letting go of your wrist. Instantly, you could picture him clear as day – shaking his head, a faint smile tugging at pale lips. “That was one of Esme’s favorites. Brought it all the way from Spain. I’m sure she’ll forgive you, though.”
Clotted, choking silence followed dull ring of his voice. It took a moment for you to realize you were supposed to respond, and another to remember how to speak. “Dr. Cullen, I—”
“Carlisle, dear. You know that.” And then, less exasperated, more amused, “Aren’t you going to turn around?”
You shouldn’t have. You needed to get out of here. You needed to run. Fuck going home – you needed to get in your car and drive until you hit the border.
But, you didn’t. And honestly, you should’ve known you were never going to.
Fighting not to trip over your own feet, you did as you were told and turned to face him. You knew what you were going to find – Carlisle, pale blonde hair ever so slightly disheveled, expression sympathetic and unnervingly golden eyes so condescendingly soft.
The only part that caught you off-guard was the smudge of red at the corner of his lips, dark and still wet. Well, that, and the fact that he was naked. Naked and hard. You tried not to look, but it was hard to ignore.
You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, staring at him as the seconds crawled by. Carlisle didn’t seem to be in a rush, bringing a hand to your face and running his thumb over your cheek. His skin was deathly cold. You wished he would stop touching you. You wished you knew how to ask him to.
Eventually, something else caught his attention. He glanced over his shoulder as if someone had called his name, letting out a thin sigh as he took you by the wrist. “Children can be so impatient. I’m sure you know.” He tugged you forward gently. “Come. Please, excuse the mess – we’re usually much more civil.”
Without a word, you let him guide you deeper into the house, to a door underneath their staircase and down, down the largest cellar you’d ever seen. Like the rest of their terrible house, their basement seemed to have taken equal inspiration from overly manicured luxury real estate listings and the worst, most uncanny nightmare you’d ever had. The walls were lined with a deep red velvet, the furniture a mix of dark leather and cruel titanium. The only source of lighting came from a few lit torches mounted on each wall, all burnt too low to be helpful. That might explain why it took you so long to notice the rest of the Cullens.
Dotted around the room, divided yet so obviously part of the same whole, the same pack. Assigning names to faces was difficult, but not impossible. You recognized Jasper near the bottom of the staircase, kneeling in front of a metal pole with his hands cuffed behind it. A wire muzzle covered the lower half of his face, a chain-link slip leash wrapped taut around his neck. The other end was held by Alice, lying on her stomach in front of him, cheek resting against his thigh. Esme was lingering nearby, tending to a large crystal bowl sitting on a podium that’d been decisively placed in the center of the room, mixing herbs into its dark contents – a tray of which were politely being held by a towering Emmett. Finally, in the darkest corner, was Rosalie, wearing a floor-length black robe and keeping her arms crossed over her chest, all pursed lips and hunched shoulders. She might’ve looked bored, had those golden eyes not been so intensely focused on you.
…they were all looking at you, actually. Alice and Esme were smiling. Somehow, that didn’t make you feel any better.
Carlisle brought you to the bottom of the staircase, keeping one hand curled around your wrist and bringing the other to the small of your back. Alice was the first one to react, all-but floating to her feet and approaching her adoptive father. “I told you she would come.” She caught your arm, pointed nails digging into flesh. “Can we play with her, daddy? Please?”
Esme sent you an apologetic look. Emmett laughed and spoke up. “Don’t break the poor girl’s heart, daddy.”
You felt Carlisle’s hand flex against your back. He hesitated, but not for very long. “You’re sure it’s safe?”
“It’s all I’ve been watching for.” She tried to keep her voice even, but her over-eagerness betrayed her, lilting the edges of her tone into a melodic whine. “We won’t leave a scratch, I promise.”
“Fine. But be careful.”
“When are we ever not?” And then, without so much as glancing away from you, “Jasper, honey – fetch.”
There was a low, guttural sound, followed immediately by the sound of metal links being wrenched apart. Carlisle stepped away from you a moment before two arms wrapped around your waist.
It was the strangest thing. You were aware of your chest hitting the velvet-lined floor, of Jasper’s too-solid body on top of yours, but you weren’t scared. Dull confusion played underneath a thick curtain of placid curiosity and mild annoyance. You could only grimace as his wire muzzle pressed into your shoulder, then your spine, his tongue lapping over what his teeth couldn’t reach. He was draped over your back, hips bucking frantically into your thigh with enough force to draw out a pitchy, frustrated whine from somewhere deep in his throat. You were aware, distantly, that you ought to be clawing at him, that you ought to be terrified. The most you could manage to make yourself feel was pity, if only at seeing such a beautiful creature in such a sorry state.
“Dr. Cullen, I—” Jasper’s hands shot for your neck at the sound of your voice, but shoved into the floor at the last possible second. Something seemed to buckle beneath you – concrete shattering under unthinkable force. “I think I need to leave.”
Carlisle didn’t answer. Instead, there was a feather-light giggle, a hand suddenly petting through your hair. Alice. “But we’ve been waiting so long for this. Jazz, especially. Had to promise we wouldn’t let him take a bite out of you.” She straightened, eyes darting away. “Esme, could you bring over the—”
Rosalie cut in. “No. That’s too dangerous.”
“Don’t be a killjoy.” And then, a pleading lisp to her tone. “Please?”
There was a shuffle of movement, a silent acquiescence. Already, you could tell that what Alice wanted, she tended to get.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Esme kneel at your free side, a bronze goblet in her hand. She handed it to Alice, tapped Jasper’s cheek affectionately, then smiled at you. “It’s very fresh,” she said, like you were supposed to know what she was talking about. Like you were supposed to find it comforting. “You’ll get used to the taste, with time.”
You didn’t get a chance to ask what she meant. She was already retreating, joining her husband on the far side of the room. Even worse, Alice was already downing the goblet and, with just as much care, crashing her mouth into yours.
Heady iron and bitter herbs overwhelmed your senses. There was too much of it and it was too warm and whatever fugue state you were in broke open as soon as her tongue laved over yours, razor-sharp teeth gazing over your bottom lip and threatening to break skin. Her hand found the back of your head, keeping you pinned against her while its twin danced over your chest, your body, a single nail catching the collar of your skirt and tearing downward.
Cold air fanned over your skin, made worse by the trails of thick blood that escaped the corners of your mouth - staining your chin, your throat. You felt Jasper growl into your skin, his muzzle slotting awkwardly between your jaw and your shoulder. He was grabbing the rags your clothes had been reduced to, tearing them away in less of an effort to undress you and more of a pursuit to reach what he seemed to think he needed – a wolf, tearing at the entrails of an elk. You tried to shut your legs, to thrash underneath him, but Jasper’s body was stone, unwilling to give and impossible to move. It wasn’t long before you felt his cock press into your ass, something cold dripping onto your skin. You screamed, but the sound was swallowed up by Alice, still grinning against your lips. When she did draw back, it was only to string her thighs over your shoulders and force your head—
Her hands were torn away from you, her body disappearing a second later. When you thought to look up, you found Emmett standing above you, hands hooked underneath Alice’s arms. She pouted, but he held strong. “Nuh-uh. Me and Jasper have the first call.”
“But you picked a luck-based game, it wasn’t fair.”
“Life’s not fair.” He set Alice down at a measured distance. “Go keep Rose company.”
There were a few more grumbled complaints, but Alice eventually retreated to lick her wounds. Jasper bared his teeth, but Emmett only flicked his forehead. “Keep it in your pants.” And then, to you, “You ever been to Paris, baby?”
You hadn’t. Slowly, more confused than anything, you shook your head. Emmett’s laugh was nearly deafening.
It wasn’t until he started to kneel in front of you that you realized what he meant. The repulsion was quick and hot and reflexive, your body rejecting what your mind couldn’t seem to grasp. You opened your mouth, ready to scream, to beg, but Rosalie’s voice cut through the cellar before you had a chance to say anything at all.
“Not like that.”
Alice sighed. “It’s not going to take, Rose.”
“I didn’t ask,” she snapped. “Emmett, Jasper – switch.”
There was no protest from Emmett. Jasper bristled, his anger wordless and ferine, but Emmett was able to wrestle him into place, and you were only granted a few precious moments to brace yourself before Emmett’s hulking body settled between your thighs and Jasper fell to his knees in front of you, shaking hands tentatively latching on to your shoulders. Despite everything, you were grateful for the trade off. Jasper was incoherent – unable to talk, let alone think about your comfort, your pleasure. Emmett, as terrifying as he was, seemed more willing to drag this out, to rub a few teasing circles into your clit with a calloused thumb, to slip two thick fingers into you and smile when your body proved willing to give.
Something was wrong. A lot of things were wrong, really, but something was wrong with you. Blood coated the roof of your mouth, more viscous than it should’ve been. Your body felt too hot, your skin too thin, your head too full. You didn’t want this. You would’ve given anything to make it stop, and yet, as his fingers curled inside of you, you found yourself jolting back against him, a pained whimper bubbling up from your chest. You were wet. You could feel it dripping down your thighs, hear it was he pumped lazily into you. There was sound of padded footsteps, then something being laid down next to you. Alice, on her back, grinning up at Rosalie, now straddling her thigh – their cunts messily slotted together. Emmett didn’t so much as glance up, his gaze meeting yours as he pulled out of you and offered his slick-soaked fingers to Rosalie. Without a word, she took them into her mouth, eyes falling shut as she savored the taste.
“What do you think, babe? Is she ready?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions.”
“I love it when she gets mean,” Emmett sighed. His hand found its way to your hip, holding you steady as he aligned himself with your entrance. “You’ll learn to like it, too.”
Again, you made the mistake of opening your mouth, of trying to spit something out. At the same time, Emmett thrust into you, and a pained cry replaced anything you might’ve said.
In some sick way, you were almost glad for Rosalie’s interference. You were sure that, if Emmett hadn’t been trying to pound a hole in your cervix, he most definitely would have succeeded in breaking your jaw.
There was too much of him in too many places. Your legs gave out immediately, but he caught you – a broad arm wrapping around your midriff and hauling you against his chest. You gasped, but that only gave Jasper a chance to surge forward, to plant a palm next to your head and shove his cock past your lips, your teeth. The blunt head hit the back of your throat with more force than should’ve been possible, his shaft weighing cold and heavy against your tongue. You were tempted to, but you didn’t try to bite down. You had a feeling that the only thing you would manage to hurt was yourself.
They were both unbearable. Jasper, rutting against your face, chasing warmth that wasn’t his, and Emmett behind you, hips constantly flush to your ass, his smug grin pressed into the back of your shoulder as he did his best to tear you open from the inside out. Distantly, you could hear Alice and Rosalie next to you, a few pained whimpers as the latter curled her hands around her partner’s neck, but you couldn’t bring yourself to worry about what they might be doing to each other. All your pity was saved for yourself. It was humiliating – just how quickly your body gave out, just how many terrible, half-smothered noises they were able to force out of you. You felt yourself clench around Emmett’s unforgiving length, heard him curse and buckle against you. His mouth seemed to find the blood still dripping down your chin on instinct, and there was the faintest ghost of unnaturally pointed teeth before he jerked away, one hand finding your waist while the other planted itself on the back of your head, forcing Jasper that much deeper into your throat.
Abruptly, you remembered something another nurse had said to you not long after the Cullen’s first came to town, following Rosalie and Emmett’s first visit to the hospital during one of his less eventful shifts. She’d pulled you aside and admitted that, when Rosalie had first stepped into the lobby, your coworker had somehow mistaken her for a wildcat, nearly pressed the panic button before taking another look. When you asked her if she’d made the same mistake with the boy, all hulking muscle and eat-you-alive intensity, her smile had faltered.
“No,” she’d said, slowly. “That one’s obviously a bear.”
…
There was probably a reason Carlisle had liked you, looking back on it. You were always the last to run from danger.
His pace changed, sped up. Your back arched as he railed into you, Jasper grinding into your mouth with just as much ferocity. Jasper slipped first – something too chilling and too sweet to have ever come from anything human flooded over your tongue, down your throat, mingling with blood and spit where you failed to choke it down. Cruelly, Emmett chose that exact moment to let a hand fall to your clit, to tip you over the ledge you were clinging to so desperately. You came around him as he pumped you full of the same terrible, ice-cold venom. You could practically hear Rosalie purring in delight.
Emmett didn’t pull out. You felt his palm against the back of your neck, his body brace above yours as he pinned you down and started to—
“That’s enough, son.”
Emmett didn’t whine, didn’t protest. He remained silent, still, and Alice groaned next to you. “But we haven’t even—”
“Patience, Alice.” Jasper and Emmett drew back, letting Carlisle pull you into his arms. You weren’t proud of the way you clung to him, but you didn’t have another choice. When your only other option was a pack of wild animals, even a hunter could seem like a comfort. “You’ll get what you’ve asked for.”
You hid your face in his shoulders as he carried you to a velveteen lounge, Esme perched delicately on the arm. She stroked the side of your face gingerly as Carlisle sat down. “I do worry, sometimes,” he sighed, rearranging you to better straddle his lap. “They can be so careless.”
“They have good hearts,” Esme countered. Behind you, Rosalie’s hold on Alice’s neck tightened until her skin splintered, cracks spreading in all directions like fractured stone. “And they love so fiercely.”
The blunt head of his cock pressed into your entrance. With a painstaking sort of tenderness, he guided you downward, spearing you on his length. There was no attempt at resistance on your part. Only a miserable whimper, dampened by his skin, and your nails driven into his back. “I want to go home.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you will.” Esme’s voice was soft, sweet. You would’ve given anything for the strength to scream loud enough to drown it out. “The boys built such a lovely cottage. It’s only a few minutes away, and you’ll just adore the—”
“I think she can worry about that tomorrow, dear.” You felt him pulse inside of you, his smile settling against the dip of your shoulder.
summary; you get into a bella situation in breaking dawn. lol-
EDWARD
Absolutely heartbroken. Think back to Bella’s death in breaking dawn. He’s angry with himself for letting you go through with this—and angry with you for ‘deciding to leave him’.
“You have to accept what is.” You say, your eyes pleading with him not to make things even worse. “Because you’ve given me no choice!” He yells. Your eyes widen. “We’re supposed to be a team, remember?” You can feel a small tear rolling down your cheek. “But you’ve decided this on your own.”
“You’ve decided to leave me.”
“But you’ll still have the baby!” Edward’s golden eyes flicker over to yours with a terrifying slowness. “Do you honestly think I could ever love it or even tolerate it, if it killed you?” He asks, anger radiating through his core. “I’m sorry.” You sob as he walks out of Carlisle’s office and leaves you on the exam table.
Completely alone.
CARLISLE
Unlike his son, Carlisle is reasonable. He understands you want to keep the baby—but he still can’t find it in his heart to find any joy in the situation. He pleads with you to let him get rid of it, but in the end he lets you choose.
“Please just think about this clearly.” Carlisle pleads. You’ve both seen what’s happened to Bella when she gave birth to your ‘granddaughter’ (even though you share no blood relation). “We know what Bella went through.” He says softly, his gentle voice slightly wavering as he kneels down to your bloated stomach.
“Please.”
“I can’t, Carlisle. This is our child.” Carlisle sighs, pressing a kiss to your swollen tummy. “If you won’t change your mind, I won’t press any further.” He says, although you know it’s killing him inside to see you like this. In a few days time, you’ll go into labor and he’ll be the one delivering your demon baby.
and likely biting you to keep you with him.
JASPER
This cowboy is having a panic attack. Being an empath, he can always tell when you’re in pain—which is all the time. And it’s all his fault. He was supposed to protect you, not destroy you.
“You’re in pain again, darlin’.” Jasper observes, gently wrapping his harms around you from behind—and cradling your stomach. “I’m okay, Jasper.” You can already feel the effects of his power trying to lighten your mood. And it was working. You cant help but smile as you think about your new baby.
Jasper wasn’t as happy. None of the Cullens were.
Except Rosalie. Her and Jasper had been doting on you the entire pregnancy. Jasper had since given up on trying to convince you otherwise too. “Are you going hunting tonight?” You ask, looking up at your golden-eyed cowboy. “I was going to stay in with you tonight, darlin’.” He smiles, burying his head in your shoulder.
“Someone has to keep you company.”
ESME
Such a mother. She has years of experience in ‘parenting’ and even had a child of her own—so she knows the pain. Although, she’s even more gentle with you because of your fragile state.
“Do you need anything, dear?” Esme asks, her perfectly curled auburn hair bouncing as she trails after you. “I’m okay, Esme.” You smile, meeting her golden eyes. She can tell you’re lying. “You should really be resting.” She says, gently helping you to the couch. The baby may not be hers (because that is biologically impossible).
But you are still her mate.
Esme sits down on the couch, carefully pulling you down beside her as she softly strokes your swollen stomach. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.” She says, smiling brightly. Despite the tragic situation, Esme has succeeded in making it seem normal—like a happy, human pregnancy.
As happy as having a half-vampire baby can be.
ROSALIE
Rosalie’s always wanted a baby. She helped raise Renesmee and ever since, there’s been an infant sized hole in her undead heart. So when she hears the news of your pregnancy—she can’t help but be excited.
“Are you hungry?” Rosalie asks, handing you a ‘blood’ smoothie that she had poured herself. Carlisle had first introduced them to you after you started losing an unhealthy amount of weight due to the demon inside you (as the other cullens believed). “A little.” You sigh. You always were.
You couldn’t help the craving for blood deep inside you.
Rosalie places the smoothie on the coffee table in front of you. She hated seeing you sickly—but at the same time, she couldn’t wait to meet her mate’s new baby. “Have you thought of any names yet?” She asks sweetly, bringing the smoothie to your lips. “Not yet.” you confess shyly.
“We still have time.” She smiles.
ALICE
Since she’s able to see into the future, she knows of your pregnancy before it even happens—and tries everything to prevent it. But when it still happens anyways; she couldn’t be more distraught.
“That thing is killing you!” Alice yells, frustrated by your insistence to keep the monster that was slowly killing you from the inside out. “Call it what it is, Alice!” You cry. “A baby.” Alice lets out a deep sigh, walking over to you and gently hugging your nearly bone thin form. It hurt her to see you like this.
“I cant let it hurt you.”
“I’m going to be okay, Alice.” You smile weakly. “If things go south, Carlisle can just turn me at the last second.” There was no guarantee he could—but you had hope. “And think of all the fun we can have together.” You gently take her cold hands into yours, stealing a glance into her warm gaze.
“Together.”
EMMETT
Very excited, but nervous dad vibes. On one hand, he can’t wait to play with the new kid (and watch football with it), but on the other, he feels overwhelming guilt for putting you through this much pain.
“Do you have any name ideas?” You ask your mate as you sit down on the soft leather couch, holding a ‘blood smoothie.’ “I was thinking Logan or Gabe.” He chuckles, before abruptly looking down at your exhausted form. Bruises covered your body and your face reeked of exhaustion. Emmett couldn’t help but feel guilty.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, gently grabbing one of his frozen hands.
Emmett can’t even form the words. It’s strange. Usually he’s such a fun loving guy—but seeing you like this really changed him. “Why don’t we watch a comedy?” He suggests, grabbing the remote and changing the subject. He was good at distracting you from the pain. “What movie do you want to watch?” He asks, pulling you close.
"Ah-ah," he chides. "Use your words, like I said. Tell me exactly where you want my hands."
Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x fem! Reader
Genre: Smut
Word count: 6.4k
Summary: You’re a newish member to the town of Forks, with an extreme obsession with Doctor Cullen. One day he finally gives in after you’ve visited the clinic for the 5th time that month.
Warnings: light choking, semi public sex, fingering, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, teasing, praising, orgasm denial.
a/n: I know this is a shift from my usual posts but I've been desperate for some more Carlisle content. As always, I hope you enjoy <3 and send any requests my way!
As you stepped into the small, dimly lit clinic, the antiseptic smell filled your nostrils, mingling with the faint scent of pine from the freshly wiped floor. The receptionist looked up from her computer, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Hello again," she said, her voice dripping with a hint of amusement.
You returned the smile, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, and proceeded to the triage desk. Gripping my chest dramatically, you winced. "I've got these terrible chest pains," you gasp, hoping she wouldn't recognize your voice from the numerous calls I'd made over the past few weeks. "I think it's happening again."
She nodded sympathetically, though her eyes betrayed a spark of curiosity. "I'll let Dr. Cullen know right away," she assures you, before disappearing into the back rooms of the clinic. Your heart raced with anticipation as you take a seat, glancing around the empty waiting area.
Little did they know that your only ailment was an extreme obsession with the enigmatic doctor who had recently become the talk of the town.
The receptionist emerged from the back, her smile widening as she beckoned you to follow her. She led you down the hallway to a small, cozy examination room, the walls adorned with diplomas and medical charts. "Dr. Cullen will be with you in just a moment," she said, the amusement in her voice now unmistakable.
You nodded, trying to compose yourself as she closed the door behind you. The room was warm, and the gentle hum of the heater filled the space. You sat on the crinkling paper of the examination table, heart pounding in your chest.
Would he finally see through your facade of feigned illnesses? Or would he offer the attention and concern that you so desperately sought? The anticipation was almost too much to bear as you heard the soft footsteps approaching, and the door handle turned with a quiet click.
He stepped into the exam room with his usual grace and composure, a hint of surprise flickering across his features as his gaze fell on you. His cool, pale fingers clutched a patient chart, which he quickly placed on the counter. His voice, as smooth and soothing as ever, broke the silence.
Cullen leaned against the counter, folding his arms across his chest and studying you with a mix of curiosity and veiled amusement. "Back again," he commented, his voice betraying a hint of recognition. "Chest pains, you say?"
“Mhm,” you bite your lip as you gaze up at him, “It comes and goes..”
Carlisle hummed softly, tilting his head to one side as he observed you. The flicker of recognition in his eyes now more pronounced. He grabbed the stethoscope that hung around his neck, looping it over his ears.
He closed the small distance between you, his presence seeming to fill the room. He placed the cold metal end of the stethoscope against your chest, his touch as gentle as a butterfly's wings. "Take a deep breath for me," he requested, his voice velvety and commanding.
You gasp at the chill of the metal, a soft surprised sound escaping your lips as you try to steady your heart rate. You follow his instructions, taking in a deep breath.
Dr. Cullen listens intently as the sound of your heartbeat fills his ears through the stethoscope. His brows furrowed slightly, a look of concentration on his face. The cool and professional demeanor remains, his focus on your heart.
"Again," he instructs, moving the stethoscope slightly to a different spot on your chest. His gaze never wavers from yours, his eyes betraying a hint of suspicion laced with a touch of curiosity.
You nod, taking in a deep breath, your hands resting on your knees as you gaze up at his strong jaw. Your heart rate picks up as you admire his face from where you're sitting.
Carlisle can't help but notice the hitch in your heartbeat, his sharp hearing catching the slight acceleration. A small flicker of a smirk plays on the corner of his lips, as he continues to listen intently.
He lifts the stethoscope from your chest, his eyes locking with yours once more. "Your heart rate is elevated," he comments, his voice a low hum. "Any idea why that might be?" The hint of a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Uh,” you gulp, looking off to the side of the room. “No, I’m not quite sure..” your fingers fumble with the hem of your short skirt as you suck your bottom lip between your teeth.
Cullen's eyes flickered down to your fingers fidgeting with the hemline of your skirt before meeting your gaze once more. He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
He took a step back, returning the stethoscope to his desk and perching himself on the edge of it, folding his arms across his broad chest. "You know," he began, his voice a low growl, "I've noticed a pattern. Every time you come to visit, you seem to have a different ailment."
“I guess I’m just,” you try to come up with an excuse. “I just have a lot of things going on, huh?” you grin up at him stiffly.
The doctor tilts his head to one side, a smirk playing on his lips as he studies you intently. He pushes himself off the desk and begins pacing slowly in front of you.
"That's the thing," he says, his voice quiet and measured. "I've been a doctor for a very long time, and I've seen many patients through the years."
He stops in front of you, his gaze locking with yours. "And yet, I've never seen someone quite so...frequent as you."
“Oh..” you lick your lip, “I guess I’m just a bit worried, you know.. Chest pains aren’t a good sign..” your gaze falls to the tiled floor.
Dr. Cullen hums softly, a hint of amused skepticism in his voice. "That's true.. Chest pains aren't something to be taken lightly," he agrees, his gaze locked on your face. "But I have a feeling there's more than just chest pains that are troubling you."
“What.. what do you mean?” your eyes widen as you look up at him, body straightening under his intense stare.
Cullen cocks his head to the side, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a step closer, his presence becoming more commanding.
"I mean," he began, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "that I suspect there's something more going on here. Something that has little to do with your physical ailments and more to do with..." he pauses, his eyes sweeping over your body briefly, "...something else entirely."
You take a deep breath, gulping as he moves closer. “Oh?”
Carlisle’s gaze hardens as he moves even closer, nearly towering over you now. "What if I were to suggest that your frequent visits here have less to do with medical concerns and more to do with something else, something more intimate?" he asks, his voice soft but commanding.
He leans closer still, his cool breath ghosting across your skin. "What if I were to suggest that there's a deeper, underlying reason for your...obsession with this clinic?"
You lean back, legs squeezing together as warmth fills your stomach. “Like what? Doctor Cullen?” you furrow your eyebrows, feigning innocence.
Dr. Cullen's eyes narrow ever so slightly at your feigned innocence. He can sense the heat coursing through your body and the way your legs press together. A smile tugs at the corner of his lip.
He leans in, his voice lowering to a near growl. "Don't play coy with me," he murmurs, closing what little distance remains between you. "You know exactly what I'm referring to."
“I don't-” you shake your head in response, eyes wide as you scoot further back on the table. “I don't think I know what you mean…” your body tenses with desire as he looks down at you.
Cullen's eyes darken at the way you scoot back further on the table, the subtle signs of your tension not escaping his sharp senses. He rests his hands on the edge of the table, effectively caging you in.
"Oh? You don't?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Then tell me why you've been coming here every week for months. And don't give me that 'I'm just clumsy' or 'I have bad headaches' act again."
You open your mouth to give another excuse but nothing comes out, words seemingly caught in your throat. Eyes falling to his lips as your heart hammers against your chest erratically.
His lips curved into a knowing smirk as he noticed the way your gaze fixed on them. It was all the confirmation he needed.
He leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Why don't you just admit it?" he asked, his breath fanning against your skin. "Admit why you keep coming back here. To see me. To see what it's like to have my hands on you."
“Doctor..” you start, voice soft and full of desperation.
Cullen's eyes flicker with a hint of satisfaction as he hears the desperation in your voice. He raises a hand, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch feather-light yet full of possession.
"Say it," he commands, his voice low and authoritative. "Say it, and then you can get exactly what you've been coming here for all these weeks."
“I..” your eyes flutter shut as you take a deep breath. “I’ve been coming here because I want to feel your hands on me.” you gasp out, cheeks flushing with your whispered confession.
Carlisle’s eyes gleam with satisfaction as he hears the confession tumble from your lips. He leans in closer, his hand moving from your cheek to your chin, tilting it upwards so your gaze meets his.
"Good girl," he purrs, the words making heat flare in your stomach. "It wasn't so hard, was it? Admitting what you really want."
He leans even closer, his body pressed against the table, "And what do you want me to do with those hands, princess?"
“I want you to touch me..” you bite down on your lip, legs parting as he slips between them. He lets out a low growl, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. He presses even closer, his hips now pinning you against the table.
"Touch you where?" he whispers, his free hand moving to rest on your thigh, just beneath the hem of your skirt. He toys with the fabric, his fingers tracing small patterns on your bare skin. "You'll need to be more specific, princess."
You move your hand to his, guiding him to where you want him. Carlisle’s hand stops you, a smirk playing on his lips as he sees the slight frown on your face.
"Ah-ah," he chides. "Use your words, like I said. Tell me exactly where you want my hands." He runs his thumb across your lip, watching you expectantly, waiting for your response.
You shiver at his cold skin against you, “Doctor,” you whine out. A low chuckle escapes Cullen’s lips as he sees you shiver under his touch. He brushes his thumb across your lip again, the coldness a stark contrast to your own heat.
“Tell me, princess,” he whispers huskily, his voice like silk. “Where do you want my hands? You’ve been fantasizing about them for all these weeks, haven’t you? Now’s your chance to tell me exactly where you want me to touch you. Be specific.”
“I want you to,” you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment. “Touch me, here, between my legs..” you murmur, motioning to your spread thighs. Dr. Cullen's eyes gleam with a mixture of satisfaction and arousal as he hears your whispered request. He moves his hand, which had been on your chin, to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin slightly.
“Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. “And how long have you been imagining my hands on you there?” he asks, his hand slowly inching up your thigh, the coldness of his touch in stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body.
You gasp, forehead pressing against his shoulder as you shudder. Cullen lets out a low chuckle, enjoying the way you instinctively bury your face into his shoulder. His hand continues to move up your thigh, the coldness of his touch sending another shiver down your spine.
He brings his free hand up to run through your hair, his fingers tangling in the locks. "You're so sensitive, princess. Is that because you've been thinking about this for a long time, hmm?" he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.
“Yes..” you choke out, feeling his hands part your legs further. A low growl rumbles through his chest once you confirm that you've been thinking about this for a while. He moves even closer, his hips pressing against yours, pinning you to the table.
"How often do you think about me like this?" he murmurs, his hand finally reaching the bare flesh of your inner thigh. He lets his fingers dance over your skin, the coolness of his touch sending sensations through your body. "Every day? Every night?" you moan softly, pulling his hand to your soaked panties.
“Please… stop teasing me..” you whine, desperate for his touch.
Cullen grinned, his teeth flashing white in the dim light as he finally slipped his fingers into your panties. The coldness of his skin sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making your core tighten around his touch. His longer pointer finger found your clit with unerring precision, teasing it in a slow, maddening circle.
"You're so desperate for me," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His voice was a seductive purr that seemed to echo through your very soul.
"Do you dream about this, my little patient?" he murmured, pressing down slightly, making you gasp. "Do you lie in bed at night, touching yourself and imagining it's me bringing you pleasure?" His touch grew more insistent, his voice a dark caress that only served to fuel your desire.
You whine, the embarrassment and arousal mixing in a potent cocktail that makes your voice tremble. Cullen's smirk widens, the sound of your need making his own desire spike. "There's no need to be shy now," he whispers, his voice a dark promise. "You've been so eager for this, haven't you?"
With a sudden, firm movement, he slides a finger into you, the coldness of his digit making you gasp. He moves it in and out with deliberate slowness, watching the way your body reacts to his touch.
His thumb remains on your clit, swirling in a relentless pattern that sends waves of pleasure crashing through you. You can feel yourself growing wetter with each stroke, your body betraying just how much you crave his attention.
"Tell me," he murmurs, his voice a dark rumble that sends vibrations through your core. "How long have you dreamed of this moment?" His finger moves deeper, stretching you slightly, his eyes locked on yours, watching every flicker of emotion cross your face. "How long have you wanted me to do this to you?"
Your breath hitches as you struggle to answer, the sensation of his finger inside you making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. "Ever since my first visit," you stutter, your cheeks burning.
Cullen's smile turns predatory as he feels you clench around his finger. "Well," he says, his voice low and seductive, "today, all your dreams come true."
He adds a second finger, the coldness now a familiar and welcome sensation. He starts to pump them in and out of you, his thumb never leaving your clit, keeping the pressure constant.
You moan, unable to stop yourself from arching into his touch, your body begging for more. "More," you murmur, the word barely audible. "Please."
Dr. Cullen chuckles, the sound dark and triumphant. "As you wish, my eager patient," he says, his eyes dark with lust. He quickens the pace, the coldness of his touch making you shiver with pleasure. His thumb presses harder on your clit, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.
As your need grew more urgent, Cullen added another finger, stretching you further as you clenched around him. The sudden fullness made you gasp, and you bit down hard on the fabric of his white coat to muffle the moan that threatened to escape your lips. The material was stiff and cold, but it only served to heighten the warmth and pressure building within you.
Each stroke of his fingers sent a new wave of pleasure crashing over you, the chilly touch of his skin against your heated flesh making you tremble with anticipation. Your eyes squeezed shut, and your nails dug into the material of his coat, leaving tiny marks of desperation as your orgasm began to coil tightly in your core.
The sound of his fingers moving within you filled the room, a slick, intimate symphony that seemed to resonate with the thud of your racing heart. The tension grew, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you approached the precipice.
The coldness of his touch was a stark contrast to the burning heat of your arousal, and you found yourself craving more of him, his mouth, his teeth, his tongue.
You could feel yourself getting closer, your body tightening like a bowstring drawn taut, ready to snap at any moment. Carlisle watched you, his eyes dark with lust, his own breathing growing heavier as he pushed you further and further towards the edge.
Your body shudders as the orgasm crashes over you, a keening cry escaping your throat despite your efforts to muffle it. Cullen's eyes bore into yours, his own desire clear as he watches you fall apart under his skilled touch.
His fingers continue to pump into you, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure until you're left panting and boneless against the exam table. He withdraws his hand, the loss of his cold digits making you whimper.
He smirks, bringing his hand to his mouth and sucking on his fingers, tasting you, his eyes never leaving yours. The sound of his satisfaction echoes in the room, making your cheeks burn even hotter.
The smugness in his gaze tells you that he's fully aware of the effect he's had, and the thrill of being so thoroughly exposed and dominated by him sends another shiver down your spine. You bite your lip, your eyes never leaving his, as you silently beg for more.
Dr. Cullen chuckles again at the sight of you, completely spent and utterly under his control. He takes a step back, admiring your flushed, disheveled appearance. “You're quite the picture, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry.
He moves to the sink and washes his hands, his eyes never leaving yours. Once finished, he turns back to you, his gaze dark with unfulfilled desire. “You know, I should reprimand you for all those fake ailments you've been coming in for,” he says, his voice deceptively casual
You cover your flushed cheeks with your hands, breathing heavy as you try to collect yourself. Cullen smirks as he watches you struggle to compose yourself. He moves back towards you, his footsteps slow and measured. He stops right in front of you, his broad frame towering over your seated figure.
"Embarrassed, are you?" he asks, his voice a low, amused purr. He reaches out, taking one of your wrists in his hand, slowly dragging it away from your face.
“You’re such a tease,” you whine, looking up at him, eyes still full of desire for him. Carlisle’s smirk widens as he hears the complaint in your voice. He releases your wrist, bringing his hand up to cup your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.
"Who, me? A tease?" he asks, his voice dripping with a mix of feigned innocence and mockery. "I'm just doing my job as a doctor, princess. It's my duty to care for my patients," he says, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.
You push your tongue out, licking the tip of his thumb with newfound confidence. “But what about you Doctor?” your hands go to his belt buckle, fingers brushing over his concealed erection.
Cullen's eyes darken as he feels your tongue against his thumb. A sharp intake of breath escapes him as your fingers brush against his erection, the feeling stirring an immediate response.
"What about me, princess?" he asks, his voice gruff and huskier than before. He watches you closely, his eyes locked on your face as you toy with his buckle.
“Who will take care of you?” you unbuckle his belt, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes, full of lust. Carlisle’s hands clench into fists as you unbuckle his belt, his restraint faltering slightly as you gaze up at him with that look in your eyes.
He lets out a low, possessive growl, his body tensing as he struggles to maintain a semblance of composure. "You want to take care of me, princess?" he asks, his voice lower and more gravelly now. "Is that what you're offering?"
You nod eagerly, fingers fumbling with the zipper and button of his slacks. Slipping the pants away, you press your hand against his length through his boxers. Doctor Cullen’s eyes flash with desire as your hand presses against his length through the thin fabric of his boxers. He lets out a stifled groan, his hips involuntarily bucking against your touch.
"Eager, aren't you?" he mutters, his voice a deep rumble. He places a hand on your shoulder, half to steady himself, half to push you away. "You're playing a dangerous game, princess."
You free his erection from his boxers, your hand wrapping around his length. You lean in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to the tip of his erection, feeling it twitch against your lips. Carlisle's grip on your shoulder tightens as you begin to suck, his hips jerking slightly as you take him into your warm, eager mouth.
His cock is hard and pulsing, the head slick with pre-cum that you greedily lick away. His hand slides into your hair, guiding you as you bob your head up and down his shaft, your cheeks hollowing with each suck. The room is filled with the sounds of your muffled moans and his stifled groans as you work to satisfy his desire.
The taste of him is intoxicating, making you want more. You let your tongue dance around the sensitive ridge, feeling him throb against your tongue. His other hand comes up to the back of your head, his grip growing firmer, his hips beginning to thrust in time with your movements. You moan around his length, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through him.
His eyes are closed, his head thrown back, and his chest heaves with each ragged breath. You can feel his need for release growing, his body tightening with every stroke of your tongue. You suck harder, taking him deeper, eager to bring him to climax.
The power you have over him is exhilarating, and you revel in it, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. His hand in your hair tightens, his grip almost painful, but you don't care. All you want is to feel him come apart under your ministrations, to hear him cry out in pleasure.
Cullen groans, his body shuddering as your eager mouth works on him, his hand finding its way to the strands of your hair. He takes a fistful, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply, your scent mingling with the musk of arousal filling the room. He savors the feeling of your warm, wet mouth wrapped around his cock.
His grip on your hair tightens, guiding you with a gentle but firm rhythm that matches the pulse of your own desire. Each time you take him deep, he lets out a soft hiss, his hips rocking slightly to meet your movements. His other hand rests on the counter, knuckles white with restrained need.
The sound of your moans, muffled by his length, echoes in the room, a symphony of pleasure that drives him wild. His control is slipping, his breathing becoming ragged as you work your magic, your tongue swirling around the tip before taking him back in, deeper and deeper with every stroke.
The anticipation of his release builds, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to snap. The coldness of his touch has given way to the heat of passion, his restrained demeanor now a distant memory. The clinical setting is forgotten, replaced by the primal dance of desire that plays out between you.
You can feel him growing closer, his thighs tense and his breathing erratic. You know what he needs, what you've been longing to give him, and you push harder, faster, determined to bring him to the brink and watch him fall.
Cullen's eyes fly open, his gaze piercing yours as he feels the first pulse of his climax. He lets out a low, guttural moan, his hips bucking into your mouth as he releases. You swallow eagerly, your eyes never leaving his as he cums, the salty tang of his release coating your tongue.
His hand in your hair tightens, almost painfully, as he holds you in place, his entire body trembling with the force of his orgasm. You watch, mesmerized, as his features contort with pleasure, his jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut. He lets out a series of deep, shuddering breaths, his chest heaving as he slowly regains his composure.
His hand releases your hair, moving to cradle the back of your head, his touch now gentle as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through him. He opens his eyes, the intensity in them not diminished, and looks down at you with a mix of satisfaction and hunger.
"Good girl," he whispers, his voice hoarse. You sit back, licking your lips clean, feeling a sense of pride at having brought him to this point.
He leans down, cupping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze. A possessive, satisfied smile plays on his lips. “You're quite the naughty little patient, aren't you?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Taking advantage of my good nature like that.”
He releases your chin, his hand moving to your hair, running his fingers through the strands. He tugs lightly, just hard enough to get your attention. “But I must admit, I rather enjoyed it,” he adds, his gaze dark with restrained desire.
“Then maybe I should keep my habit of coming here so frequently,” you bite your lip, gazing up at him seductively.
"You do seem to have a habit of finding yourself in my clinic quite often, princess." Cullen’s gaze darkens at your seductive bite of your lip. "And I do have a duty to ensure my patients are well taken care of..." he says, his voice a low, promising rumble.
He steps closer, his body now pressed against yours, his height towering over you. He leans down, his lips near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "Maybe I should start charging extra for private appointments,” he murmurs.
You shiver at his words, hands reaching out to grasp his sides, your fingers digging into his cold skin. Dr. Cullen lets out a low, amused hum at your shiver, the feel of your fingers digging into his skin sending a jolt through him. "Someone's eager," he mutters, his hand sliding to the small of your back, pulling you even closer against him.
His other hand comes up, his thumb tracing the contour of your chin. He tilts your head up, his gaze a mixture of desire and possessive claiming. "You certainly know how to get my attention, princess," he murmurs, his voice a deep growl.
You slide your hands up his shirt, fingers dancing over his tense muscles. “Doctor..” you murmur. Cullen lets out a low hiss as your hands skim over his bare skin. Your touch seems to electrify him, his body tensing even more beneath your touch.
"Yes, princess?" he responds, his voice rougher than before. He leans down, his lips hovering over your ear. "What is it that you want?" he asks, his warm breath sending another shiver through you.
“I want..” you bury your face into his stomach, breathing in his musk mixed with his cologne. “Your hand wasn't enough… I need more of you..” your voice is needy and desperate as you gaze up at him, chin pressed against his firm abs.
Carlisle’s breath hitches at your admission, the mix of desperation and need in your voice firing up his own primal instincts. His hand at the small of your back grips tighter, his body tensing as he struggles to keep control.
"You want more, huh?" he mutters, his voice thick with desire. He releases his grip on your chin, his hand moving to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. "You're a greedy little thing, aren't you?" he growls.
“Please doctor?” the pads of your fingers dig into his back. Cullen lets out a low, possessive growl as you dig your fingers into his back. The pleading tone of your voice, the desperation in your touch, only serves to fuel his own need.
"You beg so prettily, princess," he mutters, his voice a deep rumble. "How can I resist when you ask so nicely?" He leans down, his lips hovering over yours, his breath warm on your skin. "But you must be specific, sweetheart. You need to tell me exactly what it is you want.“
“I want you to fuck me, please..” you gasp, lips parting for him. Carlisle’s eyes darken at your blunt request, a sharp intake of breath escaping him. He closes the small gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. His tongue pushes into your mouth, delving and tasting, his hand at the back of your head holding you in place.
He pulls back from the kiss, his lips hovering millimeters from yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You're insatiable, you know that?" he mutters, his free hand sliding down your body to grasp your hip. "How am I supposed to deny such a pretty request?"
With a low growl of approval, Cullen's hands guide you to the edge of the exam table, your legs shaking with anticipation. He bends you over, the cold steel pressing into your abdomen as he pulls your panties down, exposing your trembling thighs.
You feel his erection, hot and demanding, as he lines himself up with your slick entrance, the tip of his cock pressing into your wetness. His hand firmly grips your hip, his fingers digging into your skin as he adjusts his position, the sound of his zipper echoing in the small room.
You gasp as he enters you, inch by inch, filling you completely, the sensation of his cold skin against your heated flesh sending waves of pleasure through your body. His other hand wraps around your throat, not tight enough to cut off your air, but enough to remind you of his dominance, his control over your body and your desires.
He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back into you, the force making you cry out. His grip tightens, his hips setting a punishing rhythm that has you seeing stars. Each thrust sends a jolt of cold fire through you, the stark contrast of his frigid skin against your burning need only serving to heighten your pleasure.
The room is filled with the sounds of your muffled whimpers and his deep, satisfied grunts as he claims you, his sharp canines grazing your shoulder as he marks you, his patient.
As your moans grew louder, Cullen's hand left your hip and covered your mouth, his thumb pressing against your lower lip as his other fingers dug into your cheek. He was relentless, his hips moving with a precision that spoke of his experience and his unyielding need to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.
Each thrust hit the spot deep inside you that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, and you could feel yourself growing wetter, your walls clenching around him with every stroke. The muffled sounds of your cries were only for his ears, a secret symphony of passion that played out in the quiet of the exam room.
His own breaths grew harsher, his movements more erratic, as he felt your body tense beneath him, his name a silent scream against his palm. The heat of your arousal mixed with the coldness of his hand on your mouth was a delicious torment, your eyes rolling back in your head as he claimed you, his possession complete.
The world outside the room ceased to exist, and all that remained was the frantic dance of your bodies, the cold steel of his touch, and the warm, velvety embrace of his cock filling you over and over again. You felt your climax building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to shatter you, your body begging for release.
"Not yet, princess," Cullen whispers, his voice hoarse and urgent against your ear, his movements unrelenting. His cold hand slides from your mouth to your neck, his grip firm as he feels your body begin to tighten around him, the warmth of your passion meeting the chill of his touch.
His strokes become deeper, more deliberate, as he watches your face contort with the beginnings of your climax. You try to hold back, your eyes squeezed shut, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip to muffle your cries. Each thrust sends a fresh wave of cold fire through you, making your toes curl and your nails dig into the edge of the exam table.
"I’ll let you know when to cum for me," he commands, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand on your hip guides your hips back to meet his, his thrusts becoming more powerful, more demanding. You can feel the swell of his cock inside you, the pressure building, the coldness of his skin against your hot, wet flesh.
Your eyes fly open, and you stare at the wall, panting, as he continues to fuck you with a masterful precision that has you teetering on the edge of oblivion. Your body is his to command, your pleasure his to give and withhold.
And as much as you want to cum, to shatter beneath his touch, you know that you won't until he says so. The anticipation is agonizing, a sweet torture that only makes the eventual release all the more potent.
You whimper, your body begging for relief, but Cullen's grip tightens, his movements unyielding. "Soon," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. "But not yet. I want to feel you clench around me, tight and desperate, begging for it." His voice is a dark promise, a siren's call that you can't resist.
You push back against him, your body moving in time with his rhythm, the cold steel of his hand on your neck a stark contrast to the warmth building in your core. The tension is unbearable, a coil winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.
You're so close, so very close, but he won't let you go over the edge. Not yet. Not until he's ready. And in that moment, you realize just how much you crave his control, his dominance over your very being. It's a heady feeling, one that makes you want to both fight against him and surrender completely to his will.
You gasp out his name, a plea and a curse all rolled into one, your voice echoing in the small, intimate space. His response is a feral growl, his hips slamming into you with renewed vigor, his hand on your neck pressing a little harder, his thumb stroking the pulse point beneath your jaw.
You're so close, so incredibly close, and you know that when he finally lets you go, when he allows you to come, it's going to be like nothing you've ever felt before. The coldness of his touch, the heat of his desire, the raw power of his control all coalesce into a storm of sensation that threatens to consume you. And you can't wait.
“You can let go now.” he growls into your ear. With a final, powerful thrust, Cullen's hand clamps down hard over your mouth, muffling your scream of pleasure as your body finally gives in to the climax that had been building for what felt like an eternity.
The pressure of his hand, the coldness of his skin against your flushed cheek, only heightens the sensation, making your orgasm feel like it's shattering you into a million pieces. Your eyes squeeze shut as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, your legs trembling and your core clenching around him, desperately trying to hold on to the feeling.
His own release follows swiftly, his hips jerking as he buries himself to the hilt, filling you completely with his seed. His grip on your neck tightens, his breath hot against your ear, as he rides out his climax with a deep, guttural groan. The room seems to spin around you, the only solid point the cold steel of his hand, grounding you in the midst of the tumultuous storm of sensation.
As your body starts to come down from the high, you feel him pull out slowly, his grip on you loosening, his breathing still ragged. He takes a step back, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression a mix of satisfaction and something else, something primal and possessive.
You collapse onto the exam table, boneless and spent, the coldness of the room now a stark contrast to the heat that still pulses through your veins. He reaches down to pull your panties back up, his movements surprisingly gentle given the ferocity of his earlier actions.
The cold fabric against your sensitive skin sends a shiver through you, a final reminder of the intensity of what just transpired. You can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of when you'll get to feel his cold touch again, eager to play out this twisted game of cat and mouse once more.
Hello! May I please request Prompt 14 (You must pretend to be a couple for a mission or cover story; the lines blur dangerously fast.) for Carlisle Cullen x sweet but anxious fem!Reader?
Make Pretend
(Fake Fiancé! Carlisle x reader)
‘When the Denalis come to stay at short notice, Carlisle is certain that they would tell the Volturi about your human knowledge of vampires. That is, unless they can be convinced you are engaged to Carlisle and going to be turned.’
Carlisle had gotten the call from Eleazar two days ago: the Denali coven—old friends, almost like extended family—was coming to stay. Tanya, Kate, Irina, Carmen, and Eleazar himself. They were seeking refuge after a run-in with some nomadic vampires up north, and the Cullens’ home was the safest haven.
The problem? The Denalis were traditionalists, fiercely protective of the vampire secret. A human like you, knowing everything—vampires, the Volturi, the whole immortal underworld—would be seen as a liability. A threat. And Irina, especially, with her lingering grief over Laurent’s death, had grown even more rigid about human involvement.
“They won’t understand,” Carlisle had said that night, pacing the living room with that unnatural grace, his golden eyes shadowed with worry. “If they suspect you’re just… aware, without any commitment to our world, it could escalate. They might inform the Volturi, or worse— take matters into their own hands.”
You swallowed hard, heart pounding. “So what do we do? Pretend I’m clueless? That won’t work!.”
He’d stopped, kneeling in front of you on the couch, taking your hands in his icy ones. “If we tell them we’re engaged, that you're my mate and that you’ve agreed to the change— to become one of us. It’s the only way they’ll accept your being here, Y/N. I'm sorry.”
Engaged. The word hung in the air like a peril. You nodded, even as your stomach twisted. “Fake engaged, then. Ok.”
His thumb brushed over your ring finger, a ghost of a touch. “Ok,” he murmured, though his voice held a note of something deeper, unspoken.
The Denalis arrived under the cover of dusk, their sleek black SUV pulling up to the Cullen mansion like a shadow. You stood beside Carlisle on the porch, his arm around your waist— possessive, protective. Alice, as usual, greeted them warmly, but you felt the weight of their gazes: Tanya’s appraising smirk, Kate’s electric curiosity, Irina’s cool suspicion narrowing on you like a predator sizing up prey.
“A human?” Irina said flatly as introductions were made inside, her voice like cracking ice. She didn’t bother hiding her disdain, her pale blonde hair catching the light as she tilted her head. “Carlisle, you’ve always been the compassionate one, but this…?”
Carlisle smiled, calm as ever, pulling you closer. “Irina, meet my fiancée. She’s known about me, about us, for some time now. And soon, after we're married, she’ll join us fully.”
The room went still. Kate arched a brow, her fingers sparking faintly with restrained voltage. “Fiancée? Bold move, doctor. Didn’t think you had it in you to play eternal matchmaker.”
Tanya laughed, a sultry sound, but her eyes flicked to your bare ring finger. “Where’s the ring, then? Or is this some modern human nonsense?”
You forced a smile, heart racing as Carlisle raised your hand. On your ring finger was a stunning antique ring, diamonds set in white gold that looked like it had been forged in another era. He held your bejewelled hand in his much larger, colder one, his touch lingering and eyes locking on yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. It's play pretend, don't forget that, you said to yourself.
“It’s been in my family for centuries,” he said softly, for the room but somehow just for you. “A symbol of...forever.”
Irina’s lips thinned, but she nodded curtly. “As long as the change happens soon. We can’t afford loose ends—not with the Volturi watching.”
The next few days were a masterclass in deception. You and Carlisle had to sell the engagement: shared glances across the dinner table (where you ate human food while they watched or went out to hunt for themselves), his hand on the small of your back during walks in the woods, whispered conversations that the Denalis’ super-hearing would pick up— talks of wedding plans, of the “change”, of eternity together.
But the close quarters amplified everything. Kate cornered you one afternoon in Carlisle's library, her golden eyes gleaming. “So, spill—how’d he convince you to give up your heartbeat? Carlisle’s charming, but immortality’s no small ask.”
You hesitated and chuckled nervously, fiddling with the ring. “Love,” you said simply, the word slipping out too easily. “When you find someone worth forever-”
She smirked. “Romantic. Just make sure it’s real. We’ve seen humans break under the pressure.”
Irina was worse— always watching, testing. One night, as the group gathered around the piano (Edward playing softly), she pulled Carlisle aside. You overheard fragments: “A human pet is one thing, but risking exposure? If she’s not turned soon, I’ll handle it myself.”
Your blood ran cold. Carlisle’s response was firm, edged with warning: “She’s mine, Irina. And she’ll be one of us. End of discussion.”
That night, in the privacy of his room— your “shared” space for the ruse —you paced, adrenaline surging. The Denalis had gone to hunt, so you were free to talk. “This is insane. What if they call my bluff? I can’t lie forever.”
Carlisle caught your wrist, pulling you into his arms. “You won’t have to. They’re leaving in a week. We just need to hold the line.” His bedside manner was stern but kind.
But holding the line meant blurring lines. Cuddling on the couch during movie nights (the Denalis humouring the human tradition), his lips brushing your temple in front of them— each touch stoking a real fire you'd long tried to put out. Carlisle had always been paternal to you: a wise friend with endless knowledge when you came to him crying about boys.
One evening, after a tense day where Irina had caught you alone far too many times, Carlisle found you in the bathroom, splashing water on your face.
“Are you alright?” he asked, voice low.
You turned, vulnerable. “This...relationship. It’s too much, Carlisle. It's confusing me.”
"Confusing you?" His eyebrows furrowed in concern.
"Carlise," you towel dried your face quickly and turned to look at him.
He went very still in the doorway, the way only centuries-old vampires can, like a statue carved from moonlight. His golden eyes searched your face, careful, almost afraid of what he might find there.
You took one shaky step toward him. “Every time you touch me in front of them, it stops feeling like acting. And I hate it, because I know you’re only doing it to keep me alive, but I—” You continue, “I can’t keep telling myself it’s fake when my body doesn't know the difference. It's not good for our friendship.”
"What do you mean, 'not good for our friendship', sweetheart?"
"I think...I think the feelings that I long ago decided to push down have started to resurface. I think I'm falling in love with you, and I don't feel like I have a choice in it." You stared at him, blushing and eyes misty with shame.
Silence stretched between you, thick and electric. Then Carlisle moved.
In less than a blink he was in front of you, close enough that the coolness radiating from his skin kissed your flushed cheeks. He lifted one trembling hand (yours or his, you weren’t sure) and brushed a damp strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache.
“Y/N,” he whispered, voice rougher than you’d ever heard it. “Do you truly believe I could touch you the way I have these past days and feel nothing?”
Your breath hitched.
“I have spent three hundred and eighty-two years mastering control,” he continued, the words low, reverent. “And every time I hold your hand, every time I call you mine in front of them, I am failing spectacularly. Because it isn’t pretend for me either. It never was," he admitted.
He cupped your face gently, thumbs stroking along your cheekbones like you were something infinitely precious.
“I put that ring on your finger to protect you,” he said, eyes dropping to your trembling lips and then back up. “But the moment it slid into place, I wanted it to be real.”
The confession hung in the air, raw and impossible and perfect.
"Maybe we start with something smaller than marriage, first?" you smiled. You surged forward, closing the last inch between you, pressing your lips to his.
He froze for the space of a heartbeat (shocked, maybe, that you’d dared), and then he kissed you back like a man who’d been starving for centuries. One hand slid into your hair, the other arm banding around your waist, lifting you effortlessly until you were perched on the counter, his cool body fitting perfectly between your knees. The kiss was slow at first, achingly gentle, then deeper, hungrier, like he was finally allowing himself to take what he’d denied himself for so long.
When you finally broke apart, foreheads still touching, both of you breathing hard (well, you breathing hard), he let out a soft, wondering laugh.
“I was trying to be noble,” he murmured against your forehead. “Trying to give you a normal human life. Someone warm. Someone who could give you children, sunlight, a heartbeat that matches yours.”
You shook your head, fingers curling into the lapels of his shirt. “I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone else. I want you. Exactly as you are. Cold hands and all," you smile.
His eyes searched yours, ancient and young all at once. “And the change? Eternity is—”
“Terrifying,” you finished for him. “And maybe a conversation for another time.”
Carlisle closed his eyes, resting his forehead against yours again. When he opened them, the decision was made: you could see it shining there, steady and sure.
From somewhere downstairs came the faint sound of Tanya calling his name (hunting party returning), but neither of you moved. He pressed one last lingering kiss to your ring finger, right over the antique band that suddenly felt impossibly warm.
For the first time since the Denalis arrived, you believed it.
