#another blonde getting murdered when will it end

[francy-sketches]

people named joffrey will see a wedding feast and be like “is anyone gonna die in that” then not wait for an answer

[tamaharu]

ive inherited a copy of lolita from my parents (i.e. i stole it from the library in our basement and started treating it like its mine) with the 1989 vintage international cover and i think its actually not that bad. better than the 50th anniversary one with the lips anyway imo (which is the cover for the library ebook vers ive checked out).

like i think any cover that incorporates the "only convincing love story of our generation" quote anywhere kind of sucks on principle, and the fact that it features a photo of a girl at all really goes against nabakovs instructions, but compared to other covers that break those two rules, the haziness of the photo creates a really evocative atmosphere i feel matches the book more or less.

[lqveharrington]

Fake-Love | C.S.

summary: a boy was bothering you, so you and Coriolanus take it into your own hands.

pairing: university!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

includes: a very unstable, toxic relationship between the two, (arranged marriage), making out, comments toward the reader’s body, implied sex (it isn’t written), mentions of murder

a/n: soooo, as i write for the Silver Roses & Fallen Snow series, i decided to write a billion one-shot for our favorite blond to keep the era for him alive so i can finish my series 🫡. also, the uniforms are based of the gilmore girls’ one, since they are in university now and not academy.

The arranged marriage between the Snows and the Edevanes were always doomed to happen. You were born the same year as Coriolanus, and your families were already close with each other.

It was just, you and Coriolanus despised one another.

The feeling was 100% mutual. The reasoning for such a feud was due to the never ending fight for the brightest student in the Capitol. During your years in Academy, it was a tie in every class. Of course, your hatred for one another was more tame.

It only really changed when Coriolanus came back from serving the Districts as a peacekeeper. There was something about his demeanor that was much different, plus the way he was built could have made you weak in the knees.

He joined University a little after it had started for your class, but that didn’t stop him from becoming the best. You were currently the top of your class in University, but that changed when he joined under Dr. Gaul. His jabs to your reputation were much stronger than in Academy. He would make comments about you when walking down the hall behind you, making sure you understood that he would do whatever it took to be back on top.

So, when your parents dropped the bomb on you that you were to be engaged to Coriolanus as soon as possible, your blood boiled at the male. You could not believe he stooped that low to get back at you.

And about a few weeks after the initial announcement, you and Coriolanus officially got engaged, becoming the sudden talk of the Capitol.

“How did you keep your dating life such a huge secret?” A reporter stuck their microphone up to your face as you and Coriolanus exited a car together.

“Well, we were just so love struck with one another that we didn’t want others to know.” Coriolanus smiled, answering the question for you.

His arm was looped around yours as you were guided into the University, answering all the questions being asked of you both. The moment you stepped inside the school grounds you let go of the male, dusting off your uniform’s plaid skirt.

“What time do your classes end?” He muttered toward you, adjusting his own uniform.

“I have study hall all day, I’ll be done whenever you are.” You state as you head for the library, ignoring the icy stare your fiancé was giving you.

Since Coriolanus studied under Dr. Gaul, you knew you would have to stay a lot longer in the University’s library than usual, but you did not necessarily care. You had textbook assignments due, and it was an opportunity to get everything done.

That was the goal until a first year at the University started bothering you.

“I told you, I’m busy.” You stand from your seat, furrowing your brows at the young male. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go find a book for my psychology lessons.”

“Aw, don’t be lame.” He inched toward you, grabbing your wrist. “Why don’t we have our own fun instead? I’m sure you’re just as beautiful underneath your skirt.”

Your eyes harden at his words and mess with your engagement ring, “You‘ll have to excuse me, I have to be somewhere.”

Swiftly, you weave through the different shelves full of books. You swore under your breath when you hear the footsteps of the male behind you, sharply turning into a more secluded space. To your surprise, you found Coriolanus pulling books from the Hunger Games previous years.

“What are you doing in here?” You question, quickly moving around to his left. “I thought Dr. Gaul needed you today?”

“She wanted me to understand the history of the previous games to help with the programming and DNA of new animals.” He mumbled, looking through a thick book from the first Hunger Games. “What are you doing?”

“This guy was hitting on me.” You shrug, meeting Coriolanus’ darkened eyes. “What?”

“What guy?” He placed the books down on a cart, grabbing your chin.

You bite the inside of your cheek, “I don’t know his name, but he’s a first year here. Why do you care so much?”

“Because, gorgeous, you’re my fiancée. Any guy who even looks your way that isn’t me is dead.” He backed you into the shelf, hand still tight on your chin. “Did he saying anything or touch you?”

“Yes.” You whisper, gaze dropping to his lips before back up to his darkened blue eyes. “He grabbed my wrist and said that ‘I’m probably just as beautiful underneath my skirt’.”

Coriolanus took his other hand and firmly placed it on your hip, eyes wandering your face. “I’ll kill him.”

You turn your head to the side as you heard footsteps nearing before Coriolanus slammed his lips onto yours, pulling your body close to his. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss without a care in the world.

“Mm, Coryo—“ You part, feeling your skirt hike up. “Are you insane?”

“Maybe.” He chuckles, shutting you up with a harder kiss, slipping his tongue through your parted mouth.

Coriolanus changes his hold on you, both hands now on your waist. You shift your hips, earning a quiet groan from the male. He retaliates by tracing a hand up to your throat, slightly squeezing it which earned a moan coming from you.

“Oh, so you’re just a whore.” The male scoffed from the front of the aisle, looking at the couple.

“Kill him?” You ask between kisses, tugging at his tie. Truly, you didn’t know he would take that request to heart as the male soon was deemed missing a day later. But for now, you were caught up in the heat.

Coriolanus grins, leaving one last kiss to your swollen lips. “He talks to my soon to be wife like that, it’ll be worse than a quick kill.”

read more about coriolanus snow here !!

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[miley1442111]

weird facts- s.reid

a/n: intended for fem reader, but imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: you finally meet spencer's friends after a very long time, it's just... they don't know about you

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: general cm topics, talk of murder, kissing, suggestive

Spencer felt ill. You weren’t picking up any of his calls, weren’t answering any of his texts, and you hadn’t been seen for a whole 24 hours. According to your friend who was staying over at your house last night, you had gotten a call from work and it meant you had to travel, but it was meant to be within the country, so why weren’t you answering?

“Pretty boy?” Derek called from across the bullpen. “We’ve got a case.”

Spencer quickly followed Derek into the conference room, even if his mind was elsewhere. It sadly, was a mass-murder scheme that they only had a few hours to figure out. 

“Oh yes,” Hotch said under his breath. “We have some help, these are Agents Riley, O’Callahan, and Dr. Y/l/n. They all work with unsubs like these everyday and the doctor here has a lot of background from her time overseas. Please use their help and expertise,” he stated before getting up and ending the meeting. The office was buzzing with movement, but Spencer was too awe-stuck to see you in front of him to move, or really notice the rest of the world around him. It had been 5 months since you’d seen each other in person. Both of your jobs made it practically impossible to see each other more than a few times a year but neither of you minded, you loved each other. 

“Earth to Spencer Reid!” Derek shouted at him and finally broke him out of his trance. 

“Yes?!” He startled, ripping his eyes from your figure immediately. 

“Can we focus on the case please? Not the pretty doctor,” Derek shot you a wink and you rolled your eyes, still unaware of Spencer’s being there because of your engrossment in your files. 

“Yes, fine!” He hissed, beginning the geological profile. 

“Spencer?” You ask, shocked at his being there. 

“Hey honey-” He smiled sheepishly as you wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace. The rest of your team and his all looked on, deeply confused. Spencer placed a soft kiss onto your cheek as you smiled. Spencer was over the moon, you were here. You were in his arms. 

“You two know each other?” Agent Riley said with a smirk on his face. “Is that the boyfriend?”

You pulled away despite wanting to hold on longer. You picked back up your casefiles with a contented smile. “Shut up Riley.”

Spencer’s face was red as Morgan, Prentiss, Jj, and Rossi all looked at him in shock. 

“My man,” Derek smirked, giving him a less than soft slap on the back. “Congratulations, how new is it?”

“It’s been 4 years, 77 days, 5 hours and,” He took a split-second to look at his watch. “And 47 minutes.”

Everyone’s jaws dropped more. 

“You’ve been dating him for 4 years?” Agent O’Callahan practically shouted. “We only heard about him for the first time last week!”

“Can’t anyone have privacy anymore,” You muttered, diving into yet another casefile. 

“I have to ask you everything about this-” Derek turned to you but you cut him off. 

“No, you have to build your profile,” You reminded him. “Ask me everything when we catch these fuckers.”

They didn’t need to be told twice.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat in the crowded bar, Derek on your right and Spencer on your left, his hand holding your thigh under the table.

“So, he tells you all the weird facts he tells us too, right?” Derek laughed, entertained by your relationship. 

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “But I enjoy ‘weird’ facts.”

Derek nodded his head. “You two are seriously perfect for each other,” he smiled. You could feel Spencer squeezing your thigh, his hands getting sweater by the second. 

“He definitely spits out random facts during sex,” Derek said to the blonde woman next to him and Spencer awkwardly cleared his throat, knowing his own tendencies to not shut up, even in the bedroom. You laughed along with them, not actually giving them an answer. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You walked home with Spencer’s hand in yours. You had successfully caught the unsubs, you had stopped the attack, and now you had time to spend with your brilliant boyfriend. 

“Your friends care about you a lot,” you said as you walked down the dark street. Spencer chuckled.

“They like you a lot,” he admitted. “Probably more than they like me.”

“Spencer, Derek looks at you like you’re his little brother, stop it. They’re just happy that you’re happy,” you smiled. “You are happy, right?” You asked, standing outside his apartment block. 

Spencer chuckled at your question, like he could be anything else. You were the kindest, smartest, and most incredible person he’d ever met. You cared and loved him so deeply. You were his everything.

“I’m more than happy,” he smiled before pressing a kiss to your lips.. His glasses slightly hit off your nose but neither of you minded, his hands began to explore as you pulled away and grabbed his hand, pulling him upstairs his apartment block, ready for another night of ‘weird facts’. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, obx+)

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Young President!Coriolanus Snow x Call Girl!Reader, Dom!Coriolanus

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is in himself his own warning. Dubcon, Noncon, choking, impact play, kissing, degradation, biting, p in v, breeding kink, creampie, talks of sex work, talks of past sex trafficking, talks of poisoning/murder

You stare out the pitch black tinted window as the driver of your black luxury car drives you to your destination, the Presidential Palace. You've been acting as President Coriolanus Snow's personal high class call girl for years. Well, ever since he became Head Gamemaker and saw you in Pluribus Bell’s illicit, but high end sex club.

Pluribus had acquired you when General Byzantine had put you up on the auction block after using you (and literally torturing you) as his personal fuckdoll. Despite looking like a broken piece of shit, hatred and fire burned in your beautiful eyes. According to Pluribus, it was the look in your eyes that made the old man buy you; put you in charge of the girls in his sex club.

So, basically, Pluribus made you a Madame. Not that you minded. Hell, it meant that you didn't have to fuck nutjob, crazy, overly kinky whackjob Capitol men anymore.

But when Coriolanus Snow came into the club, after being invited by Pluribus after breaking off an engagement (why things didn't work with the Cardew banking heir, Livia, you didn't know; didn't care either) and laid his icy blue eyes on you, well, he just knew that he had to have you.

At first you told Pluribus no when he approached you with Snow's request, but then the platinum blonde pretty boy cornered you with an offer you couldn't refuse. A private penthouse, your own car and driver, a black Amex, and never having to work another day if you agree to be at his beck and call as his personal call girl.

His high class girl, as he called you.

That was 5 years ago.

Yea…

At this rate you'll probably be President Snow's high class girl forever.

Hopefully he finds himself a wife so you can move on with your life. Maybe take all that money you have squirreled away and get a nice beach house somewhere in District 4. The weather's lovely there. Maybe you'll even find somebody to settle down with; even have a kid or two.

It'd be nice to be able to retire from whoring. You've been in the game since your family sold you at age 15 to pay off debts. You've been fucking for a living for a decade now; it's getting old.

But at least the President is the kindest out of all the men you've been with, which is saying something because Coriolanus is as cold as his name, Snow.

You're so far inside of your head that you don't even notice the car stop or your driver, Herbie open the door.

Herbie clears his throat, only.to announce, 'Ma’am, we're here.”, causing your self imposed spell over your mind to break.

“Thank you, Herbie.” You simply told him, stretching your hand out for him to help you out of the car.

“I'll be here waiting for you, Ma’am.” Your driver told you, shutting the door once you were out of the car.

“Thank you. I won't be long.” You politely assured Herbie before walking towards the side entrance of the Presidential Mansion, which was marked with a trellis of vining; blooming roses. The side entrance leads straight to Coriolanus' personal living quarters; of course you had the key for it.

Your black designer stilettos loudly echo against the marble as you walk up the white and gold staircase that separates the president's personal living room, sitting room, kitchen, and dining room from the bed chambers, bathrooms, and his private study. You've only ever been in his bedroom and the sitting room. Both were immaculate, so you assume that the rest of his living quarters in the presidential palace must be extravagant too.

One thing you've noted about President Coriolanus Snow over the last few years of knowing him is that he has high class taste. A posca taste, if you'll call it. The more expensive, the better.

And it's that trait of his that has you baffled about why he's kept you around so long to fulfill his needs. Surely he can find himself some young, beautiful, and naive high class twit from a rich family to groom into his perfect classy woman.

His First Lady.

Surely, he must be getting tired of paying for you- putting you up in a high end penthouse that's about a 5 or so minute drive from his palace. Back before he became president your place was literally the next building over from his. Yea, that's how classy and ritzy of a penthouse you're in.

“I'm in my room, darling.” Coriolanus called out to you as soon as your heels clicked against the marble of his second story floor.

No shit, he's in his room. He's always in his room. He's either sitting on the bed end settee or on his ornate sofa, but either way he's donning his waistcoat and smoking while waiting for you. The epitome of regal master.

“I’ll be right there, Coriolanus.” You called back, speeding up your steps slightly to reach the white and gold scrolled double doors of his chambers.

Opening the door and walking inside, you spot him lounging on his cream sofa. His legs are crossed and he has an arm lazily thrown over the back of the sofa’s ornate mahogany frame. Coriolanus’ platinum hair his in its natural curly state, which is a rarity, but also means that he ruined his slicked back look by running his hands thru his hair all day- something he does when frustrated or nervous. And, like always while awaiting your visit, he's smoking.

“Darling, I told you last time you were here to call me Coryo.” The President told you, reaching his arm out to tip his ashes into the crystal ashtray that's on the mahogany coffee table.

“I'm sorry, Coryo. I forgot.” You lied thru a smile, a smile that was so fake it wasn't even funny.

You didn't forget, you just don't want to call him nicknames. Not when you know that your arrangement has an expiration date; one that'll be coming up soon enough.

Sitting up, he pointed to you with his cigarette and said, “Show me what you wore for me tonight.”

He did this every time you came over for his booty call. It was a ritual you're used to. You'd be shocked if he didn't ask you to model the lingerie for him.

With a sultry smile, you untie and unbutton the long red trenchcoat you're wearing. “It's a new set that I bought the other day.” You inform Coriolanus while opening up the coat and letting it fall off your shoulders; onto the floor.

President Snow's mouth watered as he took in your form dressed up in a lacy black bustier and matching cheeky panties along with those black stilettos with the red bottoms- the ones that he loved seeing you in. He thought that those heels did wonders for your legs, legs that he loved to have wrapped around his body- whether he was fucking you or feasting on your cunt.

Snubbing his cigarette in the crystal ashtray and rising from the sofa, the president smirked, “I do enjoy it when you go lingerie shopping, my darling rose.” Striding over to you, only to circle you like a predator circle's it's prey, the regal platinum blonde looked at you hungrily. As if he's starving and you're a filet mignon.

Coriolanus stopped right in front of you, only to give you a smoldering look while unbuttoning his maroon waistcoat, his long fingers moving lithely. Shrugging off the vest and chucking it towards a nearby sitting chair, he closed the distance between you. His tall form towers over you; you know what he wants from you.

It's what he always wants from you.

You ran your hands over his chest, which was quite toned underneath his crisp white dress shirt, and pressed your lips to his Adam's apple. As you kissed a tantalizing trail down his neck and to the collar of his shirt, leaving blood red lips tip stains in your wake, his large hands snaked around you. His breathing was husky and lustful as you lifted your head up, staring straight into his baby blues, while unbuttoning his shirt. Your red nails a stark contrast to his shirt.

“I have a business trip I need to attend in 12.” Coriolanus said while you pushed his shirt off of him after opening it up. You just nodded, raking your red nails up and down his chest before tweaking his nipples. Just the way that he likes.

You thought that all talks of his meeting was over, so you leaned forward to kiss him, but he stopped you by lifting up one of his hands and grabbing your chin. “The mining bosses are having some issues with their workers meeting production goals; I'm leaving in the morning and you're coming with me.”

Your eyes went wide. You can't go to 12. No, you won't go to 12. You refuse to go back to that shit hole you once called home, where your family- that sold you into a life of sexual slavery to a brothel for money to pay off drinking debts- lives.

“I'm not going to 12, Coriolanus. We'll see each other when you get back.” You firmly told him.

Which wasn't what he wanted to hear. In fact, he wanted you to nod your head; maybe make a remark about needing to pack, and then get to fucking him. You refusing him was never in the cards.

You just dealt him a hand he wasn't expecting. But, President Snow's an excellent poker player; he'll make due with the cards you've just given him.

Coriolanus' large hand slipped from your chin only to grab your throat. His face dipped so close to yours that his hot breath, which smelt like smoke, mints, bourbon, and coffee, fanned over your face. “I'm not asking you, Y/N. I'm telling you that you're coming to District 12 with me.” His thumb pressed into your windpipe, not hard enough to cut off your breathing, but hard enough to make you wheeze and pay attention to him as he spoke in a cold, authoritarian tone. “I fucking own you, so when I tell you to do something you do it. You don't get to say no to me.”

President Snow looked like a crazed, disheveled mess as he chastised you. And you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on. Because it did.

Oh how it did. It might be wrong being turned on by a power hungry zealot who's telling you that you're his property, but the way he looked while doing it. Hot damn, it made your pussy pool; stain your black lacy panties with a wet patch.

Yea…you're pretty fucked up at this point in your life.

The platinum blonde's large hand slid from your hip over your lower belly, only to sneak under the waistband of your panties. He dipped his mouth to your ear, grabbing your pussy in his large calloused hands, while telling you, “I own this pussy, darling, and if I want to fuck it every goddamn day of my business trip then I sure as hell will.” Coriolanus bit your earlobe, hard enough to crack the pearl earring you're wearing.

An earring he bought you in the early days of your arrangement.

He pulled away, only to look at you darkly. Spitting the cracked pearl earring in your face, he pulled his hand out of your underwear. He brought his fingers up to his prominent nose, only to inhale your scent. His eyes fluttered shut and his face contorted into a look of pleasure. He was, for a lack of a better word, getting high off of your musk.

Oh yea, the President sure was something else…but who are you to judge? You're his personal whore, so…

His icy eyes popped open, with a lust filled crazed look, as he sucked his fingers one by one. Savoring the taste of your juices while keeping his tight hold on your neck with his other hand. His tongue swirled around his pinky, the last finger to be licked clean by him. “You taste divine. Too bad you need to be disciplined for your rude behavior and won't be having your cunt eaten by me tonight.”

“Disciplined for my rude behavior? Coryo, the only thing I did was tell you that I'm not going to 12.” You spoke up, standing your ground to your, for a lack of a better word, owner.

Coryo’s fingers pressed hard into your neck, no doubt leaving behind finger shaped bruises that would need covered up by IL MAKIAGE tomorrow. Looks like you'll have to make another trip to Sephora soon if you don't want to have bruises all over your neck shown off to the public. How embarrassing would that be, going to various stores with chokehold bruising all over your neck. You shudder at the thought of it.

“Talking back is rude behavior, baby.” He hissed before pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was hard and bruising. Biting your lower lip; drawing blood, he pulled away from the kiss. Giving you a dark, slightly unhinged look, the stoic platinum blonde swore, “Bad girls get spankings and you're going to get so many that you won't be able to sit on your red, hot ass tomorrow during our damn train ride.”

Coriolanus is sitting on the red velveteen settee at the end of his gold and red velvet framed bed. You're bent over his knees, ass up in the air while your head rests on the settee. Your arms are outstretched; your hands arm firmly grabbing the end of the red velvet material for purchase as the President smacks one ass cheek and then the other.

*Smack, smack*

Coriolanus chuckles at how red your ass is. He's been at this for a while now; both of you have lost count of how many times his hand has come down on your cheeks. He rubs the sting out of your red ass cheeks before raising his hand high up in the air and bringing it down on the right cheek, only to repeat the action on the left cheek.

*Smack, smack*

Your designer black heels are still on your feet, so they sway in the air as you kick out of reflex due to the spankings. God, he would make you keep the heels on for this. Hell, this spanking session seems to be the longest in your entire life with him. Usually he indulges in a slap or two to your ass while taking you from behind, but never anything like this.

But it could be worse. He could be a crazy, torture hungry, fucking sadist like that crazy ass General Byzantine was. The man who beat you within an inch to your life and put you up on the auction block once a couple of his Avoxes had nurtured you to suitable health.

You were overjoyed when he died about 4-4 ½ years ago. All the media outlets say that General Byzantine died from tainted tea at one of the popular tea houses in the Capitol. Apparently Coriolanus was there with him, having a meeting for political purposes since he was running for Senate and nearly died. You remember that he had canceled your sessions for a week, but still put a hefty sum in your bank account; even requested that you wear a certain color lingerie (blood red) when you resumed your little booty calls with him once he recovered from nearly dying from tainted tea.

Your black lacy cheeky panties slid up your ass crack from the force of all the spankings. Coriolanus didn't say a word, just silently righted the panties before landing another pair of smacks to your ass cheeks, causing you to let out a loud squeal.

“Did my bad baby girl learn her lesson, or do you need more?” President Snow asked, his ardent tone a bit dark and mocking as he soothed your ass by rubbing it- with both palms this time.

“I've learnt my lesson, Mister President, Sir.” You told him, choking back a moan as you grew wetter and wetter from his hands just rubbing the sting out of your ass. Oh God, how your core aches for his cock.

Coriolanus let out a deep, throaty moan at your answer. He loves it, fucking loves it when you call him Mister President and Sir. Oh, and put them both together- yea he's fucking feral.

The president slightly opened your legs, only to swipe a long finger up your wet, clothed center. “Oh, darling, you're soaked.” He proudly announced. “Is that all for me?” Coriolanus rhetorically asked, already knowing that it was all for him.

You knew that the platinum president didn't need an answer, but decided to indulge him with one anyway. “Yes, Coryo. It's always for you.”

Coryo bent down and peppered your beet red ass with kisses. The plushness of his lips against your hot sensitive skin makes you squirm. Chuckling, Coriolanus sat up and pulled your heels off, one by one, and let them fall to the floor with a loud thud. He helped you stand on your feet, only to pull down your panties and toss you onto the bed.

As you lay on your stomach, head buried in his pillow, which smelled like him- like roses, you heard the sound of Coryo slipping out of his black floor shines while unbuckling his belt. You peeked over your shoulder, only to see him quickly unzipping his maroon pants. You turned back around, resting your head back on his pillow, as he quickly shed his pants and boxer briefs.

“Lift your ass up high for me and spread your legs as wide as they'll go, baby.” The President ordered you, to which you obliged him. Your ass was raw and stung, but your pussy was throbbing with need, as Coryo kneeled right behind you on his king sized bed. “Fuck, you're always such a needy lil slut for me, darling.” He remarked upon seeing your cunt dripping and glistening for him.

Looking over your shoulder, you smirked, “Only for you, Coryo, my Mister President.”

The platinum blonde's icy eyeballs nearly rolled into the back of his head at your words. Words that went straight to his cock, making it harder- if that was even possible.

“Yes, I'm your President and you're my perfect, pretty, lil slut.” Coriolanus groaned, teasing your clit with the angry, red, leaky tip of his cock. “You remember that the next time I tell you to do something, baby girl.” He said, grabbing your hips and snapping forward; sheathing his entire 8 inches into your soaking wet cunt. “Fuck, darling, you're so goddamn tight for me.” Coriolanus groaned, pulling out only to surge forward, causing you to mewl out in pleasure.

President Coriolanus Snow has a big cock and he sure does know how to use it. That's for sure. And you let him know that too.

“Of course I'm tight for you, Coryo. You're the biggest cock I've had, the only man whose tip kisses my cervix; whose girth stretches me out with a delicious sting.” You honestly tell him, stroking his ego and making him start to pound into you relentlessly.

Hearing you say that out of all the men that you've had in your whoring career that he's the biggest and the best makes his heart soar with overwhelming pride. So much so, that he'll just have to keep you around.

Permanently.

Coryo doesn't think that you'll have any protests about it. Maybe he'll bring up the idea while you're away on business in 12. Use the time away as both a vacation and a business trip. There is a vacant cabin in the woods that he knows of by a lake that could be a setting for a romantic night or two.

“Oh…fuck…Coryo…” You moan into the pillow that you're holding onto for dear life as you surge forward with every hard, fast thrust Coryo gives you.

“You like it when I fuck you face first in the mattress like a dirty fucking slut, don't you darling?” He groans, rutting even faster while placing a hand on the middle of your back; pushing you further down into the mattress. “Fuck, you're so sexy like this, baby.” The President huffs. “So fucking sexy.”

You moan into the pillow, but it comes out in a heap of garbled drools, as Coryo's cock hits that special spongy spot deep inside of you while his heavy cum filled balls slap against your swollen, neglected clit.

“That's it, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock, you pathetic slut.” Coriolanus encouraged in a half groan as you began to meet his thrust with ones of your own. You could help it, you needed to cum so badly. Fucking yourself on his cock while he pounded you was the only way to do that.

Turning your head, so that the side of your face rest on his drool soaked pillow, you mewl and whine, “So close, Coryo. I'm so close.” Feeling that coil in your lower belly tighten, you beg, “Please, let me cum, Mister President. Please, make me cum.”

Coryo quickly unhooked the long row of clasps that held your black lacy bodice together while cooing, “Don't worry, my pretty baby, I'll make you cum” The bodice fell off your shoulders, but Coryo slipped his arm around your middle and pulled you up on your knees, only to yank the black bustier off of you; tossing it to the side.

Coryo's hands instantly grabbed hold of your tits as he continued to harshly fuck you. His hands squeezed them roughly and pinched your nipples, all the while your hands clawed his wrists for leverage as he felt your climax coming on. Coriolanus knows you're close by how your cunt's clenching around his cock. “Fucking cum for me, darling.” he ordered, biting the crook of your neck.

The feel of his teeth roughly nipping your skin, only to use his tongue to soothe it, paired with his deep, erratic thrusts, his heavy balls slapping against your clit deliciously, and his large, calloused hands roughly fondling, had you cumming with a loud moan. A moan that was a string of curses mixed with his name: Coryo.

He fucked you thru your orgasm only to shove you back down onto the bed and plunge his cock hard and fast into you. His pounding was so relentless as he chased his own release that you felt another orgasm on the cusp. Oh gods, his cock felt so fucking good hitting you on all the right spots.

Oh fuck…

“I'm gonna fuck you full with my heirs, baby.” Coryo panted, his thrust becoming sloppy. “Can't wait to fucking knock you up; see your belly swell with my growing baby inside.” He babbled as his hands roughly held onto your shoulders for leverage. “You're gonna look so beautiful all round and full of my baby, my darling rose.”

You didn't pay him any mind. Didn't say a word about his string of impossible words. You're on birth control, so his fantasy of knocking you up is just that. A fantasy. A breeding kink, to be politically correct.

Coriolanus’ hips stuttered, once, twice, three times before he was moaning, “Fuck, Y/N, baby. Fuck…”, and filling your pussy with hot ropes of his thick cum.

Feeling his hot cum spurting into your womb sent you over the edge. “Coryo…” You mewled, cumming for a second time.

He didn't stop and pull out like he usually did.

No…

This time, Coriolanus kept fucking you. He fucked his load right into your pussy, causing you to let out a shaky moan from both overstimulation and your third orgasm of the night.

Coryo finally pulled out, but only after filling you up with a second load of his thick, hot cum. Cum that was somehow leftover in his balls from the first time.

The President smugly grinned as he watched his second load of the night slowly drip out of your puffy, abused pussy- looking like beautiful white pearls.

Ah, pearls. That reminds him…

“I bought you a new jewelry set for the trip. Fancier pearls than the ones you had; they're packed in your bag.” Coriolanus told you, sitting by your side and rubbing your back as you lay on the bed like a ragdoll.

Ugh. Of course, he bought you new things, including luggage, and packed them up for the damn trip to District 12- your personal hell- that he's dragging you on.

When you didn't say a word, Coryo pushed the strands of sweat soaked hair away from your face and asked, “Are you alright, baby?”

Pushing his hand away from your face, you simply assured him, “Yea, I'm fine.”

Nodding, he told you, “I'll call your driver, tell him that you're staying the night; then I'll run us a bath.”

You've never stayed the night before, prompting you to ask, “Why're you letting me stay the night with you, Coryo?”, as he stood up.

“We're needed at the train station bright and early, Y/N. It's just easier for you to stay here so we can head out together in the morning.” The President explained before taking off to do the things he told you about.

Of course, he wanted you to stick around tonight so he can make sure that you're on that train with him heading to 12 in the morning. You're his personal high class girl. His glorified whore. If President Coriolanus Snow wants you with him tonight to ensure that you step on that train with him tomorrow, so he can fuck you during his stupid business trip in hell, then that's what he's going to get.

You don't have a say in the matter. You're just around until he gets bored of you; finds something younger and prettier to satisfy his carnal desires with.

Only you thing you don't know is that President Coriolanus Snow’s never going to get bored of you or trade you in for a younger model. In fact he thinks you're the best girl he's ever had.

Hell, the devil himself knows that the President killed for you- even if you don't know it.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons

[minswriting]

hey hey I saw you're open for requests!

Anything for Hotch getting caught with non-BAU reader who he shouldn't be associated with? Maybe there's an age gap or she's the babysitter or someone's daughter/sister or even an unsub/witness.

Ik its a really broad request but I love your writing so I totally trust you - I just love a semi forbidden ship (without an angsty or sad ending!).

Thanks!!

nsfw | mdni

warnings: talks of murder, stalking, rape (nothing detailed because it’s literally just a summarization thing lol), nsfw content, getting caught, inappropriate relationships, etc.

it all began when you were a victim of a case. you had been getting stalked by an unsub in new york, a man who was killing women that reminded him of the woman that left him. he would stalk his victims before raping and killing them. you had been approached by the fbi, taking you into protective custody to ensure that the same thing didn’t happen to you. and that’s when you met aaron hotchner.

to say the two of you had immediately taken a liking to one another was an understatement. the two of you flirted with each other right off the bat which wasn’t really the best thing to do due to his position. you were a victim, not someone he met randomly at the bar. even so, he just couldn’t get you off of his mind.

so before he left to go back to virginia, aaron had given you his number. and now? well, it’s been a few months and the two of you have been seeing one another regularly like this weekend. you had flown to virginia to visit aaron and stay with him.

the house was quiet as jack had gone to jessica’s to sleepover for the weekend, leaving you and aaron to be alone. the only sounds in the house were the sounds of your moans mixing with the sound of skin slapping together.

“god, you’re so beautiful,” aaron exclaimed as he thrusted his cock inside of you. his brown eyes were looking down directly at your face. your head rested on the pillow, hair sprawled out, cheeks red, and face contorted in pleasure. “you love my cock, don’t you?” he asked as he watched your eyes roll back with each thrust of his cock.

“mhm,” you nodded your head, licking your lips. “i love your cock so much, aaron,” you replied, moaning loudly. “always feels so good.”

aaron rocked his hips, thrusting into you at a pace that felt best for the both of you. his cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly, making you see stars. aaron looked down at your pussy, watching his cock disappear inside of you. your cunt was glistening with arousal. “you’re absolutely soaked,” aaron groaned, bringing a hand to start rubbing your clit.

you simply whined in response, gripping the sheets below you as you felt yourself get near the edge. “i’m so close, aaron,” you moaned, opening your eyes to look at the man in front of you.

“fuck, me too, baby,” he replied.

and just as you felt your peak nearing, there was a “oh no! oh god!” at the door, followed by a small thud, signaling the person had dropped something. “i’m so incredibly sorry, sir, i-uh,” you and aaron both looked at the person at the same time, scrambling to cover yourself up with the blanket.

at the door was a blonde, someone you’ve never met before. “garcia,” aaron’s face hardened as he tried to compose himself, fully covered by the blanket. “what brings you here?”

“i-well, sir,” garcia began, glancing at you and then at aaron. “you hadn’t answered your phone at all in the past three hours and we have a new case so i told the team i’d come here and look for you and well- is that y/n from the new york case?” penelope asked finally as she rambled, looking at you fully.

you looked down at the blanket, being unable to come up with the proper words to speak.

“not that it matters but yes,” aaron exclaimed. “now please, leave. i need to get changed and then i’ll be right there.” and without a second glance, penelope picked up her phone from the ground and left slamming the door closed, leaving you and aaron alone. “i’m so sorry about that,” aaron apologized, looking at you. he grabbed your hand. “i didn’t expect to be needed at all tonight.”

“it’s okay,” you said with a small smile. “duty calls.”

“are you okay?” he asked, checking in on you.

you let out a breathless laugh. “other than being absolutely mortified that your co-worker just walked in on us nailing one another? i’m perfect.” you grinned at your partner.

aaron laughed as well, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it. “yes well, i agree.” he exclaimed. “i should get ready. i’m sorry we won’t be able to spend the weekend together.” he said, looking at you with a look of guilt.

“don’t sweat it, aaron,” you said with a reassuring look. “i can come down next weekend. maybe even spend a week?”

“i’d love that,” he said, pulling you into his arms.

“sounds like a date.”

and with that, aaron kissed your forehead and lips before getting up off the bed and getting himself ready. let’s just say that when next weekend rolled around, you guys definitely made up for lost time.

however, the secret that aaron was seeing you had most certainly had been told to the rest of the team.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

(Dark! LC) Loving You Hurts

Pairing: Dark Luke Castellan x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

SUMMARY: When Luke's jealousy gets out of hand.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship. 

--

“We’re having a party tonight. You should come.” the blonde-haired boy walked with you as you collected your breakfast in a tray. 

“I don’t know, Sam, maybe.” you keep your answer short, opting not to indulge into the conversation.

Luke’s stare feels obvious despite the physical distance between you, your boyfriend already seated at a table.

“C’mon, you never really come by anymore, not ever since you got with Luke. I know Clarisse will be thrilled to see you again.” he looked at you with hopeful eyes and you felt bad, knowing you’re letting all of your friends down - hanging out with them less and less. 

“Luke can come too. And Chris, if he wants to.” 

You hesitated for a moment before nodding your head. You seriously doubted Luke would want to go. Sam seemed satisfied enough and after giving you the time and place, he left.  

Stress got trapped in your throat when you walked to the table, taking a seat.

“Who was that guy?” Luke asked you nonchalantly, his eyes following Sam as he walked away. 

“Luke, you know him. He’s my friend.”

“That’s not what I asked.” 

You sighed, fully aware of the interrogation he’s about to put you through. “Ares’ kid. One of Clarisse’s brothers.” 

“What did he want?” 

“Luke…”

“What? I’m just asking what he wanted.” he replies back, his eyes snapping at you with annoyance. “Now I can’t even ask what a strange guy had to say to my girlfriend?”

You stabbed the food in your plate, feeling your eyes becoming watery. 

“He invited us to a party tonight.” 

The scoff you received from Luke was loud enough to draw a few heads in your direction and you quickly captured a few slices of bacon, stuffing them in your mouth. 

“Us? The way he was talking, it seems like he wanted to invite you. Since you’re his friend, right?” his voice had an edge to it, as if daring you to contradict but you stubbornly kept your attention to your food.

If you looked at him - at the angry frown he most certainly had on - you’d end up crying in front of everyone. 

“Luke, please…” you supplicated, “Just let it go, please. I’m not going anyways, okay?”

He looked at you for a long moment, his brown eyes piercing through your soul as he took notice of the tears that were shining in your eyes. His gaze softened, hand reaching for yours.

“Okay.” he said, bringing your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. “I’m sorry.”

You should’ve known that Luke’s jealous streak would never be able to just let something go. 

Any hopes of forgetting the situation were shattered when in the next day a fight broke loose at the camp. And of course, Luke was at the epicenter. 

You weren’t around but your siblings told how hard Luke punched Sam, which resulted in a broken nose and bloody mess. 

And of course that defending your friend resulted in another argument between you and Luke. 

“Luke, you’re overreacting.” you pleaded, wanting nothing more than tug on your hair with the despair you were feeling. 

“No, you’re being naive. You’re not seeing it the way I see it.”

“I just- I don’t get why you had to do this, Luke!”

“He did this to himself.” he retorted, his hand clenching with anger. “He talked about you, you know? How you deserve someone better.”

Your throat went dry as you gulped. Luke took a step towards you, murderous anger plastered in his face. 

“You say he’s just a friend, but I know he wants more than that.” he spited the words, inching closer to you. “He wants to take my place. To be the one you love. But I’m not gonna let that happen, okay?” 

His words dimmed into a hushed whisper as he pressed his forehead against yours, his ragged breaths contrasting with your lack of breathing as you held your breath.

“Luke…” 

“I won’t let you go. We’re meant to be together, I know it.” he pressed a light kiss on your hairline, ignoring the single tear that escaped your eye.

“And if I have to kill whoever gets in our way, then so be it.”

[meangirls-imagines]

Coachella Diaries

Description: Reader works for WWE and gets hurt during Wrestlemania, causing her to go on a months long break. She goes to Coachella Weekend 2 to support her girl.

WARNINGS: fluffy as shit, slightly suggestive at the end, reneechella (bc that's a warning itself)

Y/N stepped (as best as she could) off the plane and sighed at the California sun hitting her body. 

Her body was exhausted. Wrestlemania was the 6th and 7th, she performed both nights and unfortunately had torn a couple of ligaments in her foot. She worked through the pain and helped make Wrestlemania record breaking. She had gotten surgery on the 16th, which meant she unfortunately missed the first weekend of her girlfriend playing Coachella.

Reneè was also understandably upset, not at Y/N, but at the fact that her girlfriend had to get surgery and she couldn't be there. Luckily for Reneè, Y/N had her fellow superstars keep the blonde updated. The doctor had cleared Y/N for travel on the 18th and she landed in LAX on the morning of the 19th. 

Towa had been the one to help Y/N plan this out, picking her up from the airport. The musician smiled as Y/N hobbled towards her with her bag. "There's my favorite cripple! How's the foot?" Y/N smiled and hugged the girl. "It's definitely injured. I'll be out for a minute but honestly, I'm not mad, I need a break."

Towa laughed. "Ain't that the truth? If I have to hear Reneè freak out about every bump you take, I might've gone crazy." Y/N blushed. Reneè was always very protective of Y/N, not that her profession helped with that. The blonde loved and hated watching Y/N do her thing. Yes, Y/N looked hot but if Y/N had to take another spear from Roman Reigns or a stomp to the chest from Finn Balor, Reneè was going to commit murder. 

This new era of WWE meant the return of inter-gender wrestling, with Y/N leading the charge. She had become the inaugural WWE World Heavyweight Champion, holding it for 316 days. She had been a part of the two biggest main events of Wrestlemania history, which is where she tore the ligaments in her foot. Never the less, she persisted and opened the next night of Mania, unfortunately she lost her title but the ovation she got when she got backstage was worth it. 

She was thrilled to help Cody finish his story but also was happy that she could get a break. She saw the doctor who gave her the diagnosis and what doctor to see and she was on her way.

She had messaged Towa the night she found out and set the surprise up. 

As the two ventured out of the airport, they caught up with each other, Towa informing Y/N of her love life and what not. The two reached the SUV and began the drive from the airport to the AirBnB they were renting for the festival. During the two hour car ride, Y/N had told Towa about some backstage drama happening as the Brit ate it up.

After 2 and a half hours, they finally made it to the house. Adam had been standing outside, waiting for them as they pulled up. The man helped Y/N out of the car and gave her a hug. "There's my favorite former champ! Congrats on the run. It was a rollercoaster." Y/N smiled and hugged the man back. "Thanks Adam! It was definitely a rollercoaster! A fun one though! So, where is my girl?"

Adam laughed. "She's out in the back with everyone else, they're pregaming before we go. Are you sure you can handle going out?" Y/N nodded. "I slept on the plane ride here. Perks of using the company jet." Adam nodded as Towa met up with them, handing Y/N her bag. The trio headed inside. 

Adam and Towa headed to the back to distract everyone while Y/N slipped into the room Reneè was staying in. She took in a deep breath, breathing in the scent of Reneè. God, she missed it so much. She changed quickly, putting on the custom "Reneèchella made me gay" shirt and some shorts before getting the message from Towa to make her appearance. 

She grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed out to the backyard. The group all did a "cheers" before taking the shots provided for them. Y/N decided to speak up. "Do I get a shot too?" 

Everyone turned towards the new voice but no one turned quicker than Reneè. The blonde stood shocked at the sight of her girlfriend, boot and all, standing in front of her. "Holy fuck! Reneè ran to where Y/N was standing and hugged the girl tightly. Y/N laughed and kissed the blonde's head. "Hey superstar. I've missed you." Everyone was aww-ing at the scene, some clapping. 

Reneè pulled away from the hug and pressed her lips to Y/N's, kissing her for the first time in weeks. The group cheered as the two kissed, causing Reneè to slip them off. After a minute, the two pulled away and Reneè began to scratch the back of Y/N's neck. "You're really here!" Y/N smiled and kissed her nose. "I am. Now I think it's time to have some fun." Reneè smiled and pulled Y/N over to her friends. 

The group was watching Chappell Roan absolutely kill it when fans began to notice the couple being all cute.

@y/nisthechamp: GUYS! I'M AT COACHELLA WATCHING THE QUEEN CHAPPELL ROAN AND RENEÈ AND Y/N ARE LITERALLY 10 FEET AWAY FROM ME AND THEY ARE SO CUTE!! Y/N IS HUGGING RENEÈ FROM BEHIND AND THEY ARE SINGING AND DANCING!!

@/reneerappslut23: guys. i just saw a video of reneè and y/n all cozy at coachella and my heart 🥺

@y/nfan123: just saw a video of reneè grinding on y/n while they were watching t-pain. don't know who i wanna be more...

@/reneefan253: guys. reneè cannot keep her hands off y/n. she's always rubbing her back or the back of her head or her shoulder. WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN?!

The group made their way back to the house, all breaking off to their respective rooms, sleepily exchanging good nights. Reneè and Y/N made their way to Reneè's room. The two flopped on the bed, Reneè snuggling into Y/N's side. "I'm so glad you're here. I can't wait for you to see me perform." Y/N kissed the blonde's forehead. "Me too baby."

The next day was a lot of the same, more musicians sets, more drinking, etc. Sunday came a lot faster than Y/N expected and she found herself sitting in Reneè's trailer with her, the girl getting ready for her set. Reneè was looking on her phone as her hairstylist finished up her look. Y/N decided to take a stealthy picture and post it on her insta with the caption "coachella ready", tagging Reneè. 

Comments started flooding in immediately. One that stood out to Y/N was from her not older sister Liv Morgan.

@/yaonlylivvonce: We are so excited to see her!! Drinks after?

Y/N smiled and responded to the girl. Adam poked his head in and informed Reneè she had five minutes. The blonde thanked him, took a deep breath and pulled Y/N with her to the wings of the stage. To Y/N and Reneè's surprise, Alyah was waiting for them. Reneè squealed, wrapping Alyah in a tight hug. Y/N smiled at the pair and took a picture of them hugging. Alyah pulled away and hugged Y/N too, scolding her about her injury and how she should've been more careful. 

Reneè saved Y/N by pulling her away from Alyah, wrapping her arms around Y/N's waist and burying her face in her neck. Y/N rubbed the blonde's back. "You're gonna do amazing out there Reneè. Please remember to drink water though. Don't need you passing out on stage." Reneè chuckled as she heard her intro being played. 

"Well, I guess that's me." Reneè pulled her head out of Y/N's neck, leaning up for a kiss. "I love you." Y/N smiled and pecked Reneè's lips. "I love you more. Now go kill it." And with a playful smack on the butt, Reneè went out on stage.

"Tasted the blood in my mouth, and left you there to bleed out.."

Y/N being there must have flipped a switch in Reneè because the girl was putting on a SHOW. Y/N had to keep herself from drooling watching her girlfriend do what she loved. Y/N's fav part do far had to be the Willow ass shake. For scientific reasons, of course. Y/N saw Towa getting her in-ears put in and grabbing her guitar. "Go kill it out there, Birdie." Towa winked playfully at Y/N and went out on her cue from the blonde. 

The two were soon joined by Coco Jones as they performed "Tummy Hurts". Y/N smiled at hoe happy her girl looked. Watching Reneè perform was Y/N's favorite thing to do. She loved how confident Reneè was on stage and how carefree she looked. 

After a beautiful rendition of "Snow Angel", Reneè gave her thanks to the crowd and jogged off stage. One of the crew guys poured a little bit of water on the back of Renee's neck, to cool her off, as the girl walked straight into Y/N's open arms, almost collapsing in the embrace.

"Fuck Reneè, I'm so fucking proud of you, superstar." Reneè blushed and hid her face in Y/N's neck. "I couldn't have done it without you here." Y/N laughed and kissed the blonde's temple. "You did it last weekend." Reneè pulled away from Y/N's neck and smiled at her. "Yeah, but it wasn't as fun." Y/N rolled her eyes and kissed Reneè, unaware of Towa taking a picture of them. 

Everyone praised Reneè and her performance before they walked back to the area where her trailer was. Alyah spoke up. "So, what's the plan now?" Reneè smirked and looked at Y/N. "Well, Y/N and I are going to go back to the house to...catch up and we'll meet you guys later?" Towa and Alyah shared a knowing look before nodding and going to watch another set. 

Y/N looked at Reneè confused. "Catch up?" The blonde nodded. "Mhhm. I'm planning on reclaiming my favorite seat..." Y/N caught on and blushed, allowing the blonde to pull her to the car waiting for them.

Yeah, Towa and Alyah would be fine on their own for a while...

[charliemwrites]

Part…. 4 (?) technically of the childhood friend Simon Thought:

(For 🦖 anon who asked for fluff!)

John Price has been on the receiving end of many a gun. That’s nothing new; that’s a normal Tuesday. He’s even had civilians point guns at him.

This is the first time a teammate’s family member has pointed a gun at him, though. If was going to be anyone’s, it would be Ghost’s.

You even have that same look he gets, cold calculation. Peace with bloodshed. Your are absolutely ready to end John’s life right there.

He explains the situation and you listen calmly, hands steady. When he’s done, you reach into your oversized hoodie and extract your phone. Open it and tap at it without wavering from him once.

It rings, but doesn’t pick up. You frown, eyes narrowing a bit. Then click something else, hold it to your ear.

“Hi, Johnny!” You chirp. “Where’s Si right now?”

A pause as he seems to answer. Your eyes soften a bit.

“And your captain?”

Another pause. You drop the gun with a sheepish look.

“No, no, he’s here. Um… I’ll explain later, bye.”

You hang up, click the safety on.

“It’s nice to meet you, captain price, sorry for almost shooting you.”

—

Simon’s awake when you enter the hospital room, sitting up with a black mask over the bottom half of his face. He clocks you as soon as you enter, eyes getting all big and disbelieving.

“Hi, sunshine,” you coo, hurrying to his side.

He lets you crowd onto the tiny cot by his hip, reaching for you to bonk your foreheads together.

“You’re here?” he whispers.

“Always,” you answer.

He lets you sit back after a moment and you instantly begin fussing at him - smoothing is mussed blond curls and fixing his monitor cords so that he doesn’t accidentally pull at them.

“I can’t believe you got shot,” you sigh, “don’t they give you vests or something?”

“Can’t put a vest on a leg.”

You scrunch up your face. “Maybe they should. Christ, billions of pounds in the military and your stupid leggies are unprotected?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “What’re you callin’ ‘em stupid for?”

“Because one has a hole in it.”

You tug his mask down to see his silly grin. It washes over you all at once that you could have lost him today. Never saw that smile again. But you didn’t, because he has a team now. A good one. One that came and got you when it mattered.

“I almost shot your captain.”

“Bet he was chuffed about that.”

“He lectured me about gun laws.”

He snorts, tugs at a lock of hair. “I’ll have a word with him. Just try not to murder him again. He’s not so bad.”

You hum, smiling that smug smile you know he “hates.”

“Oh? Has mister lone wolf found a pack?” you tease. “Have you been adopted, Si Guy?”

He groans, eyes going skyward asking for mercy from a god he does not believe in.

“Alright, alright - I’ve already been shot, no need to take the piss, luv.”

“There’s every need. I bet all these wankers are too scared of the big bad Ghost.”

He tries to glare. You boop his nose, grinning.

“For a good reason - I’d gut ‘em.”

You roll your eyes. He must forget that you used to be taller than him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m quakin’ in my Gucci boots.”

“Those are not Gucci, you little tart.”

You kick off your non-Gucci shoes and climb in with him, help him scoot to avoid bothering his wounds. He leans his head into your shoulder as you pull out your phone to show him all the silly videos you saved since the last time you saw him.

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training VI (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

You were helping Christine out in the kitchen when Margaret brought her daughter downstairs. The brunette was really kind, you’d come to learn, patient in making sure you got everything right. She didn’t seem bothered by your quiet disposition, instead content to simply talk to you with no expectation of any responses in return.

When the other brunette made herself known, Christine had awed.

“Oh, she’s getting so big,” she cooed, pausing in what she was doing. “Almost a year now, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Margaret breathed, a bright smile on her face. “Steve’s already talking about trying for another.”

You turned away, resting your gaze on kneading the dough, afraid to screw it up and afraid to stare in the face of your possible future. Although, you supposed that there was nothing possible about it, and you struggled to accept that. Your chest grew tight as you heard them fuss over the baby girl behind you, not wanting to entertain the thought of that being you one day, all smiles and sparkly eyes as you held Peter’s baby.

“Do you want to hold her?”

It took you too long to realize that Margaret was talking to you, and you hesitantly looked over your shoulder. They were both quiet as you looked between them, an encouraging smile on Margaret’s face as your gaze eventually fell to the little girl in her arms. You felt unsure, glancing down at your hands before brushing them on your apron.

“I…” you gestured to the dough. “I’m a mess and…I don’t know if I should…”

“It’s okay,” the new mom softly encouraged. “She loves meeting new people.”

She was approaching you before you could protest any further, and you carefully took the baby when she handed her off. You supposed that Margaret was telling the truth, her daughter taking you in with wide eyes and studying you just as much as you were studying her. She was very sweet, very cute, and you felt yourself frowning a bit.

“I’m taking her for a walk around the property,” Margaret mused, and Christine hummed at that as she continued cooking. “Get her some fresh air and sun. Maybe even let her crawl around a bit.”

She poked at her daughter’s cheeks, a fond smile on her own rosy lips, and she let out a sigh.

“Pretty soon there’ll be more babies filling up this house, and then Laura, Sharon, and I won’t feel so alone.”

Margaret said it so casually, and you blinked for several reasons. For one thing, you didn’t know that Laura and Sharon had children too, and again, you were reminded of how isolated you felt from the other women. They probably sat around and chatted with each other about these things, those three in particular maybe even watching their children play.

In the same train of thought, your stomach churned at the mention of more children. You wondered just how long Margaret had been here for her to be so casual and content with her situation, to talk about everyone’s situation this way. Then again, you wondered if it had more to do with who she was married to. With a husband like Steve, there probably wasn’t any other choice but to find happiness in this predicament in some way.

Either that or be wholly miserable all the time.

Be humiliated all the time.

Her words had you handing her child back to her, and it was then that Steve appeared at the entrance of the kitchen. The sight of him had you flinching, and you almost felt like you were wrong to touch his child, stepping away from Margaret just as she smiled at the blond.

“There you are,” he said, smiling back at her and fully stepping into the kitchen.

You discreetly returned to the dough, but you could feel his gaze on you.

“I was just bringing Sarah down for a walk and wanted to visit whoever was in here making breakfast for everybody,” she sweetly replied, and you wondered if it was exhausting to have to appear to be that happy all the time.

You couldn’t imagine Peter expecting that of you, and you looked down, thinking of that morning in which Peter had forced you to watch Steve punishing Margaret. You felt your skin grow cold as you recalled his brutality, just the sheer act of treating someone that way, and especially for something as minor as messing up food or not smiling as big as he expected.

In the back of your mind, there was a stray thought of gratitude that you weren’t in her place.

“That’s great, honey,” you heard Steve tell her, and it sounded genuine. “Especially since Y/N is here.”

You paused at that, hesitantly looking over your shoulder, shuddering as your gaze met his. Despite the smile on his pink lips, the look in his blue eyes didn’t quite match, an emptiness to them that had your stomach sinking.

“It’ll be good for her to be around the children more,” he mused, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his wife’s forehead, never taking his eyes off of you. “It’ll help her get…acclimated to how things are around here.”

You understood the words that went unsaid, turning back around and fighting back tears.

Steve wanted you to face your future, to stare at it head on and accept your fate. He wanted you to see the wives with their kids and maybe even interact with the small children, slowly opening up to the idea of children your own someday. At that thought, you wondered if Margaret had even come down here of her own volition, or if it was carefully orchestrated by the same man who’d orchestrated everything else in this house.

You only released a shuddering breath when they both left, and you found your thoughts drifting to Peter. He was still in bed when you’d made your way downstairs per the routine, something you were a bit better at now. You were still a God-awful cook, but as long as Steve wasn’t standing over you, you were fine. Funnily enough, outside of the night you’d cooked fish, the only time you’d come close to that was when Peter had helped you that morning.

There was a brief thought that you wished you had his help, now.

You immediately paused at that, gently shaking your head with a frown. You shouldn’t want Peter’s help for anything, even if only to make your time here easier. The hand he had in your kidnapping was astronomical. After all, he was the sole reason you were even here. As much as you didn’t want to subject anyone else to this, you sometimes wondered about what would’ve happened if you’d never gone into that diner that day.

Maybe you, Pietro, Wanda, and MJ would be almost to Florida by now. Maybe you’d be in some town a lot nicer than this, enjoying historical monuments and whatever shopping mall Wanda would no doubt be excited for. Tears kissed your eyes at the thought, and you wiped your face with the back of your hand.

Thinking about your friends made you sad, but not thinking about them felt…disrespectful. You couldn’t forget them, for as long as you lived, but reliving your time with them and wondering about what could’ve been hurt too much. It made your chest ache in ways that almost brought you to your knees, and you were grateful when Christine gently reminded you to roll the biscuits out small.

“Will I ever get to go outside?”

Your question was so quiet that it was a wonder Peter even heard it, and you looked over your shoulder at him as he took his utility belt off. So much of your road trip had been dedicated to nature and outdoor activities, courtesy of your contribution, and being stuck in this house and only able to gaze up at the stars from a barred window was getting to your head. It was even worse during the day, unable to step outside and soak in the sun.

You knew why, of course.

“Eventually,” he finally answered, slowly making his way to you. “Probably not anytime soon though…”

His word choice was not lost on you, and you blinked at him, frowning slightly.

“It’s just like with the basement,” Peter explained, drinking you in. “The same way Steve wouldn’t let you out if he thought you were a danger to anyone or was going to escape…”

He trailed off, letting you fill in the dots, and you turned back around to look up at the sky. You could feel Peter’s gaze on you as you pressed your forehead to the window, just standing and watching the outside world. You were sure that if you were let outside, right now, you would run. You probably wouldn’t even be able to help it.

However, the thought of being caught mentally scared you away from the mere possibility.

You glanced over your shoulder when you heard Peter walk away, watching him disappear into the bathroom. You stared at the door for some time before turning back around. You didn’t like sleeping next to Peter…but you’d unfortunately found that sleeping without him was impossible.

The nightmares still woke you up sometimes, and in your delirious and fearful state, it was easy to accept his comfort as he shushed you and held you. It was shameful really, and your gaze found the floor. It was usually why you took this time to get into bed before him. You liked to pretend like you were asleep whenever he got out of the bathroom, unwilling to watch him crawl into bed and lay beside you.

It was easier to pretend this way.

You pulled the covers over you, still staring at the window, and you pressed your lips together. You felt like you were in some screwed up purgatory, stuck between the traumatic events that led to your capture and your inevitable future. You were unable to go back to before it had happened, but your mind wasn’t ready to go forward either.

You weren’t ready to become like Jane and find happiness here, smiling at Peter whenever you saw him, and you for sure weren’t ready to become like Margaret or Laura or Sharon. You couldn’t imagine having a baby with the man who’d kidnapped you and ruined your life, smiling at the child like a gift instead of what it really was.

Physical evidence of just how in deep you were.

Thoughts of your nightmarish future guided you to sleep, and the next time you woke up, Peter’s arm was around you, holding you in place and attempting to keep you from flailing. Your chest was heaving, and his other hand was on your head, smoothing over it as he gently shushed you.

“You’re okay,” he breathed. “You’re safe…”

The cool air hit your face, and it was then that you realized you’d been crying in your sleep. You couldn’t stop though, because your nightmare wasn’t just a nightmare. It was real, and you were currently living it. Peter’s soft and soothing tone wasn’t doing much, and your forehead pressed into your pillow, your tears wetting it.

“Y/N…”

You really didn’t like Peter saying your name, the sound of it coming from his lips causing a shudder to climb up your spine. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping them around you, and you were wetting his chest with your tears now instead. He rocked you, gently, wiping your face and telling you that you were okay.

…but the last thing you felt like was okay.

You felt so far from okay.

“Are…are you going to make me have a baby too?”

Your voice was but a whisper in the quiet room, and you felt Peter pause. He didn’t answer right away, and the more his silence stretched, the lower your heart sank.

“We don’t have to figure that out, right now,” he whispered back. “It’s just you and me, okay?”

You sniffed.

“…but…but Steve wants the house to be full of children…” you heard and felt Peter sigh. “He expects me to have children. I know he does, I could see it on his face.”

You continued when Peter didn’t respond.

“…and what he wants he gets, right? Right?” you tearfully wondered, trembling at the thought.

“That’ll be between you and me,” Peter softly told you, playing with your hair and stroking your back. “…and we don’t have to talk about that, now. It’s okay.”

You swallowed, tearfully staring into the darkness and feeling pathetic that of all people, Peter was the only one you found yourself confiding in.

“I’m scared, Peter…”

“Of what? Of me…?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Peter almost sounded offended at the thought. You didn’t know how to tell him that you were afraid of him. You were afraid of him and Steve and every other man here, afraid of their capabilities and the predicament they’d put you in. Of course, you were afraid of Peter.

The power he held was what got you here in the first place.

Everything about Peter terrified you. He looked like an angel, but one word from him silenced your friends forever and forced you into captivity. You supposed he was the nicer of the bunch, yes, but there was something about him that Steve clearly respected, something about him that could talk you out of being punished and buy more time for you to adjust.

Your mind drifted to that day in the kitchen, the finality in Peter’s tone as he addressed Margaret. You thought about her lack of argument, how easily she’d accepted something that evidently wasn’t normal all because Peter had made his position on it clear. You thought about how at ease he was around the men who’d killed your friends, how he talked with them and laughed with them and probably thought of them as friends. Brothers even.

Yes.

You were very afraid of Peter.

…because he was both the source of your torment and your comfort.

The same man who’d put you in this situation was the one who held you late into the night, keeping the nightmares at bay. The very same nightmares that he caused. Peter was the one you turned to whenever you were unsure about anything, unable to get direction from anyone else. He was the one you hid behind or sought out whenever Steve’s cold blue eyes fell onto you.

Peter had put you in this predicament…and he was the one you needed to survive it.

It twisted you up in ways you couldn’t even understand, and you hated the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I’m scared of everyone here,” you honestly told him. “I want to go home.”

Peter didn’t say anything to that, just softly rubbing your back. It was something you said often, and even though you both knew it wasn’t going to happen, you couldn’t stop saying it aloud. It was something you just needed to say, and Peter let you.

“Sweep up every last bit of glass…”

Steve’s cold voice had you trembling harder, and you kept your gaze on the mess before you.

“We have children that crawl around here, and I’ll be damned if one of them hurt themselves because of your clumsiness.”

You fought back tears as the blond loomed over you, shaking as you brushed more glass into the dustpan. Natasha had thought nothing of telling you to dust the foyer, an easy enough task. That was what you’d thought anyway, but somehow, you’d managed to knock over the vase on the table by the entrance, and you’d heard the thunder of heavy footsteps before the sound of shattered glass had settled into the air good. Even before Steve had rounded the corner, you knew how badly you messed up.

An apology was barely on your lips when Steve had started tearing into you, ordering you to hurry up and clean the glass. You knew he had a point about the children, and you did feel bad, but it was a genuine accident.

“That vase has been in this family for years,” he said, making you feel even worse. “…and one afternoon with you and it’s gone just like that.”

When all the glass was in the trash, you got the feeling that Steve wasn’t quite done with you, evident in the way he still stood by the foyer. Your stomach turned as you faced him, and your mind drifted to the basement. If Steve would punish his wife like he had over the smallest of things, there would be no telling what waited for you over a family heirloom.

Then again, you didn’t belong to Steve…and you hated how much that comforted you.

“Peter’s at work,” the blond hummed, and you warily eyed him. “…so, you’ll have to be punished in a way that won’t upset him too much.”

You frowned at that, eyes widening at the yard stick Steve revealed from behind his back.

“You’re adjusting…but not fast enough.”

You glanced around, and you weren’t hopeful enough to think that no one was around to witness your scolding. They were there but were no doubt hiding from the blonde’s wrath lest it latch onto anyone within the vicinity.

“That vase has been dusted a hundred times, and only with you did it become a broken mess.”

You blinked back tears, struggling to find your voice.

“I’m sorry, Steve. It…it won’t happen again,” you forced out, and he hummed.

“You’re right. It won’t,” he breathed. “Hold out your hands.”

You weren’t quite sure you heard him correctly, and you looked at him in confusion, brows drawn together. Steve’s face was as serious as ever, and at the sight, your tears finally spilled over. You pulled your lip between your teeth, shaking as you did as he told you.

“Flatter,” he said, flattening the yard stick underneath your hands until they were flat and even.

He tapped them twice.

“Palms up.”

If it was possible, your eyes widened further, but the fear of worse had you obeying him, and the deep breath you took didn’t prepare you for the pain you felt when Steve struck your hands. Against your best interest, you snatched them towards you, holding them to your chest. You held in a sob as Steve tsked.

“Hold them out,” he slowly demanded, and they were shaking even more now as you did.

Your palms were up, and Steve raised his hand, raising the yard stick with it before bringing it down across your palms again. You hissed this time, hands lowering some, but you kept them upright, knowing that was what he wanted.

He’d brought the long piece of wood down onto your palms fifteen times, each time hurting worse than the last. By the time Steve was done, you were a sobbing mess, your palms red and aching. He’d given you another lecture on the importance of being careful, but you’d been in too much pain to clearly hear a word he said.

You stumbled up to your room the second he dismissed you, clutching your hands to you the whole way.

Your back met your door as soon as you closed it, shaking so bad it was a wonder you were still standing. At that thought, you stumbled to your bed, tripping over your feet and collapsing onto the mattress. You knew that you should run your hands under some water at least, maybe even ask around about something to put on them, but you were in too much pain and too humiliated to do that.

They burned, and the only thing you were capable of doing was crying yourself to sleep.

It wasn’t an easy sleep, drifting in and out, the pain bleeding through your subconscious and waking you up here and there. With the form of punishment Steve had chosen, you surmised that you weren’t expected to carry out the rest of your duties for the rest of the day.

The next time you opened your eyes, you weren’t alone.

Peter’s fingers were on your forehead, smoothing them along your sweat-kissed skin. You thought you were dreaming at first, but when your eyes remained open, the brunette gave you a rueful smile. The sight made your face crumble, and a fresh wave of tears spilled over.

“Oh, pretty girl,” he sighed. “Steve told me what happened.”

You squeezed your eyes shut at the mention of the blond.

“It was an a-accident,” you choked out. “I didn’t-.”

“I know,” he exhaled, fingers gently trailing down your arm. “I wish I had been here. I should’ve been the one to…”

He trailed off, but you knew what he was going to say. As crazy as it sounded, you also would’ve rather Peter had been the one to dole-out your punishment. With his hands on your arms, Peter helped you sit up, guiding you to your feet. You couldn’t stop shaking, sobs still climbing out of your lips as he pulled you into the bathroom.

He turned the cold water on, and you hissed when it ran over your palms. Peter left you for some moments, and when he returned, he turned the water off. You noticed that one of his hands were occupied, and when he sat you back down on the bed, he gently told you to hold out your hands.

You watched him kneel before you, rubbing some salve on them, something that made you initially hiss, but his circular movements with his fingers were gentle.

“A lot of things won’t be tolerated around here,” he quietly started, and you looked down. “It’s taking a lot for you to adjust, and that’s okay considering…”

Silence descended over you both for a few moments.

“…but Steve doesn’t have the patience for it. Not like I do,” he softly told you, glancing up at you as he wrapped your hands. “I can only protect you if I’m here because when I’m not…”

He continued wrapping your other hand.

“Your responsibility falls to Steve…or Sam…or Bucky, or Tony. Basically, any of the other husbands that can take it upon themselves to punish you themselves…or leave it to me.”

Peter set the gauze aside, fixing you with a gentle look as he rested his own hands on your knees.

“…and Steve isn’t the type to leave it to me.”

More tears fell, and Peter reached up to wipe them away.

“…but you work,” you tearfully said. “You’re not always here.”

Peter took a deep breath, gently grabbing your hands. You winced at the action, and you watched him bring your palms to his lips, kissing one and then finally the other.

“Do you want me to be here more?”

The question took you by surprise, and Peter looked up at you from beneath his lashes, dark strands kissing his forehead.

“I can take some time away from work if it means helping you…adjust.”

You sniffed.

“If it means looking out for you…”

More tears escaped, skipping down your cheek.

“Steve terrifies me…and I… If I have to be punished,” you struggled to say the word. “I would rather it be by you.”

Peter studied your face for a while, eventually nodding as he stood. He sat beside you on the bed, and you laid down, holding your hands to you. The balm helped with the pain some, but it was more so the humiliation and the recollection of the act that still had you crying.

Peter stroked your face, maneuvering you so that your head rested in his lap.

“It hurts, I know,” he said, tone soothing. “It’ll barely feel like anything at all in a week.”

His other hand rubbed your back, traveling to your waist and kneading the skin through your dress. The softness of his touch was a nice contrast to the flare of pain in your palms, to the memory of Steve’s punishing movements. When Peter took your hands again, pressing gentle almost nonexistent kisses to your palms, your lashes fluttered and disappointment filled you when he pulled them away.

[cleoluvrr]

don't fall for monsters (rafe cameron x reader)

it was the ultimate disguise, i really stayed with such a monster

WARNINGS: dark!rafe, mentions of drowning, mentions of past murder, coercion, domestic violence, manipulation, angst

masterlist

your eyes burned from the flashing lights of red, white, and blue. neighbors stood on their porches and peeked through the blinds to watch the commotion, nothing better to do than involve themselves in small town drama. you could feel every pair of eyes stuck on your shivering frame; wet hair and tearstained face a sight to see. 

the towel wrapped around your shoulders barely did anything to keep you warm in the cool, fall evening. it was there to keep the water from soaking through your clothes and nothing more. the smell of salt water clung to your hair and the longer you stood there, the more nauseous you felt from the scent.

seeing rafe cameron in the back of a paddy wagon did nothing to soothe your nerves, nor did the distant sound of his father speaking to shoupe just a few yards away. the two men kept sneaking glances at you from afar and made it obvious the topic of the choice happened to be you. rafe, however, never broke his gaze, even when you tore yours away. the fury in his eyes burned through you like a laser and the blowout that would take place at some point or another was inevitable.

you could be sick.

“hey, sweetheart?” a lower-ranked officer approached you cautiously, obviously not wanting to startle you. “do you mind coming with me for a little bit? just need to ask you some questions, is all.” 

the older, blonde female officer came into your view for a moment when you side-eyed her, an unwelcome hand landing on your shoulder. she slowly removed it after feeling your sharp gaze on her. 

“i have nothing to say.” you replied monotonously. your face lacked any emotion and it probably made her feel uncomfortable from the way she swallowed dryly. 

“honey, i know–”

“you don’t know anything, actually.” you cut her off before she could speak any further. “and don’t call me honey.” leaving the cop where she stood, you walked over to the steps of your house and took a seat. she was left standing there like an idiot and you would’ve laughed if you weren’t overcome with the shock of what landed you in this predicament.

rafe tried to drown you.

well, maybe he was just trying to scare you, but there was no arguing against the fact he held you head beneath the water and made sure you couldn’t breathe.

your boyfriend had been lashing out for weeks, taking all his anger and frustration out on you. the only reason you invited him over was to talk about things because you simply couldn’t take it anymore. sure, you two have had rough patches before–but this situation had gotten completely out of hand. you loved him too much to end it, though, so you thought this was the best option.

you expected to get to the bottom of things, not for rafe to confess to you a great sin. 

he told you about what happened on the tarmac, how he murdered sheriff peterkin. the weight was dragging him down and he couldn’t keep it a secret anymore–he had to tell someone. you understood, in a weird way. that wouldn’t be something you could carry around either.

you just wished that someone wasn’t you.

how could you walk around knowing the man you love is a killer? he’s the reason his sister is lost at sea, why the entire town was chasing after an innocent kid and not him. it was a mystery to you why he thought you’d take this information well, but the way he reacted when you said you were going to the cops shouldn’t have surprised you.

the moment rafe dragged you out of the back door to the water behind your house, you were sure you’d suffer the same fate as peterkin. when he threw you to your knees and dug his nails into your scalp, roots burning as he fisted the hair with all his strength. you begged him to stop, told him you loved him–anything that would snap him out of it. at some point you screamed for help, and someone had to have heard you from how loud you were. they had to have heard you because one minute you had a nose full of water, and the next you were coughing your guts out in the grass while two neighbors knocked rafe off of you and held him down.

they were the ones that called the cops, not you. your own phone was sitting upstairs in your room, shattered and unusable after being thrown against the wall by rafe.

so here you sat, a bunch of strangers watching your house as the kook king argues with the sheriff about what to do with his son. ward didn’t particularly like rafe very much, but he’d be damned if he let him go to jail over this. you knew this for a fact.

ward would burn every bridge in the country to make sure his family remained at the top. he was willing to let a teenage boy die before letting rafe take the fall for a murder he committed. ward cameron had the money and influence that most people could only dream of, and he knew how to use it to his advantage. if it meant throwing you to the wolves to save his son, he’d cover you in rabbit’s blood and send you to their den on a platter.

“y/n?” 

the sound of your name pulled you out of your dazed state, the familiar voice coming from directly in front of you. ward cameron watched you with worry from where he stood, not that you really cared. he could pretend he was worried about you all he wanted, you already knew his true colors.

“are you okay, sweetie? can you tell me what happened?” he lowered himself into a squat to meet you at eye level. his brows met in the middle and he had deep stress lines decorating his aged face. “what’s all this about?”

sniffling, you dropped your head between your shoulders for a moment. you shook it from side to side before meeting his gaze again. he looked confused by the dry chuckle that left your mouth, clearly unsure of how to interpret the reaction.

“what’s this all about…” you laughed humorlessly again, face blank and eyes cold. “your son tried to drown me, mr. cameron–i’m sure you’ve heard what this is all about.”

the silence between you and the older man was heavy with tension. he glanced back at shoupe, who was watching the conversation with scrutiny from afar, and rafe in the seat of the police car. his eyes met yours again, this time worried for a different reason.

you already knew what he was going to say. 

“i’m sure it was just a misunderstanding–”

“a misunderstanding?” you repeated in disbelief. “are you serious? look at me!”

his eyes raked over your dampened, disheveled frame. he ran a rough hand through his hair stressfully before speaking.

“look…i know you’re upset right now. i do, really.” ward's tongue pokes out to moisten his slightly chapped lips as a result of the chill wind gently blowing over the area. “but just think about what you’re going to say first.”

“i’m not gonna snitch, if that’s what you’re so concerned about.” you wave him off annoyedly. the cameron patriarch looked at you in shock, like he couldn’t believe the words that just came out of your mouth.

you were pissed. enraged. you couldn’t believe that rafe tried to drown you and it hurt to think about how he was willing to take you out just to keep a secret you never asked him to reveal in the first place. how ward was more concerned about covering his son’s ass than he was about him trying to take your life.

so many thoughts flooded your mind and you wanted nothing more than to take your brain out for a few minutes of peace. 

even with the anger and fear that consumed you, snitching on rafe was out of the question. not only because it would never go anywhere, but because deep down; you knew you could never do that to him. you loved him too much, and that truth sickened you to admit to yourself.

before he could speak again, shoupe approached the two of you faster than you could blink. his shoulders were squared and his hands rested on his belt as if he was ready for defense. the man gave ward a long, heated glare before he stared down at your seated frame with a sympathetic gaze.

“everything alright over here?” he questions, obviously accusing ward of something along the lines of witness intimidation with just four words. 

“everything is fine, shoupe.” ward doesn’t give you the chance to answer, immediately interjecting as your lips parted to speak. the sheriff cuts his eyes at him momentarily before returning to you.

“i was speaking to the young lady, ward.”

you avoided eye contact with both of the men. you were far too occupied with the chipping polish on your fingernails to bother with whatever strange tension they had between them. the feeling of everyone’s eyes on you made your skin prickle up and you wanted nothing more than to take a shower and pretend this night never happened.

“everything’s fine.” you kicked at the rocks beneath your feet, voice soft and disinterested. 

“are you sure?” shoupe did not believe a word coming out of your mouth. you didn’t either, but there was no point in telling him that. “is there a reason i have three witnesses saying they found rafe holding you under the water?”

“nothing happened, officer shoupe. i fell and rafe was helping me–i’m not the best swimmer.” 

ward maintained a tense posture as he stood beside shoupe and you wanted so badly to roll your eyes–or scream. you almost wanted to say something just to see the man go pale in the face, but you resisted. it wasn’t because you were afraid of ward; the man was the least of your worries. the idea of rafe going free even if you came clean made you sick to your stomach. that was enough to shut you up.

the two men that helped you were giving their statements to some random officer, and you prayed for the pair of them. whatever happened to them after the lights went off wasn’t your problem, but rafe would certainly handle them in whatever way he saw fit. the knot on his forehead and the dried-blood leaking from his nose would serve as a reminder to get his revenge.

“that’s not what those young men told me, y/n. they clearly saw him doing something to hurt you.”

“it’s dark, shoupe. they didn’t ‘clearly see’ anything.” your eyes snapped up to meet him. the agitation was starting to eat away at you and you just wanted everyone to get off your yard. “i just told you what happened, so what’s the issue?”

“sweetie, you don’t need to be scared of anything–”

you stood to your full height abruptly, both of the older men stepping back from the sudden movement. rafe’s staring was turning your stomach and shoupe’s accent was becoming headache inducing. 

“he’s my boyfriend, i’m not scared of him.” you cut him off mid-sentence. it was a lie and you both knew it, but his pushing was irritating you more than ward’s looming presence overseeing the interaction. “i fell, and he helped me. those guys misunderstood–what else do you want me to say? that’s all that happened.”

they watched you closely as you wrapped your arms around yourself protectively. it was getting harder to keep it all together and crying in front of the already unconvinced man isn’t going to help your case at all. 

“you guys can go.” you pulled the towel off your shoulders and folded it into a messy rectangle. the wet hair falling down your back made you cringe internally. “i’m sorry y’all came out here for nothing…i’ll try to stay away from the water at night.”

shoupe’s only response was a reluctant nod, eyes glancing over at ward before he stepped away. you watched as he stalked over to the cruiser holding rafe, releasing him after speaking to the officer keeping watch over him. those steely, blue eyes remained on you the entire time they unlocked his cuffs, jaw locked and shoulders tense with anger.

even though you just saved his ass, although it wasn’t your first choice, he was greatly displeased. if ward noticed the way his son looked at you, he didn’t say anything to make it known. the audience that had gathered looked confused at his release, the men that saved you especially so.

with each step rafe took, you could feel your heart skip a beat. dread washed over you. even though there was nothing he could do with the police watching like hawks, you knew something was coming sooner or later. he rubbed at the red marks encircling his wrists from the tight cuffs, but he was totally fixated on you.

it sent a chill down your spine but you couldn’t show that; not in front of all these people.

“baby…” you said cautiously. stopping in front of you, the heat of his body warmed you from a foot away. “are you okay? i didn’t mean for all this to happen.”

you don’t wait for him to respond. rather, you step forward with open arms and wrap them around his lean body, tightly embracing him. you were sure you heard a few gasps in the distance and ward’s breath hitched from his spot a few feet away. 

rafe doesn’t hesitate to return the gesture, arms snug atop your shoulders as he rests his chin on your still damp hair. he rocks you back and forth, the swaying motion hardly soothing when you feel the bile trying to fight its way out of your throat.

“i know, princess, it’s okay.” his voice vibrated against your scalp. “i’m sorry i hurt you...i-i wasn’t thinking.”

you nodded your head, humming in understanding. you didn’t believe it for a second, but you just wanted to pretend nothing ever happened. it was easier to live when you didn’t have to think about the love of you life trying to drown you in your own house

“rafe.” ward interrupted the reunion with a stern voice. you felt his head raise to look at his father but his arms remained tight around you. “we need to go now. give the girl some space tonight.”

rafe nodded at his father; you could tell from the way his chin brushed against your skull. his hand took your head into their hold as he tilted it up to make you look at him directly. though there was a familiar softness to his face, there was something in those pretty, blue eyes that unsettled your mind. he leaned down to place a careful peck upon your lips, so gentle that it felt like a breeze ghosted across the skin.

“i love you.” he whispered against your slightly parted mouth.

“i love you, too.” you responded just as softly.

he nodded his head, lashes brushing against the tops of his cheeks. he adjusts himself to lean in close to your ear, preparing to say something just from you to hear.

“i love you so much,” his breathe hits the shell of your ear in a way that makes you tingle. “but i will kill you if you tell anyone. i don’t wanna have to do that, but i will…so don’t put me in that position, alright baby? don’t get involved.”

you nearly froze, but with everyone watching your every move you had no choice but to react calmly and nod your head.

placing a kiss on your cheek, rafe pulls away completely. you wait for him to turn his back before you briskly walk up the steps to enter your own house. you were met with pin drop silence and dim lights when you opened the door, immediately shutting it behind you as you stepped inside.

you barely got the door locked before you fell to the floor in anguish. silent shakes racked your body as you muffled the audible cries with a hand pressed tight against your lips. the wooden frame of the front door was hard and cold against your back. you lost your breath from the strength of your heart-wrenching sobs. if someone pressed their ear to the door you were sure they’d be able to hear the pain and fear spilling out of you. everyone had invaded your privacy enough tonight to last a lifetime and you couldn’t find it in you to care.

he put his hands on you. the same hands he used to murder peterkin with. the same hands he used to hold you beneath the water while you beggar for your life. he kissed you with the mouth he used to threaten you with. used that mouth to tell he loved you before saying he’d kill you. violated wasn’t strong enough of a word to describe how you felt.

betrayed? disgusted? 

how could he live a life like this? how could he drag you into his mess and then tell you not to get involved? how could he look in the mirror and not feel like an animal? 

then again, you must ask yourself–

how could you let yourself love a monster like rafe cameron?

[thefallennightmare]

One Night-one

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: lots of smut, swearing, angst, fluff.

Summary: One night. That's what Noah and Reader agreed to. No questions, no second thoughts, and no regrets. But will one night be enough to fill the hunger they both craved?

Authors Note: so, this was originally going to be a one-shot, but it got to be really long. I decided to make it into a two, maybe three-parter. If anyone wants to be tagged in part two, let me know!

The loud bass echoed off the black peeling walls as Britt dragged me along through the dark hallways of the club, the heels of my shoes not wanting to move. This was a bad idea, right? There was no way we were allowed to come back here let alone walk the back hallways. We were going to get caught and thrown out and I yet again let that be known to my best friend.

“Britt, are you sure we’re allowed to be back here? The security guard barley let us through,” I sighed.

The blonde in front of me let out her own sigh before turning to face me, her grip on my hand faltering.

“I already told you, Y/N. They invited us tonight.”

Immediately I shook my head. “No, they invited you not me.”

My best friend rolled her eyes. “They won’t care that you tagged along. Maybe I can convince Nick to tattoo you as well.”

I snorted. “I doubt your friend would be willing to tattoo someone who tagged along.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake, Y/N,” Britt pinched her eyes. “For once in your life, stop worrying about the rules and let go. Have some fun.”

The mischievous light behind her eyes called to the dark side of me, one that I rarely let out afraid of the consequences but when her bottom lip pouted in a frown, I let out a deep breath and nodded.

With a squeal, Britt grasped my hand and began dragging me down the hallway once again.

“Where are we going, anyway?” I asked.

“Nick told me to meet him in the green room.”

I raised a brow. “And why can't he tattoo you in his shop?”

Earlier today, Britt had called me asking if I would tag along with her to get a tattoo and I agreed. But that was only because I thought we were going to a shop, not a rundown building.

We turned a corner and came to a halt in front of a door, muffled voices sounded on the other end of it. There were atleast three different voices, but I wasn’t able to hear what they were saying.

“Nick has been tattooing me for years but he doesn’t have his own shop because he’s on the road a lot,” Britt informed me.

“Doing?” I pressed.

“Geez, what’s with the twenty questions?” Britt chuckled.

I shrugged. “If I’m going to get murdered, I’d like to know who is murdering me.”

“Look,” she grabbed both of my hands and gave them a light squeeze. “I know the last few months haven’t been exactly easy for you.”

My feet shifted uncomfortably with her words and my heart rate quicken as I felt the all too familiar rush of anger course through me.

Britt continued. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you sit home in your apartment and rot away all because Jacob broke your heart?”

“He didn’t break my heart,” I stated through gritted teeth.

The voices behind the door had quieted, almost to silence as Britt spoke again.

“Jacob was an asshole who cheated on you, multiple times. I said it from the start I never trusted him.”

“I know,” I nodded. “I should have listened to you. If I had, I wouldn’t have wasted two years on that prick.”

With a final squeeze of our hands, Britt dropped them before motioning to the door behind her. “You need this night out more than I do. For me, it’s just another tattoo but for you? It’s a way to spread your wings and fly into someone else’s embrace.”

A loud, thunderous, laugh erupted from my chest and I hand to clutch my stomach as the muscles constricted from how hard I was laughing. Britt simply looked at me amused.

“Yeah, I know. It wasn’t my best advice, but it’s what I could come up with on the fly,” she waved me off.

Suddenly the door behind Britt opened and both of us locked us with a pair of dark, almost hazel eyes. The intense gaze stared at us underneath the brim of his hat and I wondered if he could hear how loud my heart was pounding against my chest as fear filled me. Had they had caught us? Were we about to be thrown out?

“I thought I heard you,” the man broke out into a smile before wrapping his arms around Britt.

He had long hair that was pulled back into a low bun underneath the hat and the tattoo’s that peaked from underneath the material of his shirt gave me a slight idea who this was.

“Hey Nick, sorry I’m late. Someone was dragging their feet,” Britt said after pulling away from the hug and motioned towards me. “This is Y/N.”

The man, Nick, gave me a warm smile in greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

I returned the smile. “You too.”

“Alright, I’m almost set up. Come on in,” Nick motioned for us to follow.

While Britt followed eagerly, I hung back aways, nerves still wrecking throughout my body.

“How much time do we have until you guys go on?” Britt asked.

When she noticed I was still hanging out in the hallway, she yanked me inside before shutting the door behind us.

“Stop being weird,” she mouthed to me.

The only response I gave her was my middle finger.

“We just finished soundcheck so we’ve got a few hours,” Nick said.

He sat on a long leather couch fidgeting with his tattoo gun and finished filling up little cups of bright colored ink. Britt was already covered in tattoos so I couldn’t help but wonder where and what she was getting. I, on the other hand, had a few tattoos scattered over my body.

“Soundcheck?” I questioned, still confused on who this guy was and where we were exactly.

Nick nodded with a small smile. “We’re playing here tonight.”

It was then that I noticed two other men standing in the far corner of the room, chatting amongst themselves but when their eyes landed on us, their conversations stopped.

“Hey, Britt. Nick said you were stopping by tonight.”

A man with a slight accent and long hair stepped forward and gave Britt a quick hug.

“Yea. He had some free time tonight to squeeze me in so I had to take it. You guys are always so busy with either touring or recording, I barely get time to see my cousin anymore.”

Touring? Recording? Cousin?

Three years of friendship and I realized maybe I hadn’t known my best friend as well as I thought I did.

“Nick’s your cousin?” I asked.

Britt nodded. “Yeah but since he lives in Virginia, I don’t get to see him as much.”

Another guy approached Britt and gave her a hug, one she accepted with a slight blush to her cheeks. I didn’t miss the way her breath hitched as the two of them pulled away and their eyes locked. I couldn’t stop the smug smile that pulled at the corner of my lips.

“Uh, Y/N, this is Jolly.”

Britt pointed to the man that had the accent, and I gave a small wave.

“And this is Nick,” Britt pointed to the other man, the blush now a deep crimson.

I quirked a brow. “Two Nicks?”

The latter Nick chuckled. “You can call me Folio.”

“And Mr. antisocial over there is Noah,” Britt rolled her eyes and pointed to the couch behind me.

For the first time since walking in the room, I noticed the man sitting deep into the cushions behind me and my breath caught in my throat. My heart was beating rapidly, and I felt sweat gather in my palms.

This man was gorgeous, the skin underneath his blank tank top drowning in a sea of colorful tattoos and his dark hair falling into his eyes as he leaned forward on the couch. His hands were clasped together as his eyes were trained hard on the floor beneath his feet. With every deep breath he took, the silver chain around his neck dangled and I was hit with the thought of how it would look dangling over me while this man loomed above me, dark eyes staring deep into mine.

I squeezed my thighs together, hoping that thought wouldn’t return tonight.

Realizing someone was talking to him, the man finally tore his gaze away from the floor and it fell onto Britt for a moment before shifting to me, drinking me in. I suddenly felt hot underneath it and shifted on my feet when I noticed a small fire behind them as his brown eyes locked with mine.

“Noah, this is Y/N.” Britt introduced us.

God, even his name was breathtaking.

Noah’s eyes grazed over every inch of my body from my feet to my eyes where he held my gaze for a few beats. He gave us a tight smile before focusing his gaze back on the floor.

“You’ll have to ignore him,” Jolly said coming up alongside me. “He found out yesterday that an ex of his cheated on him when they were together so he’s a bit upset.”

Trust me, I understand how he’s feeling.

Jolly began leading me to the couch across from Noah but before I could sit, I motioned to the door. Britt, however, was two steps ahead of me and gave me a light push down onto the couch then sat next to me.

“And you’ll have to excuse Y/N. She doesn’t get out of the house much since her break up so she seems to forget how to socialize.”

I glared at Britt. “Fuck you.”

The guys gave a slight chuckle and Nick turned motioned for Britt to roll up the bottom of her pants, exposing the only patch of space on her inner left leg.

As much as I loved Britt, sometimes she could be a bit much in letting people know too much about my social life. She claimed it was all from the heart but sometimes, like right now, I didn’t need four strangers to know about my personal life especially since I had no plans on seeing any of them after tonight.

“So, what time do you guys play tonight?” Britt asked over the sound of the tattoo gun.

I watched as Nick concentrated on the small design he had placed on Britt’s leg.

“We go on around nine. You two planning on staying?”

“Hell yeah,” Britt exclaimed.

My eyes snapped up to hers. “We are?”

“I haven't seen a Bad Omens show since before these guys blew up,” Britt explained.

Suddenly it all clicked into place. The building we were in, the line of people that were standing in front of said building as we drove past, and four tattooed guys hanging out in the green room. These guys were in a band, one I’ve never heard of before, but clearly they were popular. Hence the large group of people waiting outside.

“Come on, Y/N. It’s not like you have anything else planned tonight,” Britt continued with a slight wince on her face as Nick passed over a sensitive part of skin.

My lips parted to protest but when I realized she was right, I leaned back into the couch with a sigh. “Just because you’re almost always right doesn’t mean you have to throw it in my face.”

“So,” she began. “I think you need something to help you get over Jacob.”

Thankfully, Britt’s voice was hushed but even with the loud noise from the tattoo gun, I worried if the guys could hear.

“What are you thinking?” I raised a brow.

She had many ideas all the time, majority never worked out how she said. But that never stopped her from trying.

“Well they always say, in order to get over someone it’s best to get under someone new.”

I scoffed a chuckle. “Who the fuck says that?”

Britt shrugged. “Everyone.”

When both Nick’s agreed with nods, I groaned. “That is not happening.”

“Just think about it.”

Britt patted my thigh before she started up a conversation with Folio, who was sitting on the couch next to her, on her other side. I kept my attention on my phone, scrolling aimlessly through my social media, to pass the time. But every so often I would feel this intense burning on my face, almost as if someone was watching me. At first, I did my best to ignore it until I finally glanced up from my phone to the man across from me. A quiet breath fell from my lips when I realized Noah was the cause for the burning stare on my face.

He held my gaze for a long beat before it fell to my parted lips then back to my eyes. That silent action said so much and it made my body shiver with desire.

Jesus, get a hold of yourself. You’re doing that thing where you overthink everything and it’s only going to end up bad. Like it always does.

“What the hell Y/N?”

Reluctantly, I broke eye contact with Noah and noticed Britt was glaring down at my phone. With a quick glance, I noticed that my text conversation with Jacob was up with a new text from him on full display.

I miss you so much, baby. Why don’t you come over tonight and we can talk about things?

I pulled my phone to my chest hoping that Britt wasn’t able to read any other messages from Jacob.

“Please tell me you’re not texting that asshole?!” Britt seethed while trying to sit up straight until Nick grasped tightly on her ankle, her forgetting for a second that she was getting tattooed.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I shrugged.

She gasped. “You are! What the fuck. Did you not learn anything from this breakup?”

With a quick glance around the room, I noticed that all the guys were watching the two of us with curious eyes. Even Nick glanced up from the almost finished tattoo on Britt’s leg.

“Can we maybe not talk about this in front of?” I motioned to the guys.

Britt shook her head. “No, you’re not blowing this off.”

I grit my teeth together. “I’m not. I don’t want to talk about Jacob right now.”

“But you have no problem texting him?”

“I wasn’t texting him. He’s been nonstop texting me,” I informed.

The look of anger that crossed Britt’s features was enough to make me sink further into the couch. She motioned for Nick to stop for a moment; he did and turned off the gun before setting it onto the table that he had been sitting on.

“Did you forget what he did?” Britt asked.

“No-.”

“He cheated on you, Y/N. Multiple times,” she deadpanned, interrupting me.

My cheeks flushed at being scolded by Britt in front of the guys, especially Noah. I barley knew him but knowing that he was listening and watching intently only made me now sink completely into the couch. I pinched my eyes shut while letting out a shaky breath. As if realizing that I was on the verge of breaking down once again because of Jacob, Britt placed a gentle hand on my knee.

“I’m not trying to be a bitch but I refuse to sit by and let him hurt you all over again. You don’t deserve that.”

“I know,” I muttered. “It’s a never-ending cycle with him.”

“Give me your phone,” Britt extended her hand towards me.

I looked at her warily.

“I’m not going to look at your nudes, Y/N. Give me your phone,” she repeated with a bit more force in her voice.

While my face heated with embarrassment, I noticed out of the corner of my eye Noah shift in his spot on the couch across from us.

“I don’t have any nudes on there,” I stated with a slight waver to my voice.

I did, loads of them. I never sent them to anyone though, I simply liked the way I looked.

With the way Britt gave me a sideway smirk, I knew she didn’t believe a word I said.

When Britt had my phone, I watched as she scowled at Jacob’s contact before blocking him then deleting his number for an extra precaution. She handed my phone back with a proud smile.

“All done.”

The sound of the tattoo machine whirred up again, Nick continuing on with his piece.

“You blocked him?” I asked.

Britt nodded. “As you said, it’s always the same game between the two of you. Jacob cheats on you, you two break up. He comes crawling back saying it was a mistake so you take him back.”

“I don’t need the reminder,” I grumbled while crossing my arms over my chest.

With a quick flick of my gaze, my eyes locked with Noah’s briefly before he averted his down to his phone.

“That doesn’t seem healthy,” Jolly said.

Britt shook her head. “Because it’s not. Y/N wasted two years of her life with this douchebag. His dick is the only one she’s ever had.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” I groaned burying my face in my hands.

Not before I noticed the way Noah’s shoulders tensed at Britt’s words.

“Do you have to lay out all of my dirty laundry?” I seethed towards her.

Britt always said what was on her mind, no matter who was around or if the situation was appropriate for it. Often, I praised her for it. Just not when I was on the receiving end of it. But before Britt could respond, Nick spoke up saying that her tattoo was finished.

Silence fell in the room for a long moment and not wanting to look at anyone, I kept my gaze fixed on my hands in my lap. Embarrassment filled me and in this moment, I wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl in bed. I barley knew these guys and even if Britt had, she had no right saying all those things about my personal life in front of them.

Folio must have been able to feel the sudden tension between Britt and I because he motioned towards her.

“Want to grab something to eat?”

Britt went to nod but gave me a sideways glance. Even if I was angry at her, I could tell that she wanted to spend some alone time with him so I waved her off, muttering I would be fine until she got back. Before I could even tell her to bring me back something to drink, her and Folio were already out the door.

“Leave it to Britt to say what’s on her mind,” Nick said once he finished packing up his tattoo machine.

I couldn’t stop the light chuckle that fell from my lips. “I guess you understand her just as much as I do.”

Jolly sat up from the couch with a long sigh and patted Nick on the shoulder. “Bryan wants to get some pictures of us for Instagram.”

Nick nodded before looking at Noah. “Want to tag along?”

I had been sitting in this room for over an hour and not once did Noah mutter a single word or even sound.

“No, I’m good. Tell Bryan he can get some before we go on.”

His voice. Fuck even his voice sounded like heaven.

Jolly looked from Noah to me then back to him. “Is it alright if Y/N hangs out here?”

“If not, I’m sure I can find Britt and crash her date,” I said, not wanting to impose on Noah.

Jolly and Nick snickered at the mention of Britt and Folio’s date.

Noah shook his head. “You can stay.”

The way he said it was as if he had some underlining meaning behind it but I didn’t dare think too much of it. My skin was tingling with an unknown sensation and I ran my hands over my thighs to stop the sweat from gathering there.

With the door to the room shut, the two of us were alone and for the first time in a long time, I felt nervous in front of a man. I barley knew Noah, only the fact that he was in a band, and I should fear him. Scared that I was alone in a room with him. But no, all I felt was nerves because the tension between us was slowly building and attaching itself inside my veins.

“Your boyfriend sounds like a real ass.”

My eyes darted over to Noah, his soft voice breaking the long few moments of silence.

“Ex.” I corrected.

The corner of his lip curled up. “Is what Britt said true?”

I shook my head not sure what he was curious about.

“About?”

My voice came out a bit wavered but Noah made no sign he heard.

“Your ex was the only one?” He asked.

Heat spread over the skin of my face, and I bit on the inside of my cheek. With my silence, Noah gave a curt nod almost displeased with my answer.

“Maybe Britt was right. I need someone to help get over him,” I muttered to myself when I thought about it.

Jacob was the only man I had ever been with, kissed and had sex with. He was all I’d known and who knows, I could miss out on someone great; relationship wise or even a one-night stand because I was too hung up on Jacob. It would be stupid of me not to spread my wings and explore my other options, right?

Maybe even the one sitting in front of me?

I quickly shook that thought from my mind. There was no way Noah would be interested in that or me.

He hummed in response to my words.

“What? You think it’s stupid.”

“I never said that,” Noah said.

My eyes almost buldged out of my head but I held back, not wanting to get my hopes up with whatever he meant to say.

“So you agree with me,” I said after a moment.

He shrugged. “Britt has said some weird shit the last few years since I’ve been around her but that doesn’t mean she’s not wrong about her advice.”

“You know from experience?” I asked, a pang of jealousy stabbing my heart.

I had no reason to be jealous if Noah and Britt hooked up but it still bothered me.

Noah let out a soft laugh, and my stomach fluttered with butterflies at the sound.

“No. Folio’s liked her for a while now, I wouldn’t do that to him. Plus, she’s not my type,” he finished with a shrug.

I licked my lips. “What is your type?”

His eyes flicked up from the floor to my face where he kept it there, silence falling between us. I shifted in my seat with the intensity of Noah’s stare and ran my hands over my thighs.

“Do I make you nervous?” He asked.

When my brows furrowed with confusion, Noah motioned to my hands that kept rubbing against my thighs so I abruptly stopped.

“No,” I lied.

His response was another hum before he leaned back against the couch, arms sprawled along the top of it. My mouth salivated at the sight of the muscles in his arms tensing with each of his movements. I drank in from afar all of his tattoos that covered almost every inch of skin.

“I’ll do it.”

I snapped away from internally drooling over Noah and shook my head with confusion. “Do what?”

Noah’s lips parted but before he could speak my phone buzzed and when I saw the unknown name appear on the screen, I answered the call with raised brows. The only problem was that the speaker on my phone was broken which made it difficult to hear conversations so I had to answer each call on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, what the fuck! Why can’t I call you?”

I froze for a moment. “Jacob?”

“What’s going on with your phone?”

Jacob’s voice was loud with anger that I nearly dropped it in slight feer. While he never raised a hand to me our entire relationship, he was still mentally and emotionally abusive. I looked over at Noah from under my lashes and noticed he was watching me intently.

“Y/N!”

I snapped my attention back to my phone. “What do you want? Why are you calling me?”

“I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour and when my call didn’t go through, I got worried so I borrowed my roommates phone.”

“I’m fine, Jacob. You didn’t need to call,” I said with an exhausted tone.

“Let me come over. We can watch a movie or fuck.”

I blinked at his outright boldness and watched as Noah’s shoulders stiffened.

“I, uh,” I licked my dry lips as I stuttered. “I’m not home.”

“Where the fuck are you?”

Noah must not have like the tone in Jacob’s voice because he raised a finger towards me and hooked it towards him, beckoning me over to him. I cocked my head to the side before shaking my head.

“Y/N, come here.” Noah said, not exactly in a hushed tone.

“Who are you with? Are you cheating on me?”

Anger filled me at his accusation. Unlike him, I was faithful when we were together. But it didn’t matter because we weren’t together anymore. Something I reminded him of yet again.

“You were the one that cheated. Many times. And every single time, I took you back like a fucking idiot,” I snapped.

“I don’t like this attitude, Y/N. You were never this mouthy. Although, I remember how great you were with that mouth in other ways.”

Internally, I cringed at his words. Now that I wasn’t dating him and the blinders were off, I noticed how vulgar and disgusting he was. Noah must have agreed with me because the scowl on his lips made me shift in my seat.

“You’re disgusting,” I said.

“There was a point that you didn’t think that. If I recall, you loved how disgusting I was.”

The word disgusting sounded just like that as if fell from his lips. But now, the anger I felt for him suddenly made me feel bold and the words lashed out before I even could stop them.

“Oh please. If I loved it so much, wouldn’t you think I would have orgasmed even once?”

While Jacob was stunned, silence coming from his end of the phone, Noah, on the other hand, watched me with an amused expression. His brown eyes were bright until something dark filled them. Before I could comprehend what was going on, Noah was on his feet with a swift movement and I squealed as he lifted me from the couch onto his lap.

“What are you doing?” I asked as I stared down at him.

He was looking up at me though his long lashes while his hands gripped my hips. His warm breath fanned over the crook of my neck and my eyes fluttered shut, a quiet breath leaving my lips.

“You faked it?”

Jacob’s voice brought be back to our phone conversation, and I was ready to end it, not wanting anything to impede whatever Noah was doing.

“Keep talking to him,” Noah muttered into my neck.

I gave him a wild look. “What?”

“I believe he asked you a question,” he responded motioning to my phone.

“Y/N?”

“Uh,” I blinked while tearing my gaze away from Noah’s dark eyes. “Yeah, I did.”

“Even the weekend we stayed at that hotel?”

I sucked in a breath when I felt Noah’s finger trace over the front of my jeans.

“What are you doing?” I managed through shaky breaths.

“If it’s alright with you, I want to make you cum while you’re on the phone with him.”

Noah’s voice was husky, laced with lust, and whatever reservations I had about if he actually offered himself up earlier vanished when he made quick work of the button on my jeans. The thought of coming undone from another man while on the phone with Jacob made a fire burn low in my belly.

“Do you want that?” Noah asked as he lifted my chin.

“Did you fake it every time?”

Both of them asked their questions at the same time but my answer was towards Noah’s question.

“Yes,” I breathed as my eyes locked with Noah’s.

The sound of a zipper echoed in the room and when finger glided over the sheer fabric of my panties, I nearly dropped my head to his shoulder. He motioned to my phone urging me to continue talking to Jacob.

“Jacob, why are you calling me?” I asked.

“I miss you, baby.”

I wanted to groan in disgust but what came out instead was a groan of ecstasy. Noah moved my panties to the side while slipping a finger through my folds. He teased the slick length for a few strokes before settling on my clit, rubbing in slow circles.

“Don’t call me that,” I said.

Jacob sighed into the phone. “You used to love when I called you that.”

“I also loved it when you didn’t cheat on me,” I shot back.

Noah hummed into the skin of my throat. “Who would ever cheat on you?”

“Who was that? Are you with someone else?”

I felt Noah’s body shake with laughter underneath me at the jealous tone coming from Jacob.

“Why does it matter? We’re not together anymore.”

I bit my lip when a finger slid into me with ease from how wet I was and when Noah began pumping a finger in and out in fast strokes, my eyes fluttered close.

“Oh fuck,” I moaned.

“Did he ever make you this wet? I can feel you clenching on my finger, angel.” Noah’s teeth grazed over the skin over my exposed collarbone.

Angel.

I nearly came on his pet name for me alone. Hearing fall from his lips was heaven enough for me. Forget an orgasm, I would have been fine with that.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

I ground my hips hard into his hand from his authoritative tone and quickly shook my head.

“Never this wet,” I moaned.

“Y/N, who are you with? I’ll fucking kill him.”

The phone dropped from my hand onto the couch next to us when Noah’s thumb pressed hard onto the swollen nub of my clit while his finger continued to pump in and out of my core. The base of my spine tingled as my orgasm built. It was getting heavy with each stroke and I let my head fall back, lips parting.

“Are you going to cum?” Noah asked in a low voice.

I nodded, unable to talk, and when I felt his hard cock press into me, I almost whined.

“You want this cock, huh?”

I nodded without thinking.

Noah left a few bites along my neck and the edge of my orgasm had crested, ready to push me over the edge.

“If you’re a good girl and cum for me, maybe I’ll give you my cock.”

“Oh fuck,” my body shuddered as the start of my orgasm rocked through me.

“Y/N, where the fuck are-.”

Noah quickly ended the call before tossing my phone over to the other couch.

“He doesn’t get to hear you fall apart. It’s only for me,” Noah said.

“‘m so close, Noah.”

His name falling from my lips was exactly what I needed to finally let go, my orgasm making me yell out in pleasure riding it out against his hand.

As I came down and vision cleared, I saw Noah pull his fingers from me; the emptiness making me frown. However, when he brought his finger to his lips, tongue licking my arousal from it, I thought I would cum again just at the sight.

“Fuck, angel, you taste so good. I can’t wait to taste you for the rest of the night while I’m on stage.”

I sighed in content. “Thank you.”

“Y/N,” he tipped my chin up. “You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to help you forget that asshole for a moment.”

“Hmm, can I keep you around for the rest of the night?” I asked, joking slightly.

Noah’s face turned serious but before I could worry if I crossed the line, he shrugged. “I’ll do it if only you agree.”

Still on his lap and jeans undone, I shifted on his hard cock.

“What, spend one night with me?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he looked at the clock on the wall behind me. “It’s just after eight. Our set starts at nine and will end at 10:30. After that, we can continue where we left this. Then by 7 in the morning, we can part ways. Just one night to forget our problems.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, mewling over his words, while his hands slid underneath my shirt and grazed over the skin of my back.

“Why would you do that for me?” I wondered.

Noah spoke just above a whisper. “You’re not the only one that needs to forget someone.”

I then remembered that Jolly had mentioned earlier that Noah had found out today that he was cheated on in a previous relationship.

“So,” I spoke slowly. “One night of sex then by the morning we say goodbye?”

Something flashed over Noah’s brown eyes but it was gone before I could decipher what it was.

“No questions, no regrets, and no second thoughts. What do you say?”

Before I could give him my answer, the door to the room opened, and I quickly scrambled off of his lap to fix myself.

[marvelfilth]

Off the deep end 5 (18+)

Pairing: Ghostface!Sam Carpenter x f!reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, Sam going a little mad

Summary: Ethan is your close friend, and he might be the only one who still trusts you. You know it makes you even more suspicious in Sam's eyes, you know Mindy will take it as confirmation, but you simply don't care. You just want this to be over.

Masterlist

You sit in the trunk of Sam's car, furiously rubbing blood from your hands. Mindy cries in Chad's arms, Tara hovering over them both. Sam's beside you, a cigarette clutched between her fingertips. She hasn't said anything since she dragged you out, carefully sitting you down and wiping your face clean before you scooted away from her, accepting some wet wipes and dissociating at the sight of your blood stained hands.

Your head is a little clearer now and you don't flinch when she starts cleaning the wound on your shoulder, blowing gently when you wince from stinging pain.

Body bags are rolled on stretches one by one. You look down when you see detective Bailey break down in the middle of the street.

But you can't look away from Mindy stomping your way after she's been patched up by the medics, murder in her eyes. She halts to a stop before you, hand poised for a slap. Sam pushes her away before she can land it. "What the fuck, Mindy?"

"Yeah, what the fuck? You're defending her?!" She shouts, furiously wiping away her tears. "It's her, don't you see?"

Her raised voice attracts unwanted attention, people start looking at you with furrowed brows and you see a blonde woman take a few notes in her notepad.

"She made her go, Sam! If it wasn't for her Anika would be here," she breaks down in a sob, falling to her knees. Chad follows her, hugging her close to his chest, his eyes on you. You shudder at the rage shimmering in the dark pools.

"Mindy, she did her best," Tara whispers, clutching Sam's hand.

Your vision blurs with unshed tears, your fingers itching with need to do something, maybe go back to the elevator and keep trying to bring Anika back. Maybe you need to chase him and take his life.

You look away. "She's right, it's my fault."

"No, it's not." Sam reaches out to you, reassurances on her tongue, but Mindy pushes her back before she can voice them.

"She hid the knives," Mindy hisses with a cold look in her eyes.

"What?" Tara mumbles.

Your head suddenly feels too heavy for your neck as you try to understand what she is talking about. What knives?

"What a caring fucking girlfriend you are, huh? Let me get you a glass of water, Sam," she mocks. "You hid the knives right before we got attacked. And you got the call. You were at the fucking bodega. Did you kill that man in the alley too? Fuck, maybe you let that fucker in yourself, maybe you planned all of this. Maybe- Maybe you killed Anika in that elevator. You did, didn't you?!"

Her hands are on your shoulders, pushing hard enough to leave bruises. Your mouth falls open, but not a single word leaves your lips. You tremble violently, shaking your head, and see Tara takes a few careful steps back, her eyes glossed over. Mindy shakes you, screaming right in your face, and all you can do is crumble to the ground, choking on a sob.

Sam catches you before your knees hit the ground, pulling you into her chest and squeezing you tight.

"It's, okay," she whispers, "it's not your fault."

Sam's hands feel scalding hot on your body, but her words fall on deaf ears when the only thing your brain can register is Mindy's anguished cries.

It's your fault, it's your fault, it's your fau-

Loud shouts ring from the entrance, another stretcher rolled out. Mindy gasps, and in a flash she's gone, running after the group.

Anika.

You shoot up, ready to run after Mindy, but Chad stops you with a firm grip and a shake of his head, before turning around and following his sister.

You sag back into the truck, closing your eyes. When you open them, Tara is nowhere in sight, only Sam left standing by your side.

"Do you trust me?" You ask.

She freezes, her eyes widening a slightest bit at the abrupt question. "I do."

"Would you trust me with Tara?"

You can tell your question takes her by surprise. She's silent, tension taking root in her shoulders before it spreads over her whole body. She gulps, her eyes flickering around the street.

You nod, resigned. "I understand."

She turns to face you, her brows pulled tight, and takes her hand. "I trust you, I do. But Tara- Sometimes I don't even trust myself to protect her."

A dark chuckle escapes your lips. "That's not what I'm asking, Sam, and you know it. It's not about protection. Do you trust me not to hurt her? Not to kill her?"

She looks down, letting go of your hand, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. She takes a drag, blowing smoke away from you, her hands tremble.

This is it, you think. No matter what she said about Anika, no matter what she said about trusting you, you know she doesn't. Not completely.

"I don't know."

You look away in an attempt to hide your tears and nod, drawing a sharp breath. "It's okay. I'll just- I'll go, wait it out. And if you still want me when it's all over, I'll be there."

Sam straightens like a rod, her hand around your waist in an instant. "No. I'm not letting you out of sight." She clings to you, cigarette thrown to the ground. You let yourself enjoy the warmth of her embrace for a few fleeting moments before you start pulling away, but she doesn't let you, forcing your head up to meet her pleading eyes. "Please, don't go. I can't let you go."

You swallow dryly, and wipe away another set of tears. "You'll have to. N-none of you trust me," you choke on a sob, pushing against your girlfriend when she only hugs you tighter, pressing fleeting kisses into your hair. "You- you'll keep looking behind your back to make sure I haven't fucking stabbed anyone. I'd rather wait it out than go through that."

Sam shakes her head, "I need you close, so I can protect you."

You scoff, and forcefully push her away. "I don't need your protection. You should go to them," your head jerks in the twins direction, "make sure they're safe."

"Stop it," she hisses, following you as you try to walk away, "what the fuck do you think will happen once you're alone?"

"Nothing."

You need to get away. You need to go back home, curl on your bed and cry until you physically can't anymore. You still see Anika's empty eyes staring back at you, still feel the stillness of her chest under your palms. Everything around you is blurry as you stumble through the mass of people - paramedics, police officers, reporters and…

"Ethan?" You blurt as he steadies you.

He pants loudly, his eyes wide and questioning. "What- what happened?" He asks, pointedly looking at the blood all over your front.

He's thrown against a nearby car before you can answer, Sam's fist raised for a punch. "Where were you?" She growls, her hand closing around his throat. He's almost crying, his eyes glistening with tears.

You can see yourself in his place. You fight the urge to throw up.

"Sam," you speak up, but she doesn't hear you, pushing him hard enough to leave a dent.

"I- Econ," he wheezes, "I had econ."

"Sam, stop."

She listens this time, her eyes not straying from the gasping boy as she takes a few steps back.

You shudder as her hand returns to yours. "I'll take him with me."

She stills and doesn't utter a single word for a long moment. Ethan watches you, confused, but hesitant to voice his concern, as you both wait for Sam to speak.

"What?" She asks, her voice gravely quiet. "What did you just say?"

You swallow. "He'll stay with me, that way I won't be alone. He's a big guy, he's more than capable of protecting me."

She tilts her head to the side, her eyes growing a shade darker. "You're not going anywhere, especially with him."

“Wha- what is that supposed to mean?” he splutters, visibly offended.

You shush him with a look, shaking your head.

It's not ideal, you know, but it'll have to do. Ethan is your close friend, and he might be the only one who still trusts you. You know it makes you even more suspicious in Sam's eyes, you know Mindy will take it as confirmation, but you simply don't care. You want to barricade yourself in your room, open a bottle of tequila and fall asleep in your warm bed. You just want this to be over.

Sam shakes you out of your thoughts, a question in her eyes.

“What?” You ask, suddenly too tired to look her in the eye. You focus on the spot over her shoulder, still feeling the burning intensity of her eyes.

“I don't trust him.”

“You don't trust me either.”

"I can't afford to, but I can't- I can't afford to lose you either," she confesses, her voice shaking ever so slightly.

You close your eyes, feeling her arms envelope you, the smell of her cologne tickling your nose.

“Sam?” Tara calls.

Sam doesn't allow you to leave the sanctuary of her warmth, pulling you closer when you try to step away. “No,” she whispers, her grip so tight you struggle to breathe, “you're staying with me.”

“Sam, Gale found something.” There's an edge to Tara's tone, and when you open your eyes to look at her she doesn't meet your gaze, pointedly looking away.

Sam nods, tugging you along to follow Tara.

“Actually,” the blonde you saw earlier steps closer, her hand hovering over her gun on her thigh, “I don't think she should go with us.” She pointedly looks at you, her brows furrowed.

“What?” Sam hisses, shooting daggers at the shorter woman, but she appears unfazed.

“From what I've gathered, she seems to be our prime suspect. It wouldn't be wise to take her with us.”

“We should hurry,” Tara says, pleading Sam with her eyes.

“No,” Sam growls.

“Sam,” you plead, tugging your hand out of her grasp. “Just let me go, please.”

You're so tired.

“Sam,” Tara pleads. “We can't take her with us.”

“Then we don't go.” Sam's words are final.

Tara’s eyes narrow, you close your eyes, anticipating the verbal fight.

“What?”

“You heard me. For all we know Kirby is the killer.”

The blonde woman, Kirby, snorts, shaking her head. “This isn't your first rodeo, Sam. Love interests are always top suspects, and, with all of the evidence Mindy presented me with, you should be grateful I'm not putting your girlfriend in a cell.”

Tara looks at you, really looks at you for the first time since Mindy's outburst, her eyes swimming with questions. You look away, unable to hold her gaze any longer without crumbling apart.

“Sam, I'm going.” Tara says quietly. “She'll be-” she stutters, glancing at Ethan, “she can take care of herself.”

You nod, peeling yourself from Sam. She holds your hand tight, staring at Tara. “You're making me choose?” She asks, trembling.

Tara gulps, her eyes wide as she looks at your joined hands. “Whatever Gale found, we need to check it out,” she says, trying to convince herself as much as Sam, “I- I'm going, Sam,” she stutters, arms tight around her stomach.

All you can see is a girl forced to go through another massacre, a girl who still hasn't moved on from her best friend's betrayal. You understand.

Still, it hurts like hell.

“Go,” you whisper, managing a tired smile, “I'll be okay.”

With the last push, you leave Sam staring at her sister, and follow Ethan in the direction of his car.

×××

A movie theater.

That's what Gale found.

Sam walks in, Tara in her wake, timid and hesitant. She can't even look at her little sister right now, instead she focuses on what's right in front of her - her fathers hooded robe.

“You think she's still alive?”

She clenches her teeth tight and glances behind her shoulder. Another hallucination, just what she needs.

“Fucked up, isn't it?” Her father taunts, walking around her in circles.

She closes her eyes, clenching her fists tight. “Get lost.”

His mocking laugh grates at her ears. “I think one of them is already dead.”

She grinds her jaw, closing her eyes. “I said get lost.”

She turns on her heel, leaving the open space. She walks aimlessly, disappearing behind one of the many doors and sliding to the floor with her back against the wall. “Fuck,” she whispers, blinking back tears, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The door creaks open.

“Sam?”

It's Kirby.

Sam's fists clench.

“What?” She hisses.

The blonde looks at her for a moment, her eyes holding an understanding that hits Sam like a hammer. “We have some good news.”

Sam nods, not really caring.

“The next time that asshole calls we'll know where he is.”

Sam nods again.

“Sam.”

She looks down, playing with a loose thread in her shirt. “Good.”

“You made the right decision.”

Sam scoffs, standing up in one swift motion, now looming over the shorter blonde. “The right decision? She's alone. With that fucking-”

“He's alone with her.”

“Kirby,” Sam growls, a clear warning in her tone.

“I know. I went through this too, remember?” The shorter woman holds her ground, not budging an inch. “You know we can't trust her. You know it was the right thing to do.”

Sam swallows down the urge to scream. Instead she leaves, her steps echoing around the empty room, contemplating just going back and making you stay by her side, even if she has to force you.

×××

Ethan has to pack a bag. That's what he tells you anyway.

You sit in the passenger seat of his car - you didn't even know he had one - and wait for him to come out of his dormitory. You don't even jump every time a random car driving by honks. You tense, looking around, but you don't jump. You count that as a win.

You miss the feeling of safety Sam always brings.

“All good,” Ethan smiles, getting back behind the wheel. You startle, looking to your left.

“You sure?” You mumble, eyeing the small duffle bag he throws on the back seat.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I don't need much anyway. I know Sam's gonna get that fucker soon.”

You smile, relaxing for the first time since you left your girlfriend's side. “She will.”

His driving is a little messy - he hits at least three potholes on the way to your apartment and texts someone twice - but you don't complain, you're a far worse driver.

“That's me,” you sigh, welcoming him inside your apartment.

He looks around, his eyes widening as he takes in the mess that is your living room. You didn't really have enough time to clean up after Sam's visit.

“Sorry about that.” You blush, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”

×××

“Sam,” Tara pleads, tugging at her sister's arm.

“Not now,” Sam hisses, looking around the park.

Kirby's plan to simply sit and wait for a call didn't sit right with Sam, so now they're here, in the middle of a park, with Kirby and Bailey as back up, baiting one of those fuckers in broad daylight.

She prays it works.

“Sam, you know-”

“Not now,” she hisses. Tara jumps away. Her sister never used that tone with her.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers, blinking back tears. “Maybe we shouldn't have left her. Not like that.”

Sam's eyes narrow as she turns on her heel. “You say that now?”

Tara squares her shoulders, wiping her cheeks. “I thought-”

“It doesn't matter what you thought. You made me choose. I would've never done that to you.”

Her sister folds in on herself, hugging her stomach. Sam sighs, looking around. She knows she's being too hard on her sister, but she can't bring herself to care right now. Not when you're in danger.

Sam starts, “Look, I know you're scared-”

“Yes, for you!” Tara interrupts, shaking. “You remember Richie? Remember his plans for you? And this- Kirby was right about love interests. We both know it.” Sam opens her mouth to protest, but Tara doesn't let her speak. “Don't try to deny it! I care about you, Sam, and if it means I have to be the bad guy to keep you safe, I'll do it.”

Sam's mouth snaps shut. Tara's eyes glint with determination now, her face set. She nods, feeling some of her anger seep away. “Okay,” she sighs. “I'm sorry for snapping.”

“I'm sorry for making you leave her.”

The sisters share a look and, after Sam nods, Tara throws her hands around her older sisters shoulders.

And then her phone rings.

“You're gonna die, you know?” She answers, looking around.

“No, you're gonna die, Sam, but not before watching your little sister bleed out.”

Sam swallows. Tara squeezes her hand, grounding her sister.

“But don't worry,” the voice starts, taunting, “it’s not her time. Yet.”

Sam stares ahead, unseeing, as the phone clicks.

“Kirby, did you get it?” Tara says into her ear peace. “What?” she pales, looking at Sam with wide eyes. “Yes, I know the address…” she trails off, trembling “...it's Y/n’s”

"What?" Sam breathes out and freezes.

Tara, not wasting any time, grabs her sister and runs to Bailey's car, pushing her in before taking a seat behind the wheel. The sirens blare, gnawing on Sam's mind.

Ethan, she thinks, that motherfucker. She's going to kill him. She'll make sure he suffers.

"Sam." Tara glances at her sister, expertly waving through the traffic. "I know you care about her, but..."

"What?"

Sam nods, her palms bleeding from how hard she's dug her nails into them.

"It might be... not what we expect. At Y/n's place, I mean." Tara mutters, glancing at her sister warily. Sam closes her eyes, taking deep, even breaths as her sister speaks. "Be ready for anything, okay?"

She is more than ready to gut the boy.

“Faster,” her father hisses from the backseat and she doesn't spare the hallucination a glance. “Or you'll lose your precious girlfriend.”

She grits her teeth, nails digging into her palms, and focuses on the road ahead, willing him to go away. She can't afford a distraction, not now, not when you are in danger. Tara glances at her warily, before hesitantly placing her palm on her shoulder, squeezing.

The breaks screech and she's out before the car comes to a full stop. She forgoes the elevators, running up the stairs to your apartment and bursting through the unlocked door.

The first thing she sees is blood.

The first thing she hears is Ethan's sobs.

"S-sam," he whimpers, clutching his stabbed stomach. "Please…"

Tara bumps into her back, panting and coughing. Sam's hand shoots out, stopping her sister from getting closer to the boy.

"Where is she?" Sam asks, her voice gravely quiet. She scans the apartment with her eyes, seeing no signs of struggle.

Her father appears by her side, nodding at the knife lying by the boy's side. “She did him good,” he grins in appreciation.

"I'm sorry," he wails, tears streaming down his face, "I'm so sorry, Sam."

She hums and takes a step closer, her fists clenched tight. "Where. Is. She."

Ethan blanches, pressing himself flat against the wall. "We were talking and she- she told me how sorry she was about Anika, told me how hard it was seeing her die, and then… then I hugged her, because she was crying and shaking, and I couldn't just stand there." Sam nods, crouching, and urges him to go on, her fingers squeezing around his wrist. "And then I felt the pain. I- I pushed her away and she- she did it again, she stabbed me again. It hurts so bad, Sam… Please," he sobs, wheezing.

Sam hums, pulling his hand away from the wound and presses her palm against it, hard. "That's not what I asked you," she hisses, enjoying the way he starts to writhe, screaming in pain, and pushes harder. She leans down to whisper in his ear, "Where is she?"

Ethan looks at her with wide eyes, terrified.

"Sam," Tara warns, "stop."

Her father chuckles.

When Ethan doesn't answer, she pulls her hand away, only to punch him straight in the gut, earning a pathetic wheeze. "I won't ask again."

"You're m- mad," he chokes, looking at Tara for help.

"We all go a little mad sometimes," Sam hisses before punching him again and again.

In the corner, her father smiles proudly.

She needs to know where you are. She needs to know you didn't do this. She needs to know you're not one of them.

"Sam, that's enough." Her sister pulls her by the shoulders, forcing her to stop the assault on the poor boy. "You heard him.. You see him. It's her," she whispers, blinking back tears. Sam shakes her head, ready to resume the interrogation, but Tara stops her. "Sam. This is not you. Stop."

Sam blinks rapidly, only now seeing a twinge of fear in her sister's eyes. Fear of her. She stumbles back, choking on her breath and falls to her knees, numb.

She sees her father shaking his head, disappointed in his daughter for stopping so early, for trusting you. She feels her sister's warm embrace, and hears her soothing words. She clings to her, burying her face in the smaller girl's frame, only one thought on her mind.

It's you.

[kermitkrqb]

Perfect Pair || Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: Something about evil blondes is gonna do it for me every single time. Until next time, lovelies! 💗

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow x dark!reader, enemies to lovers, Coryo’s violent thoughts, attempted murder, spit play?? (does it count? idk. but i’ll leave this here anyway), dub-con kisses.

‘No loose ends’, Something Coriolanus often reminded himself. The same words had echoed in his head when he had sent his only friend to be hung. Poor, trusting, and foolish Sejanus. Coriolanus wished it could have stopped there, but it seems everywhere the Snow boy stepped, a trail of withering destruction followed. Once that destruction had eventually caught up with him, he’d found that his beloved Lucy Gray Baird wanted nothing to do with him. Why couldn’t she have understood? Everything he did was for her, for them. She had fled from his love as if it were poison, and maybe it was. But, he’d argue that she was just as poisonous, latching onto him as he did everything in his power to ensure her safety- milking him for everything he had. Only to leave once she had found out that he in fact did everything in his power to ensure her safety. So what if he had killed Sejanus? Sejanus’ recklessness would have gotten them all killed eventually. Although, it was all over now. In the form of Lucy Gray Baird, he had cut off his final loose end, leaving her in the forest and vowing to never love again- which was originally the plan.

There you were, standing across the room in a perfectly poised manner. He loathed it, loathed you. Coriolanus knew that you had always been smart, a close contender to the Plinth prize, a top student like him but not quite as good. Although, he had underestimated you. A few nights ago, much like the rest of your Academy classmates, you were celebrating the end of the semester at university. He had found himself exchanging petty insults with you on some balcony when you had revealed something rather bone-chilling. Coriolanus would have pushed you off the second floor if it weren’t for the abundance of people in the next room. Tipsy on posca, you had let it slip that you knew the circumstances of Sejanus’ death. How? He did not find out. You had taunted him, backed him into a corner, threatening to tell the Plinth’s that the golden boy they had adopted was not so golden after all. You had made a fool of Coriolanus Snow of all people. He hated you for it… but you had done something even more unexpected. You let him go. Although, he wasn’t going to take the risk. He couldn’t afford it, not after everything he had done to get where he is now- in the care of the two grieving parents of Sejanus, living the life of luxury he had always deserved.

Coriolanus had convinced Strabo Plinth to host another gala, hiding behind the excuse of ‘making connections’ for when he would eventually rise to power as the President. It was partially true, although, his main motive was to lure you in. Coriolanus had planned to poison you tonight, alongside a few other people he saw as threats. He would disguise it as another rebel attack, blame the staff- anything to ensure his protection. He watched from across the room as you eagerly conversed with a few gamemakers and former classmates. It was almost sickening to him, the sweet smiles you would flash, the way you would carry yourself so confidently. He could see right through you, because you were just like him. Driven by ambition, power hungry. He hated you. You caught his eye from where you stood, holding his gaze as you sent him a smile. What others might have interpreted as an innocent interaction, Coriolanus knew it was a silent threat. He was the first to look away, making his way through the crowd as he headed towards a secluded hallway, silently beckoning you to follow.

You of course took the bait, like he had planned, “Well if it isn’t Coriolanus Snow.” The click of your heels echoed across the hallway as you made your way over to him, like a snake slithering to its prey. You were adorned in a blood red gown, quite fitting for your personality, he thought. You had a glass of posca in your hand, the very drink that had gotten him into this mess. Coriolanus studied you for a moment, his blue eyes piercing through you before he broke the silence, forgoing any pleasantries, “Y/n. What is it that you want from me?” Unfazed by his cold tone, a small smile spreads across your lips, “What are you willing to give me?” The nerve of you. He wanted to scream, choke you until the life faded from your eyes, instead, he took a deep breath, “$50,000, and a formal introduction to Dr Gaul. Perhaps she’ll mentor you as well.” Coriolanus knew fully well that he was offering money he didn’t have, Strabo would never give him such amounts of money on short notice, but you didn’t have to know. After all, you’d be dead by the end of the night.

You tilt your head at him, swirling the glass of posca in your hand as you thought about his proposition, “$50,000? I’m sure you can be a little more generous Snow…considering you’re practically a Plinth now.”Coriolanus feigned annoyance, stepping closer and eventually cornering you, “You have plenty of money, what use would you have with even more?” He watched as your breath catches in your throat due to his proximity, he relished in your reaction and watched as you caught yourself, putting on a confident facade, a hint of flirtation in your voice. “You’re right… but I do like playing with you… you’re my favourite toy.” Coriolanus finds himself wondering who else had fallen victim to your vicious games. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear, “Is that so? I don’t quite like this game of yours…” He notices how your breathing falters with every inch forward that he takes. He uses this to his advantage, pressing up against you and leaning in so his nose brushes against yours, as if he were to kiss you. Your vision is shielded as he invades your personal space, dulling your senses as you focus on his touch. With light fingers, he reaches into his pocket and drops a small dose of poison in your glass of posca. He whispers, “50 grand, take it or leave it.”

Coriolanus takes a step back, watching as you try compose yourself. He can only smirk at your flustered state, and inevitably, you take a sip from your glass on instinct. You’re about to take another sip when you see the way he’s eyeing your drink. A glint of malice in his eyes. You swallow nervously, stepping forward in panic, “What did you do to me?” He bites back a laugh, grinning to himself, “Soon enough, you’ll be dead- poisoned. But don’t worry dear, you won’t be the only one. The world will know your names, the poor victims to another ‘rebel attack.’ Don’t you know? Snow lands on top.” But then you do the unthinkable. You take another swig from your glass, filling your mouth with the poisoned posca before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him into a forceful kiss. It was intoxicating, the way the sweet but deadly wine traveled down his throat, alongside the soft pillowy touch of your lips against his own. Mutually assured destruction. He wanted to hate you for it, he really did, but you were just so brilliant. Is this what he had been missing all along? He had liked the supposed innocent love he shared with Lucy Gray, but this, you, were truly deadly. Just like him.

Coriolanus stumbles back, shocked. You watch with a somewhat amused expression, considering the circumstances. “Time is ticking Snow. I assume you’re not stupid enough to go without the antidote?” He feels his eyes roll into the back of his skull, he reluctantly pulls out another vial, and before you can snatch it from his hands, he holds it above your head. You scowl as he taunts you, and he simply laughs, “My god, you’re insufferable.” You watch with outrage as he takes a generous swig from the vial, and before you can say anything, he presses his lips to yours, just as forcefully. You let out a soft groan as he transfers some of the liquid into your mouth, you swallow hungrily, keeping your lips locked with his. You wanted to hate him, but the way he kissed you had your heart fluttering with desire. Perhaps he isn’t so bad, you think. Coriolanus pulls away, his breathing heavy as he takes in your flushed state and slightly swollen lips. It was that day forward that your two fates would be sealed. “Stand by me Y/n. Stand by me, and we’ll be untouchable.” And so you do, eventually becoming the First Lady of Panem as he rises to power as President, a perfect pair indeed.

A/N: Also, saw someone shit talking the Coryo fan fics out there the other day?? I think most, if not all of the writers in this fandom are absolutely amazing, which is why I’m confused. So, if you don’t like the content, don’t read it, and you think it’s so bad, then write your own. Go on then. There are these amazing writers taking the time out there to fulfil your asks, your requests in their own time. They don’t have to, but they do anyway. Show your writers the love and appreciation they deserve. Sorry for the rant, I just hate it when people are so rude.

Support your writers! 💗💗💗

[kai-anderson-whore]

Ghost boy (Tate langdon x fem reader smut) kinktober fic 6

Summary: you and your friends go to the abandoned murder house, where you met Tate

Warnings: smut, sex against a wall, sex with a ghost, teasing, clit stimulation somewhat public sex (since it’s a abandoned house 🤷‍♀️)

Word count: 1,5k

A/n: this was shit and the ending was so rushed, I’m so behind on this so I might not post the full ten fics but if I do they may be some after Halloween

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You heard all the rumours about the infamous murder house, how it's haunted, people who step foot there get killed, how the ghosts that live there aren't really ghosts they're just like humans only cold 'bullshit' you thought. You were always a sceptic about all that paranormal stuff, never believed in it one bit.

So when your friends came up with the idea of visiting the murder house you were more than willing to go and see. You wanted to prove your friends wrong, there was no such thing as ghosts. Now outside the old run down building, wooden barriers barricaded the windows except for one on the side of the house.

"So we going in or what" you spoke up unfazed by the eerie sight of the abandoned house. Your friends on the other hand looked if so they already regretted coming here. "Maybe this isn't a good idea, I mean have you heard the stories y/n, once you go in there's a high chance you never get out to tell the tale" your friend Chelsea's scared tone making you chuckle.

"Yeah and that's what it is a tale, it's just to scare kids from going in here and get drunk, all bullshit" you laughed climbing into the house. "What are you doing, are you crazy!?" Your other friend Oliver hissed. "Oh come on you two wanted to come here in the first place now your chickening out" you scoffed your leather jacket nearly getting caught on an overgrown branch connecting to the brick wall.

"Yeah it's fucking creepy" Oliver admitted you just laughed once again one of your legs on the ledge of the old window, the other inside the house barely touching the ground. "Fine I'm going in, I bet I'll make it out alive" you mocked dismissing them and jumping fully into the old house.

You heard their pleas for you to come back, never did you listen once you got something on your mind you do it. Going further into what you expect to be the dinning room, nothing was really out of place like someone had been living here. Dust was collecting on some parts of the house, no graffiti on the walls or smashed glass like other places you been to 'weird?'.

Nothing really sparked your interests downstairs, deciding to take your attention upstairs. Searching room to room all you found were some old photos of the Harmon family that lived here. Entering another room all dark 'this is probably a boys room' you thought to yourself looking around the room.

Spotting a record collection mostly grunge and rock music nirvana, Alice and the chains, hole and some artists who inspired the grunge scene. "Good taste" you hummed to yourself out loud. "Thanks" a voice chimed making out yelp in fright, clutching your chest.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" You snapped turning your head to find a boy with blonde hair with a amused smile and arms folded over his chest. "Didn't mean to scare you" he defended holding his hands up. "Who are you?" You asked not feeling scared anymore. You couldn't help but find this mysterious guy attractive he wore a knitted sweater with baggy jeans and converse.

"I'm Tate, I live here" he shrugged.

"What you live in a abandoned house yeah right" you scoffed not believing it. "I'm a ghost so yeah I live here" he says in a serious tone. "Sure and I'm the pope, did Chelsea and Oliver set you up for this, if they did nice try" you laughed which only made Tate a little bit frustrated.

"No" Tate unfolds his arms taking a step towards you. "Okay Tate prove your a ghost" you challenged standing from your kneeled position. "Why would I need to prove I'm dead" he scoffed rolling his eyes. "Because your not dead, but you are kinda cute" you smirked, Tate couldn't help but blush at your compliment. "Well thanks I guess, not so bad yourself if I may add" he returned his voice somewhat dulcet but a smirk always playing on his lips.

"Thanks Casper" you smiled biting your bottom lip. Standing up from your kneeled position. Leaving the room exploring more parts of the house. "You know shouldn't really be here alone" Tate speaks up you turn your head, raising an eyebrow. "And why's that Casper?".

"Because you never know what's in here" he shrugs. You chuckled dismissively, "oh yeah the boogeyman is going to get me is is". Tate smirked at you he couldn't lie he thought you were beautiful, with your leather jacket, the way your hair would flow as the breeze of the house swished past you. He oddly felt nervous around you but wanted to be close to you.

You notice his nervousness, smirking to yourself. "Do I make you nervous Casper?".

"What no" he blushed.

"I do" you laughed stepping closer to him, you could practically feel how nervous he was, swallowing a lump in his throat. You smiled seductively at Tate standing in front of him, "maybe just a little" Tate chuckled blushing. A new wave of confidence washed over you, you couldn't deny he was extremely attractive even if it was weird that he was randomly in this abandoned house.

"And why do I make you nervous Casper?" You teasingly asked using your newfound nickname. Tate swallowed a lump in his throat "w-well your really pretty that's why" he mumbles. Now face to face with him. "Oh really I'm pretty?" You teased now playing with the hem of his flannel.

"Yeah" he chuckled, you couldn't deny your attraction to the boy. Now with the sudden wave of confidence you kissed him, feverishly. Tate's eyes blown wide at your sudden action, but responded to your lips nonetheless. Your hand cupped his cheek deepening the kiss.

A moan left your lips feeling Tate's hands on your body, he was cold but you assumed that it was because of the cold air in the abandoned house. Tate grew the confidence to pin you to the nearest wall you gasped feeling the cold wall come in contact with you.

A smirk crept on his lips, his hand on your waist now slowly creeping under your skirt, his thumb coming in contact with your clit, you let out another gasp and he rubbed you through your nearly soaked panties. You grew wetter by the second, your hand gripped his shoulder to steady yourself. "Your so wet" Tate chuckled retracing his hand from your underwear.

His lips attacked your neck leaving purple marks along your delicate skin. You sighed your hand cupped his bulged rubbing him through his jeans. Before unbuttoning the button. "Eager are we?" Tate chuckles. "Just fuck me" you sighed. Tate pulled down his jeans and underwear just enough for his cock to string free.

His hands on the backs on your thighs signalling your to jump, which you did. Your underwear moved to one side he lined himself up with your entrance teasingly. "Don't tease me" you whined. Tate chuckled slowly pushing himself into you. Your eyes rolling back in pleasure your grip on his shoulder tightened.

Tate bottomed out inside you before retracting his hips from you, thrusting in you. Moans slowly crept their way out your lips, he stretched you out perfectly. Your head resting on Tate's shoulder, "harder" you panted your body jolting with each thrust, "I don't think you deserve it yet" Tate grinned, you immediately felt frustrated with his disapproval of your request. "Please, please Casper, I need it please" you begged, Tate's thrusts got even more slower.

"You know that's not my name, say my name and I'll maybe consider it" Tate's voice was more deep and dominant, "I'm sorry Tate, please fuck me harder please tate" you pleaded. “Well since you asked so nicely” he smirked.

His hips thrusted into you in a much faster pace, you almost screamed out in pleasure and pain, it felt so good. Tates hips were erratic the pace they went you were sure he would split you in two. Your head resting on the wall behind you. Your legs pulling him closer.

You felt dangerously close to the edge, Tate could tell “you close?” He asked, you nodded your head humming in response. “Use your words” Tate coaxed, smirking wickedly. “I’m so close” you panted out. Feeling that knot form in your stomach.

“Let go baby” he whispered, you let go over his cock with a loud moan. Your nails digging into his flannel, your orgasm triggering his own release. He pulling out of you spilling his seed on your thigh. You panted trying to catch your breath.

Tate set your feet down on the floor, you fixed your underwear and skirt. “That was fun” Tate smirked tucking himself back into his pants . You smiled nodding “yeah I gotta go my friends are outside waiting on me” I giggled. “Oh okay maybe I’ll see you around?” He asked. “Sure I’ll see you around” you smiled Leaving Tate.

You made it outside seeing your friends by the gates of the abandoned house. “What took you so long we were about to send a search party out for you” Oliver says. “Keep your head on, I’m here now I just found some cool stuff that’s all” you smirked blushing a little. “Come on let’s go” Oliver sighed, the three of you walked away from the house you looked at a window seeing Tate. You smiled and waved as you walked away.

[strawberryforks]

drunk fools to lovers // jj maybank x reader

summary: a drunken hookup has a bettering ending than anyone expected (terrible summary but i’m exhausted)

warnings: swearing, allusions to sex (nothing too crazy i still have no clue how to write smut), underaged drinking

word count: 1098

the first thing that registered in your mind was that the light was too bright and someone needed to shut it off. the hand you draped over your eyes was reflex just like what you shouted, when hands started pounding against your door, trying to knock it down or at the very least get your attention—which they had. “shut the fuck up!” you screamed in response. your head was throbbing, mind lagging behind, and thoughts still suspended in whatever liquid you’d drank way too much of the night before. fuck, you felt like you were the door. “jesus! alright, alright, i’m coming,” you groaned and shoved at the comforter. it wouldn’t budge. you kicked a bit, winding your legs up, because they were trapped. trapped under a blanket, trapped—someone groaned.

awareness returned, your hand stopped covering your eyes. fingers kneaded into the mattress as you pushed yourself up, bending at the stomach. you looked down at yourself first—missing your bra and no doubt panties, and with a boy in your bed, quite literally on top of you. it wasn’t the forst time this had happened and probably wouldn’t be the last, but the embarrassment slammed into you like a wave anyways. the kind that would knock you from your board and bully you underwater for awhile… fuck, you weren’t proud, but this was… it was manageable. the knocking never ceased but you were getting used to the pounding. if the door didn’t break becore you figured out what mistake you’d taken home with you, you’d be fine. john b was a protective bastard but he wouldn’t have to know. push the nameless one-night-stand out your window and be done with it. yeah, that would work.

looking down at the mess of blonde hair, you prod the boy. your eyes are still blurry, your head still hurts but unfortunately, the light you need turned off is the fucking sun, and you’ll have to deal with it for another 12 hours. “hey,” you whisper. “hey. wake up. you gotta go.”

the figure who’s figure you take the time to admire groans again. ringed fingers swipe through their hair, messing it further, as you shove harder. “my brother’s going to kill you if you don’t get out of here. kill, as in… murder.” there’s not many other ways you can explain this but the boy seems to finally understand. he startled, and when he lifted his head up, your eyes met and fuck. woah, okay. it was jj. jj maybank.

your jj. your brother’s bestfriend jj. that jj.

your brother really was going to kill him.

now you’re panicking.

“y/n i swear! let me in or i will kick down this door!” your brother threatens.

“i’m fine john, shit! give me a minute to get dressed!” you’re staring at your brother’s bestfriend with wide eyes but at least you’re not lying. you get up, scramble to put on an oversized t-shirt, and make crazy gestures with your hands.

jj, like you, is freaking out. he’s slipping on his shirt, putting on his boxers and then jumping into a pair of sweats. he looks good, really good, and your tongue darts out to wet your lip. you can see how this happened—what you can’t see is where to go from here. “oh my god oh my god.”

you’re nodding, agreeing, because this is crazy and unexpected and you’re not sure that either of you remember what went down last night. goddamn keggers.

“the window!” you’re whisper-hissing, helping him hoist it open and holding it that way as he crawls out. “we’ll talk about this,” he tells you while you all but chant “go, go, go.”

then you’ve got to open the door. to face the music. “hey john… couldn’t have been a bit quieter?”

“its lunch time, y/n/n.” he peers around you, into your room, as if not truly believing your alone and okay. “and you were wasted last night. i had to make sure you weren’t lying dead in a puddle of vomit”

“yeah, yeah. you’re not one to shirk your brotherly duties. did you happen to make breakfast?”

“eggs and bacon, plus, i made you some of that vitamin c drink you swear by.”

“you’re the best,”

“i know.”

john b leaves, he and jj hangout, as always, and then, a few hours later all of the pogues are meeting up to go surfing. john b, kie, and pope are in the water while you’re hanging back on the beach. jj jogs over to you—he’s been trying to find an opening to talk to you and now is as good as any. unfortunately for him, you’ve had hours to overthink. hours and hours to myll over the fact that you finally slept with your crush and didn’t even remember it aside from some day-after-aching. you’ve had hours to agonize over the fact that he doesn’t want you, doesn’t remember you, and probably can’t stand to be around you anymore. after all, you had to have embarrassed yourself. drunkenly professed your love or something crazy.

“jay i’m so so sorry.” you rush out, “that was a mistake, a drunk mistake, and we can pretend that nothing happened—no one has to know and i swear i won’t tell my brother.” your words spill everywhere, fast and full of panic. you can’t lose a friend and you can’t make things awkward withing the group. no-pogue-on-pogue-macking was like, the one rule, and you went and broke it.

jj isn’t wearing a shirt and that isn’t good because having this conversation, you need to focus on his face, how he’s reacting, and responding. his arms are crossed over his chest and he doesn’t look mad—he looks confused, maybe? worried? “is that what you want?”

“is that what i want?” you echo

“because it’s not what i want, but i can respect it, if you’re sure. i’ll have made an ass out of myself because i spent the afternoon begging john b to let me take you out on a date—“

“we’re going on a date? you asked john? for permission?”

jj smiles, almost shyly, and palms the back of his neck. “it felt like the right thing to do.”

you laugh, smile lightning up the sky, and brightening his entire day. “jesus jj, we’re going on a date, not getting married.”

he wraps you in his arms, hugs you tight. his hands are on your lower back, yours are wrapped around his neck, one threaded through his hair, “but we will someday.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. the most sure about anything i’ve ever been.”