#⚠️️ Graphic Description ⚠️️

[marvelsswansong]

melting snow

summary: the subtle, obvious, sweet, and at times - dangerous - ways Coriolanus shows his love for you.

tags: coriolanus snow x fem!reader, possessive and lovesick!Snow, mostly fluff with light allusions to smut, significantly off-canon from movie (no lucy gray and no sejanus betrayal), CW possessive/dark behavior, graphic descriptions of murder, violence (it's only the last bit of this fic that's quite dark/violent, so feel free to read up until then. Please take care of yourself!!!)

☆ word count: 4.6K+ words ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

one: subtle praise

At the beginning, he would mask his true feelings and physical urges towards you with a tight lipped grin and a reserved compliment. Something that acknowledges something you've done objectively well, with a genuine softness that didn't apply to any of his other classmates, but seemingly delivered in a nonchalant matter to feign indifference.

"Great dodge." he'd say to you, both of your chests heaving from adrenaline during fencing class. You'd nod gently, a shy "thank you" leaving your lips.

But when Clemensia wins the next round against him, Coriolanus doesn't go above simply shake her left hand in courtesy before leaving the arena briskly.

"Well played." he'd joke, when it was revealed during the final student appraisal that you'd beaten Coriolanus' marks by a few points. Despite Archane and Felix throwing subtle jabs at his way for "losing" the star student title, you'd just shrug off the compliment profusely, praising him endlessly.

"A mere fluke, really. You're the brilliant student. I reckon I just study hard and get lucky." you'd reply, straightening the cuffs of your jacket nervously. The blonde always found it so endearing how bad you were at taking compliments.

So different from the rest of the scum in Capitol, he thought.

Eventually, he'd start to turn his verbal compliments towards things unrelated to your capabilities and work. And more towards things that were of a personal nature, like your looks and dress.

"Your hair looks very nice today." he comments one afternoon late after school, his shoulders brushing against yours as you both await your rides home. Your hands fly up to your hair, to the small crown of daisies adorning your head, as if you've almost forgotten what you were wearing.

"You think so?" you shyly ask, looking up at him nervously. "I wouldn't have worn it to the academy if we hadn't been called down on immediate notice. It's just that the family I babysit for on the weekends, their daughter just turned six and... well, she was very insistent on making me a flower crown."

He finds your embarrassment awfully cute.

"But I swear, when Dr Gaul turned to look at me today, I thought she was going to kill me."

Coriolanus only rolls his eyes playfully at that, knocking his shoulders against yours.

"And what would she know about first rate fashion? You look amazing."

It's the nicest compliment you've gotten over a silly crown of flowers, your heart warming and your breath stuttering at his words. It's what motivates you to lightly squeeze his right arm before you get into the car, your touch lingering in his mind long after you depart.

A month later, Coriolanus runs into you at the farmer's market on a Sunday. His instructions by Tigris to "buy some bread and oranges for tomorrow" are almost forgotten in one fell swoop when he sees you. Free from your usual academic attire, you're wearing a flowy lilac dress which sits right below your knees, the silky fabric glowing in the yellow sunlight.

"This color really suits you." he decides to whisper in your ear after discreetly sliding into the space next to you, the action so sudden that it causes you to jump. Your shoulders soften when you recognize his striking blue irises, and then you pout, punching him right in the chest.

"You scared me, Snow." you jokingly scold him. "And where are your manners? You should always introduce yourself first to a lady."

He pretends to be wounded by that, hand on heart whilst leaning backwards.

"My deepest apologies. Would this help?" he asks, effortlessly pulling a white rose from his back pocket. He revels in how your gaze lightens up in awe and amusement at the gesture.

"Perhaps so." you reply back, fingertips brushing against his.

The blonde takes it as a sign to slide it behind your ear, the memory of your etheral form with his flower tucked behind your right ear etched into his mind before you're called away by your friends.

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two: soft touches

Once he's sure that his feelings are reciprocated, Coriolanus would start to step the line over into something more serious. He's not willing to open up immediately nor is he necessarily a man of romantic prose. A large part of him is scared, even, of the way you make him feel.

After all, what is love if not vulnerability?

And how he could be vulnerable with you, a woman so far out of his league, widely adored and your family amongst the wealthiest in Panem?

So it would start off when the class seating arrangements are changed and you're seated next to Coriolanus for the remainder of the year.

He'd start to purposefully spread his legs a little bit wider than usual, his knees always brushing against yours.

He'd take every chance he could to lean over to explain something to you, his face a few inches away from yours, if you ever seemed stuck on a question.

He'd open the classroom door for you in the mornings and offer to carry your heavy textbooks back to your family's car after school, insisting that it was because he wouldn't want you to trip on your heels. And if you'd ever insist on carrying the books on your own, he'd keep a gentle hand on your upper back to keep you upright "in balance."

Once, whilst presenting a speech at your father's fundraising dinner that you'd stayed up all night preparing for, you accidentally lose track of your speech. You stumble on your words, voice cracking in panic as you start to scan the page of thick text, all of which suddenly seem jumbled up and nonsensical.

Sensing distress, Coriolanus' hand quickly moves under the table to squeeze your left hand (hanging by your side) in a reassuring manner.

It's only then, somehow, that you find yourself able to re-focus on the printed text and continue your speech. Afterwards, you squeeze his hand back and whisper your gratitude.

"I owe you, Coriolanus."

Another time, it's a formal ball being hosted by the academy to mark the holiday season. After a few drinks, you're tipsy and manage to drag your friends up towards the balcony, despite it snowing outside and being below zero degrees.

Cautiously watching your every movement by where he's leaning by the bar, Coriolanus quickly makes an excuse to exit the conversation he found himself trapped in, before walking outside towards your shivering figure.

Your dress certainly isn't helping your situation, it being a satin slip dress with sleeves and a conservative cut out by your shoulders. It exposes your chilled skin as you rub the naked space with your arms, your staggered breaths coming out in white puffs of smoke.

"Corio! What're you doing he-" you start to walk towards him but nearly trip, his arms coming to supporting your body last second to save you from falling completely on your face.

"You shouldn't be outside in this weather." he comments, amused, as he helps you find your balance once more. But you refuse to re-enter the ballroom, choosing to instead excitedly ramble about how wonderful winter in the Capitol is and how you can't remember where you've placed your bag.

Listening earnestly to your ramblings with a smile on his face, he quickly shakes off his blazer.

"May I?" he asks. You blink slowly, heart fluttering at the gesture.

"O-okay."

The boy then carefully drapes his blazer over your shoulders, the act immediately enveloping your senses in his signature smells - oakwood and rose. Your fingers clutch the lapels of the jacket, your nose burrowing in to the softness of the fabric.

"Are you sure you won't be cold?"

He's freezing, of course, but he keeps his posture straight and tuck his hands into his pockets.

"I'm just fine. Don't you worry about me."

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three: nicknames

Once you two become an item, Coriolanus moves on to calling you affectionate names.

Of course, he'll prefer to call you by your name in professional settings - like during a presentation, in front of the Academy staff, at formal galas and dinners - but when it's just the two of you, or around people you both trust, or when he's jealous -

He almost never calls you by your name.

Darling is the classic, lovestruck expression he uses when he's being his most vulnerable. It's what he whispers into the gap underneath your neck when he's waking you up in the morning, landing kisses across your collarbone during sunrise. It's his greeting when he surprises you with a bouquet of flowers on your birthday, right before he whisks you away to a trip to district 1. It's what he cries into your hairline when you are hospitalized following a rogue rebel explosion on your trip home.

"Darling... darling, can you hear me?"

Coriolanus' voice is foggy, your head still ringing from the loud explosion earlier, but your heart still races at the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand on yours. Throat croaking, you try to respond with an affirmative "yes", to which your boyfriend responds by quickly grabbing a near by cup of water.

Gently guiding the glass to your lips, he treats you as if you're a fragile porcelain doll: smoothing down your hair gently and fluffing up your pillows to lay you back down. It's only then that you get a good look at him under the flickering lights - the bags under his eyes look heavy, his usually neat hair a complete mess, his blue irises blood shot.

"Have you been sleeping, Corio?" you ask, worried, your thumb rubbing circles onto his palm. He chokes up at that, shaking his head sideways with a sad smile.

"How... how could you ask me that, darling? You've been in the hospital for days."

"I hope that doesn't mean you haven't been sleeping for days." you quip back, raising your eyebrows. Your boyfriend opens his mouth to lie, but the twitch of his lips gives him away. So you instead shift towards the left of your bed, making space for him on the mattress.

"Come on you silly man."

He smiles a guilty grin before snuggling up next to you, letting out a heavy sigh of content at your warm body against his.

Petal is his sweet, infatuated name for you when he's referring to you in conversation or calling out for you in front of friends and family. Tigris never fails to tease Coriolanus for the name, but he doesn't mind it - you're his flower, his precious petal.

"I can't believe you think this is ugly." Tigris sighs at the dinner table one night, shuffling through the myriad of designs on the desk. "This was going to be the design I send off to the boutique tomorrow."

"I didn't say it was ugly, I just think this design is far nicer." Coriolanus responds, pushing forward the blue design in front of him. His cousin pouts at that, clearly unsatisfied with his answer.

"Petal-" Coriolanus calls out for you, where you're cooking with grandma'am in the kitchen. "Could you come in for a moment?"

When your confused face pops into the room, Tigris quickly calls you over, dramatically stretching out her arms to grab you.

"Mr Snow seems to think this design - the gold sweetheart dress with lace trimmings - is uglier than this blue version. What do you think, (Y/n)?" she earnestly asks, pushing over the two designs to your direction. You shuffle through the papers intently, studying each drawing up close, before ultimately taking Tigris' side.

"I'd say your eye for design is impeccable, Tigris. And that Coriolanus should perhaps stick to things other than fashion."

That makes both grandma'am (who is listening in from the kitchen) and Tigris, burst out in laughter, with the latter throwing her arms around your waist in a sideways hug.

"Ah, I knew you were my favorite for a reason." she jokes.

"Petal, you wound me." your boyfriend jokes, a small scowl on his face for show. Though, when you lean down to kiss him, the scowl easily melts away.

My doll is what he calls you when he's driven sick by jealousy and possession. As, much to Coriolanus' distate, you have many admirers - due to you coming from a wealthy family and being a well known socialite in your own right.

Coriolanus has never liked Felix Ravinstill, but he swears his hatred for the president's son only tripled after you and Coriolanus became an item. Felix was never shy about his attraction to you - the forward compliments, the invitations to his house after school, the rush to sit next to you during lunch periods. But now, the blonde thinks, it's getting full on desperate.

As you sit reading a book in the hallways of tha academy, waiting for Coriolanus to finish his talk with Dr Gaul, the dark haired boy decides to chat with you. When your boyfriend opens the door discreetly, upon hearing your voice mingle with someone else's outside, his vision nearly turns red at how close the other man is to you.

You're pointing out something in your book to Felix, your innocent eyes fixated purely on the black and white text and thus completely missing how shamelessly the man next to you is eyeing you up and down. It takes Dr Gaul's shout - "actually, Ms (Y/n), could we have a word regarding your last proposal" - for Coriolanus' rage to slowly fade.

Instead, he starts to feel cold, hardened logic putting a plan into motion.

And once you're inside the classroom, Coriolanus doesn't hesitate to slam Felix up against the wall, making sure to angle the boy's head to hit directly against a marble statute. The impact isn't hard enough to crack the man's skull, the last minute measurement in Coriolanus' head ensuring that he wouldn't be punished for injuring the president's son.

But he makes sure that the impact hurts enough to leave a mark.

It makes Coriolanus' heart twist in pleasure.

"You better leave my doll alone, Ravinstill. She's not interested in you. She's never been interested in you." he spits, snarling like a ravenous dog.

"You're delusional, Snow, if you think she'd ever want to stay with you." Felix manages to spit out, trying to wiggle his way out of the taller man's hold, but Coriolanus is too strong.

"You're the only delusional one here. It's pathetic, really. All that money and social connections in the world, and it'll never be good enough for my doll."

Coriolanus can tell that hit a nerve with Felix, so he lets go of the shorter boy, nearly throwing him away to the side in the process. Pride and ego surges through his veins when you appear and call out for Coriolanus, so the blonde makes a concerted effort to kiss you fiercely for show.

His arm snaking around your shoulder to pull you right up against him, a devious smile on his lips.

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four: lavish gifts and deep marks

Things only escalate once Coriolanus' tribute ends up winning the hunger games and he's crowned the winner of the Plinth Prize. Now saddled with money, reputation and a full ride scholarship to the university funneled by the Plinth family - he finally finds himself able to spoil you in all the ways possible.

Fresh flowers adorn your windowsill every morning. The finest jewellery and newest luxury bags are delivered to your doorstep at random. Perhaps most impressive of all, he buys a two bedroom apartment near the center of the Capitol for you two to move into.

"How'd you..." you can't even finish your sentence when you first see the place: the prime location, the high arched ceilings, the stainless marble... He hadn't even allowed you to pitch in any of your own - or your family's - money to buy the place, insisting that it was to be a complete surprise.

His arms come around your shoulder to hug you close, swaying you from side to side.

"Generosity of the Plinth family and the spoils of being the victor, darling." he drawls in your ear.

You're still in awe, hands tracing the intricate patterns of the roman columns supporting the ceiling, when he starts to tug you up the stairs.

"Would you like to see the view from our bedroom? It's magnificent."

Of course, Coriolanus' new elevated status and recent memory of acting as a mentor in the hunger games - planning, guiding, and having a role in the extended play of human lives - it all makes him quite obsessive and possessive of you. Given that you're one of the few people in his life who has known him for years now, before he was a mentor and before had all this money and status...

He has to make sure to keep you in his life. He's made a lot of enemies, after all, many of whom would like to harm him. And with his undying love for you, hurting you becomes an attractive option for his enemies.

So Coriolanus gets more possessive by becoming more shameless in public. He'll gladly call you his love in front of crowds of hundreds. He'll kiss you breathless and squeeze your lower back if he thinks a man is staring a bit too long at you. And when he knows you two will be separated for a few days - usually due to him having to travel out of the Capitol on business matters - he'll leave bite marks on your neck.

You didn't even think about how noticeable the marks might be when you rush out of bed one morning, having promised to attend an engagement dinner of a fellow classmate, Clemensia's. Your rude awakening comes when, mid-way through the rehearsal, Sejanus leans over to quietly ask if you've brought your foundation with you.

You scrunch your face at the odd question.

"Uh, yes... I have a powder compact in my bag, why?"

Your friend smiles at you apologetically, before motioning to your neck.

"Because, (Y/n), it looks like a vampire has bit you."

And when you look at your reflection in your wine glass, it's clear that you have odd, dark, bite shaped marks littering your collarbone and neck.

Later in the week, when Coriolanus has finally returned from his business trip, you try and scold him for it.

"I nearly died of shame, Corio. Seriously, you should've seen how Arachne was looking at me the whole night." you sigh, just as he laughs.

"You're over thinking it, darling. Besides, you weren't complaining when I was leaving those marks on you on Tuesday."

You open his mouth to scold him again, but find yourself unable to mutter a smart response, your thoughts flying away when he's back to attacking your skin with his mouth.

After all, you're like a drug to him - he can never get enough.

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five: killing for you

Once Coriolanus is sure that you're not going to leave him, he finds it appropriate to take it to the next level: marriage. He drops a few thousand dollars on a large diamond ring, a ring which he makes sure you never take off (except in the shower).

At this point, the thought of losing you nearly equals his fears of losing everything he's built so far: becoming wealthy, powerful and well known amongst the Capitol's elite. He's terrified of living in a world without you and so he considers anyone who is deemed a threat must be dealt with in a secure, efficient manner.

No mercy, no hesitation.

After all, Coriolanus thinks one night, whilst sharpening a spare knife in the kitchen: if you give a rebel an inch, they'll run a mile.

The first person he kills is a security guard who fails to do their job correctly in protecting you.

He'd been hired by Coriolanus to protect you in your daily transport from the mansion to anywhere outside the Capitol (most often, to districts 1-3 to support your family's business dealings). But the bodyguard had failed to protect you one fateful winter day, leaving you to stumble back home with a twisted ankle and a busted lip as your bodyguard was only able to neutralize the threat after a few minutes of tussling with the gang's leader in the snow.

Your fiancee was fuming, sending you off to a near by hospital with grandma'am, before he motioned for your bodyguard to come downstairs to the empty garden.

The blonde didn't even feel an ounce of sorrow as he pulled the trigger, simply ordering the next bodyguard he'd hired to do the messy job of disposing of the body.

The second person he kills is a rebel who attempted to sneak a bomb underneath the car transporting you to the Capitol, following Coriolanus' announcement as candidate for the presidency.

The rebel was apprehended by the security detail team pretty quickly, so fast in fact that you weren't even made aware of the threat on your life. All you're told that day by Coriolanus' subordinates is that "there had been a change of plans" and you were to go to a fundraising dinner at an art museum instead to raise funds for the campaign.

And whilst you're off at the dinner, making a passionate speech for his presidency, Coriolanus makes an order for the rebel to be dragged out into the fields.

"You dare threaten the love of my life?" he sneers into the rebel's face, which is already bloodied and broken beyond recognition. The animalistic rage pumping through Coriolanus' veins is unlike anything he's ever felt before, and the gun in his hands suddenly feels like too much of a merciful ending for the rebel's crime.

"Just kill me." the rebel spits, but that only makes Coriolanus let out a sinister chuckle.

"Don't worry, I will. But I think a gun shot will be far too quick."

Instead, Coriolanus orders the man to be placed into a cage - a prototype that was being designed as a trap for the next year's games - and for a tub of venomous snakes to be released.

Whilst the other workers in his campaign look away from the horrific sight, Coriolanus just stares in great interest and pride. Once the screaming dies down, he calmly disposes of his bloodied shirt and hails a ride to greet you at the museum entrance.

"All good?" you ask, noticing an odd expression on your lover's face. But he just kisses you lightly on the lips, chuckling.

"Of course, petal. Why wouldn't it be?"

And so on and so forth. Whether it's directly or indirectly, Coriolanus becomes ruthless in securing your safety and your love. And he's so good at hiding it, he thinks, until one day he becomes a bit sloppy.

It was supposed to be an easygoing dinner at the mansion, a wealthy donor - his top donor, his campaign manager had informed him - named Robert Hemingworth had requested a private dinner. Coriolanus intially wanted to refuse, hating the thought of inviting a stranger to his home, but both you and his campaign manager agreed that it was best to play nice given the money at stake.

"For your troubles." Robert had said on his way in, a snarky smirk on his lips. In his arms were a basket of wines and grapes worth a pretty penny, but Coriolanus couldn't help but think that there was something about the brunette's gaze that he didn't trust. But with pursed lips and a fake smile, he forced out a thank you and invited the man into the foyer.

"What a... charming little abode." the oil tycoon had drawled, his gloved hands tracing along the walls. The sly comments and odd compliments (in truth, backhanded compliments) continued through out the night, all the way from appetizer to the main course. Sipping on copious bottles of red wine in an effort to keep himself grounded, Coriolanus was managing to keep his temper down until the older man asked about your whereabouts.

"Will your charming fiancee not be joining us?"

He froze at the man's questions, the hungry look in the millionaire's eyes and the underlying threat weighing down the atmosphere. The desserts had now arrived, two maids scurrying in with small plates of bread pudding, both of whom Coriolanus quickly dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"She's out with Tigris. Dress shopping." he'd decided to leave it at that, his left hand squeezing his glass so tight the glass started to crack. Coriolanus had hoped the man would leave the discussion there, as he wasn't sure what he was capable of doing if the older man didn't.

But the man continued. A disgusting moan escaping his lips in satisfaction after biting into the pudding, a devious smirk on his lips to match.

"Ah. Well, what a shame. I was hoping she would be part of the dessert."

No sooner than those words leave the millionaire's mouth, Coriolanus' left hand grabbed the knife laying on the board in front of him, where moments ago the maids were cutting cheese and ham. He then brings the blade to swiftly meet the older man's stomach, white dress shirt staining crimson red, all the while Coriolanus refuses to break the man's gaze.

"You fucking disgust me. Everyone in the Capitol fucking disgusts me one way or another, but you? You dare invite yourself to my home?" he retracts the knife, before stabbing it back into the suited man's flesh, each pause accentuated by another driving force.

"You dare speak about my love in such a vulgar manner?"

"You dare insinuate such sinful acts with my beloved?"

"You dare try and buy your way into her body?"

The marble floors are now flooded in a sea of red, the man's dying chokes and Coriolanus' heavy breaths overwhelming the room. The room stings of the smell of copper when you enter the space, quietly closing the door behind you, as you were only able to see the man on the floor and your boyfriend standing on top of him from the entrance.

"Corio? Love?"

The blonde turns around at the sound of your voice, face etched with annoyance.

Annoyed that you'd have to be subject to a vulgar sight like this. Annoyed that he'd stained your new kitchen set with an unworthy man's blood... And most of all, annoyed that he can't tell what you're thinking: your face kept completely neutral as you slowly approach him.

"You're back early." is all he decides to say, testing the waters.

You look down at his hands, soaked in hot blood, then down at the man who is writhing on the floor.

"Found what we wanted quickly, I suppose." you reply, stopping next to Coirolanus before leaning down to get a better look at the dying man. "Right, what was his deal?"

"Hm?"

It's only then that your plain expression breaks, your usually light eyes swimming with sinister charm, a coy smile breaking out on your face.

"Come on, Corio. You don't seriously think I didn't notice the amount of odd stains on your cufflinks? Or the terrified looks the house servants give you since the beginning of our engagement?"

He blinks, surprised. Coriolanus had always assumed he was covering his tracks well. Or that, at the very least, you'd have something to say about it all.

"He was making rather vulgar comments about you, darling. The bastard seems to have been making donations in an effort to get closer to you." he slowly explains as you stand back up, nodding slowly.

"Hm... Yes, that is rather concerning. And I suppose you've gone too far ahead for us to save him, always the temperamental lover you are." you tease.

Your humorous response and your unwillingness to run away from the darkness of the situation, it awakens something fierce in Coriolanus that he hasn't felt for you before.

"I suppose."

The euphoria he feels when your delicate fingers lace his to grab the knife instead, before you finally drive the blade down and end the man's life, is indescribable.

"I think you owe me a new dress." you say quietly, dropping the knife onto the floor.

The blonde wastes no time gathering you up in his arms, kissing you so fiercely that it almost hurts your neck.

"I think I owe you more than that, darling. How about the entirety of Panem?"

He'd do anything for you. The entirety of Panem be damned.

a/n: omg this has got to be the darkest piece of writing + fucked up ending I've ever written in like years of writing on tumblr 😅😭 but idk I'm obsessed with an idea of Corio's partner being someone who embraces him wholeheartedly and surprises him by being darker than she seems on the surface.

please leave a like/comment/reblog/ask if you've enjoyed, your support is what motivates me to write!

ALSO I've just re-opened my requests bc I would love to receive some corio fic ideas, so please send in your corio thoughts if you have any 🥺🥺🥺

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞" - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝚂𝟸!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 × 𝙶𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫/𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐲 | 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 | 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 | 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤

𝖈𝖔-𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍: @starkeyisthelastname

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𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓴 𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓻

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙/𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖊

Rafe and the Reader are both from Kildare Island. They both attend the same college. *Kildare Island cartographers, this is not accurate. I am aware 💕*

⚠️ warnings contain spoilers ⚠️

Praise kink, ownership kink, softboyfriend!rafe, pet names, Ward is a dick, verbal abuse, physical abuse, swearing, drinking, drinking and driving, graphic descriptions of violence, blood, gore, smut, cum play, cum tasting, mask kink, major character death, unprotected p in v, choking, rough sex

Reader’s POV:

“What are you thinkin’ about, pretty girl?” Rafe mumbles as he leans into your neck, kissing you gently, his large arm wrapped around you. You rest your hand on his thigh, letting him pull you against his broad frame as you do your best to calm down.

There was a list of things, really; it’s the night of The Purge, after all. The terror behind it was never easy to think about. Then, to top it all off, your very first dinner at the Cameron’s place. Somehow, you found yourself more nervous about the latter. Taking a deep breath, you melted against him, your lips finding his for a soft kiss. “Nothing, baby. Just a little anxious.” You whispered against his mouth. Rafe draws the same breath, not wanting to wave off your worry.

This was always a difficult night; the houses and residents of Figure 8 always seemed to get hit the hardest. The hatred, violence, and aggression The Cut held inside for this side of the island were clear, rightfully so—vandalism, theft, arson, beatings, murder; complete and utter chaos. But the Kooks weren't innocent either; they never are. Their crimes on Purge Night seemed to go unnoticed, brushed under the rug, their faces hidden under satirical masks. By the morning, when everyone pulled themselves out of their safe rooms, the manicured streets would be torn to shreds. The Kooks would be in “mourning” for the rest of the year, attending fundraiser after fundraiser, gala after gala, to return their neighborhoods to how they once were.

“You’re gonna be alright, princess. You have your safe room. We have ours. We can talk on the phone all night. Aight? I’m gonna look after Rose and Wheezie; your dad promised me that you’d be safe. It’ll be just like any other night.”

“I wish we could’ve stayed on campus,” your voice whispered as you lifted your head to meet his gaze. Your eyes burned from the heat of the tears threatening to spill down yours cheeks.

“That campus is gonna go to shit, princess. Always does. Tons of kids with rage to spare. We’re safer here.” You look up at the TV screen, Rafe’s words affirmed as they showed CCTV footage from the year before, your college campus flickering across the screen. It looked like a war zone… Rafe was right. The both of you were safer here.

“Reports had shown last year’s Purge had been the most successful to date, with the most murders committed.”

The journalist speaks with pride as she delivers the news. You could feel the chills run down your body, goosebumps flaring across your bare thighs. Rafe, of course, took notice of this, pressing a rough kiss to your forehead. “We’re graduatin’ next year. We’ll have a place of our own, just you and me,” He assured, reminding you of that sweet truth.

“Just you and me,” You echoed as you matched his pretty blue eyes. Wheezie’s phone buzzes, making you match her gaze across the living room. She’s an eavesdropper, lovingly so, her mood shift evident after listening your conversation with Rafe, knowing that it might just be Rose, Ward, and herself next year. Her protector, gone. “You too, of course, Wheez,” you smiled at her. She purses her lips, fluttering her lashes, quickly hurrying herself back to having her face buried in her phone to hide her emotion.

"Red or white?" Rose asked sweetly, her hands resting on a wine glass as she waited for your reply.

"Red wine, please." You smiled. “Thank you.”

"Rafe, would you like red?" She asked, earning a nod in reply from him. Rafe glanced over his shoulder, watching his stepmom run four glasses of wine. "Dinner will be ready in five.” She announced.

You gave her a polite smile and nod, nerves bubbling— this dinner was a staple in the Cameron house. It was like Thanksgiving in July: immaculate, decadent, excessive. A love letter to the Pogues, to give them just one more reason to hate the Kooks before the sirens sounded.

“Who knows, maybe next year we can Purge together,” Rafe whispers against your ear. The suggestion alone made your stomach fall. The unseriousness in his tone evident as he razzes you for shock value. But he’s joking… right? You let out a small breath when you heard his laugh, his arm gripping you tighter. “M’kidding, pretty.” He chuckled, amused by your reaction.

The jingle of a collar pulled your thoughts away as Rafe’s dog, Penny, rounded the corner and made her way over with a jump onto the couch. The large golden retriever snuggled next to you as she always did, making you smile softly at the momentary distraction. Rafe reached down, scratching her head with his grin. “Think Pen would rather spend the night with you than me, sweetheart,” he coos as he looks at her, making the sweet girl wag her tail. “Traitor.”

You looked at her, touching her soft fur before speaking. “Next year, it’ll be you, Rafey, me, and Wheez,” you speak to her sweetly as you scratch her head.

“That’s right,” Rafe hums happily.

"Dinner's ready,” Rose calls from the kitchen. Rafe weaves his larger hand in yours, leading you toward the table. Like the gentleman he was, he pulled out your chair and waited for you to take your seat before pushing it in. It was the sound of heavy footsteps that made the both of you glance up, seeing the patriarch himself. Ward Cameron. Rafe looks over his plate as he sits down, praising Rose and avoiding eye contact with his father as the older man sits across from him.

"So Alexis, how is school going for you?" Ward asked, causing Rose and Wheezie’s conversation to hush as he mentioned Rafe’s ex-girlfriend, Alexis Thornton's name, not yours. You were taken aback a little, but tried not to show it on your face. You didn’t know how to respond but did your best to save yourself the embarrassment.

"Umm... It's going great. Thank you." You said quietly, deciding to let it go.

"Y/n, I’ve actually been thinking about going there too," Wheezie emphasized your name with a sugary, sweet smile. “You know, when the time comes,” she adds casually, peering out of the corner of her eye at Ward as she swirled some pasta on her fork. She was waiting for her father to correct his mistake, but to her surprise, nothing came.

"Really? That’s amazing, Wheez. You should come out for a visit soon, and I can show you all our favorite spots.” You told her, picking up your wine glass to take a small sip. That’s when you heard Ward scoff, making you look in his direction. “She’s a child,” Ward rasped, followed by a mocking laugh. ”What are you gonna do? Take her to a bar?” His words were cold underneath a fake smile.

The confused look on your face said it all as you replied to him. “Obviously not,” You laugh him off, taking a similar tone towards him. Did he really think you’d take a 13-year-old to a bar? “There are some great restaurants, fun coffee shops, and a few cute little boutiques I’d love to take you to.” You said, focusing your attention back over on Wheezie.

Her smile brightened at your words, giving you an excited nod to her head. You turn your focus back to the head of the table, watching as Ward throws back the rest of his first glass of wine. It vibrated against the table as he slammed it down, gesturing to Rose with his other hand. As if he needed another. “Well, I’m hopin’ your grades are better than his,” Ward mumbled, cutting off Rose’s pour, three fingers from the top of the glass.

“I have good grades, but I’m not sure what you mean by that. Rafe’s grades are great.” You told him, your hand squeezing your boyfriend’s leg supportively under the table. You watched as Ward raised an eyebrow, his lips pursing around the wine glass before he set it down.

“He’s not on Academic Probation anymore? How many chapters did I miss?” Ward snickered cruelly as he matched Rafe’s eyes and yours. His words were harsh and cutting as he tried his best to embarrass his son in front of everyone. If one were to ask if Ward had any regrets, the only one he had would be not having a bigger audience to humiliate his eldest child.

"Uh, no. Not since the first year,” Rafe responded, his voice breaking slightly with anger as he spoke up. His blue irises flashed darker, meeting his father’s gaze as the man gave him a smirk. ”Real proud of you, son. Didn’t think you had it in you,” Ward drawled out in a thick southern accent laced with nothing but hate.

“You and your family gonna be alright tonight? Gettin’ pretty close to The Cut,” Ward asks as he slides his spoon across his tongue to cover the slight grin he’s holding back, taking a bite of crème brûlée. Gettin’ pretty close to The Cut… He means that in more ways than one— physically close, just a bay separating the two. Financially close as well, new money and a new family business, skirting the line between Kook and Pogue; still enough coin to pay for a membership at the Island Club.

Rafe knew precisely what he meant, Ward’s wicked double-entendre conjuring up fury. Calling you the wrong name was the first thing that had pissed him off; now his father was being rude to you just for the hell of it, and that was a whole other thing on its own. It was only a matter of time before he absolutely lost it.

"So, Alexis, what’s your brother up to these days-”

"Jesus Christ, Dad... Her name is y/n..." Rafe snapped, banging his giant fists against the table, the delicate china clattering and clanging on the flat surface. Ward chuckled at his son’s outburst, knowing he was the reason for it.

"Sorry, son. I can't keep all your girlfriends straight," He laughed before turning to you. "You don't mind if I just call you Alexis? Do you, sweetheart?" He slurs, a sly smirk on his lips.

"I do.” You reply quietly, trying your best not to cry from humiliation. He was just being an ass, but everyone's eyes on you were making you very uneasy. You looked down at your half-eaten dessert, your appetite suddenly gone. Rafe took one look at you and shook his head.

"Alright... I think we are good. Are you good, sweetheart?" Rafe asked, already knowing the answer. He stood up abruptly, reaching for your hand. His other rips the bottle of wine off the table and passes it to you before snagging the crème brûlée as Ward reaches for seconds.

"M’takin’ her home and I’m leavin’ in the mornin’,” Rafe spat. “By the way, Dad, why don’t you stop drinkin’? Huh? You’re not gonna be good for shit if I gotta protect your ass too, fuckin’ pussy.” Ward was seething, wasting no time in grabbing Rafe by the shirt, pulling him down to meet his cold, dead eyes.

“The hell did you just call me, boy?” His voice was low as he twisted the fabric tighter in his hand.

“Called you a fuckin’ pussy,” Rafe responded with a level tone, not letting his nerves get the best of him. Ward’s face fell as he let him go, only to push him back towards the wall—Rafe bumped into the decorative table, sending one of Rose’s ornate vases crashing to the floor.

Rafe took a long drink from the wine bottle, just waiting for another storm of insults that would surely fly from Ward’s mouth. The vase was shattered all over the hardwood, the table quiet as everyone felt the tension thick in the air. Taking a breath, the older man hung his head in exhaustion for his disappointment of a son. This was a regular occurrence for the tumultuous pair, and Rafe’s voice was eerily calm again when he turned to his stepmother.

“Thanks for dinner. I’ll clean that up when I get back,” Rafe mumbles, his head nodding over to messy ground. Rose, who didn’t want to set her husband or stepson off even more, just gave him a soft nod and a weak smile.

“Hurry back,” Wheezie blurts out, not wanting her older brother to be out after the sirens called. She was about to say something else when her father interrupted her.

“If you’re not back here in an hour, m’locking the damn gate, Rafe,” Ward warned. ”You know I have no problem lettin’ you stay out there all night.” He hissed. You gave Ward a look of disgust, unable to hide it at the lack of emotion he carried for Rafe. You saw his eyes quickly meet yours, watching his lip twitch slightly. His gaze softened, holding a tiny fraction of remorse from the fact you saw just how awful he treated his own blood.

Fifteen minutes to your house, fifteen minutes back, leaving you thirty minutes to spare. "Wine?" You asked sweetly, passing your boyfriend the bottle by its neck.

"Please. Definitely need it after that shit show.” He exhaled, wishing he had something stronger. He took a healthy swig of the red liquid, finishing the bottle with a tipsy laugh. “Oh shit.” He chuckled dryly, tossing it in the back of the truck as you glanced back at him, his cerulean eyes met yours in a glassy stare.

"Fuck, y/n, that was embarrassing," he pushed out as he drummed his blunt nails against the steering wheel. "I've been lookin‘ forward to you meetin’ them for a while, and - and my dad always finds a way to mess it up." He stammered. You scooped up a bite of the stolen crème brûlée, feeding him. Rafe groaned at the taste of the decadent dessert making you giggle, the sound easing his sour mood for a moment. “We will never be like that,” he sighed, tone serious as his striking blue eyes bored into you deeply.

“Never.”

You knew Rafe was running high on many emotions. All he ever wanted was his father’s approval; deep down, he knew he would never receive it. Though the moment was sad, hearing him talking about the future with you brought some sense of peace. You knew his parents couldn’t care less, and you could only hope and pray, that didn’t make him have any second thoughts about the two of you. The feeling of the spoon slipping from your hand pulled you from your thoughts as Rafe now had it to get another bite. “So ready for this night to be over with.”

You let out a sigh, looking down at your lap before back up to your handsome boyfriend. “Neither can I, baby. Neither can I…” You said, your nerves setting in all over again. Rafe could read you, deciding to lean in and place a kiss on your lips for reassurance. He cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in close as his tongue played with yours. He was kissing you as if it would be the last time, but he would never utter those words out loud. Pulling back slowly, he rested his forehead against yours. “Drive home safe, Rafe.”

“Promise, princess,” he said, his voice vibrating against your mouth before kissing you once more. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” Your voice is barely a whisper as you hold onto him for a few seconds longer than usual before getting out of his parked truck and heading to your house.

You look out your window, staring across the shimmering water of the bay. It’s quiet— calm. But that won’t last for long. Soon, both sides of the Island rise. The TV glows in your bedroom, illuminating the space around you as the news continues to run story after story from the years before, scaring some and inspiring most.

You wrap your blanket tighter around your shoulders, snuggling into your pillows as you wait for the announcement. Rafe hasn’t called yet or answered; I just hope he made it back to Tanneyhill okay.

“This is not a test.”

Your heart falls into your stomach; your body breaking out in a cold sweat as you hear those five words you’ve been waiting for. Your eyes shift away from the window as you take in the words on your screen.

“This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge, sanctioned by the U.S. Government. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 am. And, for the first time since its inception, no one has been granted special immunity from the Purge. No citizen or group will be exempt. Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn.”

The siren blares making the hair on the back of your neck stand straight; the blood in your frozen body runs cold.

“May God be with you all.”

His eyes widen on yours, breaking away in disbelief, staring down at nothing but the handle of the blade. The knife was lodged deep in his stomach, your mind dizzy as Ward gasped for breath.

You never thought you’d be one to actually do it. The night was already dangerous, and here you were, back at the infamous Tannyhill amid the mist of chaos. It was your right, though, and he was why you were doing this in the first place. Seeing the way he could no longer spit those venomous out or give you a look of intimidation made you hold such power over him. This was giving you an indescribable high to see him almost silently pleading with you despite it being too late.

You were doing the world a favor, and oh my god, the gasp he let out made you realize this was really happening. Yanking the blade free, you watched as he stumbled back. Ward tripped over the hallway rug, his body falling onto the ground with a loud thud. The house was quiet except for the sounds of Ward fighting for air, his hands reaching out for anything to help pull him away from you.

He couldn’t survive. If he found out it was you, it would be over, everything… And that couldn’t happen.

Stepping towards him, you sank to your knees and looked into his eyes. The purple LED lights on your mask reflected in his reading glasses, his eyes behind it leaking with pathetic tears. Fucking pussy. You didn’t think you had it in you, lifting the knife above your head without any tremble to your hands.

“This is for Rafe.” You bring it down, stabbing him in the heart, sealing his fate. The strike was brutal, and you could swear you felt the tip of the sharp blade pierce into the hardwood floor. Blood covered the hall, the fight over as his body grew still beneath you. You waited, his chest no longer rising as you watched him lay there, now lifeless. Forcing the knife out, you took a deep breath and rolled your neck to release the tension of the night. The nerves, the anxiety, all of it put to rest as you rid the world of this evil man.

You and Rafe would never truly be happy if Ward was around to ruin every moment. You knew every family event or special occasion would be tarnished just like it was tonight. Not only that, but the cutting words, scarring digs, and emotional abuse he let his son suffer. You couldn’t stand to hear him or see him treat the man you loved this way anymore. That dinner earlier was the last time he got to make Rafe feel that way ever again.

Lifting up your mask, you let your emotions go as you laughed at his now vacant body. “Fuck you, Ward.” You spat, only to feel your heart skip a beat as the sound of a familiar collar jangled down the long hallway. Your stomach dropped, the realization that you had been in the house too long and caught the attention of Penny. If Ward had been scanning the house, there was no way that Rafe wasn’t doing the same thing. You could only hope he was in the safe room with Rose and Wheezie.

You rose to your feet, seeing the golden retriever trot towards you a little faster as she recognized your scent through the disguise. Leaning down, you carefully scratched her fury ear and whispered. “I’ll see you in the morning, Penny girl.”

The sound of a deep voice made that sinking feeling come back to your lower belly. “You hear somethin’, girl?” Rafe’s booming tone, not even trying to be quiet as his large shadow stands at the end of the hallway.

Fuck.

No… No…

You took two steps backward, clutching the knife in your shaky hand as he took two large strides forward. Turning around, you sprinted towards the door and downstairs. You ran past the living room, ignoring the thought that you had been snuggling there only a few hours earlier. His steps grew louder, and his voice echoed through the mansion as he yelled, “STOP!”

Your lungs were burning as you looked over your shoulders you tore out onto the trimmed front lawn. Your own boyfriend, on your heels, making you hold back a scream as you made a shot for the thick trees on the other side of the house. It offered you a place to hide and catch your breath as your rapid heartbeat rang through your ears. You found yourself crawling next to a tree, the pure darkness, your only hope of survival as you tried to stay out of sight. You tore off your mask, quieting your breathing as you hid with the palm of your blood soaked hand.

You listened to his heavy footsteps fading fast. You took a minute to think, knowing you couldn’t go back to the front of Tannyhill without being seen. The barn... You would wait it out there for the night to get the heat off of you and then find a way out. You’d clean up and come back to console Rafe. Making sure the lights on your mask were off, you tugged it back on your face and stood up.

The North Carolina night was warm, making you feel sticky as dirt and blood caked your skin. You made your way through the dark woods until the small white barn came into view. You looked at it, your mind racing with different scenarios. What if he called? What if he decided to leave and saw that your car was parked down the road? What if he finds you? Would he kill for what you did?

Slipping into the bar, you followed the beacon of light pouring down from above. Your feet creaked along the old rigid floor as you made your way over to the ladder. You climbed until you couldn’t, taking a small, tired huff. You felt a little better until you realized you had left your knife behind. If Rafe had come across that, it would have been over, and now it was just another thing that you would have to figure out later. If there was a later anyway…

You crawled over to the corner of the upstairs loft, looking down out of the small window. It was an eerie scene as your eyes studied the surroundings below: a couple of four-wheelers, a dirt bike, and two covered cars. You shivered, reaching for the tarp beside you, pulling it over to hide yourself, just in case.

CREAK.

Your eyes shot open, making your head peer out from behind the blue tarp. You froze in horror as Rafe stepped through the open door, his large silhouette and crystal eyes shining into the room. He took a breath before letting out a frustrated growl. “I KNOW YOU ARE IN HERE!” He screamed, the anger and sadness evident in his tone. You brought a hand to your mouth, eyes squeezing shut as his footsteps moved throughout the space.

You watched his every movement as he walked across the loft floor, getting closer to you. His heavy and erratic breathing filled the once-silent space making your heart race as he stepped close enough for you to catch something shiny. You let out a small gasp, seeing the same knife you’d used to kill his own father. The wood creaked underneath his weight as if he heard the noise you let out. You shut your eyes once more, pleading with him in your mind to just go away. You had to hold onto hope for the miracle that he would give up, and you could see him in the morning without having to explain this situation. That was if he would let you explain.

When you thought things were quiet enough to take a peek, you slowly opened your teary eyes only to meet the very ones of the man you loved. His hand wrapped around your throat before you said anything, his grip strong enough to lift you off your feet effortlessly. He squeezes, shoving you into the hard wall. You couldn’t die at the hands of your boyfriend. You weren’t ready, your voice coming out in a pitiful squeak as the tears flowed underneath your mask. “Please stop.”

His hand twists his hand in your hair, his eyes widening as he recognizes those silky strands. He immediately pulls the mask away from your face, his emotion changing. “Y/N?” He asked, looking at you as he calmed his breathing. You heard the knife drop to the ground with a clang before you listened to the sweet name he always called you. “Princess…”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, avoiding his gaze until you felt him cup your cheek. The pad of this thumb ran across your soft skin, which you instantly leaned into. He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours in a deep kiss. You whimpered against him, the terror you had been feeling now washing away. You could feel him smile against your lips; a grin on his face as he pulled back to look down at you.

“You beat me to it.” He spoke in a hushed voice as he watched your eyebrows come together in confusion.

“I… I beat you to it?” You stuttered, earning a chuckle in response from Rafe.

He nodded with a hum as his hand reached up to run through your hair. “Mmhm.. I’m guessin’ you did this for me? That right?” He asked, his other hand holding up the mask you once had on. You looked at it, almost afraid to admit anything.

There was no lying to him, though; you let your head fall as you took a shaky breath. “Yes. I couldn’t stand the fact of him being here another day.” You said, meeting his eyes as carefully looked up at him.

Rafe studied you briefly before his raspy voice spoke out into the darkness. “You’ve been thinking about it for a while. Haven’t you?” He asked, watching as you nodded in silence.

“I have.” You whispered, still unsure if this was set up.

It was him murmuring ‘me too,’ his hands squeezing your hips that you knew he was being genuine. “You should have told me baby. We could have done it together. Huh?” He smirked, his fingertips coming to the button of your dark jeans. Something about you taking his father’s life for him so that he no longer had to deal with the pain and suffering the man caused him had him feral. He didn’t know you would be the one he caught; his family had a lot of enemies, after all. Knowing it was, you had him feeling an entirely different way.

He moved his hand from your pants, coming to his own crisp white shirt to pull off. His toned upper body gleamed under the moonlight shining from the window. You couldn’t help but reach out and touch him, your bloody manicured nails tracing over his broad chest and down to where you could pop the button of his pants open. You heard his breath hitch as you reached even further, giving his hard-on a squeeze. He let out a breathless laugh, pulling you in for one last kiss before he turned you to face the wall. He pressed against you from behind, his hands yanking down your jeans and panties in one go. You step out of them, the heat growing more in your lower tummy.

“Co’mere.” He rasped, leading you to the tarp you had once been hiding under. He pulls you down with him, straddling his lap as he works to remove the thin shirt you wore. You reach down into his boxers to pull his hard length out, the fat head soon poking your drooling hole. You feel the burn as he stretches you out, your pretty cries echoing through the barn. You were so full of him, taking all of him as he glided into your soaked core.

“Holy fuck… Rafe!” You gasped, your nails digging into his chest as your head spun with pleasure and adrenaline. Even the way you felt after killing Ward felt nothing compared to the way Rafe made you feel. His eyes looked up at you as he worked you along his body, cock filling you up in the best way.

“You’re so perfect. Yeah? Don’t forget that. My goddamn girl, princess. Fuck. You’re mine.” His voice was like velvet as he reached between the two of you to rub your sweet little pearl in circles.

You were a mess, involuntary clenching around him as you rode him. He let out a groan, watching those pretty tits bounce each time you came down. “You feel so fuckin’ good. Oh my god, baby…” He grunted under the sounds of your skin slapping against his. You were high on all of this, euphoria running through you as you lifted yourself off of him just to come back down with a slam.

“Yeah? You like the way I feel wrapped around you?” You bit at him, taking one of your hands and wrapping it around his throat. You watched as his eyes rolled back while you squeezed, his head tilting back in pleasure. His thick digits on one hand continued the torture on your clit while the other grabbed one of your plush tits.

As much as Rafe loved for you to take control, he couldn’t help but reel you back by rolling you over to be on top. He slams back into you, watching your mouth fall at the sudden change in position. His long cock hits your sweet spot, making you arch your back off the tarp. “Hold still, princess.” He mumbled, gripping the back of your thighs to bring them higher. He spreads you open, nearly folding you in two as his toned hips thrust into you.

“Fuck Rafe!” You squeal, eyes looking at the space between you. The light illuminating through the small loft window reflected off his abs, flexing as he pounded into you. His thick cock shiny with arousal as it rammed into you.

“You know I gotta take charge. Can’t fucking help it when you got a pussy like this, sweetheart. Can you take a little more for me, baby?” He breathed out, watching as you nodded the best you could as you grew closer to your climax. “Mphff? You deserve it, baby. I swear you do.” Rafe says, hooking your legs over his shoulders and letting you take his pounding.

You clawed at him, whining, leaving your babbling mouth as you drew closer to exploding. The heat in your stomach was about to burst, and your thighs quivered. “M’gonna cum.” You mumbled out, your chest breaking out in a flush.

His rough fingers found your clit once more, bringing you to the edge as he rubbed it just enough for you to let go. Clutching at his broad shoulders, you cry out and let him bury his face in your neck as he relentlessly drilled into you. “Gonna fuckin’ cum in this pretty pussy.” He gritted out, his mouth constantly growing more filthy the closer he got.

“Need your cum inside me. Please give it to me.” You begged, breath still short as you were barely off your high.

“Yeah, Princess? You need it? Fuck, you need my cum?”

“Cum in my fucking pussy, Rafe.” His eyes rolled back at the sound of your voice. You felt this cock start to swell and throb inside of you, his groans vibrating off of you as heavy loads of warm spent filled your walls. You whimper softly, his head pulling back only to meet you for a kiss.

He took a few before slowly pulling out, his eyes heavy as he watched his seed slowly spill out of you. It was quite the sight and feeling to have came inside you for the first time on the same night you killed his father. He can’t help but travel his hand down, pushing the sticky liquid back into your swollen hole with a smile. “Fuck.. I love you.” His voice hoarse as he admired all of you.

You let out a quiet giggle, the feeling of being full of him making you satisfied. Grabbing his wrist you lifted his hand to your mouth, sucking on Rafe’s big fingers dripping with his cum and yours, before letting them go with a pop. “I love you too, baby.” You said softly.

“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” He asked, his facial expression turning more serious as if he needed reassurance.

Without any hesitation, you sat up and wrapped your hand around his bare bicep. “Anything.” You whispered, and you meant that.

A wicked grin spread across his face as soon as he heard that. He looked out at the still-dark sky and hummed in thought. “You know it’s still early. Wanna take the dirt bike and get out of here? I bet we can have some fun.” He said, glancing back at you.

“You have a mask?” You asked curiously. Were you and Rafe really about to go out and Purge? Reaching over to his discarded jeans, he pulled out a black ski mask from the back pocket. He ran a hand over his sweaty bangs, pushing them back to tug the material over his handsome face. His ocean eyes shined through, the same devilish smile on his face.

“What do you say, princess?”

Lily!!!!! You are such an amazing writer and friend. Thank you so much for writing with me 💕☺️🤭🩷 I will forever be a fan of your work. 🥹

⭐ tag ⭐ <- tag list on my pinned post (if your name is crossed out, your tag isn't working💕) @floredaqueen @rafesthroatbaby @loserboysandlithium @theeternaloptimistt @ditzyzombiesblog @cl4uus @aariahnaa @hyperfixationgirl @akobx @daryldixon83 @rafesgiirl @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @oxpogues4lifexo @babygorewhore @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @savayvayor-blog @starkeysprincess @unrealmirrorball @romaescapes @cades-outsider @namelesslosers @anamiad00msday @buckybarnessweetheart

[allbark-no-bite]

call it brotherhood (not love).

jake seresin x reader (wc: 6.2k)

summary: jake meets his match in a soldier rather than a sailor. you’re a bit more war torn than he expected, but it’s okay because maybe he is too

warnings: 18+ smut, * graphic descriptions of injuries and death ⚠️

* if you are uncomfortable with this, please don’t read

author’s note: spoiler alert, i know this isn’t the Jake fic that you’ve all been wanting but i swear that one is in the works. i’m about to go back to school and wanted to get this out there for y’all :) (ps i apologize for the lazy ending)

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"At ease, gentlemen —And woman," Admiral Simpson adds after a moment, shooting an uncharacteristically apprehensive look in Phoenix's direction. Payback snorts at his hasty correction, and Jake is surprised when the admiral doesn't fix him with a nasty look.

If the man's cursory show of inclusion perturbs the female pilot, she doesn't show it, and instead she takes a seat with all the rest of them. Jake turns back towards the front of the ready room, sinking down into his chair just a bit, toothpick clenched between his teeth as he waits for the admiral to address them.

However routine, this training meeting was a bit out of left field, especially for a Sunday afternoon. The Dagger squad typically had one weekly, but it was usually led by Maverick and much more informal. That wasn't to say that seeing Beau was surprising, but the man usually steered clear of the wayward captain and left him to his own devices when it came to training the Daggers.

Today the captain sits in the ready room beside the rest of the pilots. Jake watches as Bradley sends his godfather an inquisitive brow from across the room, to which the older man just shrugs. Interesting.

Cyclone clears his throat. "Good afternoon. I apologize for keeping you all, but I promise this will only take a minute of your time. As I'm sure you are all aware, the United States Department of Defense takes immense pride in maintaining one of the most well integrated military forces in the world. It's our job to work closely with other service members to ensure their safety and the safety of our nation." He pauses. "As experienced as you all are, your time here at Topgun has not reflected that."

Jake's brow furrows, his tongue worrying at the toothpick clenched between his teeth as he listens to the admiral go on. Javy shoots him a look but Jake stares ahead, waiting for Beau to continue.

"The permanent installment of your squad here at Miramar was to create a tightly knit group of elite fighter pilots who would be available at a moment's notice, and however successful that may have been, I cannot neglect the fact that comfort builds complacency. Later today, a squad of U.S. Army soldiers will be arriving to aide in your training for the next six weeks. The integration of mixed branch training units has been widely effective around the country, and it's about time we do the same here at Miramar."

With that, the screen positioned on the wall behind him lights up, displaying enlarged headshots of about eight soldiers. The first seven are males of varying ages, but none older than probably thirty. Jake quickly skims over their names and credentials, but when he gets to the last profile, his eyes stop.

The last solider is the only female projected on the screen, but even so she stands out as compared to all the other members of her squad. He can't quite put his finger on why though.

She's uncharacteristically pretty. And by that he means that to most, her appearance would be inherently off putting— even without the straight-mouthed scowl on her face. She's got a square, almost masculine like jawline that hardens her features considerably. Her hair is light, worn from spending too much time in the sun regardless of however dark it may have been naturally. The same goes for her skin, which is comparably bronze in contrast to the tan line on her forehead, he would assume from wearing a patrol cap out in the field.

Her eyes are wild.

And that's when it hits him.

She'd been all over the news just a few months ago. Something about a patrol gone wrong out in the Middle East, which ultimately turned into a high stakes rescue mission to extract the surviving soldiers. They went in hoping to bring back nine men and came out with one. Apparently they didn't even get to recover the bodies.

Jake can't imagine what that'll do to a person.

Before he can stare at her profile any longer, Cyclone quickly clicks off the projection and the image disappears. This time he appears almost nervous as he stares back at them. "These soldiers are recently returning from a deployment in the Middle East, so I trust that you all will do your best to make them feel welcome. If none of you have any questions, that is all. You're dismissed."

---

The following morning, the Jake receives word from Maverick that the Admiral wants to see him in his office. It's not a strange request but certainly raises Jake's attention as to why specifically he was needed.

Upon entering the room, Jake finds not only the Admiral but Maverick and another female that he's yet to have seen before. All heads turn towards him when he enters, as if he were interrupting something. Immediately, Jake snaps to attention, his heels clicking together and his fingers brushing his brow with a sharpness that would make the academy proud.

Cyclone nods in his direction, acknowledging Jake's customary greeting and dismissing him with the notion. "Lt. Seresin," he begins, gesturing to the female standing across the room. "This is Lt. (L/n). She's uh—a member of the squad that I briefed you on yesterday."

He hadn't noticed that she was wearing Army OCPs but he connects the dots as soon as the admiral mentions her name. He remembers reading it on the projector during the meeting.

Rather than introducing herself, the soldier stands rigidly across from him, her arms folded in front of her chest with a look on her face that Jake can only describe as fucking pissed. Unsure of what to do but aware from personal experience with Phoenix that he shouldn't try to cross any unknown boundaries, Jake settles for offering her a respectful nod. She glares back at him.

"You're two of our only service members with active combat experience," Cyclone continues, obviously ignoring the girl's crossed disposition. "I'm hoping that you and Lt. (L/n) can find some common ground. Perhaps it would do you both some good to—"

"Respectfully, sir, if I wanted to vent to someone about my feelings, I'd go see a shrink," the woman growls. "I recommend you do the same, Lt. Seresin." Her tone makes Jake's brow raise slightly in surprise. No one talks to an admiral like that, not even Pete Mitchell.

"Lt. (L/n)," Cyclone snaps. "That's quite enough."

This time, she rolls her eyes with a scoff. "You can't just—"

"Get out."

She clamps her jaw shut but doesn't budge from where her feet are planted in the ground.

"I said, Get. Out," Cyclone reiterates.

The eyes that had caught Jake's attention in the first place fix the admiral with a chilling stare. To Jake, there's something familiar in those eyes. Some sort of unmistakably justifiable rage that runs deeper than just being dismissed from the conversation. Jake watches, his breath stalled as she sets her jaw, unwilling to move, when it hits him. Identical jawlines and untwitching scowls mirror each other.

The illegitimate child of Admiral Beau Simpson stands before him.

He doesn't know how he didn't see it before, granted they don't share a last name, but Jake was aware that the Admiral was divorced, had been for a while. Allegedly he wasn't the marrying type. Jake isn't surprised by the statement. Beau Simpson is a hard man to deal with.

Jake watches in silence as the girl ultimately releases an irritated huff and storms out of the office, slamming the door behind her. He can hear the loud, petulant stomp of her boots as she retreats down the hall. Evidently her looks weren't the only thing that she got from her dad. She had a temper that rivaled even Bradshaw's.

The clearing of the Admiral's throat removes Jake's eyes from the door. "I hope you can forgive my daughter's behavior. Her return to the states has been...difficult."

"I'm sure difficult is the way she would describe you too sir," Maverick jokes.

Cyclone fixes him with a perturbed glare but decidedly ignores his comment in favor of addressing Jake. "Lt. (L/n)'s squadron was ambushed six months ago. Just about everything that could have gone wrong went wrong and she was the only survivor. As her father, I wanted her to accept the Purple Heart and retire." He gestures flippantly towards the door. "Obviously that's not what she did."

Jake speaks for the first time since he entered the room. "Respectfully, sir, I don't blame her. I'm taking this career to the grave. I'm sure both your daughter and Captain Mitchell can agree," he adds glancing over at his instructor.

Before Maverick can voice his agreement, the admiral cuts him off.

"As I'm sure Captain Mitchell can attest to, as her father, I'm just trying to look out for her."

With his preexisting connection to Rooster, the godson that he would risk his career to protect, Maverick has no room to disagree with the admiral. For once, the captain, who usually always has something to say, stands with his palms folded behind his back and keeps his mouth shut.

"As I was saying," Cyclone continues, taking a seat behind his desk and kicking back as if to signal that he's won the conversation. "It is my hope that given your own—" the admiral hesitates for just a moment too long for Jake's liking "—personal experience, you'll be able to get through to her."

Jake swallows and hopes that he doesn't look as uneasy as the insinuation makes him feel. He has to take a moment to reassure himself that the psych unit has repeatedly cleared him for duty and that no one's threatening to take his wings away.

The nights that he wakes up, drenched in sweat, with his fingers wrapped around imaginary joysticks hard enough to make his palms bleed are few and far in between these days. And even those he's gotten good enough at faking like they don't bother him because he hasn't failed a psych evaluation in months.

It doesn't mean he likes to talk about it or that he won't hear the fear in Rooster's voice if he does.

But he's more scared of not flying than anything, so all Jake does is nod and offer a dry, "I'll do my best, sir."

———

PTSD or modern day shell-shock is what they like to call it. You call it waiting on the other shoe to drop.

Because there is always another shoe.

The slam of a beer bottle down on the bar top lights your nerves up like nothing else. It sends your heart straight to your stomach and makes your palms sweat like when you miss a step on the stairs and for a split second, you think you're going to die. You never do of course, but your body is hard wired that way to keep you alive.

There's a flaw in your system that hasn't been right since the east.

You knew that a popular naval bar on a Friday night wasn't the best place for you these days but your nerves had been yearning for an ice cold beer and fuck all if you weren't going to get one. The alcohol would soothe your nerves anyhow.

But after thirty minutes of waiting on said beer, you were beginning to lose your patience. Normally you weren't bothered by that kind of thing. The place was obviously busy and the lone woman behind the bar was doing her best to satisfy the flock of servicemen that only seemed to accumulate with every beer that she handed out.

Just when you're about to give up and leave, a large hand covers your lower back, pressing you forwards through the crowd and toward the bar top.

"Two more on me, please, Penny."

The voice belongs to the tall man standing behind you. He's removed his firm, but respectfully placed palm from your back and is now leaning over you to accept the two dripping bottles of beer. It doesn't take you long to recognize the green of his eyes from a few days prior.

"My dad didn't put you up to this did he?" you ask, somewhat reluctantly taking the bottle that he offers you. It's finger numbing cold, just how you like it.

He kind of just slowly smiles and shakes his head.

Immediately you feel like a jerk. You sigh, dropping your shoulders and smile softly back. "Sorry. That was rude."

"No, ma'am, he didn't. Just had to find out if you smiled like that all the time."

The part of you that's a little bit of a bitch makes you clench your teeth together, tightening the smile that was once spread across your lips. "I'm not looking for that kind of thing right now," is all you say.

You want to tell him that you used to not be so mean.

At the realization that his words had the exact opposite effect of what he was going for, the guy graciously extends his hand. "Look I don't mean to bother you, I just wanted to say hi."

Despite not being keen on his advances, you aren't going to be rude so you accept his outstretched hand. You're surprised by his gentleness. It's not the rough, over-masculine shake you are expecting.

"Lieutenant (Y/n) (L/n)."

"I know your name," he admits with a light, almost embarrassed laugh. "I think everybody in here knows your name."

Your skin prickles. You stare at him stoney faced, bracing yourself for what's going to come out of his mouth. "Why's that?"

The guy—Lt. Seresin—you're remembering, shrugs. "I mean, you're quite the story back here in the states. A bit of a ghost story, I must say."

Ghost story is right. Because who survives that? How the fuck does a twenty-two year old girl survive an outnumbered ambush and not eight men with years of experience? Not someone who deserves to be called a hero, that's for sure.

You're trying your best to keep your cool with him. You know that you're in a public space and he's just being friendly. You used to be so good at this kind of thing, the flirting and small talk.

The thought occurs to you that maybe this is what you need. Maybe this will make you feel normal again. You need to feel normal again.

Maybe that is why you let him lean in closer, buy you another drink when yours runs dry, and another one after that. Maybe that is why you make an effort to laugh when he does, and you close your eyes when he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You let out the breath that's been tightening your ribcage and do your best to smile. "Thank you for the beer. You didn't have to do that." You hope the words sound as genuine as they're intended to.

He smiles back like he's supposed to, all polite and inherently forgiving of your original attitude. You catch onto the way it doesn't quite reach his eyes. You're not sure why but it makes you think maybe he's just a bit sad too.

Maybe that is why he lets you wordlessly take his hand and lead him to the back of the bar. Maybe that is why he lets you sink to your knees on the cold, sticky tiles of the men's bathroom floor, his hands already fumbling to unbuckle his belt.

It smells like beer and piss, and you don't even wait for him to get fully hard before you take him in your mouth, your nose buried into his pelvis, where it smells like sweat. It's all wrong and right at the same time, and he won't ask you to stop. He just curls his fingers into a fistful of your hair, pinpricks stinging at your scalp the same way tears sting at your eyes.

He—Jake—he'd told you a while ago, has a pretty cock. At least as pretty as cocks go. Pink and ruddy at the tip, where it mushroomed beautifully. Almost dauntingly long but not grossly so with a throbbing vein on the underside. You run your tongue along it and he muffles a whimper, his fingers wrapping harder around your hair in an effort not to buck up into your mouth. At least he's a gentleman about it.

He's heavy and twitching in your mouth. You feel heavy. He is standing above you, a harsh line of a man against the buzzing bathroom light. You remind yourself to breathe through your nose and he punches himself further, the head of his cock skimming the back of your throat.

You swallow around him, trying to hold together what little is left of your remaining sense of self. It's been a while since you've been so careless as to place yourself in someone else's hands, rolled over and showed your belly to someone who could easily take advantage of you.

Your jaw aches, uncomfortable and familiar, like something you don't want to remember. Tears well up behind your eyes, the threat of an unwanted but unknown feeling looming just out of reach. Jake's hand in your hair hold your head firmly against his pelvis, hips rocking up into your mouth. He sighs like he can finally breathe.

You can't breathe.

You try to and something rasps inside of you, choking. The feeling that had been looming threateningly sparkles through you. Panic.

You know that he tries to settle you, does his best to wipe the tears leaking from your eyes with his thumbs and murmurs softly to you. "Breathe. It's okay, breathe for me."

You can't. You can't breathe.

Your head is pounding and suddenly you aren't kneeling on the bathroom floor of the bar. You're on the ground, crying, screaming like a wounded animal and no one is coming to help. You can almost feel the dirt under your knees, taste the blood in your mouth.

"Y/N, you have to breathe."

Someone's grabbing you, hauling your useless feet across the floor. Your chest hurts like you've been punched with a bowling ball.

"C'mon, let's get some air."

How you end up outside the bathroom is beside you. All you know is one minute you're dying on your knees back in the desert and the next you're being sat down on the back steps of the bar. 

The cool air of the San Diego evening brings you back. That and the press of a cup of ice water to your lips, the condensation dripping from the glass and rolling down your throat. You swallow, letting the cool liquid soothe your burning throat.

You're aware of Jake sitting down beside you, close enough to touch if he wanted to but still keeping his distance. You can feel his eyes on you, watching carefully for a moment before he turns to stare out at the not so distance shoreline.

Your stomach feels odd, like you might be sick.

He probably thinks you're insane. You would think the same. But if he's dying to ask what the hell that was, he's doing a good job of hiding it.

How do you tell him that sometimes you think that you should have died, that sometimes the memories almost kill you?

"I hid."

He looks up from peeling off the label around the neck of his bottle. "What?"

You swallow, trying to collect yourself before your words fail you.

"I hid. A—After I was shot, I didn't get back up. I crawled under the humvee and... and I just laid there. I laid there and I closed my eyes and I prayed. I prayed that they wouldn't notice me lying under there or that they if they did, they would think I was already dead."

A mixture of sweat and dust burns your eyes. When you blink, you can feel the sandy grit trapped between them. You squeeze them shut while trying to swallow back the dryness of your throat in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort, but it doesn't do much. An unwarranted tear escapes and runs down the track of your nose.

With your rifle held closely to your chest, you let it slide down and collect on the bow of your lip. It joins the puddle of sweat that has already accumulated there. Out here, the sun cooks you alive. You swear it's a constant one thousand degrees. The twenty pounds of kevlar doesn't help.

Dirt kicks up beside you and gravel showers your helmet as a round of bullets buries themselves into the ground a mere six inches from your face. You hardly flinch.

Somebody is screaming. The sound of machine gun fire is ringing in your ears. Somebody is screaming.

"(L/N), C'MON. LET'S MOVE."

It's Cain. He's grabbing the strap of your kevlar vest and yanking you to your feet. You scramble after him, desperate not to be left behind. Bullets explode at your feet the moment the two of you emerge from the concealment of the dirt mound. Fear makes you run faster.

You spot Manny crouched behind the tire of the SUV to your right. He's firing rounds into the brush. You can tell that he's bleeding from a wound to his arm and you're about to veer off to help him when his head jerks backwards, the scattered remains of his brain plastered onto the white side of the truck.

You stop running, the words caught in your throat.

"RUN," Cain screams. He'd backtracked a few paces and grabs hold of your vest once again to drag you behind a second SUV. You stumble over him, falling haphazardly onto your rear once he lets go of you. He immediately turns to fire over the hood of the truck, and the bullets hitting the truck stop momentarily.

Clawing at the gravel on the ground, you hurry to scramble to your feet. Your head is pounding, your mouth dry and gritty. Huffing, you glance between Cain, who is fumbling to reload his magazine, and the crumpled figure of Manny a few yards away. You can only hope Ronny is still out there somewhere.

Before you can even try to locate him or any other members of the squad, movement to your left springs your muscles into action. You slam your back into the side door of the SUV just as a round of bullets pelt the spot where you were standing just moments before. Automatically, you raise your gun, returning the fire. There are a few more shots fired in retaliation, but they stop a second later.

Once you're sure they're subdued, you lower your gun, breathing hard. There's so much smoke and debris in the air that you can hardly even see Cain ten feet away. He's shuffling towards you in a low crouch.

"Let's move, (L/n). They know where we are. We've got to find different cover."

You nod, your finger still pressed tightly to the trigger of your weapon. You drop into a crouch and follow behind him as he creeps towards the back of the truck. He pauses a moment, scanning the landscape before looking back at you. His blue eyes are a startling contrast to the dirt and sweat covering his tanned face. He lifts his gun in the direction of a flipped humvee about fifty yards away. His mouth moves in a silent command.

One.

Two.

Three.

The gunfire starts up as soon as the two of you spring from behind the vehicle. You can hear the whizzing of bullets as they just barely miss your head. All you can do is pray you don't trip as you struggle to keep up with Cain. Your lungs burn and your boots feel impossibly heavy.

The terrain is barren but the ground loose, and rocks threaten to upend your footing, slipping out from beneath your feet as the two of you flee towards the vehicle.

30 yards from the humvee, Cain tumbles to the ground with a broken cry. The bullet catches him in the thigh, stopping him mid stride. He hits the ground hard.

Without even thinking, you skid to a stop. Bullets spray the ground around you. Somehow you're more afraid of leaving him than being shot.

"Go!" he yells at you, already trying to shove you away. "Go, I'm coming!"

Already, there's a lake of blood beneath him. You step in it and the ground squelches under your boot. Crimson gushes from his left thigh, effectively saturating the fabric of his pants. His face is terrifyingly pale. The bullet must have hit his femoral artery.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Like hell," you snap at him, your pervious fear suddenly boiling into the purest form of anger you've ever felt. Angry for being in this situation in the first place. Angry that of all people, Cain is going to die.

It's terrifying how quickly the realization comes to you, how easily you accept it as the truth. There's already too much blood. Without a tourniquet, he'll bleed out in minutes and there's not quite time for that.

"Leaving him behind wasn't an option. It never even occurred to me that it was," you confess, as if saying it aloud will somehow explain away this title of heroism that everyone wants to pin on you. "Dead or alive, he was coming with me."

You shoulder your rifle and use both hands to grab onto the straps of his vest, hefting him backwards towards the truck.

He must clamp onto his bottom lip to stop the scream that threatens to escape because the noise that comes from his mouth is garbled.

You drag Cain about ten feet before you realize how just heavy he is. There's sweat leaking into your eyes and all you can see is the bloody lake that's left behind as you drag him through the dust. Cain's gone quiet, his head lulled to the side, eyes almost shut.

"C'mon, Cain. We're almost there."

His boot snags on a rock, and when you tug him free, he doesn't utter a word.

Something inside of you knows he's gone, was gone long before you started dragging him. You're still ten yards from the SUV.

POP. POP. POP.

You pause, your eyes fixed ahead of you. "Have you ever been shot before?"

Beside you, Jake shakes his head.

"It feels like someone has shot a bowling ball into your chest. Knocks the breath right out of you."

Pain explodes straight through your ribcage. Your vision clouds and you're vaguely aware of your knees buckling beneath you.

When you come to, all of the wind has been knocked out of you from hitting the ground so hard and your immediate reflex is to suck in a reviving breath. Instead all that comes out is a gurgle, the tell tale sign that your chest cavity is filling with blood.

You swallow, looking off at the dark shoreline of the beach, watching as the waves crash against the sand. "I knew that I wasn't dead yet—I did— I just—" Your throat constricts and when you speak again your voice is quieter. "He was already gone so maybe a part of me had already gone with him."

Jake nods slowly, as if putting together the pieces that you're laying down bit by bit. Somehow his green eyes have remained soft this entire time and maybe that's where you find the courage to continue.

Lifting your head, you crane your neck to see the damage, but the thick layer of kevlar strapped to your chest obstructs your view of the lower half of your body. Grunting in frustration, you reach blindly in the direction that the pain is radiating from. Numbly, your fingers find the gushing hole in your side. The bullet had buried itself in the exposed inch of your stomach between your belt and your vest.

There mustn't be an exit wound because there isn't a ton of blood surrounding you. If the wet cough you emit is anything to go by, it's probably pooling in your abdominal cavity instead.

You're going to die.

"I don't know how long I laid there," you admit. "I knew that the clock was ticking, had been since the moment I hit the ground. It was only a matter of time before I blacked out or bled out... I guess I was just waiting to see which one came first."

The scattered rounds hitting the ground around you become muffled background noise as the lull of unconsciousness begins to sweep over you, dulling the world as you know it. Through the haze of your fading senses, your eyes fall on Cain's motionless figure a few feet beside you.

He's lying face up, his desert tan uniform seeped a muddy crimson. You'd known he was dead a while ago. Still, you carried him. He'd have done the same for you. He was your brother, dead or alive.

Blood bubbles from your nose as you struggle to keep yourself breathing. The fact that you have to remind yourself to do that isn't a promising sign. Your body is shutting down, doing anything it can to keep your heart pumping, even if it means shutting down everything else.

Somewhere through the dullness, you hear Cain's voice. MOVE, (L/N).

You close your eyes, trying to picture his face from what had been just a few minutes ago. You remember the urgency in his blue eyes, the intensity of his fear overridden by adrenaline. How had that been only moments ago?

MOVE, (L/N).

"I—I heard his voice," you state, your tone not open for discussion. "Not the gun fire, not God, not anyone else's. I heard his voice."

So many people had tried to convince you otherwise, tried to tell you that it was because of the shock and your brain was shutting down, that you were hearing things. But you know what you heard.

"He saved my life, Jake."

You can see the gears turning in his head, the question carefully forming on his lips. "Were you two— I mean was he—"

It's the first time you have to suck back tears, your chest rattling with a longing emptiness as you fight the urge to cry. Memories of his wild blue eyes and wide smile that could only ever mean he was misbehaving flash through your mind.

You met Sergeant Anthony Cain not long after you commissioned as a Lieutenant. You were still a green officer when you were charged with your first platoon and given orders to deploy out East. You were scared as hell and Cain was your saving grace. He came in as if he'd always known you needed him and the rest was history.

There was never any question about intentions or commitment to each other. Cain was as honest as they came and you left it at that. You never imagined that's where your story would begin and end.

"I don't know, Jake. We didn't get that far."

Forcing your eyes open, you access the area around you. The sound of enemy fire has slowed but that doesn't mean movement won't trigger a return of bullets your way. Still, you know they'll be looking for survivors once the dust settles, and you don't want to be around when they do.

The humvee is only a little over ten yards away. You might would say it was crawling distance if it weren't for the fact that you were actively bleeding out. Even so, you don't really have any other option.

You take as deep of a breath as you can, your chest rasping as you do so, before lifting your right leg and using the weight of it to swing yourself over onto your stomach. Immediately, searing hot pain radiates through your chest and legs. You cry out, curling in on yourself, writhing on the ground like a wounded animal.

Sputtering, trying to breathe through the pain long enough so that you can move, you feel hot tears track down your face. They're tears of insurmountable pain and hopeless desperation.

"All I kept thinking was 'how does anyone survive this?' It was unimaginable, the pain. Looking back now, I don't know how I did it. I don't think I could do it again if I had to," you admit.

Softly, as not to scare you, you feel the gentle weight of Jake's palm on your knee. "You won't have to," he promises. "But you did it. You survived."

You stare down at his hand on your knee.

With a trembling, blood stained hand, you reach out in front of you and dig your fingers into the ground. Heaving, you draw yourself forward, your legs dragging limply through the dust. It takes an unimaginable amount of strength to pull yourself even six inches.

Sniffling back tears and out of breath, you curl your fingers into the ground and drag yourself forward again. This time, you probably only move half as far. You have to fight the urge to just lay your cheek against the ground and cry.

You do this again and again, keeping one hand pressed into the gushing wound at your side while the other drags you forward. Your lower half has become increasingly heavier with each passing minute, your legs nothing but dead weight to pull along. You don't think you could move them if you tried.

It takes you forty minutes to drag yourself to the humvee. By the time you get yourself fully under the abandoned vehicle, your fingers are torn and bleeding, the tips ripped open and embedded with bits of gravel.

Your muscles collapse the very second you give them the chance. Your forehead drops down to rest against the ground, and you finally have a moment to shudder out a sob. Your throat is dry and cracked, and dust coats the inside of your mouth. You're dimly aware that your breaths are dangerously shallow. You just know that you're miserably nauseous and each passing moment is more unbearable than the next.

You turn your own palm over, staring at the scars of your ruined finger tips, scars that tell a story of how you survived. They're ugly, and you wish you didn't have to look at the all of the time. At least your torso is mostly hidden. You've moved to a beach town and will never be able to put on a swimsuit.

Jake’s eyes follow yours and after a moment he flips his palm over, his fingers spread and inviting. His hands are large and calloused from years of flying. There are fingernail divots in his palm.

Almost shyly, his green eyes meet yours. You see a bit of that sadness you saw earlier. “I know it’s not my job to be your shrink or whatever,” he adds with a laugh and you can’t help but laugh with him. “But you’re not alone. We’re all a bit fucked up if you haven’t noticed.” He shrugs. “It comes with the job.”

You can’t help yourself. You trace a finger over the scarred palm of his hand. “My dad would disagree.”

Jake is fighting the urge to close his palm around yours, not wanting to overstep, and so he’s pleased when you intertwine your fingers with his.

“Family dinner must be interesting.”

Jake came from a military family himself and so he knows how deep the ties run. His old man was a sailor and so he knew better than to come home sporting anything other than his dress whites.

You laugh out loud because he’s not wrong at all. Jake squeezes your fingers in response. His hand feels good in yours. Safe and heavy in the way a padlock feels. Like he’s not going anywhere.

“It’s not all ‘Go Army, Beat Navy’ believe it or not. Don’t get me wrong, I was raised a Navy brat and I have a hell of a lot of respect for my old man, but at the end of the day, I had to choose myself. I couldn’t do that with him watching over my shoulder. The Army’s been both the greatest and the worst thing that could have happened to me,” you confess.

Jake hums, dare you say almost disbelievingly.

“What?”

“A few weeks here and you’ll change your mind. No one does it like the Navy does.”

It’s your turn to make a noise of disbelief.

“I guess you’ll just have to impress me, Flyboy.”

Jake squeezes your hand again. “Oh I plan to.”

[ellecdc]

Come Back, Be Here (part 5)

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 3.5k p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

⚠️CW: graphic descriptions of injury, blood & gore, combat (people die), painful goodbyes, swearing (I wrote it so there's swearing, but I think you all know that by now)

Synopsis: The story of how you sacrificed yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before. And what the fuck is Kreacher up to?

👋AN: I have never written (well anything TBF) combat/action before and I was very uncomfortable the entire time so I'm 1) glad it's over (for now) and 2) very sorry if it's awkward or painful to read. I'd love feedback or suggestions as I believe this story may involve more. xx

The spring-time sun meant you had an easier time staying comfortable during the day, but as the sun dipped below the top of the building across from you, it was becoming increasingly harder to stay warm. You sat on an overturned crate in an abandoned building watching the alleyway below you as you nibbled on a granola bar. It tasted like ash.

“Should we check in again?” James asked, leaning in front of you to peek out the partially broken window.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “We checked in only minutes ago, Prongs.”

He hummed in disgruntled acknowledgment. 

“Do you ever think about just like jumping when you look out a window?” James asked as he leaned a little too close to the jagged edge of the window for your liking.

“Pardon me?”

“You know, like when you’re on a bridge and you think ‘I could totally just launch myself off of this right now’, or when you’re holding something really expensive or delicate and you just want to throw it at a wall.”

You stared at your friend for a moment.

“Those are called intrusive thoughts, Jamie.”

“Are they bad?”

“Only when they stop being thoughts and turn into actions.”

“Got it.” He said with a nod.

“Hey, James?”

“Yeah.”

“Step away from the window please.”

He sighed and plopped down unceremoniously beside you. You offered him the rest of your granola bar which he only accepted once you assured him you were finished. 

You moved to sit on the floor so the two of you could play tic-tac-toe in the dust. James complained about breaking a nail and you agreed to check in with Emmeline and Benjy twice more over the following few hours.

“Okay; fuck, marry, avada: Helga Hufflepuff, the Minister of Magic, Merlin.” James asked.

You blew out a breath and leaned back onto your hands. “Hmmmm, how many times do I have to fuck them?”

“Just once.”

“Okay, and do I have to stay married forever and ever?”

“Uh, duh. Till death do you part.” He answered incredulously. 

“Will I die soon?”

James gave you an unimpressed look.

“Okay, uhm, ugh, I hate politicians, James.”

“I don’t want your life story, just answer the question.” 

“Fine. Fuck Merlin, marry Helga, avada the Minister.” You said, though you couldn’t help but cautiously look over your shoulder lest the Minister himself hear your treasonous answer. 

“Explain.”

“I just think Helga would treat me right.”

James nodded solemnly. “And the others?”

“You just said you didn’t want my life story.” 

“You’re right. Do me next.”

“In your dreams, Potter.”

James rolled his eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” 

You chuckled and looked down at the street again.

“I don’t know James; it’s been pretty quiet. How long have we been here?” 

James shifted his weight to one hand in order to check his watch. “Well, we got here at, what, eight this morning? It’s been about twelve hours of nothing.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “What do you think? Do you want to get home to Lily and Haz, or keep watch?” 

James groaned. “I always want to go home to Lily and Haz, but Benjy and Em were on this stake out yesterday too.”

You nodded and stood. You conjured your patronus and told Benjy and Emmeline that it was quiet enough for them to leave, and that James and you would stay for a little bit longer just in case. The silvery fox jumped once before it disappeared through the walls of the building, sending your message to the other team.

James chuckled. “Do you remember how pissed off Sirius was when he found out you had become an animagus?”

You smirked at the memory. “That was back when he hated me.”

James guffawed. “He never hated you.”

“Yes, he did!”

“Nuh uh, he thought he was playing it cool, but he fell just as hard for you as I did with my Lily flower.”

You shook your head. “No one fell as hard as you did, Jamie.”

“Too true.” He agreed. “I’m the best at everything I do.”

“I think he was mostly mad that I’d managed to do it by myself, whilst the three of you bumbled your way through it together.”

“Yeah. You started after us and managed to finish before Pete did.”

You chuckled at the memory.

(Hogwarts boat-house, 4th year)

“I don’t understand why you’re getting so worked up about this.”

Sirius looked at you incredulously. “Uhm, how about because it’s dangerous? What even compelled you to do something like this?”

“Uhm, you guys were doing it?”

“So?”

“So? If you can do it, why can’t I?” 

“Do you know how much trouble you could get into for this?” He asked while pinching the space between his brows.

“Why? Are you going to rat me out?”

Sirius guffawed. “I’m not a snitch, Dollface.”

You smiled wickedly at him. “Good, then shut up about it.”

You stood and stretched your limbs, stiff from the day of waiting for nothing to happen.

“I’m confused, James.” You said, poking your head into the window again. “Didn’t the tip suggest that this was a major meeting spot for Death Eaters and allies?”

James hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Then why haven’t we seen anything all day?”

He looked at you curiously. “I don’t know...isn’t no news good news?”

You groaned. “I don’t know. Not if we’re to believe the tip.”

“You think it was false?” 

You made a non-committal sound as you started to pace the room. 

“I mean, I guess it is weird for nothing to happen two days in a row.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. “Two days?”

James nodded at you. “Yeah, Emmeline and Benjy were here yesterday.”

“They were here yesterday?”

“Are you feeling okay? I literally just said that.” 

“Fuck, James, where did this tip come from?”

James scrunched his eyebrows. “I don’t know, Vix.”

You both stared at each other for a few moments. “I think we should leave.” You said.

“Apparate to location seven?” James asked as you helped him stand.

“Yep.”

You both pulled your wands and spun to apparate.

You looked at each other in confusion. 

After a quick nod, you both spun again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You muttered before moving back to the window; neither teams had any problems apparating in or out earlier today.

“Vix, this isn’t good.” 

“Alright,” you breathed out, squaring your shoulders, “alright. Let’s scout the area. We’ll find out where this anti-apparition ward ends and get the hell out of here.”

James, looking far paler than he had moments ago, offered you one nod before getting into stance and following you to the door. 

You grabbed the handle and heard an awful searing sound before you realized it was the sound of your hand against the metal doorknob. 

“FUCK!” You shouted as you pulled your hand away, blisters already littering the palm of your hand. James quickly cast an auguamenti over your hand followed by a glacius. The stinging slowly subsided but you could still feel your heartbeat in your palm, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. 

James leaned his ear closer to the door. “I...I feel like I hear a dragon?”

You paled. 

“Fiendfyre.”

You moved over to the window and cast a despulso, shattering the remaining glass and leaning out of it. 

“This way.” You said to James over your shoulder before changing into Vixen and jumping down two storeys. Your paws stumbled beneath you as you landed awkwardly, but you fared better than you would have in your human form.

James looked down at you from the window as you changed back to your human form before giving him a quick nod. He jumped and you cast an arresto momentum, slowly lowering him to the ground. 

You both tried to apparate again to no prevail. James cast a revelio which illuminated the shimmery grid lock of the ward around you. 

“It doesn’t look like it goes far. We just need to make it to the street.” James said as he nodded his head down the alleyway. 

You began in that direction when two shadowy, masked figures stepped into the alley from the street. You huffed and figured you’d fare better on the other end, save having to climb over the barbed wire. When you turned again to run, another set of masked figures stepped out on that end too.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” One of them sing-songed. 

“Through the building.” James commanded and the two of you moved to the door of the building across the alleyway.

James cast a despulso to open the door as you threw a bombarda at the second set of Death Eaters. You narrowly dodged a confringo as more bolts of light shot your way.

You ran down the hall, looking around corners for signs of an exit. You passed a hallway and felt a hand grab your arm before you were slammed into the wall.

A wand was pressed to your throat when you heard James cast a flipendo. The wizard pinning you was sent flying, so you righted yourself and grabbed James’s hand before sprinting down the hallway again. 

You shot a hex at a fire extinguisher as you passed it which fogged up the hallway behind you. 

“Confringo!” A voice suddenly shouted from ahead. A ball of fire hit James’s square in the chest as he moved to block you from it. He fell to the ground with a thud as you cast a protego around the two of you. 

Three more casts bounced off of your shield before you shot an incendio at them, watching the robes and masks melt away before the wizards turned to ash. 

“You idiot!” You gritted through your teeth as you cast healing charms over James’ burn. 

“Wake up James, get your arse up.” You insisted, gripping his chin and shaking his head back and forth. 

You looked up at the sound of running and shot another bombarda behind you. The sickening sound of a body hitting a wall and sliding to the ground let you know you hit your mark as you continued to rouse James.

“You need to get up James. Come on, let’s go.” You said as you hauled him into a sitting position. You mentally cursed him and his dedication to the gym as you tried to manhandle his 183cm (six-foot) pure muscle figure. The movement caused him to groan.

“Yes, come on Prongs, get up, we need to go.” You insisted, giving him another shake. The burning in your hand was starting to return and you felt the beginnings of a wicked headache coming on. You could hear shouting from the floor above you – you had company. 

The wall behind you exploded suddenly and threw you both across the hall. Your head made a sickening crack as it met the brick wall and James was covered with rubble.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You moaned as you felt heat spread down your neck. You ripped a large piece of glass from your right thigh as you stood, which began to bleed far too quickly for your liking. Wobbly as all hell, you moved over to James and pulled the cinderblocks from his body.

“Come on Potter,” you muttered. “You’ve got a wife and kid at home.”

He groaned in agony as you pulled him into a crouch.

“And you’ve got a Sirius.” He slurred.

“Exactly,” you grunted as you used your wand to throw a piece of wall at some assailants to your left. “And if I go home to my boyfriend without his boyfriend, he will have my head.”

Both of you hissed in pain as you stood, but you trudged through the rubble and moved to the end of the hall. You pushed through a door which brought you out into an alleyway parallel to the one you guys had just been in. You cast a revelioand saw that the anti-apparition ward ended at the sidewalk about ten yards away. 

The sound of an explosion followed by screaming made you turn. The building you and James had been in for your stake out had been completely consumed by the fiendfyre and was spreading to the building you just exited. 

“The fiendfyre caused friendly fire.” James muttered. 

You pushed at his shoulder and directed him toward the street. “James, this way, we’re almost-” 

“BOMBARDA.”

“No!”

The wind was knocked clean out of you and your senses vanished. You saw bright white and couldn’t hear anything past the ringing in your ears. You tried to stay calm as you willed your lungs to take in more air. 

You were aware of someone standing above you, or in front of you, but you couldn’t see or hear them. There were hands, warm hands, you were being shaken. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” 

Choking.

You could hear choking.

You could hear!

You hear yourself choking. 

You sucked in a deep breath that caused an unbelievable amount of pain in your stomach; the breath shuddered as it left your body. 

“No, no, no. Vix please.”

You opened your eyes. Though your eyesight was still white around the edges you could see James’ face in front of yours.

“Y/N, we’re almost there.” James whimpered, tilting his head toward the sidewalk where the ward line ended. You lifted your hand to your head even though it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and when you pulled your hand back it was red. 

“James.” You choked out. “Go, I’ll find you.”

“Y/N.”

You attempted to sit up straighter, but it elicited a strangled sob from you. You felt a strange pressure in the left of your stomach, and when you looked down you could see why.

Your head, also feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, lolled as you lifted your shirt to expose a metal rod that had impaled you from behind. Your view of the injury quickly became obscured as blood flowed from the wound. Between the wound to your thigh, and now your stomach, the gravel below you was quickly becoming drenched in your blood. You knew then. This injury was well beyond either of your wheelhouse.

“Jamie.”

“No.”

“James.” You whined quietly, lolling your head back against the fence behind you. “You have to go.” 

“Y/N, I won’t. I cannot leave without you.” 

“You have to.” 

“No.” He cried miserably. 

You took a few breaths, heart hurting both from blood loss and for your partner.

“What about Sirius? Hm?” He shot at you.

You smiled at the thought of your sweet boy. You felt like you could smell him now; worn leather, caramel, and his cigarettes. You knew he tried to spell the smell away, but it never really worked; you’d learned to associate the scent with him though, so you mostly didn’t mind. 

“You’ll take care of him for me, won’t you?” You asked your friend, offering him a tired smile. Tears fell from his eyes; he was too pretty to cry, you thought. 

“Vix, please, he needs you.”

“Thank him for me?”

James sobbed.

“I’m so-” you grunted and fought the urge to gag. “I’m so thankful for him. For all of you.”

“Y/N.”

“Tell him I’d do it all again. Every moment of it. If it meant I got to love him.” You breathed in deeply. “It was worth every minute of it.” 

A portion of the building behind James collapsed in on itself under the flames, but neither of you moved your gaze from the other. 

“Tell him for me?” You asked again.

James’s face was scrunched in pain as he nodded.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He cried.

“I’m not.” You said as you shook your head. “I don’t re-I don’t-” You tried to take a deep breath but found yourself unable to.

“I don’t regret anything.” You finished on an exhale. 

The building behind James continued to fall as smoke and debris fell around the two of you. You shakily lifted one of your hands to his face and wiped at the tear tracks lining his cheeks. You lifted your wand in the other and cast a diffindo at the death eaters approaching behind him. You were thankful your vision was going, knowing the sight behind James would be unbelievably gruesome. 

“I-” you started, your breathing becoming erratic. “I love you. All of you.”

James nodded as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. 

“I am so lucky to have known you, Vix.”

“Go now.” You said quietly.

James held your head to his shoulder.

“You - you have to go.” 

James kissed your head again.

“Go.”

You rested your head against your own shoulder as you watched James hobble to the end of the alleyway. You did it, you thought to yourself, you saved him.

James made it to the sidewalk when he turned to face you. You tried to offer him one last smile as he spun and apparated away.

A sob tore through you, and it felt as though it emptied your lungs of any remaining air. 

No matter, you wouldn’t need air anymore anyway.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it home, Siri.” You thought. “I’ll find you in our next life, and I’ll love you there too.” 

With a shuddering sigh, you fell asleep. 

It was dark. It made sense. Death would be dark. Should it be cold? Perhaps. You only wished it wasn’t also painful. It was quiet, but you could hear.

“Why waste your energy on a pathetic mudblood?”

“Information. Knowledge is power, after all.”

“Couldn’t you have found a mudblood that wasn’t so close to death then?”

“We would’ve had more to choose from had someone not thought to fight with fiendfyre instead of a good old incendio.”

“Incendio was boring, I wanted to spice things up a little.”

“Your penchant for spice lost us numbers, Junior. The Dark Lord will not be pleased.”

“Then we’ll get the mudblood talking. Once we get information, the numbers won’t matter.” 

“You ignorant-”

“Enough! What’s done is done. Someone will have to take responsibility for the repercussions when the time comes.”

“Severus is right. For now, the mudblood comes with me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The last prisoner did not even survive the night under your watch.”

“Pfft. You should have heard the mouth on that nasty witch. I did the world a favour.”

“Foulness tends to be a common trait of the Order. Please do keep up, Goyle.”

“I do not see how you are in any position to be barking orders around here. You are barely out of Hogwarts yourself, child.”

“Yes, and this child received their dark mark before they even graduated. In fact, Mulciber, I have had my mark longer than you.”

“What do you even want with the mudblood anyway?”

“Trying to keep it in the family, baby Black?”

“Yes, Purebloods tend to do that. I can see that your ancestors kept it a little too close to home, however.”

“You don’t know what to do with a prisoner; let the rest of us enjoy her a little.”

“I am not concerned about enjoying, you imbecile. I work for the Dark Lord, that is my only concern. I am one of the most skilled legillimens and occlumens here, I will not let my dick get in the way of getting information for the Dark Lord, unlike the rest of you, so I will take the mudblood.” 

“Hmph, well, we’ll see how long this lasts.”

You listen: Doors. Floorboards. Parchment. Fireplace.

...

...

“You’re awake.”

...

...

...

“Squeezing your eyes shut will not change the fact that I know you are awake.”

Are they talking to me?

“Yes, I am talking to you.”

Shit.

“Very elegant.”

I’m fucking alive?!

“Indeed, you are.”

You peeled your eyes open and blinked against the light above you. The room was dark, with dark-grained wood on the ceiling and walls, and little light save from the gaudy chandelier above you and a tiny window letting in a minuscule amount of light which seemed to dissipate by the time it reached one foot from the source.  

Your neck cracked loudly as you turned your head to the voice, and you swore you felt your heart fall out of your feet.

“You can’t be serious?” You rasped disbelievingly. 

“Close, but no.” The man smirked as he stood and moved toward the table you were lying on. “The name is Regulus. Regulus Arcturus Black.”

You felt your heart rate pick up as you stared at the face of a man who held an uncanny similarity to your boyfriend. 

“I don’t suppose you happen to know occlumency, do you?”

You shook your head; unsure you could voice anything more than a horrified whimper.

“Shame. Well, for your sake, I hope you are a quick learner.” 

And he stupefied you. 

(Present)

“Kreacher, what have you done?” You spat angrily, twisting your arm in his grasp. He appeared wholly unimpressed with the situation and less than inclined to respond to you.

“Let go.” You muttered as you tried to tear your arm from the house-elf. For looking so small, thin, and well, decrepit, he was surprisingly strong. You considered pulling your wand when someone spoke.

“Release her.”

Your head shot up at the sound. You were met with a scarily familiar smirk that left you feeling weightless.

The elf obeyed, though you wish he hadn’t as you suddenly felt weak in the knees. 

“Welcome back, Y/N.” He smirked as he stood from his perch on the edge of an ornate desk. “Ready to finish this?” 

Continue to part six here.

[peggyao3]

Night Crawler - Pt. 2

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x f!reader / can be read as OC

SUMMARY: Feyd's companion is forced to witness an unfair spectacle and utilizes the means he gave to her to sway the situation.

WORD COUNT: 2,341

TAGS: 18+, smut, graphic descriptions of violence, lactation kink 🍼‼️, pseudo pregnancy, breastfeeding (no baby involved only a big sexy egg man), public breastfeeding, public sex ❗, subby Feyd, she/her reader, AFAB reader, ambiguous relationship status, non-consenting drug use, dark undertones, stockholm syndrome-ish, dubious consent, vaginal sex

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist under construction ⚠️

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Part 1, Part 2 ↓, Part 3

The human head lands wetly on the stairs and rolls down with a thud thud thud until it comes to rest by the knees of the next supplicant, a middle aged man with thin lips whose muscles are so tense, a vein coils visibly around the curve of his bald head.

“Next!” Feyd-Rautha inspects the blade of his kukri; the edge has lost some of its sharpness in the past hour after splintering spine after spine. Servants scurry by quickly and grab the corpse by the armpits to drag it to the pile where a dozen already lie.

Meanwhile, Feyd’s companion hovers invisibly behind the na-Baron’s chair, observing this unjust spectacle of slaughter. This audience with the na-Baron is a farce. These people walked in the court room thinking they have a fair chance, but the entire function is a killing game. The only who live are those who will die anyway, no matter if their request is granted or not.

“Lord na-Baron.” The thin-lipped man kneels and his badly tailored suit wrinkles around his back. “I am here to humbly request… P-Paid leave from the factory. O-Only for two months, na-Baron.”

“Hmm.” Feyd pretends to ponder and a wave of cautious laughter rolls through the spectators, noblemen and women who draw amusement from the na-Baron’s cruel judgment of the poorer folk. “And what kind of factory would that be, civilian?”

“Bhergshimar Corps, Lord na-Baron. We p-produce supplements for medical products”

“So what do you do there? Stir up some ointments? Is that too hard of a job for you?” More laughter swells in the stands of spectators who are lined up against the walls of the elongated court chamber, framing a corridor of hubris around the waiting line of supplicants.

Feyd’s companion regards the scene with growing unease and sickness in her chest that has nothing to do with her condition. She holds her slightly distended stomach which is a product of the amniotic fluids that gather in her womb despite carrying nothing in there. Another side effect of the drug the Harkonnen Suk Doctor injects her frequently upon Feyd-Rautha’s wish. The faux condition serves no purpose besides his pleasure.

The quivering man elaborates: “C-Certainly not, Lord na-Baron! I would never ask if it weren’t necessary and I haven’t taken a single holiday for the past twenty years, except for your Holy Birthday, of course. I’m a diligent worker. But now my wife has fallen ill and I-” The man struggles for words.

“How touching,” the na-Baron sneers and tightens his grip around the kukri handle. His companion quietly shakes her head. Feyd-Rautha is  a megalomaniac child, playfully cruel. Empathy could never find a grip on his black, slippery heart. An evil soul beyond redemption.

A trickle of warm blood from the corpse pile at the top runs steadily down the stairs and suddenly touches her bare foot. Disgusted, she pulls her toes away, ankle-length skirts swishing. Bile rises in her throat and she cannot suppress the retching sound as she presses a hand further up on her stomach. Feyd turns in his throne-like chair and regards her scrutinizingly, a tilt to his pale head.

“Are you unwell, my darling?”

A rustle rolls through the crowd and every gaze is set on her, one hundred and fifty pairs of coal-black eyes in white-skinned alien skulls. She takes a deep, shaky breath that lifts her plump bosom. Feyd’s gaze dips to her cleavage and a dreamy filter settles over his eyes for but a moment.

“Actually, I am.” She tries to lower her voice to a whisper, but the silence renders the court room into something of an echo chamber.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-” She must tread carefully. He brings her to these court hearings to teach her something about politics and she knows he enjoys the horror in her eyes. Her dread will be no sufficient reason to make him stop. For a second, she meets the pleading gaze of the thin-lipped man. Sweat glistens on his forehead and his fingers are twisted into his palms. She makes the decision then, and it is surprisingly easy. “It has to do with my condition, my Lord.”

Feyd’s ears perk up and he scans her all over. “Would you like to sit?” The crowd whispers and stirs.

“I would… appreciate it. 

“Come here then.” Feyd-Rautha reaches out his hand and she feels the callouses on his palms when she takes it, letting him guide her around the chair and between his legs which he spreads so she can sit on his thigh and lean her side against his chest. “Don’t be shy,” he whispers quietly in her ear and a shiver rolls down her spine. “Get used to the view.”

She settles in his lap, controlling the cringe that creeps up her skeleton when Feyd’s arm slides around her waist and he rubs over her slightly distended belly.

“Now back to you, pathetic civilian.” The na-Baron sneers with midnight teeth. He has shifted the blade to his non-dominant hand, as the dominant one is splayed over her stomach. The poor man’s face pales with dread and he glances at the woman like she is his only hope. His fear hangs over them both like a suffocating veil and she takes a shaky breath.

“Actually, Feyd…?” She whispers quietly to the na-Baron whose gaze sways back to her, a wary edge to his jaws and eyes which can look so pretty in the right light. “I’m so uncomfortable.” She glances down at her own breasts. She doesn’t ask him often. Most of the time it is he who takes, he who crawls over her body and nips at her from ankles to chest until his lips latch around her nipple, no matter if she wants it.

Naturally, his plump lips part at her suggestion and his lashes cast long shadows down his pale cheeks as they lower.

“Now?” He presses his lips back together, briefly glancing towards the spectators. Distinctly, she feels his cock hardening against her thigh.

“Yes. Now.” It is not a request and she confidently unlaces the front of her dress to reveal her left breast. A many-voiced gasp runs through the crowd, but who are they to say a word? Or laugh or leave? This is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the beloved na-Baron of Giedi Prime. If he wishes to drink from a woman’s breast, he will, and his reputation will not be harmed.

By some miracle, Feyd obeys without further question. In front of many eyes, he bows down to her chest and gives into the sweet temptation of humiliation. Hotly, the shame sinks into his pelvis and he subtly bucks against her thigh, moaning quietly when he latches onto her nipple and the first droplets of colostrum spill on his tongue.

Everyone feels the power shift, when the na-Baron’s head bows to reach her breast.

The woman glances over the crowd, noble spectators and lower class supplicants who all see her bare chest. It takes grace to disgrace oneself so fully. She breathes deeply, wincing just slightly because of how greedily Feyd-Rautha suckles. His taller, muscular frame twitches and he reminds her of a prehistoric reptile whose maws are latched onto a carcass. She gives him a minute.

“Don't neglect court, they're waiting for you.” She feigns nervousness and pinches his chin, taking the calculated risk to try and urge him away from her breast. Feyd, as expected, snarls in response and pinches her nipple with his teeth, probably by accident. A slight tremor possesses his jaws as he drinks.

She gives a watery, apologetic smile at the gathered people, and curls her hand around Feyd’s head, scraping her fingers softly over his smooth scalp. Another minute goes by and she knows a certain sleepiness will soon settle in his bones. Cooing softly, she caresses his scalp until her left breast is as good as empty. Carefully, she detaches his mouth from her teat before they reach the stage when she is really empty, which usually sparks anger in Feyd-Rautha until he moves on to the other breast.

With only a little effort, she pries his face away from her chest and smiles at his dreamy black eyes. His features look entirely soft, jaws relaxed. His lashes serm a little damp, which happens from time to time. She’s never commented on it. Feyd-Rautha slowly swivels his head back towards the crowd. A trickle of milk runs down his chin.

“You…” He points at the waiting supplicant. “What was it?”

“T-Two months of paid leave, my Lord.” The man bows deep.

“Only two months? Fine then. Next."

“Thank you, my Lord, oh thank you. Thank you!”

A guard grabs him by the arm and shoves him aside, where the exit gate is. “The na-Baron said next.” 

Perplexed, the man stumbles into freedom and still wordlessly mouths ‘thank you’, eyes locked with the woman in Feyd-Rautha’s lap. Yes, we understand each other, she thinks and sees the man off with an earnest smile.

While she still has milk in her right breast, three more people make it out the exit gate, most of them dismissed with a lazy wave of the hand. She can tell he has lost interest in the supplicants, his little killing game no longer fun. He has even discarded the blood-stained kukri on the side of the seat, so he can grope at his companion better. She can also tell he’s growing needy, the hard ridge of his cock humping against her thigh quicker and more urgently.

Oh well, she thinks as Feyd sifts through her skirts and tugs down his trousers. The crowd may not see how his cock head breaches her and sinks into her pink center that is unprepared save for the slick which always gathers when he drinks from her, but they can very clearly tell from the way he lifts her and her features scrunch up with pain.

It could be much worse. These people could be dead. Briefly he releases her nipple and cups her breast so any spilled droplets land in his palm.

“Next!” Feyd barks, then softly rumbles in her ear. “Ride me, woman.”

How? She is awkwardly seated diagonally in his lap, facing the crowd, barely a way to use her knees or feet for leverage. Still, she tries to please him, more grinding than riding him, but he seems satisfied nonetheless while he continues suckling on her teat. Her cunt is able to relax around Feyd’s obscene girth and more wetness trickles down past her folds and gathers on his trousers.

A knot of arousal somehow grows in her belly and it could either be the compound of artificial hormones or the power she knows she holds over him from inside her gilded prison. Her right breast is empty and Feyd’s hips buck up in frustration, cock slamming against her cervix. She hisses loudly and the sound reverberates from the chamber walls.

“I’ll have more in the evening, you greedy-, ahh!” Black teeth bite her sore nipple and draw a bead of blood. “You just drank all that and dare bite me?!” She hisses quietly, but a few guards in the vicinity can hear her certainly. A grey blush breaks out on Feyd’s cheeks and ears upon being chided. Oh, he should cut her up for that, his kukri lies right there.

But the milk is heavy in his tummy and he is too lazy to move. So, he just nips at her throat, just above the bejeweled metal collar. His bite is softer there, almost apologetic.

Since there is no more milk, she attempts to pull her dress up, but the na-Baron sloppily covers her breast with his hand instead, absentmindedly kneading and pinching the sensitive nubs while his hips thrust upwards with quick rhythm. With his feet planted on the floor, he has the momentum she is missing.

“Don’t cum until we’ve made it through this line.” She gestures at the waiting supplicants who all try to wall up their hopefulness behind a stoic facade, staring at their shuffling feet.

“Why?”

“Because I’m angry at you.”

“Why?!”

“You bit me and it hurt.”

Feyd lets out a rabid snarl and kisses her shoulder, black eyes peering around her neck at the waiting men and women. There are about two dozen left and his hands are wrapped around his Lady, kneading her hip and her breasts. He can make it through two dozen. How long might that take? Five minutes if they speak quickly?

The Lady smiles quietly to herself as supplicant after supplicant leaves through the exit gate and the blade remains untouched, Feyd’s hands busy on her body. She too has a hard time keeping her composure, walls squeezing Feyd-Rautha’s cock until he can barely control the pitch of his voice.

The last supplicant states his humble request and Feyd lets out an unintelligible sound, teeth sinking into her shoulder. His cock throbs palpably against her walls and his hips squirm, a stifled moan in his throat as he holds back.

The supplicant pleadingly looks at the Lady. “What was that?” He asks.

“The na-Baron said yes, your request is granted.” She speaks in Feyd-Rautha’s name and in the same moment the na-Baron climaxes, drooling all over her shoulder as his cock releases inky semen that luckily has no effect on her altered body. 

By the time the last supplicant has staggered out of the audience chamber, happy and alive, the Lady has almost gotten used to the view.

Panting, Feyd mouths against her neck and shoulder, pushing a hand under her dress to catch some of the leaking cum and smear it over her bundle of nerves. Her skirts are partially ridden up. A few noblemen and women might just see her bare cunt and how it still hugs the na-Baron’s cock but for some reason she is not ashamed. It only takes a minute until she comes undone, her reward, because victories don’t have to feel dirty if you accept them with grace

[freyjas-musings]

Trigger Warning ⚠️- Post contains graphic descriptions of Abuse and Harm.

To ,

The literate but uneducated bitch,

I have added some grammar based corrections. This attempt would be a C minus. Try harder next time.

From ,

One of the illiterate bitches mentioned.

[the-moon-devi]

🌺 KLET TALK!! ||Asteroid Klet 😻💗

🔞⚠️🛑TW:THIS INCLUDES EXPLICIT GRAPHICS AND S3XUAL CONTEXT!! READER DESRECTION ADVISED!!

⚠️NSFW❤️‍🔥

♀ ☯ ♀ ☯ ♀ ☯ ♀ ☯ ♀ ☯ ♀ ☯ ♀ ☯ ♀ ☯ ♀ ☯ ♀ ☯ ♀ ☯ ♀ ☯

I haven't seen many post or descriptions on certain asteroids,( especially s3x ones) and I think it's fun how astrology can tell you how your whole body, mind and soul operates!! WITH THAT BEING SAID WELCOME TO MY SEX ROOOMMM JK LOL!!❤️‍🔥 my aqaurius moon and aries sun is talking! LOL 😂

I'll be descriptive as possible when talking about these asteroids. If your offended or uncomfortable about these things then click off. It's important you keep in mind that I'm going off of my own intuitive mind and my personal wisdom. This is how I think placements would manifest in the physical. BTW I'm always right,🤣  just a disclaimer!!

( da pics from pinterest)

Every vagina is beautiful just as flowers 🌸

♡♡《ASTEROID KLET (2199)》♡♡

♡ TYPE IN ASTRO.COM

♡ PRESS ON THE THREE LITTLE BARS IN TOP SCREEN IT'LL BE ON THE UPPER LEFT CORNER

♡ PRESS ON FREE HOROSCOPES

♡ AT THE VERY BOTTOM PRESS "HOROSCOPE DRAWING & DATA"

♡ PRESS "EXTENDED CHART SELECTION "

♡ TYPE IN BIRTH INFO

♡ SCROLL DOWN TO VERY BOTTOM YOU SHOULD SEE A TEXT BOX (IT SAYS MANUAL ENTRY) ENTER "2199"

♡ SHOW CHART

♡ LOOK FOR KLET IN THE HOUSE, DEGREE, AND SIGN

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀

❤️‍🔥🔞♀️💋KLET is basically feminine sexuality, it can also represent how your vagina might look like certain special features etc. (EACH DESCRIPTION WILL VARY BASED OFF OF ETHNICITY/ GENETICS). I would even associate it with how others perceive your sexuality and how your vagina💦💥 performs during sex. Oh and of course the klet≈clit.🌺 What does it take for her to get stimulated? 🌸💮🍓

KLET IN ARIES ♈:

❤️‍🔥 you could like to take control or you like very dominate partners

❤️‍🔥you are seen as someone who is very sexually active or very sexy in the eyes of others

❤️‍🔥 your sexuality can be quite domineering in the bedroom

Channeled song:

💋your vagina might be warm or either Hella tight because aries is about war and friction it just gives me those vibes for some reason

💋men could get easily intimidated with your vagina

💋 raw and rough sex

💋your vagina may have a red hue to it

💋 big sexual appetite

💋 to get the clit stimulated you might have to use a lot of force

💋 doesn't take long for you to climax

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

KLET IN TAURUS ♉:

🧡 YOUR SEXUALITY IS VERY SENSUAL AND PLEASURABLE

🧡 MONEY & STABILITY COULD LITERALLY MAKE YOU 💦🍦

🧡ATTRACT MEN WHO ARE WEALTHY OR HAVE THE POTENTIAL TO BE

🧡 YOU MOST LIKELY DONT LIKE CASUAL SEX YOU WANT IT WITH SOMEONE YOU COULD BUILD WITH AND WHO IS COMMITTAL

Channeled Song:

🍉 ( could have really pink/brownish hues)

🍉 you might have a more fatty vagina could have more skin like an outie or something like that

🍉 I feel like yall need to get ate out since Taurus rules the mouth and throat

🍉 you are what you eat 👀👀💋

🍉 also you kinda like to be teased and worked up slowly to stimulation

🍉 you might prefer head over intercourse

🍉during sex you like to be kissed as well as your 🐱

🍉might take longer for you to orgasm

🍉 your clit gets stimulated with someone giving you mouth action

🍉 slow and steady wins the race 💦💦

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

KLET IN GEMINI ♊

💚 KNA YALL KNOW GEMINI IS THE LOVERS CARD IN Tarot SO STOP TALKING SHIIIII ABOUT GEMINIS

💚 yall have a very youthful young and free teen ager type vibe of sexuality

💚" once you have my mind you got my cookie"

💚you play mind games on men and make them think they gone get sum

💚pure sexuality and curiosity about sex

Channeled Song

Positions-Ariana Grandé

🌱 your vagina could look very new or versatile that's the best way ik how to put it (hope it makes sense 😕)

🌱this sounds weird but give this a try let your partner talk to your 🐱 listen your coochie is a living entity too. So let your partner whisper to her let him blow some air on that kitty 🤭😹 (gemini is a air sign, words of affirmation is key!)

🌱very experimental in sex

🌱changing positions

🌱 I feel like whoever yall have sex with you take a piece of their brain 🧠

🌱 speak affirmations on your womb it could really benefit

🌱 I think yall like an equal give and take in the bedroom

🌱 to stimulate the clit your partner might have to change up their motion if ya know what I mean 😫😌

🌱 clit gets stimulate through being talked through orgasm

Aka I'm here for a good time not a long time- Gemini in klet 🌱

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

KLET IN CANCER ♋:

🌸 "SLIPPERY EXCUSE ME PLEASE ME" 💦💦💦

🌸 "69": BY TEYANA TAYLOR

🌸 YA'LL SEXUALITY IS LIKE I JUST WANT TO LOVE YOU

🌸 ITS GIVING VERY SENSUAL AND CUTE

🌸 MOTHERING TYPE

🌸COULD COME OFF AS CUTESY OR INNOCENT THIS COULD BE APART OF YOUR FEMININE SEXUAL ENERGY

🌸 YALL LIKE YOUR BOOBIES SUCKED ON

🌸 NIPPLE STIMULATION 😮‍💨

🌸 VERY BEAUTIFUL SEXUAL ENERGY AND MOON LIKE

Channeled Songs:

💗your vagina may look very moist

💗fertile looking ?

💗pretty p*ssy fr fr

💗 may get a lot of compliments on how wet it is

💗 may get stimulated when you have an emotional connection with your partner

💗 you definitely don't like casual sex / one night stands

💗 breeding kink ??

💗you might get alot of men who try to get you pregnant on purpose

💗 yall can be freaks ONCE YOU FEEL COMFORTABLE

💗 69 ??

💗 your womb wants to have sex with men who feel like home

💗 p*ssy fairy 🧚‍♂️

💗 typical for yall to have sex with someone you see yourself being married to and having kids with

💗 clit gets stimulated by foreplay & touch ☝🏽

💗they can get turned on when they are able to nurture their partner

💗 Cancerians need someone they feel emotionally secure with but they really are very sexual and once they feel comfortable with you anything you do is a turn on 😫😮‍💨

( this my placement btw)😁💓

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

KLET IN LEO ♌:

🐱RAW SEXUALITY

🐱BIG CLIT QUEEN ENERGY 👑

🐱 YOU MAY GIVE OFF PORN STAR VIBES THATS NOT A BAD THING PEOPLE MAY JUST SEE YOU AS VERY BEAUTIFUL AND ATTRACTIVE

🐱 YALL HAVE A PRAISE KINK FASHO

🐱 HAIR PULLING AND A** SLAPPING

Channeled Song:

Private Show - T.I.

💛CASUAL SEX

💛LIKES FLIRTING

💛DEFINITELY GOT SIDE PIECES

💛GOLDEN P*SSY

💛 VERY SHINY & WARM VAGINA

💛 DEFINITELY BEAUTIFULLLLLL

💛 LET THE SUN HIT YOUR VAGINA SINCE LEO IS RULED BY THE SUN

💛YALL HAVE VERY PASSIONATE

💛 yall need to be praised perioddd

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

KLET IN VIRGO ♍:

💙 "THIS P*SSY BOUGIE, THIS P*SSY DONT DO NO FAVORS"

💙 VIRGO VIRGO VIRGO YALL HAVE A VERY WHOLESOME SEXUALITY

💙 LIKE I WONT HAVE SEX WITH YOU UNTIL I KNOW YOUR CLEAN AND HAVE NO STDS

💙BUT IF YOU PROVE TO THEM YOU ARE YOU CAN EXPECT THEM TO REALLY PLEASE YOU 😌

💙VIRGO IS ALL ABOUT SERVICING OTHERS BUT THEY ARE VERY ANALYTICAL ABOUT WHO THEY GIVE THAT SERVICE TO

💙THEY CAN COME OFF AS RESERVED THEREFORE EITHER IT'S LIKE THEY ARE THE ONE THAT CANT BE TOUCHED

Channeled Song

💮ITS TIGHT AND RIGHT

💮 HIGH MAINTENANCE

💮DEFINITELY A PAMPERED KITTY

💮 YALL PARTNERS DEFINITELY LIKE TO DO THE SMALL THINGS TO PLEASE YOU

💮LIKE KISSING YOU AND MAKING SURE YOUR OK

💮 YOU ALSO TAKE CARE OF YOUR PARTNER

💮 CONNECT TO EARTH .

💮YOU MAY GET TURNED ON WHEN YOU SEE YOUR PARTNER WORKING HARD TO PLEASE YOU

💮 A LOT DAILY SEX TOO💛

💮sex could calm the nerves for ya'll

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

KLET IN LIBRA ♎:

🖤THIS IS THE TYPE OF SEXUALITY WHERE YOUR JUST BEAUTIFUL BECAUSE THATS THE VIBE YOU GIVE OFF

🖤 PEOPLE COULD APPROACH WHEN YOU SHOW OFF YOUR FEMININE SIDE

🖤 VERY PRETTY DOWN THERE

🖤 MAYBE PINK OR JUST AN EVEN TONE

🖤 YOU ATTRACT A LOT OF PEOPLE IN GENERAL

🖤IF YOUR LOOKING JUST TO BRING IN SEXUAL PARTNERS EMBODY YOUR LIBRA ENERGY

Channeled Song

🤎 whenever you have sex with partners they probably feel like your yoni is perfect

🤎equal give and take in the bedroom

🤎 I feel like yall get stimulated by a beautiful environmental and feeling appreciated

🤎depending on what degree/house klet is in could give more insight because libra is such a balanced sign

🤎 you don't like it too slow or too fast just in middle to enjoy the act, may be into a lil rough stuff tho....👀

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

KLET IN SCORPIO ♏:

❤️ DARK AND SULTRY SEXUAL ENERGY

❤️ FIERY & PASSIONATE

❤️ YALL WANT TO FEEL CONNECTED AND INTENSE DEVOTION

❤️SOME MIGHT SEE YOU AS A MYSETERY OR WONDER WHAT SEX WITH YOU IS LIKE

❤️ SEX WITH ME - RIHANNA IS YALL CHANNELED SONG 💋💦

❤️TABOO/ SEX MAGIC THINGS LIKE THAT

❤️ IF LILITH IS ASPECTJNG THIS YOU MIGHT FEEL EVEN MORE DARKER OR ASHAMED FOR YOU SEXUALITY

❤️ LIKE ARIES PARTNERS MAY EITHER BE INTIMIDATED OR THEY COULD BE INTRIGUED

❤️ DEFINITELY MIGHT HAVE STALKERS AFTER YOU HAVE SEX WITH THEM

Channeled Song

🍒HIGH SEX DRIVE AND CAN EASILY REACH AN ORGASM

🍒DEVOTION IS HOW YOU TURN THESE PEOPLE ON

🍒 BDSM??

🍒KINKS??

🍒RED & PINK HUE TO THE VAGINA

🍒 WET & HOT BECAUSE SCORPIO IS WATER AND OF COURSE HOT BECAUSE THE ORGINAL PLANET IS MARS

🍒 I FEEL LIKE PEOPLE WILL LOOK AT YOU AND KNOW THAT THEYLL BE ADDICTED TO YOU

🍒 IN WORST CASE SOME COULD BE ADDICTED TO STIMULATION

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

KLET IN SAGITTARIUS ♐:

🤍BDE

🤍 I FEEL LIKE YOUR SEXUAL ENERGY EXPANDS AS YOU LEARN

🤍 THE MORE YOU RECIEVE BLESSINGS THE MORE YOU ATTRACT SEXUAL ENERGY

🤍 YOU COULD REALLY BE BLESSED WITH GOOD COOTIE CUZ JUPITER IS HERE AND YOIR CONSTANTLY RECIEVEING

🤍 YOU MIGHT HAVE A BIG CLIT

Channeled Song

🍇 I FEEL LIKE YALL HAVE WATER

🍇MIGHT NOT BE AS TIGHT

🍇 OUTIE

🍇 JUICY & FAT

🍇GETS STIMULATED THROUGH AN ABUNDANCE OF FOREPLAY

🍇 I THINK THESE ARE THE TYPE OF PEOPLE WHERE THEY NEED A LOT TO GET PLEASURE 😌

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

KLET IN CAPRICORN ♑:

🌳 BDE

🌳 daddy energy

🌳I feel like you get turned on when there is a chase to get you

🌳 you may attract partners who have to work to get you

🌳people feel like they have to do what you say

Channeled Song

💐 gets turned on when you see your partner working hard to please you, and when they put in time & effort

💐you may be very determined in the bedroom to please your partner

💐 your vagina may look very intimidating ( take it as it resonates)

💐 very pretty 😺

💐a force to be reckoned with

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

KLET IN AQUARIUS ♒:

👾 you or your partners may be very spontaneous & eccentric

👾 random outbursts of horniness

👾kinky

👾 people may feel like sex with you is different and unconventional

👾raw & real

Channeled Song:

Tumblr wouldn't let me use anymore audio, so here's a link!

S&M - Rihanna

👽your clit gets stimulated when you feel free and on edge

👽you feel sexy when you can be you unapologetically

👽there might be a shocking factor to how your vagina looks

👽 maybe ethereal or something like that

👽open-minded and willing to try new things

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

KLET IN PISCES ♓:

🔮 YOUR FEMININE SEXUAL ENERGY COMES OFF AS MYSTICISM, and dreamy.

🔮 people could feel you have healing energy to you and they may feel deeply connected when you have sex

🔮 sex feels emotionally connecting

🪄 your vagina may look dreamy/ enchanting

🪄 since pisces is a water sign you could have a ocean down there 🤭

🪄 you get turned on when you feel spiritually connected to your partner

🪄 you may also enjoy role play

🪄 unconditional love is how you get stimulated

Channeled Song:

P*ssy fairy- Jhené Aiko

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀ ♀

Thanks for reading to the end!

Hope you guys enjoyed this! Tell me your placement, and if you feel it fits the description!

💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

Catch ya later lovelies! Til' next time!

~𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵 𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 xx💋🤎

𝓕𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵

🔮🪄 ☯ 🔮🪄 ☯ 🔮🪄 ☯ 🔮🪄 ☯ 🔮🪄 ☯ 🔮🪄 ☯

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

𝓓𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓓𝓮'𝓛𝓾𝔁𝔁𝓮 (masterlist)

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

©𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵 (Do not copy or steal my work!)

[sodosshame]

Don’t Leave Me Again.

⚠️Warnings: Attempted Sexual Assault, Violence, Blood, Swearing.

Description: You and the group are on a run and stop overnight to rest, but a stranger somehow makes their way in.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

A/N: Please make sure you read the warnings, it’s not too graphic but I don’t want to trigger anyone. Stay safe! And thank you for all the love recently<3 - dixonsarrows

Crash.

I wake up quickly, my heart beating loudly in my chest. Slowly, I stand up and make my way to the door of the room, making sure to not stand on anyone. I poke my head around the door, peaking out.

All of a sudden, I feel someone grab my shoulder and I go to scream but feel a hand slap over my mouth. I look up at the man. A stranger.

How the fuck did he get in here? Where’s Daryl? He’s supposed to be on watch.

I struggle in his grip, trying to work my way out of it. My body thuds against the floor as the man throws me to the ground, still holding his hand over my mouth and the other pinning me down and straddling me with his legs either side. I whimper, trying to make any sound to wake the others.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch. I was just gonna rob your group, but after seeing your pretty face..”

The man paused for a second, licking his lips.

“I’m gonna get something else I want.”

With that, he puts a hand around my throat and reaches into his pocket, grabbing a cloth which he then ties around my face, making it into a gag, so I still couldn’t talk. Attempting to scream into the gag, I reach my hand up to try and punch him in the face. He quickly pulls a knife to my throat.

“I said shut up. You try anything and I’ll slit your fucking throat.” He muttered, his voice laced with venom.

The man briefly lifts his hips up to attempt to unzip his pants and I take the opportunity to lift up my knee and whack him in the balls, making him fall to the side.

“Fuckin’ bitch, you’re gonna get it now.” He grunts, attempting to get on top of me once again.

Luckily, I was already knelt on one knee, so I somehow manage to shove him away and stand up. Before I know it though, he’s got me pinned against the wall, one hand around my throat and the other still clutching the knife. Struggling to breath, I attempt to knee him in the balls again; but this time he only moves slightly to the side, but enough for me to bring my hand up grabbing the knife by the blade. I wince as I feel it digging into my hand. In a split second, I whack my head against his, causing him to stumble back and let go of my neck, his grip loosening enough on the knife for me to grab it- flicking it round so the handle is in my hand.

Using all my body weight, I slam him against the wall and on instinct, I plunge the knife into his neck, taking it out and doing the same thing again- blood splattering all over me and up the wall. He slumps to the floor and I stumble back, dropping the knife and slowly bringing my hands up to untie the gag.

“Y/N? What the fuck ‘appended?” I hear Daryl’s panicked voice along with his thumping footsteps.

I can’t move, my feet stuck in place and my eyes stuck on the man I just stabbed. The man. Not a walker. But a man.

I feel Daryl’s hands on to tops of my arms and I jump, looking up at him.

“I- He was gonna-”

He pulls me into a tight hug. His strong arms wrapping around my currently fragile body.

“‘s’okay. Ya did what ya had to.” He mumbled against my hair, not letting go of me.

“I- I killed him.” I mumbled, feeling completely numb.

“He was gonna r-” I can’t even finish the sentence as I attempt to swallow the sob I feel rising in my throat.

“Don’t ya dare feel guilty about killin’ that motherfucker, Y/N. Ya had to, alrigh’?” He says as he pulls away, holding me at arms length to study me.

Scanning my body for any marks, his eyes land on bleeding hand. He pulls out a handkerchief from his back pocket and gently wraps it around my hand- enough to stop the bleeding with it not causing more pain.

“W-where was y-you, Daryl?” I mumble, trying to stop my voice shaking.

“‘m’so sorry, Y/N. I was patrollin’ round, I never even realised. Shit, I’m sorry.” He responded, bring his hand up to rest on my cheek, his thumb wiping away a stray tear.

Suddenly, I hear the door the room behind us open, Rick’s voice ringing out.

“What happened? Is everyon-” He started.

“How tha fuck did none of ya wake up?! Y/N almost got fuckin’ killed!” Daryl suddenly yelled, taking his hands from me and pointing accusingly at Rick.

“You were the one on watch-”

“STOP.” I yelled, interrupting the soon-to-be argument.

“Just stop. I- I handled it.” My voice reduces to a whisper at the end of my sentence.

Reaching my arm out, I tug on Daryl’s sleeve, trying to get him closer to me. I hear him sigh as he steps back towards me and embraces me in a hug once again, gently kissing the top of my head.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, darlin’.” He mumbles quietly, his hand rubbing circles on my back.

“J-just.. please don’t leave me again.” I mutter, my voice breaking.

“‘M’kay.” He responds, hugging me tighter.

[final-girl96]

ANNOUNCMENT

I miss Stu, so I am writing another Stu x Reader. It won't be out until I have a decent amount of chapters to post. Here's all the details so far!

Disclaimer - I do NOT own the Scream franchise. I do NOT own any of the characters, plot, or dialogue. I only own the characters I make up along with any plot and dialogue.

MINE

Stu Macher x Reader

READ THE WARNINGS/TRIGGERS! IF SOMETHING ON THAT LIST BOTHERS YOU, THEN PLEASE DO NOT READ! THIS STORY WILL FALL UNDER DARK ROMANCE! IT WILL BE A LITTLE FUCKED UP! THIS IS JUST FANFICTION! IT'S NOT REAL! ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN! THINGS MIGHT GET ADDED TO THIS LIST. EVERYTHING ON THIS LIST MIGHT NOT SHOW UP.

⚠️WARNINGS/TRIGGERS⚠️

Strong Language

Adult Content

Blood and Gore

Murder

Attempted Murder

Graphic Descriptions

Billy Loomis (Self Explanatory)

Stu Macher (Self Explanatory)

Mine (Stu thinks…knows yn is his.)

Possessive Behavior

Obsessive Behavior

Touch Her & Die (lots of people will die)

Bullying (probably in the beginning. Maybe? I don't know. But I'm putting it on here.)

Anxiety (A little. It's expected when you're being stalked and shit)

Stalking (Stu has many issues)

Choking (Pleasure & Attempted Murder)

Abuse (mentally, physically, emotionally). Stu doesn't purposefully hurt yn, but sex can get rough, and he can get out of control with his anger sometimes. But I wanted to put it in here to safe)

Dub-Con (dubious consent - Situations where consent is dubious or unclear, falling somewhere between rape and consent) (Google)

CNC (Consensual non-consent - kinks, popularized by the BDSM (bondage, discipline, sadism, masochism) community, involve consensual, intense role-play of one individual consensually sexually assaulting another. (Google)

Rough Sex (Spanking, Choking, Hair Pulling, Handcuffs, Being Tied Up, Biting, gagged, etc…)

Unprotected Sex (She IS on birth control)

Anal (Maybe)

Cock Warming (maybe)

Semi- Public & Public Sex

Fingering

Oral (both receiving)

Knife Play (Maybe? It'll be Stu's thing. And it won't be a little if I do put it in)

Jealousy (Stu doesn't like when other men touch “What's his”)

[mysticalmallard]

Lonely Nights

Description: Tig is struggling, and she knows he is but he hates these conversations and will do anything to distract her from them.

Word count: 2,470

Warnings ⚠️: Angst, suggestive wording alluding to smutty things but nothing graphic. But I am still gonna mark this post as 18+ MDNI

SoA Taglist: @arkytiorlecter @aimkatsz @ravennaortiz @darqchilddaydreamz @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @hatersaremymotivators @theshynerdsworld

♥︎ If you wish to be added or removed from this taglist comment or message me ♥︎

SoA Masterlist 🌸 Main Masterlist

Tig and his girlfriend lay in bed, struggling to get a descent nights rest. Tig stares up at the ceiling with one hand wrapped snuggly around her bare waist. She slowly turns on her side to face Tig, a sign she was still awake too.

"What's on your mind, Darlin' ?" Tig runs his fingers gently down her side in a soothing manner he knows that helps her relax.

"I can't sleep." She says softly, her voice still rasp from the lack of use. She lays her head on his chest, listening to his rhythmic heart beat.

"I've noticed" He responds, his large hand wrapping around her body and pulling her closer.

She sighs and nestles her head into the crook of his neck. He runs his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. "You worried about something?" He breaks the silence as he continues to soothe her.

"I'm worried about you." She looks up at him from her spot on his chest, her head resting on her arm that is placed against him.

He turns his attention to her, a surprised look on his face. "Me?" He almost laughs.

"Yeah..." she sighs "things at the club are crazy right now and you are barely home anymore.....and since...Donna....you know the way she died....I'm just worried about you.." she whispers wanting to get her point across without upsetting him.

Tig sighs and leans forward to place a tender kiss at the top of her head. "Ain't nothing gonna happen to me doll. I'm fine." He leans back against the pillow and pulls her closer once more.

"Please don't give me that." She rolls her eyes at his nonchalance. "I haven't seen you in almost a month. You look like you've barely been sleeping, I can see the bags under your eyes, and God only knows how much you've been drinking. I'm really worried Tiggy"

Tig looks down at her, a look of annoyance crossing his face. "You sound like my mother right now." He says with a hint of distaste in his voice. "Please, just let it go."

"No...I'm not going to let it go. You aren't looking good and I'm worried you're going to get yourself hurt or...." She trails off, not wanting the words to actually come out of her mouth, afraid of speaking it into existence.

Tig's eyes soften at her tone. He knows she was worried, but he was fine, damn it all. He tightens his grip around her waist, rolling her to her back while he holds himself over her body."I'm fine, Darlin' ," he says in a tone she knows is only meant for her. He leans down close to her ear, his breath hot on her neck. "Stop worryin' so much...you're gonna go grey before ya hit thirty."

She lets out a shaky breath at the feeling of his breath on her skin. She gently rests her hands on his shoulders while he peppers light kisses along her neck. "Stop trying to distract me." She responds, her voice soft.

"It's working, ain't it?" He asks in between kisses, his hands gently roam her body. "Besides, I'd rather do this than talk about all the crap that's going on." He leaves a slight bite to her sensitive skin, her gasp only encouraging him.

"Well, I-" Her mind goes blank as his kisses make their way across her collarbone and onto her chest. He knew damn well what this did to her and he was using it to his full advantage.

His touch is gentle but firm against her skin as his hands roam her body, exploring every inch of her body he could in this moment. The room is filled with her soft gasps and sighs, her fingers lightly tracing his shoulders and arms as he makes his way slowly down her body.

He smirks against her skin as her hands find their way into his hair, pulling softly to coax the sound of a quiet moan from his lips. All her worries seemed to melt away when he touched her like this, but she still couldn't shake the feeling in the back of her mind.

His lips continue their gentle assault down her body until he reaches her stomach. He kisses her hips before going lower and leaving a trail of kisses on her inner thighs. She moans when his lips meet the sensitive skin and he grins between kisses.

She's now a panting mess and every worry she previously held was gone the moment he started touching her. One of her hands grips the sheets while the other still held tightly to his hair.

He continues his slow, languid kisses, enjoying every soft moan and gasp that escapes her lips. This was a good way to distract her, he thinks to himself. Her mind was far too occupied to think about anything else.

He takes his time in leaving his mark, knowing she wouldn't complain about any of the possessive love bites he would leave in her body. He could never get enough of the way she fell apart in his hands, completely at his mercy.

The only coherent thought she seemed to be able to keep in her head is the thought of how damn good he was at this. His mouth and hands worked in perfect harmony against her skin, sending her into a dizzying whirlwind of pleasure.

He could feel the way her thighs trembled under his touch and how her breathing was uneven and ragged. His own breathing grew heavy and she could feel the way the quiet moans vibrated against her skin.

He continues his gentle assault until she is left writhing beneath his touch, her eyes squeezed shut as the first wave of pleasure takes over her body. He places gentle kisses on the inside of her thighs as she slowly comes down from her high.

He moves back up to her side and pulls her against his body, holding her tightly against his chest. He tucks her head under his chin and wraps his arms around her. His fingers trace soothing patterns across her skin and gently pulls the sheets up and over their bodies.

She nestles her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. As she starts to come back down to reality, the worries flood her mind again. Tig feels her tense in his arms, knowing what she was thinking about again.

"I can hear ya thinkin', Darlin'," He murmurs into her hair. His hand continues to move gently up and down her back.

"Can't help it," she says softly, her head still tucked under his chin. It was like a switch flipped and reality came back in full force. "I just...I worry about you. And...I worry about us."

Tig's grip tightens at her words, and his fingers stop their gentle patterns. "What do you mean you worry about us?" He asks, a hint of unease to his voice.

She lifts her head so she can look up at him, her lips slightly parted. "Everything is so chaotic with the club right now. You barely have any time to yourself and when you do, you come home either hurt, exhausted, or both. You barely eat or sleep at home and I'm worried you're going to get yourself killed. And on top of all of that, we barely spend any time together anymore." She says the last line quietly.

Tig's heart aches at her words, a pain in his chest as he stares down at her small form pressed against him. She was right, he knew she was. But she also knew the club came first. "Doll', you knew when we started dating I came in a package deal. The Sons come first, you know that."

"I know...and I'm fine with that, really I am" she sighs looking down tracing circles on his chest trying to find the best way to word it. "I guess I thought there would still be some time set aside for us...for you....I know its not realistic to have a fixed schedule and that you could be needed at any moment...but you deserve a day atleast..." she mumbles eyes down.

Hearing her say he deserves a day made his heart throb in his chest. He gently cups her face in his hand and guides her eyes up to his. "Darlin'...you know I-" he stops in the midst of his rebuttal as he sees the way her face looked. It was a mix of frustration, worry, and....sadness.

"I'm not asking you to set aside time every week, don't get me wrong." She sighs, her voice still a soft whisper. "But you're still human, you need to eat and sleep more than two hours a night. I just want you to...take care of yourself more. Be a little more careful with yourself." She says softly, her eyes pleading.

Looking into her eyes, he feels like he's looking into a wounded animal. She was worried about him, she genuinely didn't want anything to happen to him. He sighs and pulls her flush against his body once more, resting his forehead against hers. "You know I can't make any promises, Darlin'."

Her eyes close as he pulls her body against his, but a slight pang of hurt shoots through her. "I don't care if you make a promise, I just want you to try." She whispers, a desperate, pleading edge to her tone.

He winces at the tone in her voice. Damn it, he hated when she used that tone. He didn't want to worry her, but how could he make promises that he couldn't keep? "I-" he pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words. "I will try, okay? I'll fucking try, Doll'..." he says so softly she almost thinks she imagined it.

He opens his mouth to say more but his phone ringing interrupted him. He picks it up from the side table, they both recognise the number flashing on the screen.

Tig glances down at her to gauge her reaction knowing full well what the number meant. He had to leave now. He knew he did, but God damn he didn't want to.

He answers the phone anyway.He gives a simple "Yeah," to whoever is on the other end of the line. His gaze doesn't leave hers, but a guilty look is plastered across his face. He knows he's about to ruin her night again, it happens far too often now.

She's watching him with a hint of desperation and sadness in her eyes, already knowing the conversation will end the way it normally does. With him leaving.

As the person on the end of the line responds, Tig reluctantly tears his eyes away from her and glances at the clock. "I'll be there in twenty." He says before hanging up.

His heart clenches as he looks back at her, knowing exactly what she's thinking. This is how it always is: him getting a call at night and having to leave, leaving her in bed, alone, after she just poured her heart out to him. "Darlin'...I'm—" He stops mid sentence and sighs. It was pointless to even try to justify it, she knew the club came first.

She says nothing, sitting up off of him pulling the sheets to cover her chest....pausing looking up at him a small frown on her face "Ride safe, yeah?" She whispers with a small forced smile on knowing there was nothing she could say to make him stay.

Tig sighs as she sits up, knowing she's trying to push her feelings aside for now. "Yeah." He says, his eyes never leaving her's. It felt like a knife to the gut seeing her trying to pretend to be okay in this moment. "I'll be back before you know it." He tries to soothe her nerves but he knows it's pointless.

He sits up now too and turns away from her, his bare feet meeting the cool wooden floor. He stands and quickly grabs a pair of jeans from the dresser and pulls them on before grabbing a t-shirt and his socks. He gets dressed as quickly as possible, knowing he didn't want to draw this out any longer.

Once he's fully dressed he turns his attention back to her, still sitting on the bed looking so small and vulnerable. The sight makes his heart ache but he pushes the feeling down and moves back to her. He cups her face in his hands and gently kisses her forehead, feeling her body tense under his touch.

"I'm sorry, Darlin'." He whispers as he continues to hold her face in his hands. He sees the sadness in her eyes, the loneliness, and it hurts him to know he was the cause of it. He gently kisses her forehead again before moving his hands away from her face. She doesn't say a word, just continues to look at him, the hint of a lonely frown evident on her face.

He sighs and turns away, glancing at the clock on the bedside table once more. "I gotta go." He says finally, though it pains him to say the words. He hates leaving her like this, but he had a job to do and the club was waiting for him.

He moves around the foot of the bed and to the bedroom door, not stopping to look back at her knowing he'd lose his will to leave. He pushes the bedroom door open and walks through it, pausing in the small hallway for just a moment. His heart is in his throat and it feels like he's about to choke on it but he says the line he always does and he does it as gently as he can. "Don't wait up, Darlin'."

She waits until the sound of his bike completely faded out, and the silence of the night returned before she allowed herself to let her tears fall. She held them in as he got dressed and left, but now that she was left in the quiet of the house, alone, she couldn't stop them anymore.

She curled up in the bed, pulling the covers tightly around her body to try and seek comfort from the absence of Tig now. The quiet sobs shook her body and her tears soaked the pillow under her head and face.

The situation they were in was an endless cycle; he would leave, she would be alone and sad, he would come home, a short amount of time would be set aside for 'them' and then they would be on a timer until the next time he had to leave. It was the same cycle over, and over, and over again, and if something didn't change soon, she had a feeling it was the beginning of the end for them.

[mrsparkjimin18]

can you handle it?

🔞pairing: Tae x Reader X JK

🔞genre: Girls Night Out AU, Strangers to lovers, pure unadulterated smut, porn with little plot, threesome, party bus sex, playboys Tae and JK

🔞rating: M

🔞wordcount: 3909

⚠️chapter warnings: extremely descriptive and graphic smut scene

summary: A night out with the girls was meant to be simple fun—until a chance encounter turns the heat up. Drinks, dancing, a flirtation that goes too far… Now, the only question left is: Can You Handle It?

Being single for the last seven months has put your life into perspective; it’s pretty boring. You thought throwing yourself into your work would fill that void of loneliness, but so far you have been very wrong. 

You haven't been out with the girls in a while and the idea of a party bus sounds like the perfect Friday night. Your BFF insists the male-to-female ratio is always lit on this booze tour and she promises nobody's going home alone.

"Who says I wanna take anybody home?” you sneer, becoming instantly defensive. “Don’t assume I’m in need of a dick appointment just because I’ve been single for almost a year.”

“Nobody’s saying you have to start a whole new relationship. You just need to get yours before you explode from the stress,” she reminds her in the sweet yet patronizing tone of a best friend who doesn’t hold back.

“I get mine!” You exclaim dramatically.

“Your vibrator doesn’t count bitch. Get ready. Bus will be there in forty-five minutes.” 

She hangs up before you can protest further and you race to get ready. You take a quick shower and then decide to throw on the cute hot pink dress you purchased as a pick-me-up – you know, the one you thought you’d wear to get over him, but never did. Then you slip into your stilettos, apply light makeup and throw your hair into a messy bun.

You inspect yourself in the mirror, deciding it's good enough for a night out with the girls, since you have no intention of hooking up with anyone. You just want to live for tonight; with great music, good company, and lots of drinks. Your thought process is interrupted by a notification letting you know the bus is arriving, and you take a few deep breaths before rushing with restraint to the door.

There’s already a decent number of riders when you board, though not a single guy appeals to your taste; which is fine since you’re not interested in hooking up. But within a few stops you find yourself needing to reinforce this mantra of self imposed celibacy, when two insanely good-looking men step onto the bus and instantly catch your eye. 

You wonder if they're brothers. Both are tall and broad-shouldered, with chiseled jaws, deep brown eyes, and black hair that looks casually mussed yet perfectly coiffed at the same time. Your breath hitches as they choose to sit right across from you.

Your BFF raises an approving mischievous eyebrow in your direction that you return with a quick sneering glare. However, you’re already beginning to feel shy and exposed as both of the tantalizing men seem to eye your dangerously bare legs, making you feel as if maybe you should have dressed down for the night.

The tour stops at a few smaller pubs, giving just enough time for a couple shots and a little mingling. But you're unable to control the urge, constantly finding yourself scanning the room for the two guys from the bus. Each time you find them they seem to be staring in your direction, as if sizing you up. When you finally arrive at the last stop - one of the hottest night clubs in the area - some of the riders go their separate ways while the rest of the party heads inside to continue the night's festivities.

Bottles cover the table in the VIP, shots are passed around, and eventually the party heads to the dance floor. Your favorite song plays and your body moves to the familiar rhythm without thought. You close your eyes, letting the music flow through you - relaxing you - making you forget.

Before you know it, the two men you’ve been playing I spy with all night have you sandwiched, their hands on your hips, your bodies now moving in unison to the beat you were alone in a moment ago.

"I'm Taehyung, this is my friend, Jungkook. We noticed you noticing us,” One says confidently from where he dances behind you. “Is there something we can help you with?” he asks, pulling your body against his and letting his lips brush your ear as he speaks. 

His friend, Jungkook, notices your pupils flare in response to Taehyung's question and he moves closer, pressing his body to yours. The pressure of them against you feels so right, as if it was fate calling your name, convincing you this is what you need. 

You instantly feel your body relax between them. Melding with them as you continue to move to the music. All thoughts of your earlier mantra dissolving under their touch. Taehyung loosens his grip on your waist, and soon his hands are exploring; roaming your body, sliding across sections of bare skin not hidden by your dress, seeking to know you through touch. All the while you stare into Jungkook’s smiling, excited eyes as his friend continues his tour of your body. His expression tells you you’re beautiful, you’re sexy, you’re desired. His hungry penetrating gaze and Tae’s roaming hands transform you into the goddess you always knew was within, awaiting release.

You’re so intent on his eyes, you don’t notice Jungkook’s hand leaving your waist to join the expedition, and the sudden feel of his curious fingers trailing up your inner leg, stopping just short of your already quivering slit, makes your knees buckle. His eyes light up with increased excitement. He leans forward taking a nibble of your ear, inching his fingers into your lonely passage, opening you, releasing your essence. They move inside you as if joining in on the dance. You let out an audible sigh as he exits.

"Already wet and we haven’t even begun the fun yet," he teases, holding up his slick glistened fingers for Tae to see.

Your inner goddess shrinks back a bit in embarrassment as you quickly look around at the throng of people dancing near you. “Stop that,” you giggle nervously as you grab Jungkook’s wrist in an attempt to lower his hand from view. But he’s too strong and you have little success in moving him even an inch.

“Don’t get shy now, baby,” he purrs as he brings his wet fingers to your lips, your hand still gripping his wrist. Then his lips follow, kissing you over his fingers, your tongues meet, exploring each other’s mouths, savoring your taste.

One of Taehyung’s exploring hands slips quietly beneath the hem of your dress. He cups the supple curve of your ass, squeezing once before slowly descending in search of the treasure below. Two of his long slender fingers slide eagerly into your now quivering walls and you feel the heat of his breath on your neck as his tongue lingers up behind your ear, his lips planting a warm kiss. 

"She's definitely ready," he growls, tasting your sweet nectar.

Grinding against you, it becomes evident they feel the same. Slick dripping down your thigh, you return the favor, palming both of their cocks, feeling them harden from your touch.

"You guys want to get out of here? We can go to my place.” The desperation in your request was fairly obvious.

"Be patient princess, we've got time," Jungkook utters, moaning at the tender grip you have on his stiff member.

His lips meet your neck and he nibbles and sucks, marking you, claiming you as theirs. You feel his bulging cock twitch in your hand when you lay your head back onto Taehyung’s chest, inviting him to mark the other side of your neck.

Just as he finishes leaving his second mark, the song ends. You lead them off the dance floor towards the VIP and they follow like obedient servants, making you feel powerful and seductive - a feeling you haven’t felt in a long time. Your inner Goddess beams with pride. 

They untuck their shirts as you enter the VIP, attempting to hide their arousal. But you know what awaits you beneath those layers of fabric. You felt the promise of what they have to offer and you can’t wait to claim your rewards.

In the VIP more rounds of shots are poured, the flirting and teasing continues, and everyone is drunk and oblivious to the private party taking place right in front of them. Welcoming kisses from their soft lips, deliberate caresses of your inner thighs, your body aching for more. 

As the night lingers on guests begin leaving, opting for a rideshare rather than the party bus. Your BFF is still on the dance floor with the man she decided she was going home with tonight, and upon noticing you’re still at the club she dashes over to the VIP.

“Give the driver your address, because I *hiccup* going home with Miguel! He knows how to Tango *hiccup* perfectly in this!” She quickly scurries back to him and they exit the club, his hand cupped on her round ass as they walk out.

You jot down your address on a napkin, Taehyung grabs it from you, slipping it into his pocket, having heard the conversation between you and your friend.

"Looks like it's just us, are you ready, baby?" Taehyung asks with his deep, seductive voice. The sheer tone sends chills through every orifice on your body, causing your skin to shiver and fill with goosebumps. Jungkook places his large hand on the small of your back, leading you to the exit. 

“Take the longest route to this address,” Taehyung insists, handing the driver the napkin and a hundred dollar bill, before following you and Jungkook into the private back section of the party bus.

Just as they had earlier, you sit across from them, teasingly spreading your legs, revealing your exposed core. Moaning as you dip two fingers into your warm core and pull them out, sucking and releasing them with a pop. 

Taehung eyeballs you while palming himself, nodding at Jungkook to give you what you’re clearly in need of. Standing up, Jungkook pulls his shirt over his head, unbuttoning and allowing his pants to fall to his feet, his hard cock standing at attention for you. He slowly crouches into a kneel in front of your parted thighs, his fingers linger over your slit, your whole body quivering with desire.

The sensation of his warm tongue feasting on your clit numbs all your other senses. A slow burn starts in the pit of your stomach, surging slowly through your veins with every suck, swirl and lick.  He plunges his tongue inside your succulent, tight walls as your euphoric orgasm comes to a peak. Fingers gripping his hair holding his head in place, your core grinding against his face accelerating your high.

"K-Kook I'm cumming!" The elevated tone in your voice summons Taehyung's lips to your mouth, muffling your moans, his tongue exploring your mouth, entangling with yours.

When you finish, Jungkook stands, wiping your slick from his chin before settling back on the velvet bench seat across from you. Watching him lustfully as he strokes his hard cock. Taehyung stands over you, large cock in hand ready to stretch your walls to the point of no return.

Before he has a chance, Jungkook calls him over, inaudibly whispering into Tae’s ear. They both look you over, sneering and smirking, mischievous grins on their faces.

“We’re keeping secrets now?,” you inquire playful, yet pouty.

“He said, ‘I don’t think she’s ready for what we’re gonna give her,’ so the question is can you handle it?” Taehyung questioned, his dark, hooded eyes filled with lust, ready to pound into you, filling you with his large cock.

Maybe it’s the alcohol you drank tonight, maybe it’s the lack of sexual release in the last 8 months, but the words that leave your mouth next surprise all of you.

“I’m ready to take whatever you’re going to give me,” your finger pointing daringly at Taehyung, which he obviously takes as a challenge.

“Come sit on it then,” Tae commands while using both hands to stroke his massive shaft.

You stand up, hiking your dress to your waist and walk over to him, straddling his thick thighs as you position him at your entrance. Slowly guiding him into you, walls stretching more than they ever have around his girthy cock. You feel him in your stomach, wanting to tap out, but refusing to lose a challenge.

He feels your hesitation once he’s buried deep inside of you, his large hands grip your hips, lifting you up and down, coaxing your hips to roll. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulls you close as he lays down on the bench seat, giving himself better leverage from the bottom. 

The sudden feel of a finger teasing the outer rim of your other hole surprises you, however, your body is aroused with ecstasy and you let yourself relax into it. 

That is, until you notice Jungkook stand and slowly make his way to you, throbbing cock in hand and a sly grin on his perfect face, fully aware Taehyung is only readying you for what’s to come.

He leans down and kisses you more softly than you expect, letting you feel the curve of his playful grin against your trembling lips before sliding down to your neck, trailing kisses along your nape as he moves behind you and out of view, only the feel of him mapping out his conquest betraying his location. 

Tae grabs your chin, forcing you to open your eyes, the fingers of his other hand still prodding and prepping that yet to be opened portal of pleasure. 

"Look at me, baby," he purrs, "focus on me."

You nod in acquiescence, almost forgetting the looming figure at your back as your hungry eyes lock on his and you continue your rhythmic hip slide up and down his enormous shaft.

Jungkook’s grinning lips and hot tongue disappear suddenly from your back, his hand bearing down gently until your face is mere inches from Taehyungs. 

Tae smiles at you with hooded, amused eyes. 

"Ready, baby?" He asks in a sultry whisper.

You don't have time to answer. All you can do is gasp for breath as you feel Jungkooks swollen head against your opening, rubbing against it, fighting Taes finger for room to enter.

Your entire being becomes filled by them both. You're consumed by the pressure of their hard cocks moving in unison, stretching and stimulating every nerve ending, forcing a deep moan to escape past your pressed lips.

Jungkook’s moans soon harmonize with yours, and Taehyung’s mouth forms a boxy smile of satisfaction at the sound. “I think he likes it as much as you,” he teases from below. But the only response you can manage is another groan as his hands slide to your ass, gripping each cheek and spreading them to allow Jungkook deeper access. 

“I do love a tight ass.” Jungkook growls into your ear, pressing you down, pinning you between their sweaty bodies as you struggle to keep your hips in motion, craving more of the sensation of their cocks moving against each other through your walls.

“Harder,” you cry out, finally able to form a word.

Tae, his hands still spreading your ass open, thrusts up and pulls you forward until he’s buried deep inside, almost forcing Jungkook out of you from within. Your mouth opens in a silent scream of desperation and your hands frantically grab at Jungkook’s solid thighs to keep him in place. 

Tae can’t take his eyes off your gaping mouth, and without notice he slides carefully out of you and from beneath you, leaving you with a hollow feeling until Jungkook’s arm slides around your waist from behind, lifting you, never exiting his conquered domain as he shifts to sit on the bench. He bites softly at your shoulders and back as he pulls each of your legs over his knees and spreads his legs wide, exposing your now empty throbbing pussy to Taehyung.

You stare at Tae standing before you, his glistening cock heavy in his hand as his thumb slides back and forth over the slick, fat head. The sight, along with the feel of Jungkook filling you up is more than you can bear and you reach down to slide your own fingers into the hot wetness between your legs to fill some of the emptiness, but the look in Tae’s eyes says he has other plans.

His accomplice sees his intent and quickly grabs your arms up over your head, holding them together by the wrists with just one large hand while the other hand runs over your breasts, lightly pinching and flicking your hardened nipples. His body never stops moving beneath you as he continues your rhythm. He laughs softly as you unconsciously attempt to pull a hand free to touch yourself with, desperate to relieve the building pressure. 

“You can’t be done yet, beautiful,” Jungkook instructs in your ear, his tongue running along its sensitive edges, making your eyes shut and your head loll back in pleasurable despair. “My friend hasn’t gotten what he really wants yet.”

You feel Taehyung move closer, hovering just outside of your entrance but not allowing contact, the heat of him radiating into you as if he was still inside. You squeeze your eyes closed tighter, enjoying the anticipation of what's to come, but then snap them back open, suddenly desperate to see his gorgeous face as he slides back into you. His boxy, mischievous smile returns as your eyes meet his.

“Please,” you suddenly beg, the plea surprising even you. His smile grows, and just as suddenly he plunges back into you, the friction of their cocks once again sliding against each other through that thin wall, sending shock waves of bliss through your body, and then he is gone again.

Before you can moan a complaint, Jungkook releases your arms and in one swift motion lowers you both to the floor, his pace and depth intensifying. You reach up greedily with one hand and lead Tae’s dripping cock to your ready mouth. Your lips stretch and your jaw aches pleasurably as you take in his girth. He groans loudly for the first time, the sound spurring you on as you take him in deeper than you’ve ever taken a man before.

You can feel the wetness drip from your aching, needy pussy; the taste of Tae and the depth of Jungkook taking you to new levels of ecstasy. You brace your knees and the palm of one hand hard into the rough carpet, ignoring the sting of pain as layers of skin were stripped away.

Jungkook’s hand slides around, three fingers immediately entering you, filling that void you so desperately needed filled. You regretfully release Tae, leaning back into Jungkook as an earth shattering orgasm begins to build within your body, allowing him better access to your opening. Tae quickly covers your open moaning mouth with his as his hand joins Junkook in its mission to push you over the edge. 

You bounce and writhe against the increasing hardness of Jungkook’s cock in your ass and the pressure of his fingers inside of you. You moan into Tae’s devouring mouth and shudder under the weight of his fingers rapidly rubbing your already swollen clit.

The first orgasm had been a mere fraction of what rocketed through your body this time, and both of them grip you tightly as you convulse under their continued attack. At its crescendo you feel Jungkook pull out of both of your holes, pulling you back against him as the warmth of his load spreads between your pressed bodies. Tae slides between your spread legs, forcing them wider, and reinserts himself into your overstimulated swollen cunt. 

Thrusting wildly, his stroke becomes uncontrolled, unpredictable, penetrating deep within your walls. Your orgasm that you thought was over returns with renewed vigor, repeaking, surpassing the crescendo and tumbling you into oblivion.

“Don’t fight it,” Jungkook instructs from behind where he holds you steady, one arm around your waist to anchor you, the other kneading your breasts and pinching your nipples.

Just when you thought you had reached your pleasure limit, Taehyung abruptly pulls out, his cum spurting hot and sticky against your inner thighs, the sweat from his brow dripping onto your breasts as he leans over you catching his breath.

You sag in Jungkook’s arms, unable to move, your muscles spent from the exertion. You can feel the pinging sensation of your nerve endings as they continue to fire off between your legs, like a post orgasm firework display. 

For a long time the three of you lay, spent and exhausted, naked sweaty bodies tangled together, only the sound of your heavy breathing and the hum of the bus breaking the silence. You feel… satiated. You feel euphoric. Your inner goddess is dancing.

Finally Tae stands and reaches out a hand to help you up. As you rise he pulls you to him, kissing you slowly and softly, lingering against your full lips. Jungkook rises behind you and begins to wipe away the mess he left on your back. Tae pulls away and looks into your eyes, his smile affectionately amused.

“There’s a restroom in the back,” he says casually as he releases you and takes a small towel from Jungkook. He pats his sweaty brow and you can only nod in response before sweeping your hot pink dress up off the floor and heading to the small airplane sized bathroom.

When you return they’re both dressed and lounging comfortably, drinks in hand, talking leisurely about nothing at all. And although you’ve all gotten to know one another extremely well tonight, you stand there in an awkward silence, waiting for one of them to notice you.

Tae turns to you first, his smile still amused yet kind at the same time. He approaches you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You look pretty with your hair down,” he whispers, before kissing you lightly on the cheek.

“I like it up,” Jungkook chimes in, “easier to grab onto.” He winks at you from where he still sits and then finishes his drink in one gulp.

You blush, but whether it's because of Tae’s sultry gentleness or Jungkook’s sexy cockiness is yet to be determined.

Jungkook stands and heads toward the door, and only then do you realize the bus is no longer moving. You follow him out, Tae close behind, and the three of you stand looking expectantly at each other on the sidewalk as the bus pulls away.

You can’t let the night end like this. You don’t want the night to end like this. No matter how many times you claimed you had no intention of taking anyone home, you couldn’t have imagined this scenario. There was no way you were letting it end here.

You grab both of their hands and lead them through the front door of your building. Upon entering the apartment, your dress drops to the floor and you head to the shower.

As soon as Tae and Jungkook hear the water running they make their way to you, undressing hastily to join. No words were exchanged as they ran their soapy hands over your body, washing away the remnants of passion, taking special care of the sensitive areas. 

After drying off, they join you in bed, one on each side of you, holding you protectively as you all drift off to sleep together

[marvelsswansong]

perfectly poisonous pair

summary: the three times Coriolanus realizes you're his perfect match, his eternal soulmate: darkness and all.

tags: coriolanus snow x fem!reader, possessive and dark soft!Corio with equally unhinged reader (an anon previously said morticia x gomez addams vibes), fluff, violence, non-canon compliant, CW for graphic descriptions of violence, kidnapping, murder, possessive/dark thoughts - please take care of yourself first!

☆ word count: 6K+ words ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Marriage is, at first instance to Coriolanus, an institution and an act that he doesn't quite see the point of.

The legal and financial benefits, sure. But committing himself to one person, to be bound to them body, heart and soul for the rest of his life? That level of vulnerability and permanence feels too foreign. Too abstract, even, that thinking about it quickly makes his stomach churn with sickness.

Coriolanus spends the majority of his upbringing, consoling himself that he doesn't have the time to worry about such things as romance. After all, there was always the next bill to pay and the next threat of eviction to dread.

Not to mention, he thinks, no one will truly ever get him. Not even grandma'am or Tigris understands his inner being. The man deep within his guts, the cunning voyeur who enjoys violence and manipulation. And if they only knew, he believes, they'd be horrified.

No one really knows Coriolanus for who he is. And no one will truly be able to understand what it's like to feel and think like him.

So marriage is completely out of the question for him.

At least for a long time.

Until he meets you.

------------------------------

the beginning: "must be a coincidence."

You're the first person (other than the wide-eyed idealist, Sejanus) to treat Coriolanus with kindness at the academy.

You come in as a transfer student mid-way through the semester and he comes to notice the small ways with which you show your appreciation for him. Slyly backing up his answers in class discussions. Smiling at him in the hallways. Sticking up for him in conversations, not caring if the others give you odd looks for defending a 'clear outsider' amongst them.

"If you ever need anything, you can always count on me." you'd once told him after school, his knees barely brushing against yours in the car you've invited him into so that he wouldn't have to walk home in the freezing cold.

Suppressing the urge to interrogate the reasoning behind your kindness, his numb fingers felt sudden warmth when you delicately placed a crumbled up note into his fist with your address in it.

"Stop by whenever you need something. Don't suffer alone, okay?"

He never takes you up on your offer.

At least, not until a few months later, when he finds himself knocking on your door late at night. Three in the morning to be precise, with a busted lip and dark red stains blossoming across his white shirt.

And when you open the door, you don't react to his disheveled state in the same way he'd expect from his family. No pity and shock like grandma'am, nor is there a trace of light apprehension and fear like there would be from Tigris.

Instead, your eyes crinkle with kindness as you invite him inside your home and sit him down on a nearby chair in the living room.

"How bad is it?" you ask, cutting him off with a stern glare before he can lie. "And don't lie to me, Snow. I need to know if you're going to need a drive to the hospital instead of my attempts at first aid."

Sighing, the blonde gives in, his bones aching too much to put up a fight.

"Not that bad, I promise." he grumbles, trying to keep his breathing normal as you lean in closely to examine his injuries. At this proximity, he can see the reflection of the overhanging yellow lights in your irises, your eyebrows furrowing in concentration before you leave the room and return with a soft towel and warm bowl of water.

"Could you look up for me?" you question, your cold fingers steadying his neck to carefully crane it upwards.

The warm, wet fabric in your hands then trace the edges of his jaw, picking up the droplets of blood scattered across his face.

Keeping his eyes forward at the line of bookshelves by the fireplace, time seems to slow down. His senses are overwhelmed by your hairwash - rosemary and vanilla, he thinks - and the room is awfully quiet. All he can hear is the muted sounds of your soft breaths and the rustling of leaves outside, the pale moonlight creeping in through the gaps of the floral curtains in the dead of December.

"Do you mind me asking what happened?" you ask, now switching your attention to the trail of blood buried into the crevice of his neck. You cringe right afterwards, almost wincing at your audacity. "Sorry, you don't have to say if you don't want to."

If anything, it just makes him smile. He likes seeing you embarrassed, he thinks.

"No, it's fine. I'll say. It was just... a party gone awry. Felix managed to convince everyone to go downtown."

You frown at the mention of the downtown area - it was common knowledge that it wasn't safe to wonder the south of the Capitol this late at night, especially if you were obviously from central.

"And then?"

"Got jumped. Felix and his friends ran away quickly. Sejanus got caught up in the mix and I couldn't just... leave him."

Coriolanus hates admitting the slightest sign of weakness, that perhaps he had a friend he cares for, so he's eternally glad that you don't dwell on it. Humming in response, you squeeze the towel in your hands, the water below now a murky shade of brown.

"And how much of this blood is your own? Do I need to get the sewing needles out?"

"I-"

His response is staggered by brief flashes of the fight playing in his mind. He recalls there being a lot of heavy breathing and fast movements. A slash there. A broken nose there. His feet driving down onto the man's chest repeatedly, down, down, down - he hears bones cracking at some point and Sejanus is suddenly pulling him backwards, begging him to stop but Coriolanus can't-

"Coriolanus."

Your voice snaps him out from his dazed state. He then swallows nervously, not knowing how much is safe to disclose.

"I'm fine. Really. Just some bruises and a split lip. The blood is from dodging a few knife attacks and the criminals stabbing one another."

It's a half-truth, really. Coriolanus had dodged a few stabs his way, but only because he tripped the man charging him and grabbed the knife instead to drive it into the man's sides. Enough to severely wound, but not kill. He feels the soles of his left shoe drag on the floor, the fabric nearly coming off from the repeated force with which he'd stepped on the other accomplice's ribs. It makes his jaw clench with embarrassment.

If you notice it's a lie, you don't say anything.

You ask him if he can undress, so that you can wash his clothes for him. After all, you tease in a lighthearted manner in an attempt to lift the mood, you still have school tomorrow at eight.

"You can leave the dirty clothes hanging by the chair outside the bathroom. I think you're overdue for a long, hot shower."

All arguments die in Coriolanus' mouth when he realizes how nice this feels. The foreign comfort of being cared for by someone else, of having his guard down and following someone else's lead for once. So he wordlessly follows you to the bathroom in the back and discards of his dirtied clothes outside.

The hot water is a nice luxury, the scalding temperature starting to erase his memories of the fight. He rubs his scalp raw and watches the water beneath his feet fade into the drain, the steady dripping of water droplets calming his mind.

When the blonde finishes, he comes out and sees that you've folded a set of new, clean clothes for him by the door of the bathroom (your father's old clothes, he learns). Once changed, he wanders outside and finds you hanging the freshly washed clothes outside on your front lawn.

"You should go home, Corio." you say quietly. "Your cousin and grandmother must be worried sick." you look back at him, a reassuring smile on your face.

"How... how can I ever repay you for all this?" he finds himself asking, desperate for an answer. Surely, you'll want something back for this. Certainly, this was all to get something back from him-

You shake your head sideways, waving your hand in dismissal.

"There's no need to repay me. I like to think you help me out every day at school, so think of this as more of... a much delayed gift."

Once you're both back inside the house, no longer shivering from the cold, he finds the silence to be oddly tense. You're in your sleepwear, after all, a silky night dress stopping right above your knees with a gray knit cardigan on top.

He swallows, nervously. He hopes you can't tell how fast his heart is beating.

"Uh, thank you. Seriously. I owe you."

"You really don't."

"I really do."

You roll your eyes playfully.

"The only person who owes me anything is Felix. He shouldn't have suggested you all go to downtown when it's dangerous, and he especially shouldn't have left you and Sejanus to nearly get stabbed to death." you spit, and your angry expression makes him chuckle.

"Ah, well, but he is the president's son. What can we do." he jokes. A small grin flickers onto your lips for half a second at that comment.

"So he is. Good night, Corio. I'll see you tomorrow."

It's initially an uneventful day for Coriolanus the next morning when he walks into the academy, naturally catching your eyes from across the room. You give him a reassuring nod from behind the door of your locker, where the majority of your attention is being held up by an overeager Felix - your assigned partner for the week.

Due to his schedule, Coriolanus doesn't see you again until lunch time. By which the newest rumor sweeping the academy has been the sudden violent illness which has fallen upon the president's son.

"I heard he was puking blood." he hears Clemensia whisper to Arachne, who nods furiously.

"Sejanus had to carry him to the medic's office - Felix looked like a half-dead ghost."

He's itching to speak to you as he quickly rounds the corner and runs up the flights of stairs leading to the library, where he's shared many lunches with you before. He knows your favorite sport by heart, that being the cozy seat under the large arched windows overlooking the front lawn.

As expected, he finds you there, sitting cross legged and gazing out towards the lawn. Upon closer inspection, he sees that you're watching Felix get escorted into a dark vehicle, an unreadable expression on your face.

"Have you heard that Felix is sick?" Coriolanus carefully asks, sitting down from across from you. You turn to him, your face scrunching up in sadness.

"Yes I have. Terrible news, really. Something about nasty nausea and uncontrollable vomiting."

Your tone is sympathetic and your face has all the features of genuine worry, but there's a small twinkle in your eyes that indicates a secret.

It makes Coriolanus delirious with want.

"And would his illness have anything to do with you being close to him as his project partner?" he questions, sliding in closer towards you to keep his voice down.

He looks down at your lips then back up at you, smirking.

"Just seems strange, don't you think? Given that he seemed just fine last night?"

A half-second smile, you shrug.

"Must be a coincidence."

He kisses you right then and there.

---------------------------------------

the point of no return: "you're quite a messy lover, Coriolanus Snow."

Finding you is a miracle to him.

And now that you two are officially dating, he sees the glimmer of hope for something permanent like marriage in the future.

But Coriolanus is still unsure of the publicity of that kind of arrangement, which leads him to request that you two keep the relationship under wraps. At least until graduation, he justifies, to keep the romance hidden away from the judging eyes of the faculty and fellow classmates.

You don't seem the least bit bothered by the news, your lips only quirking up into a warning smile as you tease that you may then have to bring other men as dates to public events to save face.

At the time, he'd just shrugged at that, playing it cool. "I don't get jealous easily." he'd said confidently.

Oh, how he was wrong.

It's only after he becomes your boyfriend that he becomes acutely aware of and sensitive to how desirable you are to others. Visitors to the academy flirt with you openly, not knowing that Coriolanus is watching from the background, fuming with anger. Your male classmates are too eager to carry your books for you, their body leaning ever too close towards yours when you ask them to pass on the papers in class.

But this, right now, seeing you with another man at the spring gala... It feels different.

Those people, the strangers and classmates, you let down firmly but gently. Those people, you wouldn't even let their hands hover above your skin, always placing a firm distance between you and them. Those people-

Fuck.

You didn't smile at those people like you're smiling at this date of yours. The tall, dark haired man's arm is lingering just above your waist, too close for Coriolanus' comfort, and his thoughts turn lethal when the man leans down to whisper something in your ear that seemingly makes you laugh.

It takes everything within him to not lose control then, when Sejanus speaks up.

"You alright?"

His friend's voice cuts into the tirade of violent thoughts playing in Coriolanus' mind, the whiskey starting to taste sour in his mouth. Forcing another sip of alcohol, he meticulously coaches himself to nod along, feigning disinterest in you and the mystery man.

"Just fine, Plinth." he grits out, but with his steely blue orbs not deviating from where you and your date are standing, it's obvious to any bystander that he's lying. So Sejanus chuckles, nudging the blonde playfully.

"Yeah right. Though, I'm not surprised that (Y/n) brought him along." Sejanus takes a sip of his wine, before pausing at seeing the blonde's expression remain hardened. "You do know who he is, right?"

"Am I supposed to?" Coriolanus scowls.

"That's Harrison Bramford. His grandfather was one of the main generals back in the days of the war and his family single-handedly leads the weapons manufacturing industry in Panem."

"Hm." is all Coriolanus says in response, the revelation doing little to appease his anger. His left arm rises in a reflex to force more alcohol down his throat, only to find the glass half empty.

"I need another drink." he announces, not caring to hear his friend's response.

Sliding into the bar, he hears your soft laugh and whisper before you disappear into a nearby hallway, leaving your 'date' alone. Out of the corner of Coriolanus' eyes, whilst he leans forwards and pretends to watch the bartender grabbing him another glass of whiskey, he sees the tall dark haired man also beelining towards the bar.

"Vodka on the rocks." Harrison growls, nearly slamming his glass down onto the counter. It's only then that Coriolanus lets himself look into the man's light green eyes, taking care to keep his expression fairly neutral and his voice calm.

"Rough night?" Coriolanus asks, deciding to play the unassuming role of a concerned stranger. Harrison chuckles, wiping his hands on his thighs whilst shaking his head.

"You have no fucking idea. Women are such pieces of work."

The blonde tastes blood with how hard he bites his cheek in an effort to stay silent.

"Your whiskey, sir."

He's grateful for the interruption of the bartender sliding his drink down towards him, as with every word leaving your date's mouth, Coriolanus is feeling his rage boiling and threatening to spill over like toxic waste.

"This chick asked me to come here tonight, you know? Me. A Bramford. I put up with her annoying stories and stupid questions all night, I even held her fucking bag for her to go to the bathroom." the man rants, his skin starting to twinge red with how fast he was speaking. "But will she even let me kiss her? Nooooo. Apparently it's too quick. Wouldn't even let me grab her ass."

It's then that your boyfriend finally loses it, and there's a muted sound of something shattering and the feeling of something sticky and hot running down his right hand. There's a few gasps of shock, the bartender hurrying over with a spare napkin as Coriolanus' blue eyes adjust to the blurry scene in front of him.

He's shattered the glass in his hand.

"Shit, you alright?" Harrison asks, leaning over to see and then pulling back with a disgusted expression after seeing the bloody sight. Remaining calm whilst pulling out the chunks of glass, Coriolanus chooses to play nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yep. Sorry, not used to..." he pauses, trying to find the right excuse. Instead, he finds a brilliant plan. "Not used to going so long without smoking."

The dark haired man nods in agreement, seemingly sympathizing.

"Ah, I get you. Nasty withdrawal symptoms, huh? Seen a lot of my buddies get them whenever they try to quit smoking."

Securing the makeshift tablecloth wrap around his injured hand, Coriolanus pushes his chair in with his legs, his uninjured hand strategically reaching into his pockets.

"I think I need a cigarette. Care to join?" he asks, already knowing the answer from the overwhelming scent of cigarettes spayed over the man's clothes.

"Why not."

Suppressing a smile, the blonde leads the drunken man out the door and far away from the venue, down a few shady alleyways and into narrow dirty streets crowded by graffiti and trash bags.

"Uh... you sure this is the right way?" the man behind nervously asks, and Coriolanus almost wants to roll his eyes at how pathetic he finds the man's fear.

"Don't worry, Bramford. Just avoiding the 'no smoking' signs and security guards by the venue."

Once the blonde is sure that they're both sufficiently far away from the venue, at a dead end alleyway sandwiched between a run down bike shed and abandoned dumpsters, he stops in his tracks. Coriolanus then uses the split second of confusion felt by the other man to strike him directly in the chest, forcing the taller man's entire body down.

Grabbing the nearest object next to him - a wooden crate- Coriolanus smashes it into bits on the man's head, whose face is now pressed up against the dirty cement.

"You absolute piece of shit." Coriolanus swears, adrenaline pumping through his veins in irregular rhythm as his boot kicks into the pained man's ribs repeatedly. "You disgusting, vile, privileged piece of shit."

Each insult is compounded by a stronger kick, the three glasses of whiskey and pure rage emboldening his thoughts and strengthening his attacks. Coriolanus thinks he may have heard a bone or two cracking, but he isn't sure. He can't even bring himself to care, not when his mind's fixation switches to the enticing sight of a broken glass bottle laying to his right, the jagged scars glistening under the moonlight. Coriolanus snatches it up in half a second, before pressing the edges of the makeshift blade against the whimpering man's throat.

"W-why are you doing this?" Harrison barely gets out, mouth already filled with blood, his gasps stuttered in pain.

The blonde only chuckles, his left knee coming down to press the man further into the ground, right hand beginning to trace the edge of the glass down the man's neck.

"Because, Bramford. You denigrated the love of my life. You dare try and place your filthy hands on her. Hell, for the crimes of your family and your disgusting behavior tonight, I should do the Capitol a favor and ki-"

"That's enough, Corio."

Your boyfriend nearly drops the bottle in his hand out of shock at hearing your voice ring out from behind him, the development so unexpected that for a second he almost wonders if he's hallucinating. But no, when he tilts his head backwards, he sees as clear as day you standing there with an amused grin on your face.

"Darling, I-" Coriolanus begins, stepping back up carefully and setting the glass bottle aside (but far away from Harrison's reach).

You just shush him, that ever-so-understanding twinkle in your eyes, your heels clicking on the uneven cobblestone as you stand with your body right up against his.

"I warned you about this, you know." you sigh. Coriolanus frowns, confused.

"What?"

"That you'd be jealous. He's just a toy, love. Nothing happened nor was ever going to happen tonight." you assure him, taking his uninjured hand in yours and squeezing it in comfort. You frown at the sight of his other bloodied hand, but he waves it off as an explanation for a later time.

"It's not that I don't trust you, petal. It was just... this scumbag was speaking about you in a revolting manner. I just couldn't contain myself." he slowly explains, a mix of guilt for being caught and anger for not being able to finish his actions creeping in. "He deserved it."

"Not denying that, love." you assure him again, smiling. "But goodness... What a mess you've made. You're quite the messy lover, Coriolanus Snow."

Coriolanus then can only watch, mesmerized, as you walk up next to Harrison's squirming body on the floor. Crouching down next to the man, you tut, as if you're saddened by the sight in front of you.

"Here's what's going to happen. We'll do you the favor of making it looking like you had too many drinks and got robbed. We'll take your wallet and expensive jacket. You'll survive, only a few major injuries but nothing life-threatening, and that's the story you'll tell your father and his friends." you pause, letting out another sigh, as if explaining this whole ordeal is tiring you. "In return, I will keep quiet about your nasty drug addiction to your father. One more strike and you're out, as your daddy said, so let's not aggravate him further. Deal?" you ask, smiling sweetly.

When the man stays silent, only letting out pained breaths in response, your right hand snaps out to press his face further into the concrete.

"I said, do we have a fucking deal, Bramford?"

Coriolanus finds himself completely transfixed by the attractive sight playing out in front of him: your pretty face scrunched up in fury, your delicate fingers dipped in blood as the man beneath you pathetically sobs and agrees. You then smirk, harshly dropping the man's head back down. Your boyfriend is by your side immediately, taking off the man's jacket as you pocket the wallet, your eyes finding Coriolanus' once more.

"I think I'm in love with you." the blonde confesses, the words coming out faster than he'd anticipated. It's a mix of things that causes the sudden confession, the adrenaline from having beaten a man nearly to death, the way your hair is being caressed by the harsh winds, the smell of your sweet perfume mixing with the harsh stench of copper in the air...

It's all making him dizzy and lovesick.

But all you do is roll your shoulders back and chuckle, kissing him quickly on the lips.

"I know."

But, Coriolanus thinks, you can't know - the real depths of his love, the unbridled fire now lapping at his skin, the overwhelming desire to claim you as only his.

And when he finally comes back home, he digs through his cabinets and finds the family ring. Swallowing thickly, he stores it in a small jewelry box and tucks it right underneath his bedroom's windowsill.

One day, he knows. He'll marry you.

----------------------------------------

the final act: "sorry for worrying you."

He'd meant to propose sooner.

He really did.

But then the games happened, his victory came with the assistant position to Dr Gaul and a full ride scholarship to university from the Plinths, and you'd be called away to District 2 to assist on your family's business operations.

Coriolanus missed you, fiercely. No amount of blurry phone calls and monthly visits lasting no more than the short weekend could satisfy his ache for you. Your melodic laugh. Your soft touch. Your witty observations and jokes, your soft breathing on his chest when he'd hold you at night.

But it's necessary, you'd remind him, lips trailing across his cold skin. It was how you and him were going to conquer the Capitol. Together.

On an assuming Tuesday in April, on the day you were due to arrive in time for Tigris' birthday, the phone rang in the mansion. The housekeeper, mid-way through dusting the library in preparation for your arrival, had come running into Coriolanus' room without even knocking. He'd woken up bleary eyed, a few swear words of annoyance on the tip of his tongue, all of which dissipated upon seeing the alarmed look on the housekeeper's face.

"It's for you, sir. Says it's urgent."

Brows furrowing, but not thinking anything much, Coriolanus answers the phone.

"Coriolanus Snow speaking." he mutters into the receiver, eyes still foggy from the remnants of sleep. The voice on the other end chuckles, a dark and pompous sound which makes him scowl in annoyance.

"Mr.Snow... when was Miss (L/n) set to arrive in the Capitol?"

The sinister question jolts the blonde awake immediately, a quick glance at the clock hanging by the door confirming his worst fears. It was four am, at least three hours past the time you were set to arrive.

"Is this a ransom call?" Coriolanus growls into the phone, his fingers clutching the receiver so tight his knuckles were beginning to redden. Teeth aching with how tensely he's clenching his law, his frantic eyes find the housekeeper's worried ones, before he urgently signals for the older woman to fetch the guards roaming the front of the property.

The stranger on the other side only chuckles in response, clearly gleeful at the distressed sound of Coriolanus' voice.

"I'm not sure, Mr. Snow. Would you like to perhaps ask her instead?"

The string of curses and violent threats bubbling under his throat never get spoken when he hears the sudden shuffling of feet and muffled arguing on the other side of the phone, before your voice fills his anxious ears.

"Hi, Corio."

Huh.

You seem awfully relaxed for someone taken as hostage.

Yes, he recalled having numerous discussions with you about such a scenario occurring once Coriolanus' status was elevated in the Capitol and you'd agreed to take on some share of the family business. And your boyfriend also knew that you'd grown up training in archery and fencing, so it wasn't as if you were wholly unprepared to defend yourself.

But still, it shocks him how your voice is completely aloof and calm, with even a hint of a smile at the end of your sentences.

"Hi, darling. Are you alright?" he carefully responds, pondering if you are perhaps being held at gunpoint and forced to speak in an unnatural manner. But you just hum in response, the same noise you'd make if he'd asked you something simple like what you wanted on your toast, nonchalant as ever.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine. Just don't forget to water the lilies, they get very temperamental this time of the year. Wouldn't want a repeat of last April, now would we?" you joke, and Coriolanus feels himself slightly relaxing into the conversation.

"Of course not."

"And don't forget you promised me pancakes the moment I came back to the house. I've been missing your banana pancakes dearly."

He can almost picture your smile at that comment.

"Well then... you should hurry back soon." he calmly responds, only for the phone to then be ripped away from you and the stranger's voice returns - grating and aggravated. Coriolanus can tell that your kidnapper is frustrated and dumbfounded by your seemingly calm disposition and mundane conversation with your boyfriend, a revelation which fills him with great satisfaction.

"If you still want her alive, leave a suitcase of $20,000 by the coordinates sent to you. You have two hours."

As if on cue, the housekeeper rushes back in with a note - tied to a bird sent over to the house, she says - and the security team behind. Unravelling the coordinates written onto the piece of paper, and looking back at the clock, Coriolanus' mind whirls with endless possibilities.

Explaining the situation in brief, he directs three of the guards to go out into the location with a briefcase loaded with fake cash - one to drop off the bag, the other two to keep extensive watch to see who picks it up. The other two, he commands to stay by watch at the house.

Sitting in an unmarked van whilst staring at the spot where his security guard had placed the suitcase, Coriolanus' leg won't stop bouncing up and down.

He's riddled with anxiety and doubt, hating himself for being unable to protect you, worrying about your whereabouts. As even if you sounded awfully calm and capable on the phone, a part of him can't help but wonder if that was all for show, to prevent him from worrying too much.

A torturous hour passes before Coriolanus gets a call from the housekeeper.

"Sir, she's home."

He nearly drops the phone.

"What?"

"Miss (Y/n) is home. She is sitting in the kitchen, having a cup of tea as we speak."

It's a blur as Coriolanus commands the car to race back towards the house, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest as he bursts through the doors of the main hallway.

And there, calm as ever with a light grin on your face, is you.

You're sitting in his favorite velvet cushioned chair by the dining table. Your face smeared with blood, your clothes are torn and hanging in loose threads, and your hair is wet, red crimson droplets falling onto the floor in steady drips. And as the sun rises over the estate, the golden light illuminates your hairline and Coriolanus swears he sees a halo above your bloodied form.

"Hi, love. Sorry for worrying you."

Without a single word, he rushes over to you and nearly yanks you up to a standing position, backing you up against the wall to kiss you fiercely. Your knees almost buckle from the force with which he grabs your neck, his shaky breaths so desperate, his hooded eyes still looking into yours as his left hand suddenly shows a ring box in his hand.

"Marry me, darling."

You blink twice, surprised at the sudden action, as he chuckles and laces his fingers with yours - blood on blood.

"We're perfect for each other. You are my soulmate, my perfect pair: body, heart and soul. Truthfully, I've had the ring with me for almost two years now, but it never felt... quite right." he pauses, taking in your shaky, happy smile. Your cold hands warming in his embrace. "Not until now. You're the one for me."

"Even if I bleed all over your kitchen?" you croak, as he slides the cool metal onto your ring finger, before kissing your bruised knuckles.

"Especially if you bleed over my kitchen. As long as it's not your own blood, of course."

It's you who closes the gap this time, nearly tackling him with the force with which you kiss him, arms encircling around his back. Smiling into the kiss, he tastes the mix of your strawberry lipgloss and the metallic hint of blood on your lips, an intoxicating combination.

When you two finally part for air, the silver band now glistening on your ring finger, Coriolanus chuckles.

"Now, would you like those banana pancakes?"

------------------------------------------

epilogue: "nonsense, darling. I'd clean blood off of you forever."

"I think I'm starting to see a gray hair. on you, Corio."

Your husband scowls at the playful joke in the bedroom mirror, standing up to straighten his tie as you get changed in the walk-in closet.

"Please, I'm barely 30. Are you sure you're not hallucinating, darling?" he fights back, and you peek out half-dressed from the closet, pouting.

"You're questioning my eyesight now? How could you be so cruel."

Your faux sour expression is quickly kissed away by two cold hands cupping your cheeks, and you would've lost the balance in your heels had he not steadied you immediately, his hands dropping to your waist.

"Aw, I'm sorry, petal. Will you ever forgive me?"

You pretend to think about it, cocking your head sideways.

"That would depend."

"On what?"

"Mom! Dad!"

Your snarky response is cut off by the sound of small feet pattering on the marble floor, the front doors swinging open as a small figure runs straight to you and crashes into your legs. A spitting image of you and Coriolanus, your daughter, looks up from your knees before grasping onto her father's hand.

"Up, please."

Clearly amused by the sudden burst of energy in the room and his daughter's politeness even in moments of silliness, he crouches down and picks up the squealing child who comfortably settles into his arms.

"Guess what."

"What is it, honey?" you ask, brushing the stray hair out of her eyes.

"I got the highest score in my entire class on my math test."

"Wow, that's incredible, sweetheart." Coriolanus practically melts on the spot, bouncing the child up and down as she giggles into his neck. "You are the smartest person ever, Belle."

"Not as smart as mommy." she sasses in response, looking up at you for approval. You coo, ruffling her hair affectionately before looking up at your husband with raised eyebrows.

"See, Corio? Even our daughter is kinder to me than you are."

He rolls his eyes in response, left hand sneaking out to pull you in close as his lips kiss the top of your head.

"Nonsense. I love both my girls equally." he says, only for the picture perfect moment to be interrupted by another figure rushing into the room.

"Mrs Snow, the car's just arrived for you by the fr-" the intern freezes in his steps, having clearly caught the Snow family at a private time. You of course don't mind, just being amused by the situation, and your daughter is just curious at the new person who just walked in. All the while, Coriolanus' reaction couldn't be more different, his glare sharp and mean.

"I thought I made it clear, I don't want to ever be disturbed when I'm with my family. Unless it's an absolute emergency." Coriolanus states, his tone icy and unforgiving.

By the furrowing of his eyebrows and the cold stare in his eyes, you can already anticipate the flurry of murderous thoughts filling his head before you cut in. After all, the interrupting intern, a 17 year old boy by the name of Elijah, is only trying his best. And you find him oddly endearing and sweet, particularly with how badly he tries to impress your husband.

"It's fine, Elijah. Please ignore my husband's rude comment. I'll be right out."

Setting your daughter down, Coriolanus leans forward and growls into your ear, watching the young boy scatter away quickly.

"You're too nice to him, darling. Don't you think we should dispose of him and get a new intern...."

You slap his shoulder.

"What do I always tell you? No need to create unnecessary messes. Besides, he's really good with Belle and easy to control."

He smirks at that, irises filled pink.

"You're probably right. Can't have another bloody mess on your hands to clean up."

"Or vice versa."

He leans in close, cold lips touching your forehead.

"Nonsense, darling. I'd clean blood off of you forever."

And he truly means it.

a/n: andddd that's another major Corio fic down! thank you to everyone who showed me love on my last Corio oneshot ("melting snow") and for those who answered my poll - dark soft! and possessive Corio won out but girldad!Corio also got a TON of love so I included it a bit here and will probably write a whole standalone fic with girldad!Corio as the concept. thank you again to everyone for remaining patient, I had writer's block for a bit and I've just had the most awful few weeks ever (mental health wise and life wise) so it was difficult to find moments to write.

as always, please leave a like/comment/reblog/ask if you enjoyed. the interactions is what motivates me to write! I hope you liked it hehe x

[thenanbakacorner]

Can you write an Elf one-shot with a fem reader who gets cloying with him after watching a movie where one of the protagonists dies because he is afraid of losing him please? I just want that madman to get soft and shut up for a few minutes.

Absolutely! I want that too haha

(⚠️Light TW for mention of death and description of how a character dies⚠️)

* * *

🔪What's the Matter, Dearest? - Elf x Cloying Fem Reader Scenario🔪

While waiting for Elf to come back from work, you were sat on the couch, watching a movie. It was quite the nail-biter, leaving you on the edge the whole time.

However, what you hadn't expected in the slightest was for one of the protagonists to get shot, more less practically pelted with lead, and killed. It was quite graphic, and it had you yelping in shock at the fact that one of the main characters, let alone one that you had gotten attached to, was offed.

You had to pause the movie not even a few minutes after the scene thanks to your mind wandering to the possibility of your beloved boyfriend, Elf, getting killed in a similar way thanks to his dangerous work.

You couldn't bare to see that happen to him. The thought terrified you.

Then came the fear of if he wouldn't return from work this very day. After all, it's a bit past nine. He should've been home already! Oh god, what if he's hurt? Or worse?!

You ended up pacing the living room as your mind darkened with these worries, until the sound of the lock clicking broke you out of your scared trance.

When Elf appeared in the doorway, lifting a hand up in exaggerated greeting with a cheery "Oh honeyyy! I'm homeee~!", it felt like a thousand pounds worth of weight was lifted off your shoulders.

"Elf!!"

You chirped in a more heightened voice than you intended, running up to and grabbing onto him, nuzzling your face into his chest.

"Oh!" Elf exclaimed, a bit stunned by how seemingly excited you were that he was back. Sure, you were always excited to see him come home from work, but this was.. different. "What's the matter, dearest? Missed me?"

You simply nodded your head as you kept your face buried against his shirt, letting out a tiny noise reminiscent of a whimper as you did. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you, leaned down, and placed a little peck of a kiss on the center of your head.

"How cute.~" He cooed, nuzzling his own nose against your hair. "Wanna take this to the couch, baby?" He gently questioned, and you nodded a bit more eagerly than you meant to.

Shortly after, the two of you found yourselves laying together on the plush fabric of the couch, legs tangled and arms wrapped around one another. Your face was now resting in the crook of his neck, holding onto your man as if he'd disappear.

Elf's eyes were closed as he rested them, which was much needed after a long day. He was content, comfortable, as you clung to him, although he did mentally note that you were being a bit more lovey than normal.

Eventually, you spoke up.

"Elf, honey.."

"Mmm?"

"Promise me something?"

He opened an eye and glanced down at you expectantly with a hum of question.

"Promise me you'll be careful? I can't stand the thought of losing you.."

You nuzzled deeper against him to further express your worry, and the ticklish sensation of your breath on his skin made him shiver a little bit, before he turned to fully look at you with a soft expression.

"Oh, baby.. is that why you were so anxious to meet me after work?"

The only reply you could manage was a little whine, and Elf was quick to startle at the sight of tears in the corner of your eyes. He moved to sit up with you, using his thumbs to wipe your eyes dry.

"There, there, little one.. I'll be careful. I promise."

You sniffled and moved in to hug him tight, nuzzling against him once more. He returned the gesture and peppered your head with little kisses, whispering sweet nothings to you of comfort and reassurance. You sighed, finally allowing a smile to come to your face, feeling safe and comforted in your lover's embrace.

[widowpunx]

Into My Arms (Rated: Explicit) [Down The Rabbit Hole We Go | Kinktober Celebrations]

Summary: In Wanda's opinion the motorcycle trip turned out better than expected. She overcame her fear of motorcycles and was rewarded for it. 

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff X Natasha Romanoff.

Words:4,765

⚠️WARNING⚠️ Just 18+ people are welcome to read.

THIS WORK CONTAINS: Graphics Descriptions of Smut, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Mommy Kink, Vaginal Sex and Dirty Talk. Natasha has a penis.

Post Black Widow Movie, Road Trips, Established Relationship, On The Run. English is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

котенок - kitty

детка - Babe

Боже мой - My God.

Available on ao3

Wanda was really scared at first. Her heart must have been thumping so loudly and hard ion her that she could feel it pounding through the leather jacket and all. Every time they came to a curve, she would clutch so hard that Natasha probably couldn’t breath.

For the whole first two hours, Wanda just shut her eyes and cursed herself for ever agreeing to get on Natasha’s damned motorcycle. Wanda was so sure that the thing would topple every time they went around a bend. And damn her, Natasha choose the road with the most winding curves in Italy. God, Wanda must have been crazy to agree to this romantic trip. Maybe crazy in love with this wild redhead.

Natasha had been planning this romantic motorcycle ride along the beautiful Amalfi Coast for weeks. The motorcycle trip was a distraction to forgot that they were fugitives and the government was hunting them.

But, by the third hour, Wanda found herself peaking over her girlfriend’s shoulder. Her legs would tense in anticipation when they came to a bend, and Natasha was starting to lean into the curves like a pro. Under the helmet Natasha was grinning like an idiot loving this sense of freedom. Riding her motorcycle was like flying.

Wanda was grining a bit despite her continuous fear. The feel of the streaming fresh air flowing through her helmet was exhilarating for. The adrenaline of the moment was turning her on. The fear turned into excitment. The feel of the powerful engine purring between her legs was getting her aroused.

God, Wanda didn’t want this trip to end, but if it didn’t soon, she was gonna make a mess on Natasha's motorcycle. This time they were headed down the road to a cozy hotel at Sorrento Village. Wanda had never been there before. She had learned to let her girlfriend make the plans and surprise her. Natasha always seemed to know what would make her happier.

Even this damn motorcycle. Wanda had resisted her so long. But finally after a long night filled with passion and love making, Natasha asked her to try it once. And Wanda, she couldn’t deny her lover anything that night, so she agreed. How could she have known that she would learn to love this too?

As the sunset falls, the road curved in and out of the trees, and their green shapes flashed by in a blur of fresh wind. From time to time the coast came into view, and Wanda could see the tide cresting against the ragged rocks below them.

Once in awhile, a shaft of fear would stab her as Wanda imagined them crashing out of control and their bodies falling to be splintered on those rocks. She would shiver then. But then Wanda would feel the strong back of her girlfriend pressed against her chest, and she would remember her strength, her gentle competence and she relaxed.

Wanda had learned to trust this Natasha in so many parts of her life. Here Wanda trusted her with her life itself, and she knew that Natasha would care for it as she always did.

When they finally came to the entrance to the hotel, it was both too soon and too late for her. To soon for the ride that had become an odyssey to end. And too late because by now not only her panties but her jeans as well were soaked wet. Wanda felt the arousal humming along her nerves, the throbbing ache of her swollen clit made it hard for her to walk straight, her legs were a bit shaky.

In their hotel room, Wanda could hear the muted sound of the waves breaking on the rocks, the tide was a gentle swell lapping at the coast leaving a tracery of foam on the rocks. She thought of making love to Natasha there and relief the throbbing heat between her thighs but Natasha had other ideas.

She and Nat enter in a cozy Italian restaurant near to the hotel during their dinner time. She was eyeing her girlfriend amusedly. Natasha has a devilsh smile on her face. She knew her so well, she suspected her aroused mode and her intense desire to feel her touch on her body. 

While Natasha checked some messages Wanda didn’t say anything, she just acted like, everything was okay. She wanted to tease Natasha so she just craned her neck and her girlfriend could see her generous cleavage shifting in her blouse. Her tits were practically bulging out of her bra and black leather jacket.

The effect on the redhead was immediate. Natasha licked her lips and sat back in her chair sipping her cold beer. Wanda smiled inwardly and toyed with the button on her blouse, from time to time rubbing her fingers over her boobies teasing her girlfriend.

Natasha kept reading the messages on her phone as she tried to act casual, but Wanda could see her green eyes following the movement of her dancing fingers on her tits. It was getting on now, and Natasha must have been pretty horny by now, being exposed to her innocent seduction and not being able to ran her tongue over her boobies.

Grinning broadly Natasha was staring at her face with undisguised lust. "Are you teasing me, uh?"

"Of course not." Wanda said with a smile but caught Natasha's lustful green eyes burning with desire and blushed. She squirmed in her seat as Natasha rose and sat beside her and murmured in her ear how much she wanted to bury her face on her slippery pussy and how much she wanted to lick her pretty tits and suck her nipples. 

Of course this caused Wanda became more needy and eager to return to their hotel room and stay alone with Nat. She stood up and made her way to the hotel room making sure her lover was following her.

Natasha followed her into the room, watching her femenine hips swaying provocatively before her. Wanda smiled making a fast job with her own clothes, throwing them on the floor as she made her way to the bed.

"What are your plans, Ms. Maximoff?" Natasha asked with a crooked grin.

'I think my plans are pretty obvious, don't you think?" Wanda giggled foolishly and took her breasts in her hands to give them a playful squeeze and emphasize her words.

Natasha smiled back. "I'd like to know how I can help you." It was then that Wanda smiling mischievously stood in front of Natasha and unbuttoned her jeans and gave them a tug to pull them down, instantly her erection jumped, freeing itself from its tight confines. Wanda took it in her hand and gave it a few gentle tugs as she felt Natasha shiver. 

 “Well mommy. I want you to kiss me first.” Wanda giggled and pressed her tits against her girlfriend's. "And then you can make love to me." With one hand still firmly grasping her girlfriend’s hard cock, she threw the other around her neck and pulled her to her, pressing her mouth on the redhead's.

Natasha groaned feeling Wanda's tongue invading her mouth as she returned the hungry kiss, devouring her mouth with passion and love. She loved to feel Wanda's naked body against her. The heat of her soft body was intoxicating like a drug. Natasha could feel the warmth irradiating from Wanda skin, she also could the goosebumps covering it as her horny girlfriend pressed herself suggestively against her.

The kiss was consuming the air in her lungs but Natasha didn't broke the kiss, the burning in her lungs was a painful pleasure but suddenly Wanda did. She stares at Wanda's happy eyes as she runs her hands down her spine.

“Lie down, mommy!” Wanda gasped, almost pushing the smiling redhead backwards onto the bed. "Let me take care of you." With that said Wanda helped Natasha undress, gently removing each piece of clothing off her body.

Usually Natasha was the one who made the decisions in the bedroom. In their relationship she ordered and Wanda obeyed, however Natasha let Wanda take the reins of the situation ... for now. She was very curious to see what Wanda would do next. Natasha can't deny that she was fascinated by the way her shy Wanda was acting, almost begging her to fuck her!

The redhead smiled and lay in the middle of the bed. She lay down on her back with her huge hard cock sticking straight up, throbbing in the air. Her smile grew wider when she noticed Wanda's eyes glued on her hard prick.

Wanda licked her lips at the gorgeous sight, her needy throbbed with intense need. She longed to jump on top of her mommy's veiny cock and ride it till she forget her own name. But she was determined to get mommy's mouth first.

A smile curved Natasha's lips as Wanda crawled onto the bed on all fours, her pretty eyes glued on her face and a sexy smile on her lips. She straddled her thighs and paused for a second as she placed Natasha's throbbing shaft between her glistening folds and then began to roll her hips. She loved to rub her pussy on the length of Natasha's prick. It was one of her favorite things. Wanda liked to feel the friction of their sexes, it always took her breath away.

Natasha contained a groan, her cock stirred with excitement as her girlfriend teased her. Wanda really knew how to turn her on. "Wanda ... Babe ..." She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment and enjoyed the warm of Wanda's pussy sliding up and down her member.

"Mmm ... Боже мой! ... Feels good!" Wanda hummed with pleasure feeling the tip touching her clit, shivering from head to toe, the warmth of her pussy made Natasha gasp. Wanda keep going for a couple of minutes but reluctantly she lifted her pussy off her mommy's wet prick.

"Can you lick my pussy, mommy?" Wanda asked with cute puppy eyes and knelt with her bald pussy directly over the redhead’s face and held her glistening pussy lips wide open.

 "Oh baby you look so pretty." Natasha smirked as she gazed up at her girlfriend's juicy pussy, her eyes burning with lust as her tongue licked her lips in anticipation. Wanda was so wet and hot for her.

Natasha's nostrils flared as Wanda's scent filled her nose. The scent of her pussy always turned her on and the fact that she Wanda was acting so shamelessly and needy made her body burn and her penis began to harden and swell to huge proportions. Natasha wanted to eat her girlfriend out for hours. An undescribable urgency grow and grow in her heart.

"Tell me, baby. Is this what you want, детка? Do you want my mouth on your sweet pussy?" Natasha whispered hotly and hold Wanda's naked ass cheeks with both hands. "Yes ... Yes ... mommy. That's all I want, please." Wanda with blushed face just stuttered before Natasha grinned and burried her mouth into her needy drooling cunt.

Wanda squealed, her hot obscene groans echoing on the hotel room. The sokovian girl in delight began to grind her throbbing pussy over Natasha's sucking mouth as the dominant redhead kissed the sensitive wet inner flesh of her pussy. Wanda let out a throaty moan as her lover's tongue probed her pussy, sliding repeatedly over her sensitive clit as her ass sway back and forth in a sexy repetitive motion.

Natasha closed her eyes and opened her mouth wide, and then slide her tongue deep into Wanda's warm pussy depths. She groans slightly and her hands grasp the witch's round ass as she noisily slurped up the tasty pussy juices. 

"Oh yeah! It feels so good!" Wanda whimpered with ecstasy as she rolled her hips, rubbing and grinding her pussy, smearing her drooling pussy onto mommy's experienced mouth. 

Wanda looked down between her blushed round tits at mommy's gorgeous face, seeing only her eyes close blissfully above her hairless pussy mound. "Oh yess! Oh mommy!" She moaned as she kept grinding her pussy on mommy's mouth. Wanda closed her eyes and lose herself in this delicious moment as Natasha warm tongue stimulate each sensitive spot on her vulva, her mouth felt fantastic in her cunt. Wanda only hears Mommy hums in delight, without missing a slurp.

Wanda giggled happily, hunching her pussy against mommy's lips. She love moments like this. The way mommy's licked the full length of her inflamed slit and suck on each fold with a few gentle tugs and then burying her tongue deeply in the warm depths of her quivering pussy, sucking all the tasty juice pouring out of her hole.

Natasha grunted and grasped her girlfriend's nude grinding ass as she sucked hungrily, licking every delicious part of Wanda's swollen slit and pushing her tongue hard and deep into her pussy hole.

Wanda was making a mess on her face but she didn't care. Natasha was breathless, her fingers dug deeply into Wanda's creamy buttocks, leaving red marks in her soft delicate skin. She acted as a thirsty woman, her pussy juices flooded into her mouth and she swallowed every tasty drop. Natasha could hear the sexy moans of her girlfriend as she seal her lips around her stiff clit and sucked on it.

"Are you enjoying this, babe?" Natasha asked between wild licks and heavy breaths.

"Ohh yeah, lick my pussy, mommy! I'm loving this so much!" The sokovian girl moaned and kept grinding her pussy up and down on the her face as her hands slide behind Natasha’s head, pressing her gasping mouth as tightly as possible against her tingling drooling pussy. Wanda was so close. She squirming and groaning, her round tits jiggling and her skin covered in sweat. She felt so fucking good receiving Natasha's tongue-fucking. Finally, the need to cum overcame as mommy kept her mouth glued to her quivering pussy and sucked hard.

"Oh mommy!" Wanda let out a loud groan as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure filled her pussy, her chest and brain. She panted, her body trembled as she collapsed on the bed. She wanted to lay down with Natasha and enjoy the post orgasmic bliss but she had her own plans tonight to take care of mommy. She look up at Natasha who was smiling and licking her glistening lips.

Wanda blushed a little as mommy said with a grin. "You taste delicious, детка?" before giving her a soft kiss on the lips. Natasha smirked and let her hands roaming her girlfriend’s femenine body, massaging her tits as she spread warm smooches up and down her neck.

"Thank you, mommy." Wanda said with a shy grin and move her hand downward to grasp Natasha's prick. Mommy's grin grew wider as Wanda moved her fist up and down the huge length of her stiff penis, squeezing the warm veiny shaft in her palm.

 "Can I play with your cock, mommy?" Wanda asked and licked her lips. The girl was surprised that she could hardly get her fingers around mommy's beautiful dong.

"Of course you can, baby." Natasha smiled before giving Wanda a kiss on the cheek. "My cock is all yours."

"Thank you, mommy." Wanda giggled happily and kissed mommy's on the lips, then she whispered hotly into her ear. "I need to taste your cock. I need it so bad.” Natasha saw as Wanda slid down between her legs and her eyes glued on her stiff cock.

Natasha shivered when Wanda grabbed her cock and pull on it from base to tip, running her fingertips around the swollen tip.

"Do you like how hard I am for you, детка?

"Yes, mommy. I like it so much." Wanda nodded in response before she sealed her lips around the tip of her cock.

"Oh Wanda!" Natasha said with a throaty voice as she saw Wanda opening her mouth and sliding her pretty kissable lips slowly down over the length of her veiny member, swallowing her hard cock as best she could.

At first, Wanda couldn’t get all mommy's tasty prick into her mouth, but once she relaxed her throat she was able to deep-throat her cock all the way to the base of her member. Wanda moaned with eyes closed, her inflamed lips pressed around her shaft, mommy's hairless balls were on her chin.

Natasha saw stars when Wanda ran her fingers up her thighs and then her abs as she began to move her mouth eagerly up and down on her stiff prick. With a long sexy grunt, Natasha began to slide her cock in and out of her mouth. "Mmmmm!" Wanda moaned in response, mommy's hard cock sliding down her throat with each slow thrust.

She closed her lips tightly and sucked it nosily. With a smile Wanda breathed in and took mommy fully into her mouth. Her mouth watered loving this tasty cock penetrating her mouth. Wanda was so aroused that her inner thighs were wet and glistening with her pussy juice, her sex was all juicy and throbbing.

Natasha watched Wanda's red lips around her cock and groaned. Slowly she pumped her cock into her throat, listening to the soft, gurgling sounds Wanda made.

Wanda hummed and sucked her mommy's huge cock for a long minutes, enjoying the flavor and warmth of her veiny meat on her mouth. But pretty soon, her super-hungry pussy demanded more! It quivered and twitched between her thighs, just longing to be fucked by mommy.

Suddenly, Wanda let the tasty cock slip out of her mouth and sat up. She was hot and horny, and desperate for mommy's cock! She wanted her dominant mommy now. She wanted her beautiful cock filling her pussy, stretching her dephts like she always loved it!

Wanda was so highly aroused by the prospect of fucking mommy. She quickly straddled mommy's muscled pale thighs until her drooling pussy was placed above the tip of her cock. Mommy’s cock stood up proudly, her shaft was furiously red and hard, ready for her.

Wanda moaned deep in her throat and grasped mommy's cock at the base, holding it upright between her thighs. Then with a giggle she let the swollen cockhead snuggle between the lips of her pussy.

Natasha felt herself burning with intense need as Wanda groaned and sank down slowly on top of her, letting her weight do all the work. Inch after inch her tight pussy managed to swallow her veiny cock.

Wanda grimaced a bit but she didn’t stop until she felt Natasha’s pubic bone press against her inflamed pussy lips and her tip impacting her womb. It was huge and she loved it! Wanda knew her lover's long cock was in her all the way up her pussy. Her depths were burning with delight, her pussy was open and stretched, and filled with the Natasha's cock.

"Oh, baby, you're so fucking tight!" Natasha growled. She couldn't help but push her hips upwards and send her cock deeper causing Wanda to groan and giggle in satisfaction. The gorgeous witch didn't move for long seconds, she was enjoying so much to have mommy's cock buried to the hilt in her stretched pussy.

Wanda loss her breath and closed her eyes and try to adjust to the size this ten inch cock. Mommy's cock felt so good in her. She never had anything so deep before but then she met Natasha and let her fuck her one night after a hard mission. Since that day Wanda knew she was addicted to Natasha's cock.

Wanda giggled happily as she rode mommy slowly. She began to bounce her hips up and down on her mommy's huge cock, fucking herself again and again on her delicious dong. All the time Wanda grasped her jiggling tits in both hands, forcing her pussy to swallow each delicious inch of cock.

Natasha had a proud smile as she looked down between Wanda's creamy thighs, her lustful eyes glowed at the lewd sight of her thick, glistening veiny cock disappearing time after time into Wanda's drooling pussy. Her hips moved in time with hers, pumping her hard meat into her clenching pussy hole as best she could.

Wanda let out a obscene moan and began to move her femenine hips up and down in urgent motions, faster and deeper, forcing her pussy to swallow her mommy's huge prick, then lifting her nude ass as until the cockhead was inside her and then push her stretched pussy down again, grinding her swollen clit hard veiny shaft each time.

"You feel so incredible around my cock!" Natasha panted, feeling Wanda's pussy tighten around her throbbing dick. "I love my good girl's pussy!"

"Uhhmm mommy! I love you mommy!" Wanda gasped happily, loving her lover's compliments as her eyes rolled back and impaled herself on Natasha’s dong again and again. "I'm your good girl! I'm your good girl, mommy!" Her pussy juices flowed profusely, making a mess on mommy's prick as her sticky juices bathed her heavy balls.

Wanda closed her eyes and sobbed with pleasure, squeezing her naked tits. Her back was arched in ecstasy as she rode her dominant mommy, fucking her with all her might.

 The effect on Natasha was instantaneous. The redhead growled, grasping at her girlfriend's ass she began to thrust her cock upwards as Wanda fucked her back, their wet sexes making loud, obscene wet noises as she pounded hard her juicy pussy.

 Wanda sobbed and fell forwards, supporting her weight on her hands, placing them on Natasha's huge tits as her ass sways up and down, grinding and impaling her tingling pussy on mommy's rampant cock. 

"Yeah, fuck me like that, детка!" Natasha whispered and took the panting girl in her arms and brought her sweaty tits close to her face.. "Ride me! Ride my cock, котенок"

“Oh mommy!” Wanda panted with hooded eyes as Natasha licked hungrily her hanging tits and sucking and her stiff nipples into her mouth, making her pussy cream on mommy's cock. "it’s sooo bigggggg!” She groaned, gasping for air as mommy's thick cock plunged in and out of her tight slit more faster. Her green eyes were closed as she rode the redhead's prick faster and faster, her drooling pussy was on fire, burning with intense need, longing for her cum in her.

"God! What a incredible fuck! Only Natasha, her soulmate, her lover, her protector, the love of her life, her Natasha knew how to fuck her and make her see stars. Wanda whined and brought a hand to her pussy and rub her swollen clit frantically as she rode her cock, her naked ass sliding up and down with urgency.

 Natasha held her girlfriend’s hips and helped Wanda to ride her. Her green eyes enjoyed the thrilling sight as she watched Wanda's tight pinkish pussy hole engulfing her entire cock. The redhead moaned and gasped as Wanda sobbed, her stretched pussy sliding up and down the length of her member. Natasha was surprised by Wanda's strength. She was riding her so hard that the bed began to crack and bed bounce underneath them.

Natasha was trying to hold back her climax but Wanda's pussy was so tight and so warm inside that she couldn’t hold back the tingling sensation rising in her balls much longer and the violent throbbing base of her achin penis.

"Боже мой! Oh mommy! your balls are so swollen and I can feel your cock throbbing in me." Wanda hummed with a dreamy grin and reached back behind her nude buttocks, cupping her Natasha's swollen nut sack, squeezing them and massaging them with gentle tugs. Wanda begged and encouraged Natasha! "Come in me, mommy!... Squirt your hot seed up my pussy!... Come in my pussy… I want this load in my pussy, mommy!”

Natasha smiled broadly as Wanda impaled herself down on her cock with urgency, grinding her pussy against her and squealing loudly. Her gorgeous Wanda was a sweaty hot mess. Damn! Wanda was gasping for air, one of her hands grasping her jiggling tits, squeezed it hard and her nipple protruding between her pale knuckles. Wanda giggled, moving her stretched pussy up and down on mommy's cock feeling her climax approaching. Suddenly the sokovian girl stiffened and screamed at the top of her voice as her orgasm peaked.

Natasha moaned as Wanda came, her pussy depths convulsed, gripping and squeezing her cock as wave after wave of tingling pleasure spread through her like a wild fire. Hearing Wanda's pleas and screams were almost too much for Natasha.

"Cum in me! Please!! Please!" Wanda screamed loudly as Natasha grab her nude jiggling ass and thrust more deeper into her. The redhead was almost there. She knew she would not last very long. "Shit! Wanda!" Natasha grunted and her body convulsed in spasms shooting her warm load deep into Wanda's receptive pussy.

Natasha gasped and captured one of Wanda's nipples between her lips and began to suck frantically, her fingers digging into the her ass cheeks. She groaned and her cock squirted time and time again until Wanda thought she was never going to stop, filling her fertile womb with her white semen.

She sucked Wanda's tits one at a time as she blow her load into Wanda's quivering pussy. Suddenly Wanda giggled tiredly and fell on Natasha's chest. Her sweaty body was shaking, the spasms of her well fucked pussy were sending delicious tingles up and down her spine.

Natasha rolled a very tired Wanda off her body. She was amused by the sight before her. Wanda's orgasm had been so powerful that she had fainted with sheer pleasure. Her pretty witch was laying beside her and purring like a cute kitten.

"Did you enjoy that, my little cumslut? Natasha said with a dark smile as she ran her fingers through Wanda's red hair.

"Yes, mommy!" Wanda said breathlessly and spread her shaky legs and show mommy her well fucked pussy. "I enjoyed it a lot! You always take good care of me." Slowly, she eased her hand down and felt her now-sore pussy lips ooze out rivulets of white cum. Wincing at the touch, Wanda pulled up a gooey rope of cum with her fingers and rubbed into across her lips for her tongue to taste. "It taste delicious."

"I can see that, детка." Natasha said with a smile and looked at Wanda's inflamed pussy, her tender slit was open, and leaking a sticky mixture of her own white sperm and pussy juice. "Good girl!" The redhead growled and lowered her face to Wanda's tender pussy and captured a string of cum with her tongue. It tasted good. Well her cum dripping out of Wanda's pussy always tasted good.

Natasha licked her lips as she stared at Wanda's precious naked body, spread out so lewdly before her. Her round sexy tits were firm and swollen and sweaty, rising and falling as she breathed with eyes closed, her cute nipples stiff and erect begging for attention.

Wanda was a goddess her goddess. Natasha looked up into Wanda's green eyes and found pure love there, her heart fluttered at the sight of her girlfriend enjoying the post orgasmic bliss.

Natasha spend long seconds just admiring Wanda's beauty. Her flushed pacific face, her soft red hair, her soft cute smile but suddenly her open reddish pussy attracted her attention. Her delicate folds were inflamed and spread like a flower, her pussy hole was quivering and oozing her white cum.

Natasha didn't say a word she just spread Wanda's weak legs, pushing them back and bending them at the knees until her well fucked juicy pussy was exposed to her eyes and mouth.

"What are you going to do, mommy?." Wanda asked with a sassy smile.

"You'll see, baby." Natasha smirked and lowered her puffy lips and kissed Wanda's sore pussy, licking her own cum from her open slit before slide her tongue into her dilated pussy hole. Wanda giggled loving the warmth of her Natasha's mouth on her sore slit.

Wanda smiled and put a hand on Natasha's nape and began grind her pussy on her face “Mmmmmm, that’s feels good!... eat my pussy, mommy!" Wanda moaned with a dreamy expression on her face, her pretty eyes closed as Natasha lick the tender flesh of her pussy and swallow every last drop of her cum from her pussy.

In Wanda's opinion the motorcycle trip turned out better than expected. She overcame her fear of motorcycles and was rewarded for it.

#natasharedshadow

[monscrow]

intro post, i guess!!!

last updated 06/nov/2024

⚠️flash warning for blinkies at the bottom⚠️

free gaza, free palestine, stop genocide. you don't agree? block me.

i go by both mons and crow.

my pronouns are they/them, he/him and any neos/xenos that you think would fit either comedically or off of vibes.

lvl 16, so, a minor !! beware

aromantic, graysexual, something like that; qprs are sick asf and all hail relationship anarchy.

art sideblog is @monscrow-arts

super amazing pretty boyfriend !!!<3 🍎

audhdcd (asd + adhd + ocd 😻😋) and hEDS (+ ortho hypo 😛). i use tonetags.

bday is oct 7. 🎉🎉🎉

i'm mexican 🇲🇽!! i speak both spanish and english.

timezone is cst/utc-6.

i say slurs i can reclaim (mainly the f and t queer ones) and swear a lot, though if that makes you uncomfortable please either block me or lmk so i can try to tone it down when around you.

i love interacting!! feel free to tag me in stuff, send some asks (be it on anon or not), or message me! moots can ask for my discord even if we've never actually talked before. though i suck at keeping consistent, nothing personal i promise</3 /gen

i tend to spam-reblog so do with that information what you will.

some tags you might see me use here and there:

#mons rambles ← just my thoughts, ideas, opinions, and whatever i feel like throwing into the tumblr void.

#ask a crow / #anon asks ← askbox replies.

#save / #art save / #fav / #hellsite faves ← these are more for myself, but yeah they're pretty self-descriptive. just in case you get curious or anything.

#🍎 ← beloved.

hyperfixations/interests/things i'm passionate about !!! i guess, kinda

→ mcr (+ most of the members' solo projects)

→ killjoys (california + national anthem, but mainly calif and fanon)

→ demolition lovers lore (i have literally written like at least three different essays about it for school help me i'm so serious)

→ emo/alt/diy culture

→ will wood

→ bandom in general

→ graphic design, arts and crafts, illustration (that's right y'all graphic design IS my passion 😔)

→ fnaf

→ cosplay/costume-making

→ d&d

→ crows (no way, crow, really???)

→ australian shepherds

→ the umbrella academy (s4 isn't canon in my heart + currently reading the comics !!! )

→ gravity falls

→ neurodivergencies/psychology/disabilities (this one's pretty meta ngl)

→ lgbtqia+ identities (emphasis on the aroace-spec ones + relationship anarchy)

→ politics/activism

→ linguistics + conlangs

→ fantasy in general (high fantasy, magic, vampires, tieflings, you name it)

→ boardgames

→ the count of monte cristo (2024) (also i just bought the book so i'll be reading that too !!)

→ parkour civilization

→ uhhhh there's more but i don't remember rn, i'll keep adding as i see fit (probably... maybe..... perhaps....... quizás........ puede ser..........)

dni

trump supporters, terfs, transphobes, anti lgbtqia+/queerphobics, exclusionists, ableists, racists, prolifers/antichoicers, proshippers/anti-antis, irl gore, pro-israel/zionists, pro-ai generated "content", pro-nft, non-critical media consumers, classists, ed blogs, sh blogs.

also, i'm aware that dnis tend to not be effective and i probably will still get shitty ppl in my inbox so i can and will block. though i'm p chill as long as you're chill. this blog is run by a very neurodivergent, mentally ill, mexican, transmasc, aroace faggot, and any kind of bigoted hatred will not be tolerated.

blinkies made with blinkies cafe !!!

pssst btw, before you go, if you read my intro post i'd heavily encourage you to like it, so i can know!!! :] (/nf though!)

[sitkowski]

i will wrap you in cold ( jolly karlsson x noah sebastian )

pairing: jolly karlsson x noah sebastian

cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ description of a character’s death(s), mind manipulation, blood kink, finger sucking, oral sex, anal sex, using blood for questionable things, blood drinking, mentions of past lives.

word count: 4.2k

author's note: the second and only other fic done for kinktober in the concrete jungle, let's get spooky-ish. title comes from "silver and cold" by afi, divider by @saradika-graphics 🕷️

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups

There’s something off about this haunted house the minute he steps inside of it. First, it’s too…nice. It looks like something out of the 1800’s, or that one Backstreet Boys music video. His footsteps echo as he moves through the large foyer, too caught up in the scenery before him to realize that he’s been separated from the group he came in with. Whoever thought this was a good idea is an idiot.

It’s Noah. He’s that idiot.

When he turns back around to find his friends, that’s when he sees that he is alone. Only he isn’t. There’s a man lingering in the entryway where the door had been. He isn’t quite visible in the shadows that he’s standing in, and Noah takes a step towards him just so he can see him more clearly. He belatedly remembers that he’s in a haunted house, and there are supposed to be people in here that scare him.

“Do I scare you?” the man asks in a slightly accented voice that makes the hair on the back of Noah’s neck stand up. “You don’t look scared, pretty boy.”

When he steps out of the shadows, Noah’s first thought is that this man is the pretty one. He doesn’t appear to be dressed like any of the typical scare actors he’s seen in haunted houses before. Leather jacket, pristine white t-shirt beneath it, long hair falling over his shoulders. Noah’s eyes seem to be focusing on little details, like the way that the light catches on this man’s eyes, how he can’t look away from him.

“Where is everyone?” he asks finally.

He thinks that maybe his friends put him up to this, or it’s part of the attraction that people get separated off like this. Maybe he even went the wrong way when he came through the door and off the hallway.

The man looks left and then right, and lifts his shoulders in a graceful shrug. “Maybe you did take a wrong turn, maybe not. Are you alone? You didn’t answer my previous question.”

“If you’re supposed to scare me, you might want to do a better job.”

It’s probably not a smart idea to taunt him, especially when Noah’s got no idea what this guy is meant to do. The house wasn’t the type where he had to sign a piece of paper before going on, but judging it by the outside, something else should be happening. It’s too quiet, too clean. Noah expected to hear background music, see people being chased around with dudes in masks or clowns with chainsaws.

He decides that it’s time for him to go and find his friends, if he can just figure out which way he’s supposed to go.

“Maybe I’m doing exactly what I was meant to, Noah.”

Noah stops, and turns around. “You know my name.”

Maybe he should be terrified. He is seemingly locked in some room with a very beautiful stranger who knows his name. This is the part of the horror movie where the main character realizes that something is very wrong, and they run. But Noah doesn’t run. He just stands there.

“And my name is Joakim. We are not strangers,” Joakim’s voice seems to be everywhere now, like an echo. In the room, in his head. “I’ve been waiting for you, for a very long time.”

His fingers are cold when he touches Noah’s cheek, but Noah feels like he’s burning from the inside out. And he remembers. He remembers everything. The man in front of him is no stranger. It’s been almost three hundred years, and he now remembers that face as well as his own. He hasn’t aged a day. Noah sees it all, it comes over him in waves, the life they once shared. His death; the memories of choking on his own blood, calling out with his very last breath for Joakim who was unable to reach him. Being cold and alone, trying and failing to keep himself alive just a little longer to see him. It nearly brings him to his knees, but there are strong hands keeping him up right.

“Jolly.” The nickname falls from Noah’s lips like a prayer. If someone had asked him an hour before, he would not have known it. Wouldn’t have remembered it. But now, it’s on the tip of his tongue as if it never left. “You found me.”

He grabs onto the collar of Jolly’s leather jacket and yanks him closer, crushing his mouth to his. It’s been a long time, and Noah feels the sharpness of one of his fangs slicing into his bottom lip. Blood runs down his chin, fills his mouth. He doesn’t care. Jolly licks it all away, devouring it as if it’s the most precious thing to him. Noah wonders if his blood tastes to him as it once did all those years ago.

“How? How did you do this?” he asks breathlessly, letting himself sink further into Jolly’s embrace.

Jolly looks almost embarrassed. “I put the idea of coming here into your friend’s head. The one with the pretty eyes? When I realized that it was you, when I knew for sure, I had to get you back—”

“Where are we, by the way? I know that we walked into some old ass townhouse that was rented out for Halloween.”

“Tonight was the only time I could do this. The veil between worlds is the thinnest, and this house is very malleable to my powers. As far as your friends are concerned, you all went through together and left together. By tomorrow morning, it will not matter.”

Noah stares at him. “You manipulated Nicholas to get to me. You manipulated time.”

He never knew Jolly as a human, he had always been evasive about how long he’d been a vampire and Noah had accepted that. There had been a brief moment before his death where he felt bitterness that the same gift hadn’t been offered to him. But it wouldn’t have worked. He’d never known Jolly as human, but Jolly had never known him as healthy. He’d been living on borrowed time when they were together all those years ago.

It’s different now.

“I will not let you go again. I know you might be attached to this life here, but you are mine, Noah. I’ll do what I need to do in order to keep you this time.” Jolly promises.

The thing is, Noah isn’t afraid. He hasn’t been afraid since he stepped foot into this place. He isn’t sure if that’s Jolly’s influence over him, over this house. He should probably be concerned that he pretty much was just told that he was going to die here.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Always in his head, Jolly smiles sharply as he answers Noah’s thoughts. His blood streaks the bottom of Jolly’s face and his fangs. “I’ll have you warm and alive with me, pretty boy. As long as you desire, until the day you wish to be like me.”

He’s always known the right things to say. Noah hates that he’d forgotten, but he knows that it had been another life, long ago, where he knew Jolly. This Noah, he doesn’t know him at all, even with every memory of the two of them together running through his mind in intimate detail. It wasn’t him, but another him.

“Can we…can we go somewhere?” he asks hesitantly.

“We aren’t limited to just this room, Noah. Anywhere you want to be, I will take you.”

It’s probably just instinct that he thinks of his home; the apartment he shares with Nicholas. In a blink, they are there in his bedroom. And this time, Jolly’s unable to keep Noah from collapsing to his knees in the middle of the floor, where he gasps for air and looks around in disbelief. He waits for the bedroom door to fly open, for someone to see him there. But nothing happens.

Jolly crouches down in front of him, brushing his hair out of his face. “Just take deep breaths, you’re alright.”

“What the fuck did you do?” The haunted house was over thirty minutes away from his apartment, but they were there in seconds. Noah’s head swims, and he squeezes his eyes shut until everything feels right again. “New rule, Jolly. No using abilities that could potentially make me vomit all over you. That isn’t very attractive.”

“Sorry, love.”

He doesn’t sound sorry at all. He reaches down and hooks his hands beneath Noah’s arms, lifting him as if he weighed nothing. It doesn’t help Noah’s current mindset. Now that they’re not inside the mansion, he’s thinking a little more clearly. And suddenly trying to wrap his mind around the fact that there is a thousand year old vampire standing in his bedroom, and three hundred years ago, another version of himself was desperately in love with him. Obsessed with him. He’d thought that Jolly would turn him before he died, but he never came. And now, here he is, never having aged at all. It dawns on Noah that he’s the same age now that he was when he died in his past life.

Jolly deposits him on the end of his bed, and Noah watches avidly as he practically strolls around his room. Inspecting things, learning what he can about him by picking things up and turning them over in his hands. He eyes a picture of Nicholas and Noah with something close to jealousy, but he places it back where he picked it up with care.

“You’re happy, in this life?” Jolly asks, not looking at him.

“I am,” Noah reaches for his hand, and he feels a hint of what he felt in the mansion dance between their connecting fingers. “But I’m also yours, I never stopped being yours.”

“That Noah died—”

“What did you think was going to happen when you sought me out in that haunted house, huh? You knew the minute you touched me that everything was going to come rushing right back. You can’t expect to give me all of those memories of you and think that I’m not changed by it all.”

In a move that is anything but human, Jolly is suddenly in front of him, inches from Noah’s face. The color drains from his eyes, turning them an inky black that Noah can’t seem to look away from. His mouth opens, just a little, just enough to show the very tips of his fangs. Jolly inhales deeply, edging his way closer until his nose brushes Noah’s cheek.

“I smell the blood beneath your skin, pretty boy. I smell everything,” the corner of his mouth tilts up a little more, and Noah sees the way his tongue glances off of one of his fangs. “Tell me again that you’re not frightened of me.”

“Never said I wasn’t scared of you. But like you said. I’m yours. So…prove it.”

“I said I wouldn’t kill you. I meant that. But you are mine and I want other things. Things I’m not sure you’re ready to give me so soon after our reunion.”

Noah stares at him impassively. Reaching up, he puts his thumb on Jolly’s bottom lip, nudging until he gets the message and opens his mouth wider. What Noah does next, he does on purpose. Because a memory stirs in his mind; himself and Jolly, bloodied sheets, Noah delirious from loss of blood. He remembers begging him for more, to finally give him what he wanted. Jolly had promised, soon. Noah remembers being pushy to get that answer. So he pushes now.

His thumb slides against one of Jolly’s fangs, and the skin parts easily on the sharp point. Noah hisses out a breath and Jolly growls, grabbing his wrist in a bruising hold, trying to get his hand away from his mouth. But the second Noah’s blood touches his tongue, he’s lost. Noah can see it. He welcomes it. Jolly’s lips wrap around his thumb, and there’s a sting as he sucks on the digit, trying to draw as much blood from the nick as possible.

Finally, he manages to push Noah away, shoving himself back as if to put distance between them. Noah’s blood stains his bottom lip and his teeth, and he all but snarls at him to get out of his clothes unless he wants them torn off. Noah complies easily, enjoying the stunned look on Jolly’s face when he takes in all of his tattoos. He knows that Jolly’s got tattoos of his own now, but there was a time where nothing marred Noah’s skin, nothing but the faint but distinct scars that were in the shape of Jolly’s teeth.

Jolly takes off his own clothes, and Noah’s got vague memories of the feel of this body; memories flow through his mind and he remembers the way his skin felt pressed to his own, the way the cold would seep in, how it felt beneath his lips and his fingers. His head spins with all of the new information that keeps coming back to him, the overflow of feelings that he suddenly has for Jolly, who is both a stranger and the most important being in his life. Whichever life that may be.

“I know you remember how it once was between the two of us,” Jolly says as he stalks back towards the bed. His head tilts, as if he’s listening to the spike in Noah’s heartbeat. “If you’re expecting to leave here in the same condition you entered—”

“This is you flirting with me? Threatening my life after three hundred years?”

Noah’s amusement fades quickly as Jolly crawls over him, pushing his body down into the plush bedding. The room around them seems to distort, and it feels as if all of the air is being pulled from his lungs. Time blurs again, and it’s almost as if the worlds are mixing and melding, because he looks to the left and sees the grand staircase of the mansion, but to the right is his computer desk. Everything grows fuzzy, and his panic rises, even as he writhes up against Jolly trying to get him closer. He’s manipulating him, he knows he is. Not his feelings, but his perception of their surroundings. For all he knows, they never actually left the haunted house. This could all be a dream.

“A dream?” Jolly reaches down between them and wraps his fingers around Noah’s cock, rubbing his thumb over the head. He gathers the wetness there and brings it up to his own mouth, licking it clean. “Should I wake you then?”

Noah protests, trying to at least pretend he’s got the upper hand by lifting himself up to kiss him. Jolly fists his hands in Noah’s hair, crushing his mouth to his, and Noah feels the cut in his lip from earlier split open. The second it happens, it’s like a switch is thrown and Jolly melts against him, kissing him desperately and licking at the wound, until Noah has to physically push him away so he can breathe. This doesn’t deter him, as he starts mouthing his way down Noah’s throat and chest, nipping him here and there. He scrapes his fangs harder against the skin over Noah’s hipbone, and blood rises to the surface quickly. His eyes are locked on Noah’s as he licks it away.

“Answer me this, love?” Jolly asks. His fingers tiptoe over Noah’s stomach, and he leans down and drags his tongue up the underside of Noah’s cock. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

It’s an immediate answer, and it’s probably a lust-addled agreement, but Noah doesn’t care. He just wants Jolly to do something, anything. And he does. Noah feels the sharp pressure of his fangs sinking into his upper thigh for mere seconds, before he’s pulling back and pressing down on the wound so that the blood rises quickly. Noah hisses and fists his hands in the blankets beneath him, waiting and watching as Jolly gets Noah’s blood on his hand. He can feel it running down his leg, sticky and hot, and then Jolly is taking his cock in his blood coated hand, stroking him slowly.

Noah can’t look away. He’s caught in Jolly’s gaze, watching him lick the blood from his cock before taking him in his mouth. He can feel the edge of his fang grazing him, and he lets out a harsh breath, trying not to move. Jolly may be a three hundred year old vampire but Noah knows what those fangs can do and the last thing they need is for him to accidentally gouge him. Jolly’s hand slides over the still drying blood on his thighs, fingers pressing down on the wounds. It’s a quick twinge of pain combined with the feeling of his mouth moving, and Noah wants more.

“You want more, Noah? You have to say it. Tell me what you want and it’s yours.”

 He hasn’t stopped sucking Noah’s cock. The voice is in his head, bouncing off the walls of the room, it’s everywhere. Just like in the mansion. Noah stares into Jolly’s blacked out eyes, unable to determine what he’s really done to him, and not really caring either way. He doesn’t want the pleasure to end, but he needs more.

“Please, Jolly, please. I need you inside of me right now or I’m gonna die, I swear to God—”

Jolly pulls off him, rising up so that they’re eye to eye with each other. His eyes have darkened as if it were possible. He brings his fingers up to Noah’s mouth, the ones still tacky with Noah’s blood. “Do not swear to your God. You swear to me.”

He opens his mouth to do just that, but before he can speak, Jolly is rubbing his fingers over Noah’s tongue, making him clean the blood off of them. The metallic taste makes his mouth water in a way that isn’t entirely pleasant, but he closes his lips around those fingers, licking them clean and coating them in saliva. It isn’t lost on him that another version of himself probably knew the taste of his own blood, even before he was so close to death.

After a few minutes, Jolly pulls them away, leaning back. Noah’s head spins yet again when he grabs him by his hips and flips him over onto his stomach. He manages to just barely catch himself on his hands, and his eyes flutter closed as he feels the sharp drag of Jolly’s fangs against his throat.

“I’d hate to ruin all of this beautiful work,” he murmurs, leaning up further to kiss Noah’s cheek as he reaches down to slowly push his fingers inside of him. Noah hisses and tries to arch away and Jolly soothes a hand up his back. “Easy, pretty boy. I know, this body doesn’t remember how I made you mine.”  

He’s right. Noah’s never done this before, but he forces himself to relax, lowering his chest down against the mattress. Jolly’s free hand pets his hair, whispering words of comfort through his mind. Those words conjure memories of their many nights together, and Noah feels a tear sliding down his face. He’s overwhelmed, but not in a way he doesn’t want to be. It feels like an eternity passes before he starts impatiently begging again.

“I promised you, Noah, didn’t I?” Jolly asks out loud.

Noah nods rapidly and digs his fingers into his own hair. The feeling of Jolly thumbing his cock into him is like nothing he has ever experienced before. The memories don’t do it justice, a steady insistent pressure that makes his eyes roll back in his head. He’s babbling again, out loud, and Jolly makes a delighted noise and rocks into him slowly. He lets him adjust, gives him a few minutes to get used to the feel of him inside. Noah manages another rapid nod, and then he feels a bruising grip on his hips before Jolly pulls out and shoves back in.

He knows he’s not being as rough with him as he could be. He always held back, not treating Noah as if he were fragile, but as if he were human. Even when Noah begs now for him to go harder, he doesn’t. He keeps a deep steady pace, and Noah really hopes that whatever sort of powers Jolly has have soundproofed his room. No one’s come busting in yet to see if he’s dying from the sounds he’s making. The next thing he knows, Jolly’s pulling out of him.

“Why’d you stop?” Noah asks with a whine, only to be roughly yanked over onto his back.

“Because I want to see your face when you come. When I come inside of you. When I—”

“Bite me,” Noah finishes. “I want you to feed from me. I need you to.”

He sounds strung out and desperate to his own ears, and he doesn’t care how much of it is Jolly’s influence over him. A yelp crawls out of his throat when Jolly thrusts back into him, dragging him down onto his cock. Noah starts to reach for his own dock, but Jolly lets out a warning snarl above him and grabs onto his wrists, holding them down to the bed.

“Do you want to know a secret, love?” he leans close. His inhuman eyes burn into Noah’s. “Or rather, do you want another memory that is vital to this moment?”

“What—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish asking before the vision flashes before his eyes; Jolly’s fangs piercing the skin of his neck in one moment and Noah’s orgasm being practically instantaneous in the next. He shakes his head to clear the memory from his mind, before he pushes himself up as much as he can to catch Jolly’s lips with his own. His tongue slides against one of his fangs, not to cut himself but to entice the vampire on top of him.

“Please.” 

He presses himself back into the mattress and turns his head to the side. Jolly leans in, brushing his lips over ink on his throat, mouthing his way to his shoulder instead. Noah can’t protest, he doesn’t care where he bites him, as long as he does it. And when Jolly’s fangs sink in, it’s like two points of heat piercing his skin. Blood overruns Jolly’s mouth down over his chest and onto the sheets and Noah comes all over himself. Jolly comes inside of him at the same moment, and Noah screams. 

Jolly lets go of his wrists, only to wrap himself around Noah and continue to drink from him deeply. There’s a moment of blinding panic that this is it, this is the moment he dies. He can feel it, and the fact that he already knows what it feels like to die terrifies him. He pushes feebly at him, calls his name until his voice finally makes it through and Jolly removes his fangs. The feeling is just as painful.

Noah blinks up at him, watching the way his blood drips off of Jolly’s chin down onto his chest. “Do I need to get a sharp object?”

“You couldn’t move fast enough to do so, Noah. Not like this.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, before Jolly finally moves off of him. Noah brings his hand to the wound on his shoulder and tries to sit up, but he’s shoved back down easily.

“No. This is my mess to clean up. Stay there and let me tend to you.” Jolly demands.

He doesn’t have any choice but to listen, and he closes his eyes, only for a minute.

When he wakes hours later, it’s daylight out and he’s alone in his bedroom. He can hear movement out in the apartment and he manages to pull himself up out of his bed. When he turns back and looks, he expects to see bloody sheets. But they’re the same normal gray they were before. Turning, he rushes to the mirror above his dresser, looking for any wounds left behind. But there’s nothing. His shoulder is fine, there isn’t a drop of blood on him. He grabs a pair of shorts and yanks them on, stumbling out into the living room.

“There you are,” Nicholas says from the sofa. “I thought you died in there. What happened to you last night?”

Noah feels like he’s going to throw up. Was it all some kind of dream? “What do you mean?”

“I mean I saw some guy sneaking out of the apartment just before dawn. I could have sworn we left at the same time, so when did you find the time to bring someone home? Very hot by the way, ten out of ten.”

“You saw him?”

“Uh yeah?” Nicholas’ expression turns confused. “He said he would see you tonight, he didn’t wanna wake you up.”

Immediately, Noah feels relief. He nods like his reaction was normal, and then goes in search of coffee. He doesn’t know what Jolly did to him to make it seem like nothing had happened, but he was going to have to ask. He couldn’t wait for night to fall.

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