#trying my hand at color manipulating here

[tteotlma]

Whiskey and Wishful Thinking

-- unrequited love and misplaced desires

Logan/Wolverine x Reader 6.2kw(😵‍💫)

a/n: this idea has been in my head for a while now and i didn’t really edit —

TW: 18+ MDNI AFAB!Reader, alcohol abuse/intoxication, sexual content (explicit), Emotional manipulation, unrequited love, mild violence (Logan crashing into things), infidelity (emotional), sexual encounter under the influence, emotional distress/angst, mild language, p in v

—

The quiet whirring of the air conditioner filled the cavernous space of the library, its cool breeze a stark contrast to the sweltering August heat outside. You circled the poster board laid out on the worn wooden table in front of you, your fingertips ghosting over the glossy photos and carefully cut-out newspaper clippings. Your chin rested on your hand as you examined the display closely, brow furrowed in concentration.

The new semester at Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was starting in a week, and you were determined to be prepared. This wasn't just about having a visually engaging classroom; it was about proving yourself. Your second year as a teacher here was right around the corner, and you still had people to impress—or maybe overshadow. The pressure to live up to the legacy of the school's illustrious faculty weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You were in the middle of rearranging a faded photo of Richard Nixon next to a more vibrant one of Mystique—a stark visual representation of the complex history you were trying to convey—when something caught your eye. A small tear in the corner of the Mystique photo made you frown. It was barely noticeable, but you knew it was there. Much like the small imperfections in your own mutation that you tried so hard to hide.

As you reached for the tape to add more photos, a thunderous crash erupted from the direction of the front door, reverberating off the mahogany bookshelves and causing the chandeliers to tinkle ominously. You startled, your elbow catching the edge of the poster board and sending a cascade of photos fluttering to the floor like autumn leaves.

"Dammit," you muttered under your breath, dropping to your knees to gather the scattered images. Each one represented hours of research and careful curation. There was Erik Lehnsherr in his prime, Charles Xavier before the wheelchair, headlines about the Mutant Registration Act—pieces of a puzzle you were trying to fit together for your students.

As you collected the last of the photos, another crash followed, accompanied by a string of muffled colorful curses that could only belong to one person: Logan.

You rose to your feet, brushing dust from your knees and straightening your top. A part of you wanted to ignore the disturbance and return to your work. After all, you weren't one of the X-Men, just a history teacher trying to make a difference in your own small way. But another part, the part that had brought you to this school in the first place, urged you to investigate.

With a last, longing look at your unfinished project, you began to walk down the corridor, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The warm wood paneling and lush carpets couldn't quite muffle Logan's gruff voice, slurred and aggravated.

"Who the hell locked the damn door?" he growled loud enough to be heard through the mahogany, followed by another thud that sounded suspiciously like a body hitting solid wood.

You rounded the corner just in time to hear Logan slam against the door again. Sighing, you approached, your hand hovering over the ornate brass doorknob.

"Logan?" you called out, trying to keep your voice steady. "The door's always locked after midnight. You know that."

There was a moment of silence, then a muffled grunt. "Oh. Right." You heard him fumbling on the other side, likely searching for keys he didn't have. "Must've... must've forgot."

You leaned closer to the door, lowering your voice. "Did you lose your keys again?"

"Didn't lose 'em," Logan grumbled, his words slurring together. "Just... misplaced 'em. Temporarily."

Rolling your eyes, you turned the lock. "I'm letting you in. But please, try to keep it down. Some of us are trying to work."

As you swung the heavy door open, the full impact of Logan's state hit you like a wave. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, more disheveled than you'd ever seen him.

His usually wild hair was a mess, matted in places as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. His leather jacket was askew, one sleeve pushed up to the elbow while the other hung loosely at his wrist. The strong scent of whiskey wafted from him, mixed with something earthier – had he been in the woods?

His eyes, usually sharp and alert, were unfocused as they landed on you. For a moment, they seemed to look through you rather than at you.

"Work?" he scoffed, stumbling slightly as he entered. "It's summer, kid. Live a little."

The irony of his statement, given his current condition, wasn't lost on you. But as he brushed past, the scent of alcohol growing stronger, you couldn't help but wonder what had driven him to drink so heavily tonight. Logan had his demons, sure, but this seemed excessive even for him.

"Logan," you said softly, reaching out to steady him as he swayed. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He paused, turning to look at you. For a brief moment, his tough exterior seemed to crack, revealing a glimpse of raw pain underneath. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual gruff demeanor.

"I'm fine," Logan grunted, his voice rough as gravel. He shrugged off your hand with a forceful jerk that nearly threw him off balance. "Just need to sleep it off."

As he stumbled towards the stairs, you stood frozen in the foyer, a war of emotions raging within you. Frustration at the interruption of your work battled with genuine concern for your colleague. The sound of his heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, each thud against the hardwood punctuated by a slight scuff - clear signs of his unsteady gait.

BAM

The sound reverberated through your chest, jolting you into action. "Oh my- Logan!" The twisting knot in your stomach unraveled, replaced by a surge of adrenaline as you found yourself on your knees beside the fallen giant. The polished wood floor was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Logan's body.

"Are you okay?!" Your voice came out higher than intended, tinged with worry. You gently turned his body, your hands careful but insistent. Logan's face came into view, his rugged features slack, eyes roving aimlessly. They passed over your face without a flicker of recognition, unfocused and glassy.

"Clearly not," you muttered, answering your own question. The words tasted bitter on your tongue, worry and frustration mingling in equal measure. You patted his stubbled cheek, the coarse hair rough against your fingers. The familiar texture grounded you, a tactile reminder of the man beneath this drunken exterior.

"Come on, you big lug." Your fingers curled around his jacket collar, the worn leather an old friend under your grip. You could smell the years of use on it – a mixture of tobacco, whiskey, and that indescribable scent that was purely Logan. You tugged, your muscles straining against his dead weight. It was like trying to move a mountain, and you felt a bead of sweat trickle down your back with the effort. "I can't get you up those stairs, but we can try to find something else."

Logan stirred under your hands, a low groan rumbling from deep in his chest. You could feel the vibration of it through your palms, like the purr of some great, dangerous cat. Keeping a steadying hand on his arm, you helped as he struggled to his feet. His muscles were taut under your touch, coiled with a strength that, even in his inebriated state, was intimidating.

The scent of whiskey hung heavy in the air around you both, an almost visible miasma. It mingled with the earthy smell of his leather jacket and something so distinctly Logan – a heady mix of cigar smoke and pine that usually brought a sense of comfort and safety. Now, it just emphasized the bitter truth that in trying to distance himself from his pain, Logan had simultaneously distanced himself from the man you once knew.

He was mumbling, disconnected words tumbling from his lips like scattered puzzle pieces. You caught fragments – "Jean" and "Summers" among them – each name landing like a small stone in the pit of your stomach. But you weren't really trying to piece it together, not now. Your mind was already racing ahead, calculating the logistics of moving him, wondering if you could manage to get him to the nearby study with its comfortable couch. And, if you were being honest with yourself, a small part of you was wondering how soon you could get him out of your sight and return to the normalcy of your work.

You watched, as if in slow motion, as Logan threw a heavy arm around you. The sudden shift in weight knocked you off balance, causing your body to shove even closer to Logan's as you struggled to support his swaying form.

You closed your eyes, trying to distract itself with thoughts of your discarded project in the library. You tried to reimagine your pre-arranged photos and timelines, hearing them calling to you like a siren song of productivity and purpose. But it was hard to focus on that, not with the heat radiating off of Logan's body making your skin feel like it was sizzling, every point of contact between you a livewire of sensation.

You could feel every hard plane of his body pressed against you, the heat of him searing through your clothes. The closeness was both thrilling and terrifying, and you quickly shook your head, pushing the confusing thoughts away. Right now, Logan needed a friend, whether he (or you) realized it or not.

"Alright, big guy," you said, your voice sounding strained even to your own ears as you adjusted your grip on his arm. Your fingers dug into the solid muscle there, seeking purchase. "Let's get you somewhere you can lay down before you fall again and cause some damage." You began to guide him, every step a careful negotiation between his unsteady feet and your determined support. It was like trying to direct a landslide – Logan's bulk and uncoordinated movements making each step a precarious balancing act.

"I-I'm fine," he slurred, his words thick and syrupy. His head bobbed with each trudging step, reminding you of those drinking bird toys. "Jus' needed a break." The words were punctuated by a hiccup that shook his whole frame, and by extension, yours.

"A break from what?" You grunted, the words coming out breathless as you strained to keep him walking in something resembling a straight line. The carpet runner in the hallway bunched under your feet with each step, creating small obstacles you had to navigate around. "It's the last week of summer."

The reminder seemed to hit Logan like a physical blow. He let out a loud groan, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours where you were pressed against him. Suddenly, his body went limp, all semblance of cooperation vanishing in an instant. He stumbled again, but this time, anchored to you as he was, he dragged you with him.

"No, no Logan," you gasped, your muscles screaming as you struggled to keep both of you upright. Your feet scrambled for purchase on the polished wood floor, sliding dangerously. For a heart-stopping moment, you thought you were both going down, but somehow – through sheer determination or dumb luck – you managed to keep moving.

With a final, herculean effort, you maneuvered Logan's bulk towards the library. The giant sofa loomed before you like an oasis in a desert, promising relief from your burden. And of course, because the universe seemed to have a twisted sense of humor tonight, it was right next to your craft table. The carefully arranged materials – your planned escape from this chaos – now stood as silent witnesses to your struggle.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the leather creaking under his weight, you couldn't help but wonder how this night had spiraled so far from your quiet plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving you feeling oddly bereft despite your earlier desire to be free of him. You stood there, catching your breath, watching the rise and fall of Logan's chest as he settled into the couch, already half-asleep.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the aged leather creaked in protest under his substantial weight. You couldn't help but marvel at how drastically this night had veered from your meticulously laid plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving behind a peculiar sense of absence. It was a feeling that caught you off guard, considering your earlier desperation to be free of his burdensome presence.

For a moment, you stood there, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Your eyes traced the rise and fall of Logan's broad chest as he settled into the couch, his features already softening with the onset of sleep. The furrows in his brow, usually so pronounced, began to smooth out, giving him an almost peaceful appearance that seemed at odds with the tumultuous events of the night.

Shaking your head, you turned back to your project, eager to lose yourself in the familiar comfort of organization and creativity. Each piece fell into place with a satisfying click, the world narrowing down to the careful arrangement of photos and timelines. Time seemed to slip away as you worked, the rhythmic sound of Logan's breathing fading into white noise.

Despite the rhythmic process you had created, your mind managed to stray to the man beside you. Logan's presence, even in his unconscious state, was impossible to ignore. Your eyes drifted from your work to his sleeping form, tracing the rugged lines of his face that you'd memorized long ago.

A familiar ache bloomed in your chest, a bittersweet mixture of longing and resignation. How many days and nights had you spent like this, stealing glances at Logan when he wasn't aware, allowing yourself to imagine a reality where his eyes would light up at the sight of you? But that was a fantasy, and you knew it.

Your fingers absently toyed with a photo of Jean Grey that had fallen from your timeline. Even in this candid shot, her beauty was undeniable. Logan's voice, slurred with alcohol, echoed in your mind: "Jean." Of course, it always came back to Jean.

You couldn't blame him, not really. Jean was everything - brilliant, powerful, compassionate. And you? You were just... you. The history teacher who helped patch him up after missions, who listened to his rare moments of vulnerability, who silently loved him from afar.

A soft murmur from the couch drew your attention. Logan's face had contorted, his lips moving soundlessly. Was he dreaming of her even now? The thought sent a pang through your heart.

"She's with Scott, Logan." You shook your head.

The words tasted bitter on your tongue. Because that was the cruel irony, wasn't it? Jean was utterly devoted to Scott Summers. Her love for him was as clear as day to everyone - everyone except Logan. He clung to hope like a drowning man to driftwood, blind to the fact that Jean's heart belonged to another. Just as he was blind to your feelings for him.

You turned back to your work, trying to lose yourself once more in the familiar task. But your eyes kept drifting to the leather jacket draped over a nearby chair - Logan's jacket. How many times had you imagined him placing it around your shoulders on a cold night? How many times had you dreamed of being the one he looked at with that intensity, that raw need?

But those were just dreams. Reality was this: Logan, passed out on the couch beside you, murmuring another woman's name in his sleep. A woman who would never return his feelings. And you, silently loving a man who would never see you as anything more than a friend.

The spell was abruptly broken by a loud, guttural grunt from the couch. Startled, you whirled around, your heart leaping into your throat. Logan's peaceful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a mask of distress. His forehead was creased, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling as if grasping for something just out of reach.

The realization hit you like a splash of cold water: he was having a nightmare.

Pushing your chair into the table with a soft scrape, you rose to your feet. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as you approached Logan. Years of living in a school full of mutants with varying degrees of control had taught you the value of caution, especially when dealing with someone as potentially dangerous as Logan in a vulnerable state.

You positioned yourself at the head of the couch, carefully staying out of range of his arms - and more importantly, his claws. Your eyes flicked nervously to his hands, half-expecting to see the glint of adamantium at any moment. Swallowing hard, you steeled yourself and reached out, your hand hovering uncertain over his forehead.

For a heartbeat, you hesitated. The man before you was a far cry from the intimidating, gruff Logan you knew. In sleep, trapped in the throes of a nightmare, he looked almost... vulnerable. It was a side of him you'd never seen, never even imagined existed.

Taking a deep breath, you gently placed your fingertips on his temple. The skin there was hot to the touch, almost feverish. You could feel the rapid pulse of his temporal artery beneath your fingers, a testament to the intensity of whatever visions were plaguing him.

"Logan," you whispered, your voice barely audible even in the quiet of the library. "It's okay. You're safe." He let out a soft moan. Your fingers comb through his unruly hair, something you had never dared to do before. His usual gruffness is stripped away, and what remains is raw, untethered vulnerability—both his and yours.

His breath is uneven as he shifts under your touch, but your movements remain steady, soothing him. The weight of unspoken feelings that have built up over the years presses down on you. The sight of Logan up close so troubled and lost pulls at your heartstrings in a way you can’t ignore anymore.

"Logan," you whisper again, this time more firmly, urging him back to reality. His eyes flutter open, hazy and disoriented. For a moment, they lock onto yours. There's no Jean, no Scott, no X-Men—just the two of you in this quiet, dimly lit room, the air thick with unspoken tension.

His hand moves up to catch yours as it rests on his hair, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the strength behind it. "Why... why are you here?" he mumbles, voice still hoarse and thick with sleep, but there’s something else beneath the surface.

"I'm here because you needed me," you reply softly, the words feeling far too loaded but still true. The tension in his grip tightens, and for a split second, you wonder if you're imagining the way his eyes darken, the hint of desperation and something else swirling within them.

"Don't you have someone else to take care of? I'm not worth the trouble..." His words are a mixture of bitterness and regret, and it cuts deep. You shake your head slowly, heart pounding in your chest.

"You are worth it, Logan," you whisper, barely able to believe the words have left your mouth. Maybe it’s the weight of the years you’ve spent suppressing your feelings, or the heavy air filled with alcohol and desperation, but something shifts between you two in that moment.

Without thinking, Logan sits up, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you closer to sit beside him, bodies pressed together. The sudden movement leaves you breathless, your body leaning against his, faces only inches apart. His breath is warm and carries the sharp, smoky scent of whiskey, but beneath it lingers something else—something raw, unspoken, and heavy between you. The proximity feels electric, the tension between you simmering just beneath the surface.

For a split second, neither of you moves. You can feel the thrum of Logan’s pulse where his chest presses against yours, and his eyes, dark and stormy, search your face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe an answer to a question neither of you has dared to ask aloud. The weight of unrequited love hangs between you, an invisible thread that pulls you closer even as you hesitate. You've both been running from this, denying it, but now it feels inevitable.

Logan's hand lingers on your arm, his rough fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. His jaw clenches, and you can see the battle raging inside him, the unspoken words on his lips threatening to spill out. "I—" he starts, his voice rough and hesitant, like he's about to confess something too heavy to bear, but you don’t let him finish. You can't, not when you're both teetering on this razor's edge.

You lean in and kiss him, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative press. For a heartbeat, Logan freezes, his body going rigid with surprise, but then something in him snaps. His right hand snakes down your left side pulling you even closer, as his other hand cups the back of your neck, and he pulls you deeper into the kiss, his lips urgent, almost desperate. It's not gentle—it’s raw, filled with the intensity of everything he's never said. The kiss is a release of all the years spent pining for someone else, all the nights spent wishing for what he could never have.

You know this isn’t love, not the kind either of you have been hoping for. It’s about filling the hollow space left by the people who’ll never look at you the way you want them to. You’re both seeking something that’s just out of reach, using each other to drown out the ache of unrequited love that’s settled deep in your bones. Jean's name might as well be carved into the air between you, but tonight, that pain is dulled, replaced by the heat and urgency of the moment.

His grip on you tightens as the kiss deepens, a silent understanding passing between you. This isn’t about forever. It’s about right now—two people grasping for something real, even if it’s fleeting, even if it doesn’t fill the spaces you need it to. You know that come morning, things will be different, but for now, you both allow yourselves this escape.

Logan’s tongue licks tentatively at your lips, you give him the permission he’s silently seeking as your lips part. You feel lightheaded as his tongue slides into your mouth, and your groin feels hot as Logan lets out the filthiest groan into your mouth.

You let out a soft whine as you grab at his shirt, his muscles hot and firm under the fabric. As Logan continues to indulge in the taste of you, fingers trail down the front of his shirt all the way to and under the hem. Your fingers lightly drag across the thin sliver of skin and you feel Logan’s hip twitch, and he pulls away sighing lightly into your mouth.

He adorned the sexiest look on his smug face. Granted he still looked inebriated but this time instead of being drunk on whiskey.. he was drunk on you. Mother of all that is good and well, you know you should say something, be reasonable, smart, but dammit if there’s one thing you will stick by it’s that you will always help a friend in need…

You bring him close, hands clasping behind his neck and pulling him in as you swing your leg over his lap straddling him. His hands immediately meet the small of your back, and he leans in to kiss you again pulling you flush to his chest.

Now its your turn to take control in the kiss, Logan pliant as you lap at his mouth. He lets you think your in charge until he takes you by surprise and uses one hand to grab the hair at the back of your head. You lose your rhythm for a second and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue along yours, saliva pooling in your mouths and melting in the middle. He begins to suck on the slick pink muscle and you give in.

Whatever ounce of worry, hesitation, anxiety, any reservation whatsoever you could have had left your body and you gave in to desire. That bitch, that deliciously sinful demon had got her way as the muscles in your legs gave in and you relax onto Logans lap. He continues to slurp at your mouth, and you mewl. Never in your life had anyone done this to you before. Not only was it filthy, it was incredibly hot.

The heat in your groin burned your insides leaving you with an ache you needed to relieve. Your hips buck reflexively as you feel a wetness pool on the fabric of your underwear. You let a moan slip out of your mouth, and Logan let out a deep and throaty chuckle. His fingers go back beneath the waistline of your pants, fingers gripping the flesh of your hips and grinding you down against his pelvis.

You threw your head into the crook of Logan’s neck as he began to buck his hips into yours at a steady rhythm. His fingers digging harder into your skin, as he applied more pressure. You could feel the thin fabrics of your underwear and sleep shorts soak the more you rubbed against Logan. You began to gyrate your hips in tighter circles.

“Ah, fuck.” You breathed out as you pressed your forehead to the brute of a man beneath you. “Logan, Logan, come on, stop teasing.” You panted between breaths. Logan shifted a bit beneath you causing your neglected clit to get caught during your motions. Your head lolled to the side and then back as a whimper turned into a full cry of frustration. God, you wanted this pain, this ache you were feeling to go away and you’d do anything to make it stop.

Logan’s grip tightened on your hips, as he stilled your body for a second.

“What the fuck,” You hissed, trying to slide your wet heat on Logans definite show-er and grower but the man loved to tease. Logan continued to hold your hips and you began to grow frustrated. The feeling of his smirk against your neck causing tears to come to your eyes.

“Logan, please.” You whimpered, your voice shaking. You feel him freeze and you mentally shoot yourself in the foot— You didn’t want this to be a thing with emotions, it was bad enough that the first time you’re having sex with the man you’ve loved for five years is as a one night fling. You didn’t want to have to think about the emotional repercussions before having what you’re pretty sure is going to be the best orgasm of your life.

In a moment of panic, and wanting to shift the focus you lean forward, and your hands find the button of Logan’s pants. You unbuckle the belt, and he peppers kisses along your shoulders, your fingers fumble with the button, and he noses your jaw, you slide down the zipper and he pecks your neck. All of a sudden the intimacy becomes too much so you trail your hands at the band of his underwear and you begin to pull the fabric down. Coarse hair grazes your fingers, and before you can stop yourself your hand runs up his stomach, and down back to his groin— his breath shudders against the nape of your neck as he begins to nip at your skin.

Before you can fully expose the man he grabs your hand and puts it on his shoulder as if saying to let him do the work. You obey and lift your hips to give him space. Next thing you know your being guided back close to him, hovering over his groin.

While you hadn’t seen his dick fully yet, you knew the mutant was big. You could tell regardless of the scenario. The way he walks, the way he sits— legs spread so wide it’s like he’s constantly inviting you to kneel between them. Missing the opportunity this time didn’t make you think any different though, this man was massive. The heat within your body was already painful enough, but now the heat you feel outside your cunt was unbearable.

Your right hand slid between your bodies as you reached for Logan's thick dick. He let out a low growl as your fingers wrapped around his shaft. Logan's fingers reached for the fabric between your thighs, moving the soaked cloth to the side urging you to put his cock inside.

You guide the tip to your entrance and you can feel your cunt clench around nothing in anticipation. You feel heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, but the aggression in Logan’s breathing gives you relief that you’re not the only one desperate. But for who it was is a different story.

Logan got impatient and lifted his hips to push the tip past, and your mouth fell open as a silent moan possessed your body. God, you were right. He was so thick, the stretch was borderline unbearable but before you could fully adjust Logan began to thrust up even further. His dick going so deep, the tip hit the spongy part.

He let out a strangled grunt as he held your hips down, and you squirmed.

“You needa stop that.” He barked, as he rolled his head back against the couch rest, trying to control himself as he felt your hole clench around him.

“I’m sorry,” You sob, trying to adjust but the pain and pleasure were too overwhelming you could feel yourself losing focus.

“I just–” He shushes you by cradling you against his shoulder, arms enveloping you in a tight hug, and just when you think you’ve calmed down he devours you like you’re his last meal. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you from his lap before he brings you down and he thrusts up.

A sob escapes your lips as his hips fire off like a pistol, thrusting in and out, brutal but so worth it as your desires are finally being satiated. He’s holding onto you like if he let go you’d float away. A string of curses fill the air as he continues to pump into you.

“Fuck, fuck, Logan.” You mumble, words slowly leaving your mouth.

“Awe,” Logan tuts as his hips fall into a normal pace, his hand coming to caress the back of your hair. “Don’t tell me this pussy is lightweight, we’ve only just started and you’re already acting like this?” You don’t respond, and instead let out soft moans as he continues to fuck into your abused cunt. Logan uses the opportunity to pull you back by your hair (again) to examine your face. It’s flushed red, glowing with perspiration, your chest panting as you try to catch your breath.

“No baby that won’t do.” He caresses the hair out of your face and nuzzles his face against yours. His facial hair prickling your skin. He places a kiss on your forehead before he pounds into you faster, deeper than before. You can barely keep your eyes open and all the sounds that leave your lips are just pathetic little whimpers and sobs.

"M'close." He grunts and you can't help but agree. "You gonna come, sweetheart?" You can't find the words and nod, pliant like a ragdoll in his arms. He groans.

"C'mon. You can do better than that, can't ya? Tell me."

"Fuck yes," you pant, your voice barely audible between gasps. You writhe beneath him, desperate for something to anchor yourself to, but with his hands pinning your wrists, the only thing you manage to grab is the rough hair on his lower abdomen, the friction of it grounding you as much as the heat and slap of his body. "Please… don’t stop."

His grip tightens on your wrists, the pressure pushing you to the edge as he moves faster, his breath hot against your skin. Each thrust sends a jolt through your body, every nerve alight with anticipation and need.

"That's it," he growls, voice thick with control as he watches you fall apart beneath him. "Let go."

You can feel it building, the tension coiling in your core, and with one final snap of his hips, you shatter—your body arching, toes curling, a strangled cry escaping your lips. The world blurs, everything outside this moment fading as you hit your peak, wave after wave crashing over you.

But even through the haze, you feel him reaching his own release. His pace becomes erratic, his muscles tensing, and as he finally falls over the edge, his body tight against yours, he groans—a low, guttural sound—before the name slips out.

"Jean—"

The word cuts through the air like a knife, your euphoria draining in an instant, replaced by a sharp, hollow ache in your chest.

Your heart plummets, and the warmth of his body that moments ago felt so consuming now feels like ice against your skin. The name he whispered isn’t yours. It echoes in your head, louder than the pounding of your pulse, louder than the ragged breaths you're both still catching. You feel like you’ve been struck, yet somehow, you’re not surprised. You always knew this wasn’t really about you. But it doesn’t stop the ache spreading through your chest.

You close your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat as the reality of it all comes crashing down. This was always going to hurt.

For a few seconds, neither of you moves. The weight of the moment lingers, heavy and unbearable. His body relaxes, but the guilt etched into his expression is unmistakable, and you can feel the shift in the air. The intimacy that just moments ago had been raw and consuming has evaporated, leaving behind only an awkward silence and a sense of regret so thick it’s suffocating.

You disentangle yourself from him slowly, the warmth of his skin now foreign, a reminder of what you never really had. You sit up, your body still trembling, trying to piece together your scattered thoughts. The room feels stifling now, every breath you take thick with the weight of everything left unsaid.

Logan’s eyes open, still clouded with the haze of pleasure, but they widen when he realizes what he’s done—what he’s said. Panic flashes across his face, but it’s too late. You’ve heard it, and you can’t unhear it.

“Shit…” he mutters under his breath, his hand reaching out as if to apologize, but you’re already pulling away, slipping out of his grasp like sand between his fingers.

“It’s fine,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, though the crack in it betrays you. You force yourself to keep moving, pulling your clothes back into place, each motion slow and deliberate, as if trying to hold yourself together with every button and clasp.

He doesn’t say anything, and for once, you’re grateful. You don’t want to hear an apology, you don’t want to hear him stumble over words of regret. You don’t want to hear him say her name again.

You stand up, back turned to him, your chest heaving not from passion, but from the pain you can’t quite swallow down. Your hands are shaking as you adjust your clothes, but you refuse to let him see it. You knew this was a mistake. You knew this wasn’t love.

“This was never meant to fix anything,” you finally say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I was just… trying to help.” The words taste bitter, but they’re true. You’d gotten caught up, you’d let yourself believe—if only for a moment—that maybe it could be more. But it never was.

Logan sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking at you with something that could almost be remorse. But it doesn’t matter anymore. He made his choice long before tonight.

With one last glance over your shoulder, you meet his gaze. His eyes are still shadowed by the weight of his unrequited love, and you can see it all too clearly now. You were never the one he needed. You never stood a chance.

“I’ll be fine,” you lie, turning back to the door, your footsteps heavy as you leave the room, abandoning the project you had started earlier that night, each step pulling you farther away from the moment that should’ve never happened.

But even as you walk away, you can’t shake the feeling that for a second, despite knowing better, you let yourself believe it was real.

———

a/n: i thrive off of feedback and criticism.

[blaintism]

every blaine anderson performance ➜ MISERY

[harryspet]

well kept [2] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, NONCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 4.5k

In which you officially enter into a world of high stakes and intense demands.

well kept masterlist

Your fingers traced the smooth edge of the new work bag that sat on your desk, a pristine luxury item whose brand you didn’t immediately recognize. It was medium-sized, big enough to fit your brand-new laptop, and an off-white color with pebble-textured leather. 

“Wow, you clean up nice,” came a voice from behind you. You turned to find Eleanor approaching, coffee in hand.

Instinctively, you pulled down your skirt as she looked you over. You were effortlessly polished, for sure. You usually only get your hair professionally done for special occasions, opting for simple protective styles you could do yourself. However, you had to admit you felt pretty with your hair in a neat, braided rose that reached down to your lower back. 

The clothes only amplified this unfamiliar sensation. After trying on eight outfits the previous night, you had settled on a cherry-red cropped blazer and a matching pleated skirt. You’d chosen the shortest heels Rafe had sent—a pair of white kitten heels adorned with gold bows. Your makeup, subtly applied, complemented the overall look.

Eleanor set her things down, straightened, and placed a hand on her slender hips. “Take your bag,” she said. “I’ll show you where Rafe expects you to work.”

“I thought that was my desk.”

“He’ll tell you where you need to be and when you need to be there.”

Her answer was simple enough. 

You entered the luxurious space that Rafe called an office once again. Even when he wasn’t in the room, you were intimidated by it, “He had this brought in for you,” Facing the wall on the side of the room that held Rafe’s desk, in the corner, was a simple mahogany desk. The miniature version of Rafe’s desk. A cushioned stool was placed underneath and on top were a notebook, a cup of pens, and a small lamp, “This is where he’ll expect you most mornings. You’re to review his calendar before he arrives, memorize it, and you’ll brief him on the day when he walks in.”

“I’m ssss-supposed to be in here with him …all day? What if I, you know, need you?”

“I’m right down the hallway, or you can email me.”

Eleanor spent the next thirty minutes showing you their emailing system and how to access Rafe’s calendar. She even shared a large cheat sheet she’d made with all of Rafe’s preferred restaurants, coffee shops, hotels, and the names and numbers of his home staff.

When she left you alone, you looked around the room. The view of the office from your corner was daunting. However, your heart had been beating too fast ever since you met Rafe. 

You turned your attention back to the calendar system. It was sleek and well-organized, and luckily, it was straightforward enough to navigate. You took note of his key meetings for the day and repeated them over in your head. You wrote down some notes in case your mind drew a blank. It was your first day, and he’d give you some grace, right? 

You needed to be able to anticipate these needs, but all you knew about Rafe Cameron was that he was complex and demanding. 

The sound of footsteps in the corridor drew your attention, and hurriedly, you glanced down at your note sheet again. Standing from your seat, you smoothed out your skirt, and with your notes in hand, you folded your palms in front of you. 

Unconsciously, as he pushed open the doors, you sucked air into your lungs. You held your breath until his eyes met with yours. In comparison to when you first met him, he was dressed down. He wore a short-sleeve black polo black dress pants, black leather penny loafers on his feet and a briefcase in hand. His face was stoic as he looked you over and let the doors close behind him. As big as they were, they were practically silent went they closed, adding to the ominous feeling in the room. 

You smiled, or tried to, “Good morning, Mr. Cameron, I’m–”

“I want you right here,” He interrupted, pointing down at the floor a foot before him. You stepped forward, hoping you wouldn’t trip like you had while practicing walking in them. Despite how he towered over you when you were this close, you made yourself comfortable there, “You’ll be right there every day when I walk in. Try again.”

“Good morning, Mr. Cameron-”

“I prefer Sir.”

Try again. Unfortunately, you were pretty used to being interrupted and forced to stop and start your sentences. “Good morning, Sir.” You were smiling as much as you could, but your throat hurt like your body wanted to cry. “Today, you’ll sss-start with three sss-separate online conferences with potential investors: Mr. Daniel, Mrs. Hunt, and Mr. Rivera. After lunch, you’ll have your weekly group meetings with department heads. You’ll start with Finance at one o’clock, Legal at two, and Design and Architecture at three. Your meeting with Property Management at four o’clock was canceled but rescheduled for Wednesday. For the rest of the day, you will be free to catch up with emails and ssss-submit the …. sss-ssss-strategic plan report you’ve been working on.”

He nodded once throughout your briefing, his face remaining impassive. You thought he might cringe at your mistakes, but he didn’t. You couldn’t help but feel like a strange choice for this job. Why would someone like him want to listen to you? 

“Good,” he confirmed, and you were relieved only for a moment. You were okay until he started to look you over, “Turn around.”

You weren’t sure why you looked in his eyes to see if he was being serious. Of course, he was being serious. Awkwardly, you face away from him until he adds, “In a circle, please.”

You felt your cheeks heat up from embarrassment before you faced him again. 

“I have a question,” You said.

“Yeah?”

“About the clothes. I …I didn’t know if it w-would be okay to return ssss-ssss-some of them. I just, there’s sss-so many.”

“And?” Rafe pressed, his brow furrowed. 

“I-I don’t have that much room for them.”

“Hmm,” He thought briefly, “How’s this? You take a picture of yourself in each outfit and then email them to me, and I’ll decide which ones I want you to wear. But everything red can stay. I like the red.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he brushed past you and returned to his desk. Unsure whether you were supposed to move or stay put, you waited in place. 

“I’ll take a coffee. Black. Thanks.”

Eager to escape the room and not feel the weight of his gaze, you hurried out of the doors. Panicked, you approached Eleanor’s desk, waving your hands to get her attention. She was on the phone, but you mouthed “Coffee.” Acting as your life vest, she pointed you toward one of the many doors that lined the wall across from the reception area. 

Inside, you expected to find a normal breakroom, but the room’s decoration reminded you more of a lounge. Black coffee should be easy enough, but your hands shook slightly as you worked the modern, sleek coffee maker. After you prepared the coffee, you took a breath, and made your way back to his office. You kept yourself as composed as possible, and he glanced up at you briefly as you entered. You set it carefully on the coaster near his computer. 

He didn’t directly look at you or the coffee; you took that as your sign to retreat to your desk. 

You sat quietly as he attended all three of his virtual meetings. Inevitably, you started to listen. Sometimes, you’d tune in, wanting to learn something, but you gave up a few times after realizing how complex things were. 

When he finished all his meetings, he spoke up, “What are the arrangements for lunch?” 

“Lunch …” You echoed, thinking about the calendar you recognize, “Is there sss-something sss-specific you’re in the mood for, sir?”

“On Mondays, I have lunch with my COO and CFO. We have standing reservations at several restaurants. You’ll need to pick one, call, and make sure everyone knows the plans.” 

“Okay,” You nodded, “Yes, sir.”

Was that on the cheat sheet? Had you missed that? After scrolling a few times, you will find the list of restaurants and senior team members. 

You called The Prime, an upscale steakhouse, for Rafe and his senior team, ensuring every detail was perfectly arranged. When it was time to leave, you stood to bid Rafe goodbye, only to be told you were expected to join him. Quickly gathering your things, you followed him down the elevator to the parking garage. Eleanor gave you an encouraging thumbs up and smile as you passed her.

You must’ve looked frightened. 

Rafe’s choice of vehicle, a massive black truck with gleaming rims and immaculate leather seat, wasn’t a surprise, but his courteous gesture was. He opened the door for you and gently placed a hand on your hip to steady you as you navigated the high step into the truck.

“Th-Thank you,” You spoke, your voice small before he closed the door. 

As you sat during the ride, you felt your thighs were too exposed. You crossed your legs, trying to alleviate that feeling, but it proved useless, “You’ll get used to it,” Rafe’s voice snapped you out of being consumed by your thoughts. You hadn’t realized he was even paying attention to you. 

Hesitantly, your eyes roamed over him. His shirt's short sleeves did little to conceal the strength in his arms and the defined lines of his chest. 

“You have a boyfriend?” He asked, his tone relaxed. He wasn’t allowed to ask that, but you recalled the words he had used with you the week prior. Would you fuck him? He’d already crossed a line. You needed to get used to his brashness, “A girlfriend?” He continued. 

“I-I-I,” Breathe in, slowly release, “I don’t.”

“Have you ever had one?”

The underlying implication of his words made you defensive, and you crossed your arms, “Have you, Sir?”

He let our a short laugh, “You just seem a little uptight,” Your lips parted and eyes widened.

“What-”

“I haven’t dated anyone seriously in a while. But you don’t need to date someone seriously to get what you need from them. I guess I’m just wondering if you have someone who . . . relieves your stress.”

“I really, really don’t want to answer that,” You spoke slowly. 

“Relax, we’re just talking. Is this going to be a problem? I’m just trying to get to know my newest employee.”

It felt like a mind game. He wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met before—every word, every glance from him seemed designed to put you on edge, to make you second-guess yourself. 

“No, sir,” You replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Are you a virgin, Y/N?” He asked suddenly as if he’d had some brilliant revelation.

“N-No,” You stuttered, lying through your teeth, “I’m not.”

He made a “hmm” sound as he glanced at you, “Of course you’re not. Forgive me; I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

You understood quickly he wasn’t actually looking for your forgiveness. He was testing you, pushing boundaries just to see how you’d react. 

When you arrived, Rafe pulled up to the valet stand, and a nicely dressed attendant quickly came over to open your door. You managed to step out with as much grace as you could muster, feeling the weight of Rafe’s eyes on you as you did. He was out of the truck in a heartbeat, striding around to join you, his hand again guiding you with that firm touch on your lower back. It was possessive, a silent declaration that you belonged to him, at least for the duration of this lunch.

The restaurant's setting was sophisticated and private, and you reached the table reserved for your group. The two of you were last to arrive, which meant all eyes fell on you as Rafe pulled out a chair for you right next to his seat. Two men were at the table, and you were taken aback by the fact that they were as young as Rafe. 

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Rafe gestured to you, making himself comfortable, “Y/N, meet Topper Thornton and Kelce Adams.”

You managed to speak to them, though your words stumbled slightly. They eyed you the same way Rafe often did, like prey. You could almost imagine your name listed on the menu in front of them. But Rafe, with a swift shift in conversation, cut off their questions, his tone a clear warning. When you took a bit too long to decide on your meal, Rafe didn’t hesitate. He ordered for you the moment the waiter arrived, a subtle reminder of the control he held over every aspect of your life, even what you ate.

You couldn’t help but notice that Topper shared Eleanor’s last name. Were they married? Siblings? The thought lingered as you made a mental note to ask her later. Without another word, you pulled out your notebook, ready to take notes for the meeting.

Something in his last meeting had angered him. When he returned to his office, you watched him cross the room; your mouth wanted to form the words to ask, “What’s wrong?” but your lips pressed into a thin line instead. 

As he settled in his desk, you pretended to be engrossed in your notes, hoping to avoid his attention. Ignoring the cold air in the room and the dark cloud hovering above him grew impossible. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and tapped at the surface of his desk. Was it anxiety he was feeling? 

“Come here, Y/N?”

Startled, you dropped your pen on the floor, the sound making him fully turn his head towards you. Awkwardly, you picked it up and set it down on your desk. You fixed your skirt as you crossed the distance between his desk and yours to keep it from riding up. 

“Yes, sss-sir?” 

His eyes were dark as he spun his chair to face you, “Tell me,” He began, “What do you think you did wrong today?”

Your mind raced. Did you do something wrong that you hadn’t realized? There were plenty of mistakes, but it was only your first day and you’d been completely thrown out of your comfort zone. 

“I’m not ssss-sssure, sss-sir,” Your voice was barely above a whisper, a grimace on your face as you tried to force out the words. 

“Not sure?” He echoed. 

“I should’ve know t-t-to …” You pushed through that “stuck” feeling, “Make your lunch reservations.”

“That’s one.”

“Uhm,” Your voice trailed off as your bottom lip shook. You felt like a child being scolded. Why did you keep freezing? Why did you let him speak to you that way? “I-I-I-I-I…”

“Does it hurt, you know, when it gets that bad?” Rafe leaned back in his chair, his arms folded against his chest, now looking at you with curiosity and frustration.

You shook your head because it was all you could manage.

“You can’t think of anything else, huh?”

“I’m sss-sss-sorry,” As a tear fell from your eye, he stood from his chair. 

He shushed you, grabbing ahold of the top of your arms, “You know I could have chose anyone for this job?”

You nodded. 

“But I chose you,” You nodded again, “I do love to see you apologize, sweetheart, but you have to know what you’re apologizing for.”

“I’m sss-sssory,” You couldn’t help the apology that tumbled out again, “Fff-for not knowing.”

“There you go, yeah, that’s better,” He pulled you closer, and you felt his hand brush the strands of your hair over your shoulder, keeping it from your face, “I told you this would be a mutually beneficial relationship. You need money, someone to care take care of you… I need ... I need you. When you’re with me, you’re mine to do with as I please. Do you understand?”

You nodded, feeling like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. He dominated the space, his presence suffocating, and the fear of displeasing him made your breath catch in your throat. The boundaries between you blurred even further, leaving you more trapped than ever.

“Good girl,” one of his hands wrapped around the side of your neck. His gaze pierced into yours, his mind racing behind them, and he sighed as he mentally concluded, “I can’t punish you just yet.”

“Punish?” You asked in a whisper, his face moving in closer. 

“You gotta learn somehow, right?”

Your eyes darted from his eyes to his lips, panicked. Nothing could have prepared you for him smashing his lips against yours. One hand was on your neck, and the other wrapped behind you, pulling you into him. Even as his kiss overwhelmed you, your mind couldn’t let go of the word he had just used—punish.

“I have to fuck you. I have to,” He growled between kisses. 

Your hands pushed at his chest, but it was like trying to move a brick wall, “Please, Rafe,” You tried to say. Part of you thought using his real name would snap him from his trance, but he groaned into your mouth. 

You’d never been kissed like this; no one had ever explored you with their tongue, and part of your mind seemed to rejoice. The other part, the rational one, told you to escape. You started to use your strength to pull from him as you stepped backward, but that only made him grip you harder. 

You yelped, and when Rafe opened his eyes again, he smiled. Whatever weighed heavy on his mind before had clearly been relieved by the game he was trying to play. You stumbled back when he let you go, almost falling on your behind, “Go on,” He said with a smirk, “Just makes it more fun for me.”

Of all the games, you liked this one the least. You turned to flee, but before you could reach the door, he lifted you off the ground. You screamed, and the next thing you knew, you were being thrown onto the couch. Rafe pinned you down easily, his weight crushing you as he reached for your legs. You shut your thighs tightly, and his glare felt like a knife in your side.

“Do not!” He exploded, and you whimpered, “Hey, hey, sweetheart, I don’t want you to ever close your legs to me.” 

“Rafe, please … please d-don’t,” Someone would hear. Eleanor would hear, wouldn’t she? She’d stop him before he went too far. 

“God, I’d beat your fucking ass if I didn’t need to be inside of you right now,” He growled, prying your legs apart and tearing away your underwear as soon as he could feel it. He wrapped one hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to keep you pinned down, while the other undid his belt. “You don’t make demands anymore, do you understand?”

“I’ve-I’ve nnn-never…”

Understanding flashed in his eyes. 

“You're a fucking virgin?” You nodded, feeling a small piece of hope, “We can add lying to that list of things you’ve done wrong, huh?”

He seemed to pause which you felt grateful for. His belt was already undone, his hips sinking into yours, “No one’s ever tasted you?” You shook your head, “You’ve never had a cock in your mouth either?”

You looked away, embarrassed. 

“Fuck,” He breathed out, “You’re gonna be all mine.” 

“Please-” You tried again, but he silenced you, pressing his lips to yours again. 

This time, he was more deliberate with his movements. His hands traveled higher, and he reached into your shirt to gently knead at your breasts. He moved slower like he was savoring the moment. At the same time, you felt even more tortured. Your body betrayed you, responding to his caresses as if they were safe, as if he were someone you trusted. He was making all the right moves and your mind felt even more confused then your body. 

Fingers pinched gently at your nipples and your lips parted into a moan. He used it as an opportunity to explore your mouth further. Next, he moved down your jaw and then he nuzzled his face into your neck. There was a place on your collarbone he’d found, one that made you yelp in pleasure, a spot you didn’t know existed. That’s what he wanted. To conquer you. 

You felt warm between your legs and a slickness as you tried to move your legs. Rafe was still taking his time. He’d lifted your shirt, pulled down your bra, and placed your left breast into his mouth. You cried out, your back arching in an automatic response. If he kept going, you knew you could finish just from this alone, and the thought filled you with a mix of shame and despair.

Slowly, methodically, he dismantled your guard. 

When he sensed you were ready, that he’d successfully turned your body on, he pulled down his briefs. You couldn’t bring yourself to look down. It was gonna hurt, either way, why dwell on the size? “Tell me,” He kissed your jaw, leaning down to your ear, “Ask me to take your virginity.”

You tensed, “I-I d-don’t.”

“I can make it hurt, Y/N,” He warned, “I promise, you want me to be gentle”

He pressed his tip against your entrance, and you were already cringing, “Fucking ask me, or I’ll push it all inside.”

“Will you …t-take my virginity?”

“Please,” he corrected, a dark satisfaction in his tone.“Where’s your manners?”

“Please, take mmm-my vvvv-vvvv-virginity,” He slowly started to enter you, and you pressed your hands against his chest. 

You started to breathe heavily, “T-T-Too mmm-mmm-much.”

He pushed in more, “That’s just half, sweetheart. Take a deeper breath for me."

You listened even though he was hurting you. Even now, you believed him to be better than you. Looking up at him, you slowly breathed in and out. As you controlled your breathing, he started to move in and out of you. He cursed and grunted into your ear, soon falling into a rhythm. 

Pain began to blur with something else, something you didn’t want to acknowledge. 

It was a foreign feeling, being full of him, reaching to parts of you that had never been discovered. The only thing that felt wrong to you was how it was happening. Is this how it always felt? So completely all consuming? You were warm everywhere, a pressure building at your core, and you struggled to make a sound other than a moan. 

With each thrust you let out a yip, not realizing that you’d stopped pushing at his chest and started pawing at it. That only encouraged him further. He reached underneath you, lifting your left leg to your chest, as he grabbed a handful of your ass. He pried you open further in this position and he looked down at you …almost grateful. He was savoring you and every moment that he was touching you, infiltrating your body. You’d never had someone want you like this. 

Before you were even really aware of it, the pressure inside of you had built to a crescendo, and you’d cried out against Rafe’s lips. 

He smiled against yours, “Good girl, sweetheart,” Tears escaped your eyes again, this time because of how confused your hormones were. It felt like an uncontrolled explosion of emotion. 

Now, the sensation actually felt like something you couldn’t physically handle, “Oh my god, o-oh my god, ” You spoke over and over as you went back to pushing at his chest. 

“Stay,” he commanded, his body pressing you down further as he slowed his movements, his rhythm faltering. “I’m almost done,” he added, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You’re squeezing so tight.”

“Please,” you begged, your legs starting to shake. “Please, Rafe.”

Your words seemed to bring his climax. Your second orgasm came painfully, and you scrambled to free yourself from under his weight after he finished sinking into you. Your legs didn’t stop shaking, but at least you could catch your breath. 

Your bare bottom hit the plush carpet of his seating area, listening as Rafe’s heavy breathing slowed. You fixed your bra and top before you started to search for your underwear. To your dismay, they were completely torn. 

“I’ll get you some new ones, some nicer ones, yeah?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure why. Feeling his gaze, you pushed your skirt down next. Looking down, you realize his remnants were sliding down your thighs. You just shut your legs tighter. A hand on your back made you glance up at him. His eyes were still dark, but there was more satisfaction than before. 

“We’re done for today, but before you leave, uh, Eleanor needs to see you.” 

He stood, and you looked away as he started to zip up his pants and fasten his belt again. 

“Th-That’s it?”

“Until tomorrow,” He said, his tone returned to business, as if the last few minutes were merely part of the workday.

You thought he was returning to his desk, but Rafe walked to your desk and collected your purse and computer. As you stood, your body ached, and you realized how disheveled you must look. Was your makeup smudged across your face? Did he bruise the back of your thighs? 

Rafe brought you your things, his hands finding your lower back, “Go home. Get some rest. And don’t forget about those pictures, yeah?”

You nodded although your mind was elsewhere. The next thing you knew, you were standing on the other side of the door, clutching your bag tightly to your chest. Your mind started to wonder what exactly had caused all this. Was he mad at you, or was that I an excuse to …ruin you. 

When you made it to Eleanor’s desk she asked you, “How was your first day?”

You nodded, trying to shake your expression into a smile, “I-It was … o-okay.”

There was no way she could have missed it in your eyes or in your appearance, but she continued, “I just need you to sign that NDA before you go. It’s completely standard procedure. It just assures that everything you see and hear is confidential. Protects the business.”

You took the papers from her and you tried to keep from shaking, “I can explain anything you need-”

“That’s okay,” You shook your head, knowing you just wanted to go home and hug your stuffed frog, “Thank you.”

You flipped through it quickly and signed your name where she indicated, “There’s one more thing. Are you on birth control?”

You stared, knowing the implication of the words. Why didn’t she warn you before you agreed to this?

You shook your head.

“You’ll need a Plan B. Should I pick it up for you, or would you prefer to do it yourself?”

Of course, you’d had friends who’d bought it before but the idea of going by yourself right now made you want to be sick. And you couldn’t tell your friends … at least not yet, “Could you … g-get it?”

“Of course, I’ll have it tomorrow,” She nodded and offered you a polite smile, “Do you need any help getting to the parking deck?”

You shook your head quickly, “I www-walked, thank you.”

As you made your way to the elevator, you wondered how your day spiraled so entirely out of your control.

Please reblog WITH your thoughts on the chapter to be added to the taglist for the story :) Also pls feel free to send me anons about your predictions/what you'd like to see in the story!

[avocad1s]

In The Eye Of A Hurricane

Requested By: No one. Original Work.

Includes: Dottore, Scaramouche, Arlecchino, Capitano (separately)

CW: Mentions of Characters wanting to hurt or kill you, manipulating, experimenting, the harbingers are a warning themselves, the typical golden blood for the Creator lol

Summary: You’re dropped in Teyvat and hunted down due to your likeness to the Creator. You decide run from your hunters until you run into a Fatui Harbinger camp.

Note: Trying to get back into the gist of writing and i love the harbingers so enjoy this for now :)

INAZUMA + SCARAMOUCHE

- Inazuma was a dangerous place to be hunted. Once the Shogun laid eyes on you the real archon, Ei, left the plane of euthymia and tried to attack you. However the lighting fast swing of her sword seemed to only graze your shoulder, her foot fell into a conveniently placed hole that threw her off balance.

- You took the chance to run away, not without Kujou Sara quickly chasing after yelling at her soldiers to ‘seize the imposter’

- You managed to escape, somehow. You didn’t want to question the absurd amount of luck. Once you were finally able to settle against the bottom of a large cliff, the wound on your shoulder began to sting.

- You let out a wince, pulling back the cloth to assess the damage.

- … How curious… your shoulder seemed to be leaking …gold? You shake your head quickly, you couldn’t focus on that right now. You were sure Ei would search behind every rock to find you.

- And you weren’t exactly sure what her intentions would be once she had you.

- However you had no time to relax before you were surrounded by multiple people, their faces obscured with masks. They all wore coats and gloves despite the weather

- “How dare you stumble upon our camp? There’s a lord harbinger here you know.”

- They seemed almost boastful by that statement until they noticed the blood spilling out of your shoulder.

- The color drained from their faces. “…I it can’t be… right? Surely this isn’t…”

- The group immediately fell to your feet spilling out apology after apology for speaking out of term. You could only look down at them with wide eyes, feeling a wave of awkwardness as they treat you like a deity.

- “You’re incessant blabbering is hurting my ears. Keep it down.”

- Another young man appears behind the kneeling group. Despite his stature, you could tell he was insanely powerful. His eyebrows were creased as he stares down at them, he then looks up to meet your gaze, then your wounds before his face softened.

- “Lord Harbinger! I-It’s…!”

- “Your Grace, it’s you.” Scaramouche finished. “You’re hurt. Who did this to you?”

- He begins to approach you, but when you take a step back he putting his hands up as a sign of peace.

- “It was Ei… she striked me and then the Tenryou Commission chased me all the way here.”

- The Balladeer lets out an amused laugh, “foolish Beelzebul… can’t even see the truth when it’s right in front of you…”

- You decide not to reply to his chiding remark, it didn’t seem like he was talking to you.

- Scaramouche turns his head to look back at his subordinates a cold glare in his eyes. “What do you think you’re doing? Can’t you see Their Grace is injured? Go get the medical supplies.” He barked.

- The group gets up and immediately scatters, running off to the tents a few meters away with the signature Fatui insignia embroidered in the side.

- The puppet looks back at you, “You can follow me Your Grace. You can stay in my tent for the time being and I can tell you just how unfaithful the Shogun has been.”

SUMERU + DOTTORE (experimenting & blood)

- For once in his decades of living, Dottore would admit he was a fool.

-The akademiya declared you as an imposter to Their Grace and he knew he had to get his hands on you. Someone stole the face of the Creator? How interesting… he wanted to peer beneath the surface himself to see how it was possible.

- He had noticed you the second you haphazardly stepped into his camp. Subduing you was the easy part, but once he had dragged you into his tent telling his subordinates not to bother him, he began to hesitate.

-He look down at you on his table, looking blissfully unaware he couldn’t even pick up the scalpel.

- What? No! He would killed Kusanali if he had to, what made you so different?

- He curses at himself before grabbing the scalpel pressing it into your forearm. Once blood pours out of the cut he immediately pulls back the sharp object.

- So you were the true creator. Dottore’s eyes were fixated on the small trail of gold blood spilling down your skin. He touches it with his gloved hand inspecting it closely.

- It was just as the scriptures said, blood as gold as the sun with a shimmery look to it.

- The Doctor begins to stitch you back up, picking you up bridal style placing you on a nearby soft surface.

- He sits down next to you, even while sleeping, you look absolutely ethereal. Like Her Majesty the Tsaritsa had said.

- With you in his grasp he could accomplish anything, using you as a bargaining chip to obtain the gnosis would be all too easy

- Perhaps if you believe he was your only faithful acolyte, you would bless him with the knowledge of the stars or even the deepest secrets of Celestia.

- All he had to do was be patient and he was a very patient man.

FONTAINE + ARLECCHINO

- The House Of the Hearth is usually shrouded by darkness. No one knows what happens inside and anyone who wants to escape don’t make it out alive (allegedly).

- Even though children weren’t used to having visitors, Father always tells them how to treat their guests.

- So when Father returned to the house holding you in her arms, your body soaked with your own golden blood. The children immediately sprang into action.

- Her face was unreadable as they quickly began to grab all the medical supplies they had bringing it to The Knave.

- With a steady hand, she fixes you up until you were stable.

- While she was in the room, her hand grasping yours. The children left to buy many gifts they believed you might like.

- The House was good at obtaining and withholding secrets, and Arlecchino will do everything in her power to make sure no one knew of your presence in the house, in Fontaine, or even in all of Teyvat.

- She wanted you all to herself, she wasn’t even afraid of admit it. She will be as sweet as honey, drawing you in closer and closer until you were stuck in her trap.

- Although she would never hurt you! Ever since she was a child and went by a different name she was sure having you would make everything better.

- Arlecchino’s fingers brush your face, her nails dragging down your cheekbone. Even being this close to you now, made her heart race.

- When the children come rushing back in, she immediately shushes them. She wouldn’t allow them to disturb your sleep, but you would soon wake up to healed wounds and as many sweet treats you could handle.

NATLAN + CAPITANO

- It is… unclear what Capitano’s intent is in Natlan. Did he just want to battle the Pyro Archon? Prove that even a human like himself could strike down a God? Or maybe he just wanted the Gnosis. Maybe even both.

- Natlan was considered the nation of war and once you were considered an imposter, your fate was undoubtedly sealed.

- It was like a nationwide bounty hunt, everyone was after your head and no matter where you hid, no where was safe for long.

- Until you ran into a broad chest knocking you down to the ground. You look up with wide eyes.

- You could tell this man was powerful. Way more powerful than anyone else you had ran into (and ran away from). His face was obscured but his long dark hair went down to his shoulders.

- At first he watches you closely, not saying a word then he kneels down to get a closer look at you.

- You squeeze your eyes shut. This was it, this is the end.

- “Your Grace…?”

- You open your eyes, “w—what…?”

- “Are you alright?”

- You were confused, why wasn’t he attacking you?

- He seemed to notice your confusion. “Youre bleeding your Grace. Did someone attack you?” he gestured to the cut on your cheek.

- You didn’t even notice the cut, your adrenaline had been at an all time high that you hadn’t felt any pain.

- You touch the cut, feeling the wetness on your fingers. You lift it up noticing that your finger was coated in gold.

- “I uh… i don’t know…” you say your eyes fixated on the anomaly. 

- He left out a huff, sounds slightly disappointed you didn’t know. “I can protect you.” he says. “I won’t allow anyone to harm you.”

- He holds out one of his large hands and hesitantly, you take it.

- Capitano was extremely gentle with you as he helps you up leading you to his camp. It was like having your own personal knight, you were sure that if anyone came looking to take your head, he would handle it.

- Capitano wouldn’t show it in front of you, but he was livid. Seeing you hurt, knowing that he couldn’t protect you while the two of you were in the same nation sickens him.

- He keeps his anger on the inside, not wanting to scare you as he brings you into his personal tent. For now, he’ll stay with you making sure you’re alright and that all your needs are tended to.

- His righteous nature couldn’t let this go unanswered, he would make sure the Pyro Archon pays for her sins.

Note: So I am officially back with writing! Trial by Combat will be out soon!

© avocad1s 2024

[initialchains]

would you? | luke castellan.

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: luke slowly starts to lose himself but that won’t stop you from reminding him of what truly matters.

wc: 2.6k

warnings: some manipulating and gaslighting if you squint and probably spoilers for the first book but they’re not explicitly mentioned.

a/n: HAPPY HOLIDAYS !! here’s luke as a gift <33 i’ve never written for luke before but he’s my favorite pjo character bc hes such an interesting and complex character aghh. sorry if this isnt as fluffy as you would all want, i promise i’m working on some real luke fluff.

The rays of the rising sun made the lake look far more beautiful than it always does. Sure, you were used to the warm tones that always engulfed Camp Half-Blood and it’s not like the weather ever really changed, at least not unless the gods willed it to, but the colors of the sun reflecting on the lake, the low hum of the wood nymphs singing, and the distant sounds of laughter coming from campers playing volleyball were strangely comforting. 

Well, as comforting as it can be when you’re trying to find some quiet in the neverending fight that was the demigod life. It gets tiring, it always does. The fighting, the studying, the adoration of gods who didn’t even bother to give their children a sign of them caring. It was all so exhausting. 

But there was peace in this small moment. You were sat in front of the lake, your legs crossed as you closed your eyes, trying to enjoy the tranquility of it all. The calm moment didn’t dare to stop your hand from finding a home in the clay beads of your camp necklace and twirling them around, a seemingly normal act to anyone who saw you, that actually was a sign of you being aware of your surroundings, a small sign of the fear you carried around, a fear that had you always prepared to draw your sword in any given moment. Not ever fully in peace. Not unless Luke was there. 

“So you decided to start your morning without me? Ouch,” You turned your head at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, “A knock on my cabin’s door would’ve been enough, you know?”.

“Yeah? And risk waking the million campers that sleep in there? No, thank you. I would like to stay alive for a few more years, please.” You replied with a small smile, looking up to meet Luke’s eyes, his scar being more prominent in the morning, a red color adorning the edges of it.  

He snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes before taking a seat next to you. He was silent for a moment until he muttered softly, “This is a nice view.”

“Oh, definitely. The lake always looks beautiful when the sun hits it the right way. I need to give the Apollo cabin their congratulations and some flowers for having a talented father.” You answered, your hand moving away from your necklace to hold Luke’s.

“Of course, you make my pick-up line about the gods. Can you give me a win over here? I’m trying my best.” He said with a smirk before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. It was a strange sort of thing he always did, even before you two started dating, he’d always find an excuse to hold your hand and give it a quick kiss. 

“I wasn’t going to let you get away with using a corny pick-up line on me, Castellan. At least be original with it.” A giggle escaped your lips, “Also, everything is about the gods, I thought you’d be used to it by this point.”

His face fell for a fleeting second, but he was quick to mask it with a small smile. “Right, everything always is about the gods.” Luke’s eyes moved away from your face, nervously glancing at the lake after his statement. 

You frowned when you heard the tone he used, he sounded almost.. bitter? You couldn’t even explain it. Luke had been acting weird ever since the camp came back from their annual visit to Mount Olympus on the winter solstice. At first, you thought it had something to do with Hermes being a total dick and ignoring him the entire night, not even bothering to give his son a pat on the back or a nod. But you’ve known Luke long enough to know he was past caring about what his father did, he was indifferent to what Hermes did–to what any of the gods did. 

The two of you were silent, sitting side by side in front of the lake in deep thought. He was thinking about gods know what, and you were busy trying to understand what was going on inside his mind. You decided to break the silence first, “You okay?”.

“I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry about it.” 

He was quick to answer. It was almost as if he had rehearsed it and had it scripted beforehand. It was almost as if someone else had told him what to answer. As if he was under someone else's guidance. Under someone else's control. 

“Are you sure? Because it feels like you’re.. I don't know, keeping something from me?” 

“I’m not keeping anything from you. I’m not keeping a single thing.”

“Right. Sorry for asking.”

Luke closed his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. He ran a hand through his hair and took some deep breaths, his chest moving up and down in a nonexistent rhythm, it was urgent and angry. He took a few more breaths, trying to calm himself before finally meeting your eyes again. 

“I’ve told you countless times to never apologize to me if you haven’t done anything wrong,” He reminded you of the conversation you’ve had millions of times, “Don’t ever apologize to me if you haven’t physically hurt me or something, alright? You’re fine. We’re fine.” 

He continued, “I’d trust you with my life given the chance. I’m not keeping anything from you, angel. You have to trust me.” 

“I do.” 

You didn’t see your boyfriend at all the following days. He always brushed you off by being busy with training or helping Annabeth plan for this week’s capture the flag. You weren’t the only one to notice his slight change of temper and personality, some campers from the Hermes cabin noticed it too. 

He kept pushing harder on his siblings, always insisting on them doing better. He was more violent than usual during capture the flag, not thinking about it twice before proving why he is the most talented swordsman in the last 300 years.

There was also this one time he volunteered to spar with a new camper.. it didn’t go well. He kept doing new maneuvers and techniques most campers didn’t even recognize, refusing to go easy on the poor thirteen year old girl. When you asked him about it, confused at the way he went too hard on the newbie, he answered with a dry “Where’s the glory in that? She needs to be prepared for what’s about to come.” It sounded as if he knew some kind of danger was approaching. As if it was a matter of life and death for the camper to learn how to fight against him.

You decided it was enough when you saw him skipping his daily chat with Annabeth, deciding he would rather sit by himself on the steps of the Big House for a little while. 

The walk from your cabin to the Big House was filled with self-doubt and twirling the beads of your necklace, you were nervous to face your boyfriend, which was stupid because he was the last person you’d ever expect to feel nervous with. When you arrived to the steps of the Big House and saw him sitting there, your mind went completely blank. 

You sat next to him and asked the first thing that came to your mind, “Would you rather fight 3000 ant-sized chimeras or a chimera-sized ant?”. 

An amused laugh bubbled up from Luke’s chest before he turned his head to face you, a smile taking over his handsome face. “I’ll take the 3000 chimeras, no doubt.” 

You smiled back at him, ready to ask him the question you spent the last thirty minutes planning, but before you could open your mouth he said, “Would you rather not be able to consume ambrosia and nectar for the rest of your life or.. see Mr. D without a shirt?”

You threw your head back with laughter, your face going red thanks to the lack of air in your lungs due to the laughs coming out of you, “I’d rather bleed to death without ambrosia than see Mr. D with a shirt.”

“Ditto.”

You decided to indulge in this back-and-forth game, after all, you hadn’t been able to have a real conversation with your boyfriend in days... you’ll take what you can get, “Would you rather not be able to leave camp ever again or turn against the gods?” 

“It would be boring to spend the rest of my life capturing a flag and growing strawberries… so I guess my answer is pretty obvious.” He answered while fidgeting with his fingers.

“You’d choose to turn against the gods?”

“Yup.”

“Huh, I guess capture the flag would be pretty hard when you’re pushing 90.”

Luke was silent, running his eyes through your face before asking, “Would you?”

“Would I what?”

He took a deep breath before replying, “Turn against the gods.”

You were silent for a few seconds, biting your lip and staring into Luke’s eyes, wondering if there was a right answer to this metaphorical question. You decided to give him an answer he’d like but also an answer you meant, “I’d go wherever you go. It doesn’t matter if it is a farm in the middle of nowhere or to the pits of Tartarus. If you’re there... count me in.” 

Luke cleared his throat and a serious look took over his face, “Sure, but if the time to make a choice came… would you go against them?”.

His persistence to try and get you to answer his question was making you nervous. The more he asked you about it, the more it looked like he was genuinely considering it. 

A nervous laugh escaped your lips as you nervously played with one of the beads on your camp necklace. He took notice of it. Of course he did, he knew more about you than anyone, probably even more than you know yourself. 

Luke stayed silent at that, a somber look taking over his features, you could tell there was a turmoil happening inside his head. It was almost as if he wanted to let you in on a secret, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“I... um. Well, I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon—at least not in our lifetime. But like I said, I’d go wherever you go, to Tartarus and back.” 

That brought a smile to Luke’s face, he looked into your eyes, probably looking for signs of you lying but finding none, and took your hand away from your necklace, lacing your fingers with his and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “To Tartarus and back, baby.” 

He brought your hands down before leaning in to kiss you on the lips. There was a sense of necessity to feel your lips against his, he kissed you like the feeling of your lips was his only shot at salvation. He raised his hand to cup your cheek and deepen the kiss, craving the heat he only got whenever he kissed you.

You stopped him before he could take the kiss any further, “Luke, we’re in the middle of camp. There are children around us, if you want to make out at least take me to our spot behind the stables. Holy shit.”

Luke took a second to steady his breathing, “Sorry, angel. I’ll make sure to keep your suggestion in mind for later, though.”

“Shut the hell up, Castellan.”

The two of you spent the rest of your day being busy working on your own stuff. Luke was still sparring with some campers who were brave enough to go against him, and you were hanging out with the Dionysus cabin while they helped grow more strawberries. 

 You found Chris sitting in the amphitheater and asked him if he had seen your boyfriend, he replied with an annoyed, “He’s probably in bed or something, I don’t know.” You decided to not ask Chris if he was okay and walked straight to the Hermes cabin.

A knock on the wooden door was enough to wake your boyfriend up, you were aware of it when you heard a muffled, “Come in”. You found Luke sitting on his bed, his sword in hand while he sharpened it.

So he wasn’t asleep at all, you thought.

“Careful with the sharp part of the blade.” He looked up from his sword when he heard your melodic voice, your words snapping him out of the trance he was in.

“Oh, hi.” Luke put the sword down next to his bunk and moved to lie down, leaving a space next to him for you to join him. He hummed when you laid down next to him, giving a kiss to his shoulder blade and wrapping your arms around his torso. 

He turned to face you, pressing his lips to your forehead with a soft sigh. His eyes closed at the sensation while his hands traveled to your back, looking for ways to hold you closer. His features relaxing when he finally touched your skin. 

You couldn’t keep this weird tension going on between you two, so you decided to bite first, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Once again, he replied in an almost scripted and mechanical way, “Talk about what?”

“The winter solstice visit, you’ve been acting.. different ever since we came back to camp.” 

Luke stiffened next to you, it made your heart drop. You’ve been dating him for a year now, and he had never been this cold—this uncomfortable around you. 

“I just... I think things are about to change.” He replied in a low murmur, his eyes closing again when you brought your hand up to caress his face, softly tracing his scar with your thumb in a delicate and loving way. Luke let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding when he felt your fingers on his skin.

A smirk made its way to your face, “Change? yeah, in your dreams, Castellan. Campers will keep arriving and only 5 percent of them will get claimed, and the others will get thrown into your cabin.. like things always are and always will be. That’s not changing anytime soon.” 

Luke’s hand traced up and down your back in a soothing manner, “Yeah, maybe they won’t. Forget I even said that.” 

“Just because they won’t change, it doesn’t mean we have to accept it, you know?”Luke's eyes snapped up from your hands to meet your gaze, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

“I’m sorry?”

“We’re all on the same team here. Sure, the gods will never claim most of the campers and we will all probably die before we’re old enough to have children of our own... but is that really all that matters? We have each other. We don’t need them as long as we have the people we love with us.”

Luke tilted his head to the right to press a kiss to the palm of your hand that was caressing his cheek, “I don’t need the gods as long as I have you.” 

“Good to know we’re on the same page, Castellan.”

The two of you went out for a small walk by the lake and sat together in the dining pavilion at night. Your small conversation probably made Luke feel better because he was quick to go back to being himself, he kept greeting every camper he saw and holding your hand, not forgetting to kiss the back of it whenever he had the chance. 

Maybe it was you reassuring him about the love you had for him or maybe it was him being aware of you being willing to drop the gods at any time just to be with him, but he was completely normal during the following days, weeks, and months.

You were sure of it when you saw him walking around with the new arrival five months later, Luke seemed so excited to be showing him around. You greeted the new camper with a small smile when he introduced himself with a “Hi, I’m Percy Jackson.”

[chuuyrr]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒 .ᐟ

feat. dazai, chuuya, fyodor

ꨄ˙ SYNOPSIS: bsd men as girl dads to their daughters

ꨄ˙ CW(s): f! mom! reader, established relationship (married to your lover ofc), fluff, short scenarios, not proofread

DAZAI was humming the quiet melody of his 'certain' song as he cradles his little one. the baby in his arms was sniffling, crying softly and practically looking at him with tearful brown eyes that resembles his. he gently hushes and cradles baby sonoko in his arms, his soothing hums a lullaby in the quiet room.

sonoko was a captivating blend of both you and dazai. with her dark hair that mirrored dazai's locks and the bright twinkle in her [color] eyes reminiscent of your own, she was practically a living canvas of your shared features.

dazai gently rocks baby sonoko in his arms, whispering soothing words to calm her cries. the soft glow of the nightlight illuminated the room, creating a serene atmosphere. he cradles her close, the warmth of his embrace a comforting haven.

"hush, my little one," he murmurs, his voice a gentle melody. "there, there, sonoko. daddy is here." dazai presses a tender kiss to her forehead, his heart swelling with paternal affection, "no need for tears, little darling."

he softly sang a lullaby, the words weaving through the air like a protective cocoon. as the room embraced a peaceful stillness, sonoko's cries transformed into quiet sniffles.

dazai continued to sway gently, cherishing the precious moment of connection with his baby girl. he places her head against his chest, manipulating his heart beat into a calming rate to ground her with its sound.

you lay in bed, exhausted, but you find yourself smiling in the calmness of the night as you see your husband and daughter share a quiet bond, the world outside fading away. dazai's love for sonoko radiated in every soothing touch, a promise to always be there, hushing away any fears or tears that may come.

"you're doing that thing with your heart again, aren't you?" you whisper softly to dazai, quietly giggling.

dazai glances at you, still cradling the fruit of your love to his chest, he gently strides to your side and presses a lingering kiss on your forehead, "yeah, i am."

"i still don't get how you do that though, but it works, doesn't it?" you say softly as you see how your baby girl is all calm now.

you extend your arms to reach for sonoko but dazai gently refuses to do so, and he shakes his head as he insists, "shh, let me look after her. you go get some rest, darling."

"are you sure, osamu? sonoko can get a bit fussy," you ask softly as dazai uses his free hand that wasn't carrying sonoko to gently push you to lie back down in bed and pull the blanket over your chest.

"i'm certain. please, my love. you're exhausted from feeding her and looking after. it's daddy's turn to take over, okay?" dazai chuckles softly as sonoko began to coo and pat her tiny hands against her daddy, "we're ok."

"okay," you giggle quietly as you look at your husband and daughter, "try not to give your daddy a bad time, okay sonoko?"

sonoko merely coo and giggle at the sound of your voice before they intensified in volunme when dazai started to tickle her sides and pepper her cute round face in kisses, the rain of affection from her father making her happy.

CHUUYA sighs, holding baby saika in his arms as her cries echoed through the room. he paced around, trying to replicate the comfort saika found in her mother's presence—your presence.

although your child resembled very much like you, she got her traits and personality mostly from chuuya. she even throws quite the fuss when she was upset, and chuuya only realizes it now that you're away for a while.

"shh, saika, it's okay. come on, now." he whispers softly, his voice a mixture of reassurance and longing.

despite his best efforts to spoil her with affection, saika's cries persisted and he feels a pang of helplessness, "mommy will be back soon, little one. until then, it's just you and me, okay?" chuuya continued to sway, his touch tender and caring.

but saika's cries merely intensified, and chuuya's frustration grew. he couldn't replace the warmth and comfort that only her mother seemed to provide.

chuuya's heart sank as he looked down at his precious little one, her tear-filled eyes gazing up at him with a mix of sadness and yearning. he felt a wave of helplessness wash over him, an ache in his chest as he desperately wished he could ease her distress.

"come on, saika," chuuya whispers softly, his voice a blend of sorrow and affection. he cradles her even closer, tracing gentle circles on her back. "what's making you so upset, huh? don't you want toys? food? sweetheart, please."

saika's tiny lips quivered, and her cries persisted. chuuya's usual fiery determination waned in the face of his daughter's tears. money and gifts meant nothing in this moment. though he had her spoiled with everything and anything, she didn't seem to want any of those things as she would only squirm, kick and throw those things away in a tantrum.

in a moment of realization, chuuya gently sets aside the lavish toys and the carefully prepared food. he holds saika to his face and he looks into her teary eyes and finally, he understood the true source of her distress.

"it's not about the toys or the treats, is it, saika?" he muses softly, a smile forming on his face. cradling her up in his arms, he held her close, focusing on the simple act of giving her his undivided attention.

as he spoke soothingly to her, chuuya sensed the shift in saika's mood. her cries slowly gave way to sniffles, and she looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes. realizing that what she craved was the connection with her daddy, chuuya embraced the simplicity of the moment.

"dada's right here, baby," he whispers to saika, pressing a tender kiss on her cheek, "i got you."

in that instant, the room was filled not with the extravagant gifts he could provide, but with the warmth of a father's love that proved to be the most comforting of all.

he bounced her tenderly as he swayed around the room, the rhythm calming her sniffles. chuuya presses another soft kiss on her forehead, and saika's tiny hands clung to his shirt, finding solace in the familiar embrace.

as you entered the room later on, a tired yet content smile adorned chuuya's face. his hair was tied in a low ponytail with stickers and traces of food decorated his face. in his arms, little saika peacefully slept, nestled against his chest, her [color] hair braided with small butterfly clips.

chuuya looked up, and his eyes softened at the sight of you, "hey there, love," he greets you quietly, careful not to wake saika, "we had a little adventure, but someone decided it was time for a nap."

you couldn't help but giggle fondly at the adorable scene before you. the stickers and food smudges on your husband seemed like badges of a day well spent. saika, oblivious to your arrival, continued to sleep soundly in her father's arms.

quietly, chuuya rose from his spot, carefully transferring saika to her crib. as he joined you, he sighs happily and captures your lips in a tender kiss, "looks like our little one just wanted some dada time today." the exhaustion in his eyes was overshadowed by the joy of the shared moments.

"seems like it," you say softly as you wrap your arms around his neck as you kiss once again, "but hey, you did good. thanks for looking after saika."

"don't mention it, we're in this together. i can't have my darling wife do everything. you deserved a well-rested break today," chuuya whispers against your lips as nuzzles his nose against yours lovingly.

FYODOR cradled his precious lyubov on his lap, her wide eyes filled with curiosity. with a tender smile, he began to read from a novel, his deep yet gentle voice resonating through the quiet space.

"once upon a time, in the turbulent depths of the human soul, there lived a complex character named raskolnikov. he grappled with existential questions, much like the profound mysteries we face in our own lives," fyodor narrates, his gaze shifting between the words on the page and the wide-eyed innocence in lyubov's eyes.

as he continued reading, the intricate plot and philosophical undertones of the novel intertwined with the gentle rhythm of lyubov's breathing. fyodor couldn't help but adapt the narrative, transforming it into a bedtime story that echoed the complexities of morality and human nature.

lyubov, oblivious to the weighty themes, giggled in delight at her father's animated expressions. fyodor, in turn, savored the precious moments, cherishing the bond he was cultivating with his daughter.

as lyubov listened to her father's storytelling, a contagious giggle bubbled up from within her. with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she pointed at the novel in fyodor's hands.

giggling at the sight of her father's earnest storytelling, little lyubov couldn't contain her innocence as she pointed at the pages in amusement.

lyubov, with her jet-black hair cascading in waves down her shoulders, bore a striking resemblance to her father, fyodor. the deep purple hue of her eyes mirrored his own, reflecting a shared intensity that seemed to peer into the depths of the human soul.

yet, amidst these echoes of her father's traits, her features held a delicate familiarity, capturing the essence of her other parent—you. the gentle curve of her nose and the subtle arch of her eyebrows were reminiscent of your own distinct features too.

in a moment of quiet amusement, you turned to fyodor, your husband, a playful glint in your eyes, "isn't she a tad too young for stories like that, darling?" you ask, your laughter blending with the warmth of the dimly lit room as you enter your baby's room.

fyodor, with a gentle smile, glanced at lyubov, who had now nestled herself comfortably against his chest, before looking at you, "perhaps, my love," he replies, his voice carrying a touch of self-awareness, "but the beauty of storytelling is that it grows with the listener. however, if you insist, then i suppose i'll find tales more suited to her age, tales that will weave the magic of childhood without delving too deep into the complexities of the human psyche."

as lyubov cooed and giggled in response to your shared laughter, fyodor couldn't help but join in the merriment.

with a twinkle in his eye, he gently teases, "my, my. look at this, darling. it seems our little one has a taste for the profound, even if the words are a bit too deep for her tender age. perhaps we have a budding philosopher in our midst."

"perhaps, fedya," you say with a playful glint in your eyes, your lips curving into a smile.

you and fyodor share a tender kiss, the laughter lingering in the air as a sweet reminder that, in the midst of literature's complexities and parenting's challenges, there's always room for joy and lighthearted moments in the embrace of family love as lyubov was still nestled in fyodor's embrace, she continued to babble and gurgle, her infectious laughter filling the room.

ꨄ˙ A.N.: sonoko's name came from one of the dazai osamu's actual children. saika translates to fortune with its kanji meaning happiness and the moon. it was inspired by the poems of upon the tainted sorrow and the moon of the actual nakahara chuuya, but i purposely alluded the name to happiness instead. lyubov means love, and it is also the name of one of the actual children of fyodor dostoevsky. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

ꨄ˙ TAGGING.: @chuunai @aureatchi (っ'ヮ'c) ₊˚⊹♡ !

this is a queued post by the way . . .

[marvelsswansong]

show and tell

summary: a white rose at the train station. his hand in yours at the zoo. his mother's golden mirror. does he love you or is he simply trying to gain the public's favour and secure the Plith prize? you're unsure. and so is he, until he very much isn't.

tags: coriolanus snow x fem!reader, slow burn (ish), fluff, angst, technically a happy ending but quite dark, purely based off the movie but I take some creative detours, CW for violence, mentions of starvation, toxic/manipulative behaviors and a semi-dark!snow (please read at your own discretion, take care of yourself above all else :))

☆ word count: 5.6K+ words ☆

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

Coriolanus hates waiting. 

The stillness, the eerie silence of an early morning at the Capitol train station. It eats away at his core.

His mouth tastes like copper, his throat's starting to itch from the dryness and there's a brief moment of fear as he ponders if he's making a huge mistake. A sharp whistle ringing through the station signals the train's arrival, and as his eyes adjust to the billowing grey smoke and a sea of white (the peace keepers), the flower in his left hand suddenly feels heavy. As if the weight of the situation is starting to bear on his shoulders.

He wasn't supposed to be here. If all had gone to plan, he would've already been the recipient of the Plinth Prize and taken the first car back home to buy his grandma'am some chocolates and Tigris a new dress. No more worrying. No more surviving on dwindled fortunes. No more pretending to fit in with high society. 

Then, of course, the rules had to change. Viewership was down and it was of both Dean Highbottom's and Dr Gaul's opinion that what was missing was spectacle. Now, whoever the best mentor was in transforming their tribute into prime entertainment would win the prize. 

"Your role is to turn these tributes into spectacles. Not survivors." 

The silence that hung after this announcement in the Academy was heavy, but Coriolanus knew better than to show his true emotions on his face. After all, if there was one thing that he knew how to do as the star student of the Academy: it was to plan. And when he saw your... unruly introduction to the public, sneaking a snake down a woman's dress before cussing out the audience, it dawned on him that it would be a tall order to endear you to the public.

But not impossible.

The sounds of the tributes being roughly unloaded off the platform snaps him back into reality, his eyes easily landing on your figure as you jump off the train, your upper arms supported by the tribute (Jessup, Coriolanus recalls his name being) standing next to you. Pushing through the soldiers, the blonde nearly breaks into a small sprint to catch up to you as you turn your head upon hearing the sound of hurried footsteps.

"Welcome to the Capitol." the strange man in front of you says, before holding out a pristine white rose. It's a peculiar looking flower, you think, a kind of flower you've never seen before (at least, certainly not back in your home district). It looks almost artificial, you think, with how perfectly white and untouched its petals are.

The blonde assesses your cautious glance - the sunlight hitting the under color of your irises perfectly in a glistening twilight - and a fleeting thought passes by, that the tv camera didn't do your natural beauty justice. He has to suppress a smirk when you finally respond, narrowing your eyes at him with your arms crossing above your chest.

"You seem like you shouldn't be here."

He chuckles at that.

"I'm not supposed to be. And yet here I am." A pause. "But I'm your mentor. Coriolanus Snow."

That's a first, you think. Mentors for tributes. 

"And what does my mentor do except bring me roses?" you question, flicking the buds with your fingers. Coriolanus just smiles. 

"I do my best to take care of you." 

Your supposed mentor says it so sincerely, you think, and he's obviously charming with his devilishly handsome looks and low whisper. But there's something that stops you from holding out your hand and taking the rose from his fingers. You suppose he isn't lying - after all, what would be the point of it - but there's something in his eyes that you can't quite explain. 

Something that makes your stomach flutter in both excitement and dread.

"Move." the soldier behind you then barks, shoving you and Jessup forward. You decide to give your mentor one last grin and a quiet "see you later", thinking that's going to be the last you see of him for a while.

The last thing you expect is for him to jump into the back of the vehicle alongside the other tributes, drawing the eyre of a few who pin him against the moving vehicle and start taunting him with violence. 

"You look rather out of place." the tall boy pinning Coriolanus drawls.

"I'm not, I can assure you. I'm here for (Y/n). I'm her mentor." 

That puts the unwanted attention on you, as the other tributes begin to circle around you with sinister expressions twisting on their lips.

"Mentor, huh? How come little miss music gets one but not the rest of us?" a brunette girl drawls, eyeing you up and down.

The boy pinning Coriolanus down applies stronger pressure to his neck, and you rise in an attempt to intervene, but he meets your gaze discreetly and motions for you to remain seated. 

"You all have a mentor, they're just... not here." he croaks. 

"Right, and we're all supposed to believe you?" another girl, this one from district 4 you believe, taunts. "What's to say we shouldn't just kill you now?" 

The blonde shoots you a nervous look and that's when you feel pity. Just like you, he's in a foreign environment and pretending to be brave. You suppose also that he's your only ticket out, your only chance of potential success at surviving in the games.

So you intervene.

"You could kill him. But then the moment this truck stops you'll all be gathered round and killed by the peace keepers. He's clearly Capitol. And if they're willing to hang District people simply for stealing, can't imagine what killing a member of the Capitol would mean for punishment." 

That scares them off and Coriolanus sits down next to you, breathing heavily in an effort to catch his breath, before quietly thanking you.

"You really wanna thank me?" you quirk, leaning over to whisper in his ear. "Start by thinking about how I can actually win." 

The truck then suddenly comes to a halt, and the next thing you know the truck is being tipped over and the doors fly open. Coriolanus grasps your arm in lightning speed, pulling you close towards him so that he'd hit the harsh ground first, absorbing most of the impact.

When you shakily stand up on your feet, you realize you're enclosed in a large metal cage akin to that of an animal enclosure. There's even an over enthusiastic TV presenter in the background, who now seems to have noticed your mentor and begins to call out to him.

"Where are we?" you breathe out, already shivering from the autumn cold.

The blonde barely shifts, only dusting off his suit in a calm manner.

"(Y/n) (L/n) from District 12, welcome to the Capitol Zoo. Would you like to meet my neighbors?" he jokes, eyes slyly shifting to the right to refer to the small audience that has now gathered around the TV presenter. 

You hesitate, but then he takes your right hand in his before leaning over to whisper in your ear.

"You want to win, right? Good. I'd like to win as well. And the first thing you'll need to do? Perform for the cameras." Coriolanus accentuates the end of his sentence by sliding the rose behind your ear, a gesture which draws an excited reaction from the crowd.

Is your mentor doing it for the cameras or for something else? You're unsure. But given your desperation to win, and the fact that he clearly knows more about the games than you do, you decide to play along.

Warm hands twisting in the cold, Coriolanus drags your enjoined hands towards the TV camera as he does what he does best. Lie, smile, and charm the audience. Even when the attention turns to you, as Lucky Flickerman (that's his name, you learn) directs questions towards you, the blonde never lets go of your hand in his.

Before he leaves, as news of his rule-breaking spreads amongst the members of the public, you grab him out of desperation one last time.

"Please get us some food, we've been starving since the Reaping."

The blonde nods, but you can't help but feel anxious: not knowing if his previous gestures of kindness were just for show. 

-------------------------------

"Who's that for?"

Coriolanus had meant to sneak the sandwiches and cookies into his spare napkin discreetly, but of course Clemensia had to be two steps behind him, interrogating his every move. 

"Just not very hungry, that's all." he nearly grits through his teeth, forcing a fake smile.

The dark haired girl chuckles at that, shaking her head sideways.

"You don't have to lie to me, Snow. Especially me."

"... It's for (Y/n)." he quietly admits. She hums at that, picking at her own food from across the table.

"That's awfully nice of you. What, already going soft for some girl you met yesterday?" she teases, and it immediately elicits an angry refusal out of him.

"It's not like that." Coriolanus snaps, his sudden harshness making his classmate flinch in surprise. "I just... can't have her dying before the games even begin because she's not as well fed as the others." 

Clemensia scoffs, flicking the rest of her orange peel into the trash.

"Honestly, Snow, I don't know why you bother. She's clearly not going to survive. I mean, have you seen the tributes from districts 1 and 3?"

Ignoring her comments, he wordlessly slips away from the table and hails a ride down to the zoo. News of his intentions travels fast and whilst he doesn't mind Sejanus' company, it takes intense effort to force himself to look away from Arachne when she tags along and decides to taunt a caged tribute with a glass bottle. 

"You came back." you mutter, staring at the neatly wrapped napkin in disbelief. Coriolanus dislikes how surprised you sound, then hates himself more for caring about what you think. 

Why do you care what she thinks? he scolds himself. She's just a tribute you're mentoring.

"Of course I did. Can't have my tribute dying before the games even begin, now can I?" he teases, feigning nonchalant. 

The presence of academy mentors seems to have attracted a crowd, with a few photographers even pointing their lenses towards you and Coriolanus as his hand slips through the metal gates to meet yours to hand off the food. When your fingers touch his, a part of you wonders if he would've ever came back if there was no PR involved.

Too grateful and too hungry to care, you just say thank you, before breaking off a piece for Jessup and offering half a sandwich to your mentor.

"Oh no, I'm not hungry." he says out of instinct, surprised by your offering. You raise your eyebrows in response, pursing your lips.

"You sure about that? Because I could hear your stomach growl from a mile away." you retort. 

"Right. Uh, thank you." 

Biting into the soft bread, you chew, savoring every bite. A silence settles between the two of you as you both eat, right before you ask him a quiet question.

"... Did you get into a lot of trouble for what you did for me yesterday?" your eyes shine with worry, you nervously looking up at him for an answer. He finds himself again surprised by how much you seem to care. 

Yes, he wants to say. I nearly got myself disqualified as a mentor and it would've been the end of my family's future in the Capitol. But he swallows his thoughts down, alongside the dry taste of the tuna sandwich.

"Not much. Actually, I was able to convince the gamemaster, Dr Gaul, to implement a few changes to the games."

"Really, like what?"

"To let the public send you donations. That way, I could send you supplies you needed into the arena - food, water, medicine. It'd mean having to do the extra job of playing to the public and getting them to root for your survival, but with a voice like yours, the songbird of Panem -"

Your smile drops at that, your gaze turning stern at his suggestion.

"I only sing when I please for an audience I choose." your eyebrows furrow, your usually sweet expression melting into something more sour. It's oddly cute, he thinks. 

"I know, but I'm really going to need you to try. It's for your own survival. Our survival." he emphasizes, staring right into your eyes. You can't suppress your sad smile at that, crumbling the empty napkin in your hands.

"Are you sure it's not just for your survival?"

Your question haunts Coriolanus that night, alongside the sounds of broken glass and pained gasps as Arachne lies bleeding on the ground, having been stabbed in the neck by one of the tributes. When he quickly runs to his classmate, he doesn't get to see your expression, as you're ripped away by Jessup pulling you into safety in an instant and peace keepers swarm the scene in an effort to remain calm.

When he's back home and the crimson blood coating his hands have dried from where he was holding his dying classmate's wounds, he wonders if there's any truth to your answer.

-------------------------------

Everything changes at the arena tour.

You've not had much sleep. You're confused, you're angry, but most of all you've been haunted by your conflicting feelings towards your mentor and the name he'd called you - songbird. A silly little songbird, you think spitefully. 

To sing and charm the very same public who had doomed her to a violent game of death. 

It was absurd, really, that he'd even ask that. It made your stomach churn and your head ache at the thought of cheapening your craft for something so juvenile.

And yet, when you spot the familiar red suit and white blonde hair in the mass of other mentors at the arena, you can't help but feel warmth in your chest and stomach. A part of you even feels lucky, given that the other mentors seem to waste their time insulting their tributes or being too afraid to talk to them. Whilst Coriolanus, on the other hand, seems to be full of ideas to ensure your survival.

"The game master liked my suggestions. So the donations system is going to be implemented, with a broadcast beforehand for the tributes to get a chance to endear themselves to the public for donations." He's speaking so fast that you almost think he enjoys explaining the games to you. "Now what this means is that assuming you get enough donations, when the bell goes off, you don't go for the weapons. You don't fight. You just run as fast as you can, hide and stay alive for as long as you can." 

"How can you even be sure I'll get enough donations for you to be able to send supplies?" you mutter, looking around at the other tributes. "A lot of these folks are a lot taller and stronger than I am. They've got a much better chance at surviving than I do."  

Coriolanus surprises you by taking both of your hands in his, squeezing your palms tight in his cold palms.

"I know, but we have something none of the others have."

You scrunch your face in confusion.

"What's that?"

"A story. A strong connection between you and me, a Capitol mentor and a District 12 tribute. Not to mention, your incredible singing and songwriting. Match that with my knack for public relations and we'll have enough donations to send you any supplies necessary for your victory in the games."

You realize then that Coriolanus is unlike anyone else you've ever met. So confident, so sure, so perceptive of other people and their secret desires and pitfalls. His unwavering commitment to his beliefs is admirable, if not almost foolish, but you keep that part to yourself.

"How're you so sure I'll even survive the first few minutes?" you push back, still unconvinced, though you don't pull away from his hold. "And, again, I don't just sing for anyone."

The blonde opens his mouth to respond, but he's interrupted when a sudden cascade of dust and fire crumbles down from the ceiling of the arena. The sound of a bomb exploding reverberates as you're both thrown off of your feet by the impact. Your head is still ringing from the chaos when Jessup pulls at your sleeves, commanding you to walk away from the wreckage. 

Rising onto shaky legs, you even spot another tribute running from the guards towards a blown out hole on the side of the building. And when your eyes meet with Coriolanus' frantic ones, his lower half trapped underneath rubble, you both recognize that you now have an unbridled chance to escape - 

But you don't.

To the blonde's complete shock, you instead shove your friend off, screaming as you lift the heavy cement column with all your strength in an effort to pry the debris off of his body. With the help of a few peace keepers, it works, but Coriolanus falls into unconsciousness quickly as he succumbs to the excruciating pain of crushed ribs and bruised limbs.

The last thing he sees before he fades into darkness is your teary eyes, a sight he so badly wants to fix by wiping away your tears with his fingers... 

When he eventually wakes, it's in a dark hospital next to his grandma'am and sister. There's a roar on the television screen as you're brought onto the broadcast, shy smile and a glittering guitar in hand. It hits him that you're actually going to sing. 

"I didn't have a chance to... uh... write a new song. But I'd like to dedicate this performance to someone very special who's recently been hurt." you say into the mike, your eyes clearly brimming with nerves and doubt. 

As you sing, there's a tight sensation in Coriolanus' chest once the lyrics settle into his mind - a small voice whispers in his mind that it's jealousy, for you singing about a boy back in your home town who broke your heart - but it's overwhelmed by the feelings of gratitude and awe that you'd ended up doing what he asked you to do. All that, after selflessly saving his life.

"A...are you okay, Coryo?" is all Tigris asks, brushing his hair back and gently guiding him back down onto bed upon seeing his expression twist into one of discomfort.

"She could've run." 

"What?"

"At the arena. The blast blew open a large opening on the side of the stadium. I saw one of the tributes actually make it out that way." he lets out a shaky breath, hating you for what you've done to him to make him feel this way. "Damn it, Tigris. She could've run. She could've-"

A single tear drops from his left eye and onto his injured palm, his weak voice giving away his true emotions.

"She could've saved herself from even having to participate in the games. But she stayed. She fucking stayed behind to lift the debris off of me."

"She saved your life." his sister finishes for him, the atmosphere turning somber as she wraps her arms around his shoulder. "I'm just so glad that you're both safe." 

As you retreat from the screen, the donation numbers only piling up higher as Lucky Flickerman closes out the broadcast, a hot fire lights up in Coriolanus' stomach. 

He has to save you.

No matter what it takes.

--------------------------------------

"You know he's just using you, right?"

After the broadcast, once it's revealed that you were given the largest amount of donations out of all the other tributes, Coral from District 4 corners you backstage. 

"Pardon?" you fake ignorance, a small smile playing on your lips, which only seems to aggravate the girl further. 

"Your pretty boy mentor. He's only been faking all sweet for you to get the public to send you donations. In fact, I bet he didn't even bother to try and pull himself out of the wreckage so that he could get more public sympathy.

You snap at that, all fake modesty melting away in an instant.

"You have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, Coral. Coriolanus isn't like that." you spit, but all she does is look down at you with a nasty smirk on her lips.

"Oh really? And how would you know, little songbird? Think he'd care about someone from district 12? And why do you think he wants you to win so badly? Because he's a good person?" she mocks, her face now a mere inches away from yours. "No. I reckon it's more for the prize money." 

You can't sleep that night at the zoo, tossing and turning in the dark. Your mind can't seem to rest, torn between the adrenaline and dread for the games tomorrow, alongside the constant worry over Coriolanus' wellbeing and doubts over his genuinity and trustworthiness.

Coral's just trying to get in my head. you repeat to yourself, over and over again. You're on the edge of sleep, exhausted and upset by your conflicting emotions, when you hear a familiar voice coming from the darkness. 

It sounds like Coriolanus. 

You sit up straight, and it's true: he's here, and he's whispering your name repeatedly, beckoning you towards the front of the cage and away from your sleeping competitors. Suddenly, the overwhelming exhaustion and fatigue disappears, and you find yourself gravitating towards the only person you've been thinking about for the past 24 hours.

"Coryo, you're... you're alright." you sigh out, almost overwhelmed with relief. You don't even realize you're crying until his hands reach up and brush away your tears, his warm hand a stark contrast to the freezing cold of the night.

"I am. All thanks to you, songbird." he breathes out, his fingers tracing the ripples of your cheeks. His head feels dizzy and his hands tremble as he searches his pockets for his mother's golden compact mirror. 

"Don't call me that." you weakly laugh, as he does too. "What's this?" you ask, staring at the object he’s folded gently into your hands. 

"It's for you to use in the arena. Now listen to what I say very carefully. Don't breathe this in, don't spill it on yourself, and only use it when you really need to." he slowly explains, as if he's terrified that you're going to harm yourself by merely carrying it in your pockets. 

"Is... is this allowed? For you to sneak in and give me this?" you whisper, looking around your surroundings, but it's pitch black. 

The blonde purses his lips, using every muscle in his body to keep his expression neutral.

No, it's certainly not allowed. I am risking my life, as well as my family's future, by doing this.

"That's not important. What is important is that the blast from the arena has created a hole leading out to a bunch of service tunnels. I tested it out myself, it leads towards the outside, far away from the peace keepers." 

"Wait, I don't understa-"

Desperation grabs a hold of him, and it's a foreign feeling - the crushing despair of wanting to protect someone that he can't, the burning urge to want to put someone else ahead of him for once.

"What I need you to do tomorrow, (Y/n), is to run. The moment the alarm rings, don't even think of running towards the weapons or fighting the others. Don't even hide anymore. Just… just run towards the tunnels, by yourself, and get out."

"But what about Jessup-" you hiccup. Your head's spinning, confused and horrified by your mentor's change of plans and the prospect of leaving behind your friend to die in the arena. 

"Forget about him." Coriolanus snaps. Suddenly, his eyes are cold and his voice is firm, commanding you as if you have no choice in the matter. "In there, he's as dangerous as the other tributes. You can't trust anyone, not even your supposed friends, okay? The games, they-" he chokes on his own words, and there's something again in Coriolanus' eyes that you can't quite decipher. "They bring out the worst in people. Promise me you'll run."

It makes your stomach twist in anxiety.

"I-"

"Please." 

As he begs, his face crumbles, his voice so desperate and feeble that you can't find it in yourself to say no. 

"I... I'll try." you relent, and he lets out a sigh of relief at your agreement. 

"Good. Perfect." He takes your head in his hands and softly kisses your temple. "I won't let you die in there, okay? Just like you took care of me after the explosion. I'm going to take care of you."

"I'm your mentor. I do my best to take care of you." 

Coriolanus' words from the train station echo in your head as you nod, pocketing the mirror deep inside your dress to hide it away from plain sight.

"Will I... will I be able to see you, after the games?" 

You immediately feel stupid for even asking that. Everyone knows winning the games merely allows your return to your home district. And on all logical accounts, it wouldn't make any sense for the man to give up his life in the Capitol to follow you back to 12.

But he smiles at your innocent question, only nodding whilst squeezing your hands in the dark. To your feeble heart and mind, it feels like a genuine promise.

"Of course, my songbird. I'll do whatever it takes."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." you whisper.

"I never do." 

And for the first time, you think you actually believe him wholeheartedly.

----------------------------------

You can't believe it. 

You've won.

You were so sure you were going to die once the snakes had been released, eyes closing shut once the venomous snakes began to crawl up your skin, but as you continued to sing... The reptiles simply slithered by your side, remaining docile and non-threatening. And based on the snakes' sudden change of behavior and Highbottom's scowl when he announced you as the victor of the 10th Hunger Games - "consider yourself lucky, little girl, as it seems your mentor was willing to break more than a few rules for you" - your stomach churns at the realization that Coriolanus kept his promise.

He did whatever it took to get you out. 

Even cheating. 

You've only heard whispers of the punishments for cheating at the Capitol. But based on the frequent hangings of rebels in your home district, you can't imagine that the punishment would be very kind.

Weeks have passed since your victory, since the last time you've even seen Coriolanus, but it does nothing to erase him from your mind. You still see his faint silhouette in the mornings, when your eyes have barely adjusted to the morning light and there's a pile of clothes sitting on the chair beside your bed. You think you hear his voice amongst the sea of strangers’ conversations, calling out for his 'songbird'. And you swear you see his face in every crowd at the bar.

Unbeknownst to you, Coriolanus is having the same struggles on the opposite end of the country. Luckily, bearing the last name Snow meant his punishment for cheating was to be lighter than the usual hanging: mandatory military service. District 8. But he's sure to bring his last few bills to bribe the immigration officer for a transfer to 12. 

All to come find you. 

He suffers through the first week of training - grueling hours, hanging ceremonies, endless ramblings from Sejanus about making a change for the better. He pretends not to notice Sejanus establishing connections within the rebel community, until he can’t ignore it anymore. After all, Coriolanus simply can't afford his friend’s idealism and recklessness to get him killed too, and potentially you, when you're thought to be linked to the movement by mere virtue of association.

Especially not you, Coriolanus thinks.

After the games, of having to watch you bleed, sob and fight for hours on end as he stood helplessly, only able to watch: even the passing thought of your death elicits a violent reaction in him. He'll do anything for you. 

Even if that means turning in his only friend to prove his loyalty to the Capitol.

It's an unremarkable Wednesday night for you when you're singing a song at the bar, black guitar in hand and the smell of booze thick in the air, when your eyes come across a familiar face. 

It takes you a few seconds, of course. You almost think it’s a hallucination, if it wasn’t for the sea of other soldiers surrounding him, validating his presence. His fluffy white locks are gone, replaced with a clean buzz cut. He's lost a bit of weight, his shoulders more broad and rough from military training, and the lack of expensive bright fabrics draped around his figure is jarring at first. But it suits him, you think. 

The song can't finish any faster before you're slinging your guitar to the back and rushing up to Coriolanus, immediately throwing your arms around him. He stiffens in your embrace before relaxing, his arms finding your waist and squeezing you tightly. And you can't help but savor every essence of his being: he smells of sweat and coal (unlike his Capitol uniform which always smelled of florals and clean linen) and you can feel the cool metal of his dog tags press against your collarbone at this angle.

"You came back for me." you breathe out, still not believing that he's in front of you. Your ex mentor just smiles, tapping your cheeks with his hands.

"Said I'd never break a promise, now didn't I?" 

As the next performer goes up on stage, recapturing the attention of the audience, you pull him away towards the back room, far away from the bustling crowds and twinkling lights.

"I've thought of you every day, my songbird." Coriolanus whispers against your skin once you two are away from the crowds, his head falling forwards into the nape of your neck.

Your cheeks warm at his comment, your fingers coming up to play with the dog tags around his neck, before a light chuckle escapes your lips.

"What's so funny? Did you not miss me?" the blonde teases, and you shake your head sideways in denial.

"Of course I missed you. I missed you more than you could imagine."

"Then what's the chuckle for?"

You let out a short sigh, not knowing if it’d be wise to bring it up. But all he does is encouraging you, looking deep into your eyes and nodding, urging you to say what’s on your mind. You relent, shoulders sagging. 

"It's just... when I won the games, Highbottom congratulated me. But not for winning the games. But for surviving you." you awkwardly chuckle in hopes of diffusing the seriousness of your question. "Is it true, Coryo?"

"What are you getting at?" is his response, coy and low. You can't tell if he's amused, annoyed or disturbed. 

Or all three at once.

"There's rumors, you know. I heard that you... you had to kill a tribute." you whisper, as if what you’re saying is the biggest secret in the world. "Is it true?"

Coriolanus pauses at that, the smirk on his face dropping for a fraction of a second before he's cupping your face and lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. His stare is so strong, so unwavering, almost to the point of unnerving you. But it's matched with such warmth and softness in his touch as he strokes your hair.

"You have to understand, darling… It was just like the snakes. If I hadn't rigged the game by getting the snakes used to your smell so they wouldn't attack you, you would've died. And if I hadn't killed the tribute charging at me when I had to sneak into the arena to rescue Sejanus-" he sighs, slow and long. He looks as if he’s thinking hard. "I had to, my songbird. I had to do it to protect you. To take care of you." he emphasizes.

You're not sure what kind of an answer you wanted, but you're unable to respond immediately, as it slowly dawns on you that this man both cheated and killed another person for you. 

His response to your silence is a swift kiss, calloused hands dropping to your waist to pull you in close, the gesture desperate and messy. Breathing heavily when he parts from you, he kisses you once more, this time a short peck which is more rough and demanding.

"I would do anything for you, (Y/n) (L/n). Anything for you."

Coriolanus chooses to keep quiet about the fact that technically, he could've just injured the tribute charging towards him instead. Or that it felt freeing to have ended the tribute’s life. Or that just a few hours ago, he tipped off the Capitol about Sejanus' rebellion. All in an effort to secure your unbridled safety. So that he doesn’t ever have to let go of you again.

"Now, where are your manners, my songbird? Aren't you going to thank me?" he whispers against your lips, smoothing out your hair.

"T-thank you, Coryo." you manage to stutter.

He smiles at that, kissing the top of your head as he sways you from side to side.

"Of course, love. Don't worry. We’re going to be just fine. In fact, everything will be fine from now on."

As you peak out from under his embrace, you're not so sure if you can believe him anymore.

a/n: leave it to a new hunger games movie and Tom Blyth playing young!Snow to make me return from my 1.5 year long writing hiatus.

I'm quite nervous about this one as it's my first time writing for a semi-dark character and also because it's been so long since I posted my writing on here... But I hope you enjoyed, please leave a comment, like, reblog, etc if you liked it. If this one is received well I might go ahead and post the other Snow fics currently sitting in my drafts!!!

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part five | r.c

summary:

“That’s emotional manipulation.”

“I’m aware, precious,” Rafe said with a grin, toeing his shoes off. “I’m getting in the water and I’m not leaving you out here by yourself. So you’re going to take your clothes off and getting in there with me, or I will carry you into the water.”

“How are those the only two options?”

OR; Topper and Kelce are love sick, Rafe is being a little TOO PDA and you're just trying to keep it together

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: heavy make out sesh in the water

word count: 3,7k

author's note: okay, why was this only 1k this morning wtf. after a week of break, rafe and precious are back! happy reading!!! <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. five: "make sure nobody sees you leave"

“Are you coming to the party tonight?” Rafe asked as he tugged his shirt on when you returned from the bathroom.

It was a couple of days after… Your friendship had changed. You said changed, but it didn’t really feel like there was a huge shift in how you saw each other. Rafe still treated you the same, like you were only his best friend. You still loved him. And yet, you continued to have casual sex with him.

The more days that passed where this friends with benefits thing was ongoing, the more you were struggling. You felt selfish for continuing this, knowing exactly how damning your feelings for him were. At the same time, you told yourself that this hadn’t even been your idea in the first place, so how were you being selfish? However, you doubted that Rafe would’ve suggested this arrangement if he had known how you felt about him.

“The pogue party? At the bone yard?”

You sat down at your vanity, glancing at Rafe through the mirror while you picked up a hairbrush, fixing your hair. Getting your hair pulled during sex really got you going, but you always wondered if it was worth it to untangle it after (it was).

“That’s the one.”

“Since when do you like going to the boneyard?” you asked skeptically. Rafe stepped to the vanity next to you, fixing his hair in his reflection.

“I don’t know,” he replied, ruffling his hair with his fingers a little, before giving his head a shake to make his hair fall just like he wanted it to. “I like to see how the other side is slumming it.”

You scoffed, whacking him gently with your hairbrush before laying it down on the table.

“Top and Kelce coming too?”

“They ever turn a party down?” Rafe asked with a grin. You rolled your eyes at him, knowing you were getting roped into this no matter if you wanted to or not.

“Fine,” you sighed. “But I gotta take care of some stuff for my parents for the Spring Fling today, so I’ll just join after. I’ll text you.”

“A’ight, see you later precious.”

Running his hand through your hair - a gesture that made you feel like a child - Rafe exited your bedroom, leaving you to glower at the mirror, hand reaching up to straighten out your hair again. Ever since you had told Rafe to not call you precious during sex, it seemed like he was doing it even more than not. Yes, he used your name during sex, but whenever you weren’t at it? Precious this, precious that. It was like Rafe was rubbing your face in it, like he kept wanting to remind you that you were his best friend, still. Despite the circumstances.

“I can get you the darker peonies if you like.”

Serena’s gentle voice cut through your thoughts and you lifted your head, raising a questioning brow. You were on your second to last errand of the day, a little stop by at the flower shop to pick out the flowers for the Spring Fling. To say that you were distracted was an understatement.

“Hm?”

“You seemed to scrutinize the flowers, I can get another color.”

“Oh no,” you quickly said, quickly trying to appease her. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind. This color is perfect.”

Serena beamed at you and wrapped the flowers up in small bundles, presenting it to you. “So I was thinking one bundle per table with clear vases.”

“Yes, that’s perfect,” you replied with a nod.

“You said 24 tables, right?”

Quickly checking your notes, you confirmed the number with her and Serena jotted down her notes.

“Alright, perfect. We’ll deliver them straight to the country club on the morning of the Spring Fling.”

“Great, thanks Serena!”

She wrapped the small bouquet in white wrapping paper, offering it to you with a smile. “Here, take it. Hope it helps with whatever’s on your mind.”

You gave Serena a sheepish smile, accepting the bouquet. “Thanks. I’ll see you around.” With a small wave, you exited the flower shop, heading to your car. Depositing the bouquet on the passenger’s seat, you got into the driver’s seat and leaned your head on the steering wheel for a second, allowing yourself a few moments to decompress.

“Ugh,” you groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose. You had thought keeping yourself busy would stop you from overthinking, but instead, it just added more stress. One last stop, you thought to yourself as you turned the key in your ignition, driving towards the country club. Luckily, going over the seating arrangement with the event coordinator Avery didn’t take long, because your mother had sent over the floor plan a few days prior. All you had to do was go over the decorations and the menu for the Spring Fling. After taking care of the last details, you decided to grab dinner at the club as well since you were already there. By the time you got home, it was nearly ten and you were absolutely wiped. You put the flowers in some water, before you let yourself fall face down on your bed, sighing softly, feeling the stress melt from your limbs.

“How is this the first time I can relax today?” you muttered to yourself into your blankets.

Your peace was short-lived, however, as your phone started ringing not soon after. With a groan, you reached for it, fishing it out of your purse.

“What?” you said into the phone after picking up, not even bothering to look at the caller ID. You knew who it was.

“When are you going to be here?”

You sighed at the sound of Rafe’s voice. He still sounded sober enough, and you could hear people speaking in the background. Carefully, you rubbed your eyes with the pad of your finger, as to not smudge the mascara.

“I just got home,” you started. “I-”

“No precious, you’re not cancelling on me,” Rafe groaned into the phone. The sound of his footsteps turned from soft sand, to hard, crunching gravel. The noise of chattering people reduced; Rafe must have walked up to the main street. Turning on your back, you stared at the ceiling, waiting until he got to wherever he wanted to go.

“Don’t make me come get you,” he then said.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

You contemplated actually staying in, unsure if he would really come get you. Then you remembered how stubborn Rafe could be, and how he usually didn’t drive after drinking, but just out of spite, he’d do it.

“Fine,” you relented, sitting up with a frown on your face. “I’ll be there soon. Don’t do anything stupid until I get there.”

“Y’know I can’t promise you that, precious,” Rafe drawled and you only rolled your eyes.

“See you in a bit.”

Getting up, you let out a sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Business as usual,” you said to yourself, walking towards your closet to get yourself a change of clothes because there was no way you were showing up at the boneyard party on the Cut wearing your new dress. About twenty minutes later, you were on the beachside on the Cut, slowly rolling to a stop on the curb of the main street that led to the boneyard. As you turned the engine off and grabbed your purse, exiting the car, Rafe was already walking towards you, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“I was about to come get you, what took you so long?” Rafe asked in greeting.

“Did you expect me to teleport here?” you asked dryly, putting your keys in your purse. “And I had to change.”

“Oh, for me? You shouldn’t have.”

Rafe wrapped an arm around your shoulder, snickering when you swatted his arm away. While the two of you walked down to the boneyard, he updated you on what you had missed so far: Kelce saw his crush with a girl, and promptly decided to get hammered, Scarlet drove her father’s Porsche into the bushes (it was still parked there), and Topper was sitting on the lifeguard’s watch tower because apparently Sarah was here with her Pogue friends. And John B of course.

“I hope he’s still there,” Rafe then added with a grimace.

“You left Top by himself??”

“What? No! Kelce is with him.”

“Ugh, Rafe!” you groaned, unwinding yourself from his arm, bypassing the party around the bonfire to head straight to the watch tower, with Rafe hot on your heels. You stopped when you reached it, staring up the ladder, hesitant, as you heard Kelce’s voice float down from the deck.

“You’re not planning on going up there, are you?” Rafe asked, his arm brushing your shoulder as he leaned into you.

“It can hold four of us,” you replied, grabbing the railing to climbing up the ladder.

The previous watch tower had been replaced after hurricane Agatha hit the outer banks; the new one had a shiny ladder, and a big deck with a roof over it. It was big enough to hold four people now, perfect for you. You heard Rafe mutter something under his breath before he followed you up the ladder.

“- and I’m just saying… I mean, it’s not like I am fully out of the closet either, but it doesn’t mean I’m parading around with a girl,” Kelce said indignantly as you finally reached the deck to see Top leaning on the railing, his feet dangling from the side and Kelce next to him, holding onto an almost empty cup with the way the liquid was sloshing inside of it. Kelce paused his rant to take a sip of his drink, his eyes widening when he saw you. “Precious!”

“Hey guys,” you called out, pulling yourself up to the deck and carefully walked over to the two boys, sitting down next to Topper.

“Hey Presh,” the blonde boy said, acknowledging your presence without taking his eyes off of the distance.

Oh dear.

“Why are we hiding?”

“I’m not hiding.”

Rafe let out a snort as he settled down next to you, only shrugging his shoulders when you glared at him. Turning your attention back to Topper, you nudged his foot with his.

“Hey, this isn’t because of Sarah, is it?”

He didn’t reply.

Glancing at Kelce for help was no use - he had turned to stare the bonfire. If you had to guess, he was trying to spot his crush. You glancing to the side, raising your eyebrows at Rafe, but he only raised his hands defensively.

Ugh, boys.

“I thought you were over Sarah,” you said carefully, knowing this was a sensitive topic. Topper sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“So did I, okay? I didn’t think it would feel like such a punch in the gut to see her with John B,” he huffed, shaking his head a bit. “Do you think I want to feel like this when she has clearly moved on?”

You winced. Topper had always been the romantic one in your group, and Sarah had been his first serious girlfriend. While you wished he would forget Sarah, especially considering there was no way back, you understood why it was so hard for him.

“Listen. I know this sucks right now, and I know you thought that you and Sarah were gonna last, but there’s no use in dwelling on it anymore, Top. Just because your first girlfriend wasn’t the one, doesn’t mean that every one of your relationship is doomed to fail.”

Glancing over to the bonfire, you watched as Sarah was sitting between John B’s legs, talking with Kiara her face illumniated by the fire, not a care in the world.

“And I know it doesn’t feel good to see her with him, but it’s like exposure therapy, right?”

Topper scoffed, but a small smile was playing on his lips. “I don’t know about that, precious.”

“Come on,” you heckled him, nudging him with your shoulder. “How would you get over her if you pretend she doesn’t exist? Kildare’s not that big, you’re bound to bump into her every now and then. Better start healing now, than later.”

Topper made a small noise, but you could tell that his shoulders were less tense and Rafe leaned over to squeeze your knee, his way of telling you a job well done.

“You ready to get back to the party?” he asked Topper, but he snorted, shaking his head.

“Definitely not. I need… To get out of my head.”

“I bet a swim would definitely do you some good,” Kelce chimed in.

Rafe and you snickered, but Topper raised an eyebrow, as if he was actually considering it.

“Top, you can’t be serious,” Rafe then said. “It’s the middle of the night.

“And I bet the water is super refreshing right now,” Topper said, suddenly getting to his knees, standing up. He started climbing down the ladder with a grin on his face, and Kelce was quick to follow him. You exchanged a look with Rafe, who looked about as concerned as you felt right now.

“I think we should go after them,” you said, and Rafe nodded, the both of you getting off of the watch tower. By the time you were on solid ground again, Topper was already standing at the shore, shoes off and toes in the wet sand. Kelce was standing next to him, tugging his shirt off over his head.

“Top, I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” you breathed out when you finally caught up with him, Rafe nodding next to you.

“But I know it’s going to make me feel so much better to jump into the water right now…” Topper said, pausing.

“I mean,” Rafe started, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like we can actually stop you. And if it makes him feel better,” he added, glancing to you. You gave him a hard look.

“Fine,” you sighed, “go ahead,” you told Topper, making a shooing motion with your hand. Might as well get it over with.

“You know what would make me feel so much better, though?” Topper asked, taking his shirt off. “If my best friends joined me.”

“What?”

“Come on,” Topper said, adding his shorts to the pile of clothes, head turning towards the water. “You wouldn’t leave me hanging, would you?”

He walked backwards towards the water, Kelce following him with a grin on his face. Rafe raised his eyebrow at you, but you resolutely shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m not going into the water, are you crazy?”

“You wouldn’t get into the water even though it will cheer Topper up?” Rafe asked, tugging his shirt off. Momentarily, you were distracted by his bare chest, but your eyes quickly flitted up before he noticed.

“That’s emotional manipulation.”

“I’m aware, precious,” Rafe said with a grin, toeing his shoes off. “I’m getting in the water and I’m not leaving you out here by yourself. So you’re going to take your clothes off and getting in there with me, or I will carry you into the water.”

“How are those the only two options?” you asked indignantly, though you could feel your resolve weakening.

“You wouldn’t leave a friend in need, right?”

You groaned, tipping your head back in annoyance. “I hate you,” you muttered, taking your shirt off and dropping your purse into the sand. You could feel Rafe’s eyes on you as you stripped down to your underwear, and you gave him a look, putting your hair up in a bun.

“Stop staring. You’ve seen all of it before.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it,” Rafe said with a grin, removing the last of his clothes. “Come on.”

He grabbed you by the hand and dragged you towards the ocean, where Topper and Kelce were already waist deep, yelling at each other in between laughter. Your fingers were entangled with Rafe’s and it was windy; that was the only reason you were getting goosebumps. At least that was what you told yourself. You stepped towards the shore, where the water met the beach and suddenly, you froze, skidding to a stop. Rafe turned back to look at you when he felt a sudden resistance from your hand.

“What?”

“It’s so cold. I’m gonna freeze to death.”

“Precious,” Rafe said dryly, dropping your hand. “Just remember that you forced me to do this.”

“Wha-?”

The rest of the word got stuck in your throat when Rafe suddenly looped his arms under your knees, throwing you over his shoulder despite your shrieks and waded into the water.

“Rafe Cameron, I will actually murder you,” you threatened him, wincing as the cold water splashes on your skin.

“Please, as if you could ever live in a world without me,” Rafe retorted, shifting his arm so you wouldn’t slide off. You could hear Topper and Kelce cheer when you reached them and you only rolled your eyes. That was on you for being friends with boys. “You ready to hit the water?” Rafe asked, tapping your thigh, a little bit too high for your liking, considering you were trying to hide your friends with benefits thing from your friends.

“Not really, no.”

“Perfect.”

Grabbing you by the waist, Rafe slid you off his shoulders, right into the icy cold water. You shuddered, goosebumps going crazy and the glare you gave Rafe was deadly. Topper and Kelce applauded you, giving high fives to Rafe, and if it wasn’t for the infectious smile on Topper’s face, you’d be pissed.

“Alright, since we’re already here,” you sighed, rolling your shoulders, before dropping into the water up until your chin. The boys hollered as you shuddered, your teeth chattering until your body temperature acclimated to the cold water.

“You’re actually the worst,” you told your friends, swimming a few laps around them to keep yourself warm. The boys joked around, splashing each other with the freezing water, while you tried to keep yourself out of the splash zone, you were already wet enough as is. During all this, you felt Rafe’s eyes on you, but you knew that he wouldn’t actually do something with Kelce and Topper both present.

“Fuck, okay, I’m actually starting to feel my dick disappearing into my body,” Kelce said, rubbing his arms. He seemed to have sobered up, his lips trembling. “I gotta get out.”

“Me too,” Topper said, shuddering, following Kelce out of the water.

“You guys are pussies!” you yelled after them, as Rafe stayed rooted next to you. “At least get my towel out of my car!”

Topper waved his arm, acknowledging your demand as they hightailed it out of the water. Now it was just you and Rafe. Just perfect.

“Still cold?” Rafe asked, swimming over to you. Without noticing, you had gone into deeper water, your feet reaching the ground, but the water lapped at your shoulders as you kept yourself afloat.

“No,” you replied with narrowed eyes. He snickered, arm reaching out around your waist, pulling you close. “What are you doing?”

“Warming you up, what does it look like?”

His hands were on your hips, bodies flush and out of reflex, your legs wrapped around his waist. Your cheeks heated, despite the cold water and your arms found his waist.

“What if they see us?” you huffed, glancing back to the beach to see Topper and Kelce put their clothes on, before rummaging in your purse, presumably to find your keys.

“They’re way too far to make out anything,” he muttered, hitching you higher on his waist to nose along your neck, his lips hot on your skin.

“Rafe!” you hissed, trying to hold back a moan as he gently sucked on your sensitive skin on your neck.

“What? Only doing my part in keeping you warm.”

You huffed, grabbing his chin to tilt it up, so you could press your lips on his. He groaned against your lips as you kissed, and you slipped your tongue into his mouth. Lazily, the two made out in the middle of the ocean in the darkness, like there was only the two of you existing. Shifting in his arms, you accidentally created some friction between the two of you, and you could feel Rafe’s hardening cock against your wet panties.

“Fuck, you’re killing me, precious.”

Your heart sunk at the nickname and you leaned back, opening your mouth to say something, when you caught movement on the beach out of the corner of your eye.

“Shit, Top and Kelce are back,” you hissed, pushing Rafe away from you, your feet slowly floating back to the wet sandy underground.

“We got you the towel!” Topper yelled from the beach, waving a white towel in the darkness.

“Come on, let’s go!”

You exhaled deeply, tucking your hair back, hoping you didn’t look like you were feeling, glancing over at Rafe. His forehead was creased, and you could tell he was annoyed as he pushed his hair back. Probably pissed that you were just cock-blocked.

“Are you all good to get out of the water?” you asked, gesturing to his lower body. Rafe raised an eyebrow at you, before waving you off, voice tight.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me. Let’s go.”

Rafe swam towards the shore, and you weren’t too far behind, until you were wading out of the water. You accepted the towel from Topper, wrapping it around your shoulders, trying to warm yourself up, the cold air being even worse after you came out of the water. Rafe shook his arms out, water droplets everywhere, making Kelce yelp when he was hit. You lifted your towel, inviting Rafe in.

“Come here.”

Rafe glanced at you, pausing for a second, before he sighed, trudging over to you. You handed him one corner of the towel, and the two of you huddled under the towel, trying to get warm and dry at the same time. Topper raised his eyebrows at you, shaking his head in amusement.

“You really are two peas in a pod, huh?”

“Oh you know us,” Rafe snorted. “Best friends.”

Ouch.

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author's note: ouch indeed... thoughts?

[annwrites]

exactly what he needs, pt. 5 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | other parts here

— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader

— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)

— summary: you have an unsettling exchange with cal, you spend the day with nate, then he takes you to a party with the express purpose of getting you drunk.

— tags: shopping with nate, learning to drive, partying, swimming

— tw: f receiving oral, humping nate's thigh in public, coerced intoxication, skinny dipping, reader touching nate's genitals at his suggestion while drunk, lying, dollification, guilt-tripping/emotional manipulation (sexual & otherwise), gas lighting, major invasion of privacy, sexual assault (reader is drunk and nate touches them in a sexual way, so i count it), love-bombing, vomiting, eating | there will not be a date rape in this after the party, i promise!

— word count: 15,729

— a/n: cal, during his convo w/ reader, isn't trying to be an asshole toward nate, he's trying to give her a genuine warning. the line 'he kills what he loves' i went back & added to try & i guess pull some kind of parallel between the two men, like when cal said 'i kill what i eat' on the show. bc i do think cal is capable of love. i think nate is only capable of obsession/infatuation, which is easy to mix up in the heat of the moment.

if nate seems different w/the reader than he does w/ cassie, it's bc he's obviously still hiding his true colors with reader.

the song I had in mind during the party is dangerous (oliver remix), which was indeed used during the show.

i hope reading this feels as ominous as it did writing it lmao.

When you wake in the middle of the night, it's with Nate's arm slung heavily over your abdomen, his hand hanging off the side of the bed.

You wiggle out from under him, still naked, before picking up his t-shirt and slipping it on before quietly unlocking his door and heading down to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Once you have it, you go to head back up to bed, until you hear his father calling to you from the living room, stopping you in your tracks.

You pad into the room, the light from the TV flickering against the dark which fills near every corner. "I was just getting a glass of water," you say, worried that he may think you were trying to steal from him in the middle of the night.

"Anything else you need?"

You shake your head, wishing you were wearing more than just a t-shirt right now. "I'm all set, thank you."

"Can I ask you something?"

You shift nervously as his eyes trail from your bare legs, back up to your face. "Sure."

"How is he? Nate?"

"What do you mean?"

He shrugs, glancing back to the TV. "He doesn't talk to me. Can't stand me, as I'm sure he's told you, or, at the very least, from what you can tell all on your own. I just want to know how he's doing." He looks at you again. "I assume he talks to you."

"If you mean in regards to you: no, he doesn't. You're the one thing he refuses to open up about. He...he seems fine, though. Most of the time, at least. He just seems to have this simmering-"

"Rage?" He finishes.

You nod. "I don't know if it stems from something that happened between the two of you, or if it's from however Maddy treated him, or something else." You glance down to the floor, then back up. "Maybe it's all of it. Maybe his life has just snowballed and he doesn't know how to deal with it. But you obviously care about him. So... I know what it's like to have an absent father." You pause. "I know it isn't my place, but...try to fix whatever is broken between the two of you before it's too late. Even if he hates you for it, he'll at least know you made that effort."

Cal grows quiet, for a long while, only the TV playing softly in the background. Then, "You're a smart girl, I can tell. Mature for your age. So, I'm going to give you a piece of advice." He leans forward. "Run. My son is not the guy for you. You can't fix him, and you can't help him. You can't give aid to a drowning man who chose to jump into the deep end in the first place.

"If you stay with him, he will ruin you. But I know you will anyway, despite this conversation. Maybe in spite of it. Just know that you're not the first, and you won't be the last." He leans back again. "No woman will ever make him happy, will ever live up to his perfect ideals of femininity. And, if they do, he'll fucking hate them for it. That anger he feels toward me? Give it time. You'll become the new punching bag. He kills what he loves"

You suddenly feel sick.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

You swallow, even if your mouth has now gone dry. "Goodnight, Mr. Jacobs," you say, turning away from him.

"Cal," he calls after you.

You turn your head back to look at him.

"Just Cal is fine."

You only nod before going back upstairs.

When you close Nate's door behind you, he's still asleep.

You lock it, then lean back against it, staring at him, your head spinning.

What the hell had just happened?

You watch Nate sleep, wanting to cry. But not for yourself. No. For him. He's only seventeen, and his own father is trying to drive away someone he's only just gotten together with.

You try to piece things together.

Nate dislikes him, of course. The incident in the kitchen had seemed a bit more aggressive than Cal just joking around with him.

So, maybe...maybe he's jealous? Jealous that his son is young and still has options, whereas, at his age, he's set in his ways. But that doesn't make sense, either. Cal is handsome, successful, wealthy, has—what seems like, at least—a lovely wife. Has two sons, who you're sure will both go far, given their dad's money, if nothing else. At least, in Nate's case, it will also be due to hard work and perseverance.

No wonder Nate hates this house so much, had been so eager to get you into his room and away from...him.

It'd been something in the way he had looked at you that had made your skin crawl. Like he could see everything under the thin t-shirt draped over your frame.

Then you wonder if that's true at all, or if Nate's disdain for him is just rubbing off, creating a perception of him that isn't even real.

You want to blame it all on being tired, but you can't just ignore what Cal had told you.

So you finally lie down next to Nate, his body quickly pulling your own against his—finding you even in his sleep—and you stare up at the ceiling.

You try to think back through every interaction you've had with Nate the last couple of weeks. Trying to find any blaring red flags.

This had all started out as a secret: the tutoring.

You wonder if you should've brought it up to his dad just to see his reaction. To see if it would even bother him. But, even if not, it's easy for children to be terrified of disappointing their parents so much so that they hide things that said parent would never even get upset over.

There'd been the Fezco story, which hadn't seemed quite right to you. Rue was a drug addict, a sad fact, but a fact nonetheless. However, she seemed to mostly mind her own business and keep to herself. She never seemed the kind to stir up pointless drama. So, why would she target Nate randomly?

You mentally file that away for further observation.

Then there was his dressing you and doing your hair, which still came off as a bit odd. But maybe it's just another way of him trying to show affection? And honestly...you kind of like it. Not in a sexual way, but in a way that makes you feel warm and looked after.

And it's less for you to have to worry about. At least if he's doing your hair, it saves you time and effort in fighting with it.

Him spending obscene amounts of money on you without your permission had been a bit much for your comfort levels, but as you look at him, your heart breaks.

He'd told you how with Maddy he'd done all he could to "get her to love him back". And you're sure that's what he's trying to do with you, because that's what she had taught him love is: financially transactional.

Honestly, you want to hold him just thinking about it.

What had happened to this poor, sweet boy to make him think that he alone isn't good enough?

From his father being cruel and overly-critical, to Maddy being emotionally and verbally abusive, to Cassie being controlling and possessive, he's done nothing but endure mistreatment after mistreatment from people that're supposed to love him and that he tried to love himself.

You stop trying to find something wrong with him then. Instead focusing on the good. Him giving you compliments, always getting the door for you, driving you places, taking you on dates, giving you sweet gifts, helping you with the groceries, opening up to you and you also doing as much with him...the list goes on.

You cuddle closer to his chest, thinking, as you drift off to sleep, that Maddy and Cassie have no idea what they've lost.

When Nate wakes the next morning, you're still asleep, pressed against his side. And as he lays there, looking down at you—you breathing softly—he says it for the first time in a quiet whisper.

"I love you."

You don't stir, even for a moment.

And he means it. Really means it this time.

Because he knows he's finally fucking done right by himself. He'd studied and observed and manipulated you for two weeks until finally getting you into his bed, and you'd played along beautifully. Backing down at every turn when he needed or wanted you to, letting him have control.

From choosing places you both went together, to ordering for you at the bistro, him choosing your clothes, doing your hair, driving you around, letting him touch you—even if you weren't entirely comfortable with it, but allowing it anyway because you knew it made him happy—to making yourself smaller and sweeter and more agreeable to him in his moments of anger and irritation... You were perfectly submissive and gentle and soft.

He'd only have to make a few more tweaks here and there and his work would be done. You'd be everything he's been waiting and looking for.

He lays back against the headboard, fingers dancing along the bare skin of your back—it'd only taken one evening to get you naked and spreading you legs for him in bed. And he didn't think less of you for it. If you'd been with anyone else before, he would, absolutely. But he'd seen the proof plain as fucking day while going down on you last night: you're still intact. No one else has touched you.

No, you'd done it because you were falling, whether you knew it or not. And because he had tons of experience over you. All you had known in that sweet, innocent little mind of yours was that you wanted more of what he was willing to give you. Because it felt so much better when it was coming from another person. From him.

He grabs his phone, scrolling through Instagram, checking his email, his texts, while he waits for you to wake up next to him.

When you wake, it's with your face pressed against Nate's side. It takes you a moment to realize he's already awake, sitting up.

You sit up as well, covering yourself with a dark blue sheet.

"Good morning," you say shyly.

He drops his phone onto his bedside table, giving you his full attention. "Morning, angel."

He leans forward, planting a soft kiss to your lips.

You reach up. "My hair is probably a mess," you say nervously.

He leans back. "You look perfect. But you can use the bathroom if you want."

You nod, standing, and Nate takes in your naked body before you slip on his t-shirt, walking into the bathroom.

Once you've relieved yourself, you brush your teeth, then gasp when you look in the mirror before starting on your hair.

You quickly open the bathroom door and Nate looks at you with a lazy look on his face.

"What did you do?" You ask, fingers reaching up to gently press against the dark purple bruise he'd left on your neck.

He smirks. "Oops."

Blood rushes to your face in embarrassment. "People will see this."

He shrugs. "Let 'em."

You cross your arms, feeling uncomfortable. "It...it looks trashy."

He sighs. "It looks like a hicky."

"Nate-"

He rolls his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So, what, did I fuck up last night, too? I thought you enjoyed it."

You withdraw into yourself. "N-no, you didn't. I did—enjoy it, I mean."

He lowers his hand, looking up to you with a hurt expression. "Do you regret it?"

You feel absolutely horrible.

You pad over to him, sitting down beside him, taking one of his hands in yours, the other coming up to cup his cheek. "No, of course not. I liked it...all of it. I'm sorry. I overreacted."

You wrap your arms around his neck, and his face quickly returns to normal as you hug him.

"I enjoyed it, Nate. That's the first time I've done anything. I'm glad it was with you." You whisper, pressing your body closer to his own.

He waits a moment, lets you sweat over a possibility of having truly hurt him, then you relax when his arms wind around you.

"If you don't want me to in the fut-"

You pull back. "No, I do." You don't really wanting to be walking around with love bites for all to see, but you'll just have to figure out a way to cover them up in the future.

You'd rather that than making him worry that you don't enjoy being intimate with him.

You press your lips to his. You look at him for a moment, giving him a soft smile before you stand, returning to the bathroom.

Once you've brushed your hair, and washed your face, you return to bed, sitting next to Nate.

You gingerly take one of his hands in your own.

“Are you hungry?” You ask.

He glances between your legs, then back into your eyes.

You blush, looking down. 

“Are you?”

You shrug. “I could eat.” You look at him again. “Do you want me to make you breakfast again?”

He slowly moves his hand up your thigh. He doesn’t like the idea of his dad seeing you like this. Bare from your thighs down—more-so uncomfortable because you have nothing on underneath the t-shirt you’re wearing, even if he wishes you hadn’t bothered with putting it back on in the first place.

He stands. “Let me see if I can find you a pair of shorts or something.”

“I thought you said nothing you have will fit?”

He doesn’t reply as he pulls a pair of drawstring basketball shorts out of his dresser, turning around to hand them to you. “Put these on.”

You stand, doing as instructed, cinching the waist. They still look ridiculously big, but they stay in-place.

“Good enough,” he says before pulling on a t-shirt and putting on his sweatpants from last night—before going to sleep he’d taken them off, only sleeping in his boxers. He typically sleeps naked, but knew doing so last night most likely wouldn’t have been a good idea. Perhaps after you stay over a few more times he’ll strip one night, letting you wake up to his naked body pressed against yours.

He takes your hand as the two of you exit his room and he leads you downstairs. 

You’d slept until nearly eleven, so the rest of the house is already up. He just hopes you sleeping so late isn’t a regular thing. But he understands that you’d exerted yourself a bit more than usual last night. He smirks at the thought.

Thankfully, the kitchen is empty when Nate leads you into it. 

You lean back against a counter. “What would you like to eat?”

He seats himself at the island. “Do you know how to make an omelette?”

You smile. “Yes.”

You go to the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs, some cheese, and you grab a bell pepper from a fruit bowl on the counter, setting it all down. 

You begin pulling open drawers, looking for a knife, a whisk, and a bowl, and Nate just watches with idle amusement at you familiarizing yourself with his kitchen. 

You and Nate eat side-by-side, his knee brushing against yours as he takes bites of his omelette. 

He swallows. “I know I said it before, but you really are a good fucking cook.”

You glance at him and smile. “Thank you.”

Once the two of you are finished, Nate helps you load the dishwasher. “What do you want to do today?”

You lean back against the counter again and he plants his palms flat on either side of you, caging you in. 

You grip the hem of his t-shirt. “I’m not sure.”

“I could take you shopping again?”

Your heart sinks. 

You reach up, gently touching your fingertips against his cheek. Your eyes have softened as you look into his own.

“I know we talked about it before, and that you said that’s not why you did it, but I don’t ever want you to think you have to buy my affection, Nate. And I know you also said you didn’t want to talk about them anymore, but I’m not Maddy. My feelings for you aren’t transactional. I’m with you for you. And I’ll never try to control you like Cassie.”

You briefly think back to your exchange with his father last night and that well of sadness you now feel for him deepens. You wrap your arms around his neck, running your fingers through his hair. “I just want you. Exactly as you are. You’re more than enough for me. Please don’t ever feel like you have to bend over backwards to make, or keep me happy. I’m just glad I finally have someone to talk to and spend time with; that I'm not alone anymore.”

Nate slowly wraps his arms around you as well, wondering what the hell had come over you. He doesn’t dislike it. No, the very opposite. He likes it when you’re soft and kind with him. Not because he needs it, but because your feminine personality, especially in moments like this, more than compliment his masculine one.

All he can think is: this is exactly how it’s supposed to be. You submissive and sweet, loving and caring. Cooking and cleaning and doing as you’re told, letting him—one man—teach you about sex and your own body. Letting him make your decisions for you, like what you can wear, how to do your hair—he plans to expand that list drastically as time goes on. Also letting him think for you in the future, he hopes.

His sob stories about Maddy and Cassie had worked, apparently. A few truths, a few lies, and you saw him as someone who’d been used and taken advantage of by evil women.

You saw him as a good man.

He doesn’t wish he were. He knows what he is. He just hopes he can keep you blind to that truth for awhile longer. At least until after the two of you have started having sex.

He presses his face into your hair. “I’m so glad I met you. Even if it had to happen twice.”

You nod. “Me too.”

Neither of you are aware of it, but his mom stands just around the corner, tears stinging her eyes. And she knows her little boy has finally found the right girl for himself.

When you pull away from Nate, he caresses both of your cheeks, bringing his lips down to your own. His hand slips under the oversized t-shirt hanging from your frame , moving higher until he's cupping one of your bare breasts. He rubs the pad of his thumb against your nipple until it pebbles.

You pull away and he quickly moves his lips to your neck, sucking on that same hicky from last night.

You gasp. "Nate, what if someone walks in?"

He gently bites down and your hips buck against him.

He lifts you onto the counter, moving his lips back to yours, considering reaching his hand into his shorts that hang from your hips, until his phone vibrates in his pocket.

He bites back a curse at the ruined moment.

He pulls away from you with an irritated sigh and you wait patiently while he checks the notification.

He scans over the message, then looks up to you. "Do you want to go to a party tonight?"

You blink at him. "Like a birthday party?"

He smiles at your sweet innocence. "No, baby, a real party."

"Oh." You consider it for a moment. "I've never been to one."

He smirks, stepping closer to you, between your dangling legs. "I figured as much."

"Do you want to go?"

In truth, he usually wouldn't much care either way, but he knows this is a perfect opportunity to get you drunk, just to see what he can get out of it—out of you.

"I wouldn't mind it. It'd give us something to do tonight."

He give him a peck on the lips. "Okay."

He'd honestly thought you'd try to talk him into some fairytale movie night instead. He's pleased with your easy agreement.

"The party doesn't start until nine, which really means to show up after ten, at least. So we have the whole day ahead of us. We could run over to your place, get you changed, and pick up an outfit for tonight." He doesn't mention also getting pajamas for when he brings you back here after getting you loaded. You can either sleep naked or in something of his. But he'll make that decision then.

"Okay," you say pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Once you've changed I'll give you your first driving lesson."

You still then, and he dislikes your sudden change in demeanor. He prefers you agreeable and cute.

"What do you mean?"

He raises a brow. "Don't worry, I'm not going to be putting you on the interstate your first day. I'll teach you some of the basics in the school parking lot."

He moves his hand back under your shirt, gripping the curve of your side.

"And that's all, right?"

He nods.

You gently grip his t-shirt. "Okay."

He smiles.

Once you and Nate have arrived at your house, he follows you into your bedroom. Before you can open your closet to find a proper outfit to change into, he beats you to it. You stand to the side, still unsure how to feel about him picking out your clothes.

You say nothing about it, however, telling yourself it's one way he shows affection.

He hands you the blue babydoll dress he'd bought you, then picks up a pair of matte silver flats from your small shoe rack at the bottom of your closet, setting them near your bedroom door.

Without a word, without even your permission, he opens the top drawer of your dresser and begins to browse your panties and bras.

"W-what're you-"

He looks at you over his shoulder. "I've already seen you naked, sweetheart. Am I not allowed to pick out your panties?"

You blush furiously—your cheeks hot—before sitting down on your bed. You don't answer as he turns back around, picking out a pair of sky-blue panties with tiny dark-blue flowers printed on them and a white bra with lace trim and a heart sewn in the middle.

He tosses the items on your bed.

"Stand up for me, baby."

You do as he asks and he slowly pushes the hem of the t-shirt you're wearing up. You lift your arms and he removes it entirely, dropping it on the floor. You feel the need to cover your bare breasts, but refrain as he rubs the pads of his thumbs over each of your nipples.

He then reaches down, puling at the drawstring of the shorts he'd given you to wear and they fall to the carpeted floor, pooling at your feet.

You feel beyond self-conscious being completely naked before him in the daylight.

And he can tell just by your shift in body language. Pressing your thighs together, hands clasped in front of your genitals. And you refuse to look at him now.

He cups one of your cheeks in his hand, his other arm resting at his side. "Are you insecure?"

You shrug.

His lip twitches. Good, he thinks.

Maddy had been too fucking confident in every way. And Cassie had been completely secure in her looks, her body. And he'd thought them both shallow sluts for it.

But you? You have humility. You need his approval. Because you have no idea what you have.

"Look at me, Y/N."

You do so reluctantly.

"Do you have any idea how fucking perfect you are? What seeing you like this does to me?"

He uses his free hand to grab at his erection over his jeans and fills with such fucking satisfaction at seeing your pure, innocent eyes widen when you look down.

You look back up to him. "O-oh."

He glances to your bed behind you, that teddy still in-place. He looks at you again, your eyes watching him, waiting for him to tell you what to do next.

And he revels in it.

"Lie back on the bed, sweetheart."

You give a terse nod before doing so.

He leans over you, grabbing your bear, before handing it to you. "Hold this."

Your brows furrow, but you take the plush object from his grip.

He stands back up, removing his leather jacket before tossing it toward your chair in the corner. He then kneels down on the floor at the foot of your bed. Finally, he reaches forward, grabbing your hips and bringing himself face-to-face with that pretty pussy of yours.

"N-nate, wha-"

He immediately gets you to shut up by throwing your legs over his shoulders just like last night and devouring your already-wet pussy.

You grip your bear tighter, your body relaxing.

Nate eventually removes his lips from your cunt after a few minutes, then starts planting firm, wet kisses against your inner-thighs. Slowly. One after another after another. Occasionally sucking in one spot here, another there, working at giving you a couple more hickys, marking your privates as his very own.

He does the same as last night, gripping your hips in his large hands, keeping you still.

You whimper quietly, so he blows against your weeping pussy and you wiggle your hips, trying to get closer and he grins.

He flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit and watches as you pulsate for just a moment.

He reaches down, spreading your labia with his fore and middle fingers and admiring your in-tact seal. Mine, all fucking mine, he thinks before putting his mouth back on you.

He looks up, sees you gripping your teddy bear, biting your lip, your back arched and he moans against you at the beautiful fucking sight of you spread open and completely vulnerable before him.

He has you so fucking duped—thinking he's some injured boy looking for love—when all he really wants is to possess every part of you.

But he knows he's the best thing for you. What you need.

Not any of the idiotic guys at school who wouldn't know how to appreciate you. Wouldn't know how to provide for or protect you. Wouldn't know the first thing to do with you, other than try to shove their cocks in your face, or between your legs.

No, he wants you for far, far longer, and for far more than just some quick fuck.

You're sweet, inexperienced, and all alone. Not even you know what you need, what you want, who you are. But he does.

He runs his tongue along your hymen and you cry out and his eyes roll in pleasure at the sound. Finally he's gotten you to make some fucking noise.

He does it again and your body shudders.

He does his utmost to ignore his cock straining painfully against his pants.

He removes his mouth from you again and he hears a sound escape your lips that's something akin to a sob.

He begins to kiss your thighs again, working his way down to your knees, then back up each side. He sucks against the soft skin, leaving angry purple bruises on both sides before blowing against your clit again. You throw your teddy down out of frustration and he knows he nearly has you there.

He blows again, flicks his tongue lightly against your clit, a kiss and then another on either of your thighs, lightly biting. And then finally, finally, you reach down, tangling your fingers in his hair and you move your pussy closer, your ass now nearly hanging off the edge of the bed.

He looks up at you. "This what you want, sweetheart?"

Your fingers tighten then loosen against his scalp. "Mhm."

He blows against your dripping pussy. "You want me to let you cum, baby?"

You look down at him and your cheeks are a lovely shade of pink, your eyes glazed over with lust. "Please, Nate."

"How about pretty please?"

You lie back down against your fluffy white pillows with their frilly cases. "Pretty please?"

He kisses your right thigh. "Can you say with sugar on top?"

You squirm your hips and he holds them each in an iron-tight grip against the bed.

You let out a small sob.

She's finally fucking crying, he thinks.

"With sugar on top, please, p-pretty please?"

He kisses your left thigh, sucking on that pretty purple bruise of his own doing.

"And a cherry?" He asks.

You let out another sob and he can see a tear slip from your eye, dampening a spot on the pillow beneath your head.

God it's hardly taken him any effort at all. But, then again, you have nothing to compare him to.

"Prettypleasewithsugarontopandacherry?"

It all comes out as one long, garbled word, you say it so quickly. But he deems it good enough. He knows he's humiliated you by making you beg. But that you're so desperate for it that you'll do anything to have his mouth back on you.

"Good girl," he says before getting back to work with his tongue.

You start crying. "T-thank you."

It's after another ten minutes—you whining and grinding yourself into his mouth, whispering his name quietly over and over again—that he finally lets you fall over the edge. And it's something beautiful to fucking behold when you do.

Halfway through, he'd spread your right leg wider, his hand squeezing your thigh, keeping it in-place. He'd found your left hand with his, twining his fingers between yours, your hand squeezing his every few seconds as you concentrated on trying to find your release.

And when you orgasm, your hand squeezes his so hard it hurts, even a bit. He keeps your legs spread as you arch your back, your fingers tugging against his hair, rubbing your pussy against his mouth. And once you've calmed, your hammering heart slowing, he keeps your legs spread, watching your ass and pussy pulsate slowly. It's only once they've both stopped that he allows you to finally close your legs.

He climbs up onto the bed, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest and you cry quietly for a moment and you can't understand why.

He shooshes you. "It's alright, baby. You did so fucking good for me."

He places a soft kiss to the top of your head and you close your eyes, pressing yourself closer to him.

You feel so...different. Your body feels hot all over, a pleasant soreness between your legs, your thigh muscles a bit more overworked than usual, and your head feels...a bit foggy somehow? You feel relaxed for once. Content.

And the way you feel about Nate in this moment... You can't think like that. Can't acknowledge that little four-letter word. You were being ridiculous. But you'd never felt like this before. Never felt the way you had last night in his bed, either.

You can't say it. If you do, you'll lose him. And you can't lose anyone else. Because you have no one else to turn to if you do.

Now that you know how good it feels to be cared for and wanted and desired, you don't ever want to be alone again.

You suddenly feel tired and feel yourself starting to drift off to sleep against his broad, warm chest, his hands rubbing soothing circles against your bare back. You press your palms against him and yawn.

Then, "You ready for me to get you dressed, angel?"

Your eyes slowly flutter open. "I'm so tired."

He smirks. You would be.

Wait until he starts fucking you multiple times a day. You won't have energy for anything else. Or, that's the plan, at least. All you'll want is to stay naked in his bed. Too exhausted to even get up and put a t-shirt on.

He squeezes your small, soft body for a moment. "I know, but I really wanted to give you your first driving lesson today."

Not that he plans to let you start driving—not that you have the means to do so in the first place—but because he knows you'll learn sooner or later, and he wants to be the one to teach you yet one more thing.

He doesn't want it coming from another man, even if it's your dad.

You're his.

He sits up and you bury your face in a pillow and all he can do is think how cute you look.

"C'mon, let's go get you cleaned up."

You look up at him, at his outstretched hand, and you take it, following him sleepily to the bathroom.

As you stand in the shower, Nate gently wiping down your naked body with a warm, soapy cloth, you almost want to cry from how loved you feel.

You just can't manage to wrap your head around how Maddy or Cassie could've ever treated him the way they did. How Maddy could've been so cruel. Could've only wanted him for what he could give her. How she could've been so materialistic when he alone is so...wonderful.

You suppose you understand Cassie losing it over the thought of losing him. But it seems so evil to try and trap someone so kind and thoughtful in a relationship they no longer feel safe or comfortable in.

God, no reason he doesn't want to talk about either of them.

And then his dad treating him so terribly and trying to drive you away almost immediately after the two of you get together... You wonder if it isn't so Nate won't be 'distracted'. If he's the type of man to try and force his son to live up to some ideal image of manhood he himself could never quite achieve.

Your heart swells with affection for Nate, just like it did last night and this morning both.

You're broken from your thoughts by him speaking. "Turn."

You do.

Once Nate has rinsed you off, even shaved your legs, and wrapped you in a fluffy towel, he gestures for you to sit on the toilet lid and you watch as he pulls out your straightener like the day before.

You sit silently for a moment as he runs it over your hair. Then you decide you have to finally ask about his interest in styling.

"Nate?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

He's quiet for a moment, then, "Sure."

"How did you learn to do hair?"

He raises a brow, even if you can't see it. "Just comes naturally, I guess."

"Is...is that something you think you'd like to do one day? Styling or barbering?"

He nearly laughs at you. A straight man as a stylist.

"No. I just like doing yours."

"Oh." Then, "Why? Do you not like how I do it?"

Your tone sounds hurt, if not also a bit worried.

Good, you're finally worried about what he thinks of your appearance. You want his approval.

"I didn't say that. I just like taking care of you; dressing you up."

Like a doll, you think, but you don't say it.

He drops his hands, the hot tool now hanging by his side. "Why? Do you want me to stop doing it? Does it bother you that much?"

You turn back to him, gripping the towel wound around you. "No. I didn't say that."

You echo his own words back at him and his jaw feathers, not liking it. He'd picked out your clothes for you, gave you an orgasm without asking for anything in return, bathed you, and was now doing your hair, and you wanted to get fucking smart with him?

His free hand twitches at his side.

"It means...it means a lot to me, Nate. That you want to do things like this for me. That you care enough to try in the first place. No one has ever been so sweet to me." A tear falls and you quickly wipe it away, looking up at him again. "You're the most selfless person I've ever met."

He softens, his jaw relaxing, his fist loosening. He kneels down. "You're sure you don't mind?"

You shake your head, giving him a warm smile. "You make me feel so..." You trail off. You can't say loved. "So cared for. And safe."

You lean forward, kissing him softly. He moves his free hand under your towel and it falls open. He slides his hand from your thigh, to your hips, then to your back, pulling you closer to him. Finally, you wrap your arms around his neck as he deepens the kiss, flicking his tongue against your lips, silently asking for entrance, which you immediately grant him. Just as you start to spread your legs, clearly wanting him to give you something more, he stands, returning to your hair.

And as he finishes up with the straightener, all he can do is bite back an amused smile at you having called him 'selfless'. As if the things he does to you are for you.

Once Nate has finished with your hair—parting the fronts on either side from the rest, then joining them together in the back with a light blue bow he clips into place—he leads you back into your room.

He kneels down in front of you again, slipping your panties over your legs—you gripping his shoulder for support as you put one foot through one side, then the same with the other—he plants a quick kiss to your belly, which makes you giggle—the sound making him hard again. He then puts your bra on you.

Once he's clasped the back, he grabs your new dress and carefully lowers it over your head, careful not to mess up your hair. Once he's tied the large bow at the back of it, he adjusts your Tiffany necklace.

The pendant still resting in his palm, he looks at you. "Can you promise me something?"

You nod gently.

"Don't ever take this necklace off unless I tell you otherwise."

You're quiet for a moment, then, "Okay."

Once Nate has slipped your flats onto your feet, he looks you over for a moment, his eyes honing in on the hicky he'd left on your neck.

You stare back at him for a moment, before reaching up and pressing your fingertips against it. "I think I have some concealer-"

He shakes his head, not feeling like bothering with giving you a full-face of makeup at the moment.

"Do you have any chokers?"

Your brows furrow. "The necklaces?"

"Mhm."

You shake your head. "I never really got into those."

Well, you're about to, he thinks. He offers you his hand. "Let's go."

You slide your palm against his.

Once you're seated in Nate's truck, you grab your seatbelt, until he holds it in-place before you can pull it across your chest.

"Let me."

You let go and wait as he reaches across you, buckling you in. "I-I can do that."

He gives you a peck on the lips and a smile. "It's fine, I don't mind," he states before shutting your door.

Just as you're perhaps ten minutes away from the school, Nate turns down an unfamiliar road.

"I thought we were going to the school parking lot?"

He slides his hand up your thigh, under your dress, until it's so close to your panties he can feel your heat. "Just making a little detour, something I want to pick up real quick."

Perhaps five minutes later he pulls up to a small, expensive-looking boutique. He exits the truck before you can ask him what's going on, coming around to your side. He goes through the same—but also slightly-new—rendition of opening your door, and now also unbuckling you. He grabs you by the hips, helping you down, then taking your hand firmly in his as he walks inside.

An older woman with straight grey hair, an orange dress, and glasses calls out to the both of you, welcoming you to her shop.

You greet her back, while Nate all but ignores her.

"What are you looking for?" You ask, looking at him.

"I need to see if they even have it first."

He looks to the woman. "Where's your jewelry section?"

She points to the back of the store. "Back there and to the right. Let me know if you need help finding anything. Or need something ordered in a different size or color."

He leads you alongside him, until he finds a small display of lacy chokers.

He releases your hand, picking one up, holding it toward you.

You shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "I don't wear them for a reason. They're called chokers for a reason. They're really uncomfortable and-"

He cuts you off by tying it around your neck. "You wanted to cover the hicky I gave you. So, unless you want to put on a sweater in this heat, I don't see any other options."

You go silent, feeling like he's wrapping a collar around your throat instead.

He notices your sudden change in demeanor.

"What's wrong?"

You reach up, gently touching the fabric wrapped around your throat. "I don't know." Your tone is unsure.

He flexes his jaw. He takes a calming breath, refusing to make a scene in public. He sighs, cupping your cheek. "I just thought I'd buy you one to make you feel better. You don't have to wear it if you don't want to." He smirks, trying to come off as playful, flirty even. "I might prefer it if you don't, actually."

You blush, a small smile coming onto your lips.

He nearly releases a breath of relief.

He's fine with letting you think that him putting a collar of ownership on you was all your idea. He's fine with letting you think it's something else entirely.

You look in the small mirror set up off to the side of the jewelry selection. "I guess it feels okay."

He picks up a few more then. "Anything you'd like to look at while we're here?"

You shake your head immediately and it displeases him.

He leans down, kisses you, then whispers against your lips. "We're not leaving until you've picked out something for me to buy for you."

He kisses you again and again, then pulls away.

"You're sure?"

He nods. "I told you yesterday that I plan to spoil you fucking rotten. I like buying you presents, sweetheart. So let me."

Even if he knows it's just another form of him love-bombing you.

You gently twine your fingers between his and begin to browse.

By the time the two of you are done, Nate has spent over three-hundred dollars on you.

You'd only picked out a pair of sunglasses and a cheap pair of earrings, hoping that'd be enough for him, but he'd shopped more for you than you had for yourself.

He'd bought you two more dresses, a pair of jean cut-off shorts with a light-purple shirt to go with them, a new pair of sandals, the chokers he'd picked up when you first came in, and a few bows for your hair, along with a couple bottles of nail polish.

Just as you'd thought the two of you nearly finished, Nate had stopped, you bumping into his backside.

"Sorry," you'd said, squeezing his hand, but he'd not been paying any attention to you.

And when you followed his line-of-sight, your eyes grew wider.

No. Not lingerie.

But it was too late. He was already leading you over to their wide array of options. From simple bras and panties, to thongs, garters, chemises, but Nate only shows interest in, of course, babydolls.

He picks up a burgundy one, holding it up to you, but not looking at you, but your body. He shakes his head, then flips through the other colors before finding a soft pink one. He removes it from the rack.

"Nate-"

He quickly cuts you off. "We'll get this one. I'd like to see it on you at some point."

He takes your hand as he leads you up to the register.

You'd stood silently by his side as he swiped a shiny black credit card, an unsettling feeling in your gut, but you merely pressed yourself against his side then—willing it away—and he'd pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head as he grabbed the decorative boutique bags off the counter with one hand, taking yours in the other as he led you back out to his truck.

You're silent the entire way to the school, Nate's hand wedged firmly between your thighs, and it feels like the choker around your neck grows tighter.

Once Nate has pulled into the school parking lot, he kills the engine, turning to you.

He'd noticed your silence on the way to your destination. Had noticed your refusal to look in his direction. Instead keeping your eyes on the passing scenery outside your window.

He knows he's moving too fast, doing too much. That it's making you uncomfortable. Perhaps more than uncomfortable. And he fears that if he pushes too much harder, right now, at least, you might just jump ship. You've only been together since Thursday evening. Not even a full two days yet.

But he's good with words, always knows exactly what to say after reading someone to get desired results.

You're no different.

He turns toward you, you still looking out the window. "Hey," he says softly, quietly. "Can you look at me?"

A couple seconds pass and then you do.

He removes his hand from between your legs, instead using it to take one of your own in his. He looks down at your hands, furrowing his brows. "I'm sorry if...if maybe I did too much back there. If I made you uncomfortable. That was never my intention. I just..." He looks out the windshield. "I see everything you've gone without. Things I never have. Nice clothes, shoes..."

He looks back at you then. "Even just someone to talk to. I just..." He sighs, acting like he's at a loss for words. "The last thing I want is for you to continue on that way. So, sometimes, I like to buy you gifts. Take you to nice places on dates. Above all else, I want to make sure you're always happy.

"I want you to feel as happy as you've made me in the time we've spent together. Because I've never met anyone like you. Someone so good-natured and empathetic and affectionate. I think that's honestly what it is," he says with a small laugh, as if he's just figured something out. "I've never had that before. From anyone. So it makes me want to...to be better. It makes me so fucking happy to do things for you. To take care of you. I feel like maybe you bring out the softer side of me—the best of me. A side of me I don't ever share with anyone else. Because every time I have, they've either used it against me, or taken advantage, or mocked me for it. So, I feel like I always have to keep it under lock and key.

"And now I feel like it's only served to make you uncomfortable and-"

You interrupt him by reaching up, pressing your palm against his cheek. Now you understood it better. It wasn't just about him liking to give you gifts. No. It went far deeper than that.

This—this young man right here—is who he's always been. But he's never felt allowed to show it. The last thing you want to do is make him feel, yet again, like he needs to hide it away.

This is the side of him that you want to see.

"It did. Because for a second it felt like...like maybe you're trying to change me or..." You don't want to say it, but you're both being honest. "Or maybe control me? And after only a couple days together, that frightened me. But now? Nate, this," you say, reaching down to take his other hand in yours. "This is the one thing you can give me that I actually need. Honesty. If I understand it—you—then it won't bother me. Whatever it is."

You rub your thumb against the back of his hand. "You don't ever have to be afraid of being like this with me. Of opening up. If anything, it makes me feel closer to you. I know some girls expect men to be masculine and tough all the time, but I don't. I just want you as you are."

He gives you a loving look. He reaches across the console, wrapping his muscled arms around you, his hand cupping the back of your head. "I'm so glad I have you now."

You nod. "Me too."

He pulls back the least bit, simply looking into your eyes, until you press a kiss to his lips, and then another, and then he grabs your chin, deepening it. After a moment, you climb across the truck, into his lap, your legs bent on either side of him. He quickly reaches down, sliding the seat back. He then reaches under your dress, into the back of your panties, squeezing your ass in each of his hands and you grind down against him, gasping lightly before pressing your mouth back against his.

His cock is already straining against his jeans, desperately aching to finally fucking be inside of you, but he once again tells himself no, even if he's already grown sick and fucking tired of it.

He then reaches into your panties, his palm flat against your slick pussy.

You pull away a bit.

"I want you to cum on my hand," he whispers.

You don't even think about it before you begin to buck your hips against his palm, bringing your mouth back down to his own.

In a few minutes, the truck is shaking from the movements of your hips, trying desperately to reach your finish, pushing down against him as much as the limited space the two of you occupy allows.

Damned bucket seats, you think.

Nate wants to shove a finger or two inside of you, but knows that seal is meant to be broken by his cock and his cock alone.

Eventually, you groan in frustration. He reaches up, throwing some hair back behind your shoulder, which your dress is beginning to slip off of. "What's wrong, baby? Tell me what you need."

You whimper, grabbing his arm, humping his hand, but it's no use on its own.

"Would my leg be better, angel?"

You look up at him and nod.

First, he reaches around, pulling loose the bow tied against your back, then pulling down the top of your dress, until that lacy little bra is visible. He quickly unhooks it at the back, tossing it into the passenger seat. He then grabs your hips, repositioning you over his left thigh.

"Go on, sweetheart, cum for me."

As you begin to grind down against his thigh—a shudder wracking through your body—he leans forward, taking one of your breasts in his mouth.

"Mm, so much better," you say quietly, head thrown back.

His hand is now soaked, but he reaches into the back of your panties once again, gripping your ass, feeling your movements as you ride his leg.

It's only a few minutes later that he begins to feel a wet sensation against his thigh and he pulls back, watching you.

Your face, neck, and chest are red with a sex flush, your soft breasts as well. He firmly grips your hips. "Come on, angel. Cum for me."

You begin to move faster, grinding down against him, whimpering, sighing.

"That's it, baby, I know. I know it feels good."

You whine, nodding your head.

"You look so fucking beautiful. Cum on my leg, sweetheart. You're almost there. Come on, baby."

It only takes a few more seconds before you fall over the edge. "Ah, Nate!"

You press your lips back to his, riding out your orgasm, bucking your hips against his thigh until you're sore and can't go anymore.

And his cock is throbbing from you saying his name as you climaxed. A sound he'd hoped to hear last night, or even this morning, but all that mattered was that he now had that lovely fucking sound in his head.

You only whispering his name in your room hadn't been nearly satisfactory enough.

Once your movements have slowed, you slump against him, your breathing ragged.

He holds you, hands rubbing against your bare back. He presses a kiss to the side of your head. "You did such a good job, angel."

You lie your head on his shoulder. "I did?"

He hums in approval. "I fucking loved hearing you say my name like that."

You pull back, eyes now hooded. "Really?"

He smirks. "Of course. Why wouldn't I like that?"

You gently plant your palms against his chest.

"Did you like that?"

You look at him from under your lashes and nod shyly.

He presses a kiss to your forehead. "Good."

You glance down at his erection, then back up to him. "Should I-"

He shakes his head. "I just wanted to take care of you. I enjoy helping you cum."

Lies, fucking lies. Yes, he enjoys knowing he's the one making you orgasm, but God if he doesn't want to pull his cock out and force it down your warm wet throat right now just to get some fucking relief.

But he can't. Not here. Not like this.

You nod.

He grabs your bra and begins dressing you again.

"Right blinker."

You glance at the levers on either side of the steering wheel. You know it's one of them, but unsure which one exactly.

You look at him.

"Try the lever on the left side."

A small green arrow starts blinking on the dash.

"Now left one."

A new arrow appears.

"Hazard lights."

Once Nate has schooled you on the various buttons and levers and switches his truck has to offer—you hope can you remember all of them—he makes you identify the brake and then the gas, then the gas and then the brake over and over, before telling you to adjust your mirrors, and finally instructing you to take the vehicle out of park and do a lap around the parking lot.

You don't go over ten miles per hour as you do as instructed, his palm resting on your thigh all the while for support.

One you've reached the spot where you first started, you press down on the brakes a bit too hard—the both of you lurch forward in your seats.

Your face grows warm and you look at him, gripping the wheel tighter. "Sorry."

He chuckles and you're glad you at least got him to smile. "It's ok. We'll work on that. Go ahead and go around again."

You do as instructed.

At the end of your lessons, Nate deems that you've done rather well. He'd had you drive around the parking lot a few times, reverse, park, even parallel park, which wasn't your favorite, but he tells you that all of it will improve in time the more he has you do it.

When he finally comes around to the driver's side to unbuckle you, you can't help but smile at how...special you feel.

He'd told you before you ever even switched seats that he'd never let another person drive his truck. Ever.

You'd thanked him for the privilege, then joked that you would only put, at most, a couple dents in it.

He'd told you he might have to punish you if that happened, his hand snaking between your legs.

On the way back to Nate's house, he'd called ahead and ordered the two of you Chinese for dinner, saying he wouldn't take you to a party on an empty stomach.

You'd merely told him thank you, twining his fingers between your own, his other wrist draped over the wheel.

As the two of you sat at the dining room table in his house, eating your dinner side-by-side, he'd fed you some of his Kung Pao chicken, your throat immediately burning. He'd laughed as you gulped down half a glass of water.

You ignored his telling you water would only make it worse as you drank more.

He finished half his food, putting the rest away in the fridge before coming to sit back down beside you while you finished, his body facing yours, pressing soft kisses to your hair every few moments as you ate your rice and chicken.

And at one point, when you'd finally looked at him, the look in his eyes was nothing short of adoring.

He merely continued to stare at you, his fingers threading through your hair. "You're so beautiful."

"Thank you."

He nodded, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you went back to eating.

So polite, he thought. Even after giving you oral you had thanked him—thanked him—for getting you to orgasm. God, you were so different than anyone he'd ever had before.

As his eyes trailed over your body, he couldn't help but smile at knowing you're his.

Once you're full, he leads you up to his room, stripping you out of your outfit for the day, before slipping one of his t-shirts on over your head for you to relax in for the next couple of hours before he gets you ready for the party.

You seat yourself on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to decide what the two of you are going to do next, until he sits down on his lifting bench.

"Do you care if I work out for a little bit?"

You shake your head. "Go ahead," you say with a smile. Perhaps even a little eager to watch him.

He lies back, legs spread, feet planted on the floor on either side of him, then reaches up to start weight-lifting.

You lean forward, your legs crossed, elbows pressed into your thighs, head resting on your fists as you watch him with utter desire.

The way his biceps flex, his abs taught as he pushes the weight up from him, then back down, with little difficulty. You lick your lips as your eyes trail lower, somewhat wanting to see what you'd felt pressed against your heat earlier in his truck.

You know you had told him that you didn't mind him being softer, gentler, but the fact that he plays football, drives a big truck, and works out...it's all definitely a turn-on.

After a number of reps—you'd not bothered keeping count of just how many, you were otherwise occupied—Nate sits up, only glancing to you before starting with the leg lift next. And your eyes once again trail from his abdomen, all the way down to his muscled legs, dark hair littering both.

You feel warm, especially between your thighs. God, you can't believe he's all yours.

Who cares if he wants to blow large loads of money on you and dress you up occasionally if you get to watch him do this sometimes.

Once he's finished, you sit up straighter as he walks over to you. You look up at him.

"Sorry if that was a bit boring."

He knows you liked it. Can tell from how intently you had watched him, the obvious warmth of your cheeks.

You shake your head. "It wasn't," you say, your voice barely above a whisper you're so turned on.

He grips your chin, running his thumb alonger your lower lip. "No?"

You lightly shake your head.

"You liked it?" He pretends to feign mild suprise.

You nod.

He studies you for a moment. Then, he leans down toward you, forcing you to lay back on the bed.

He reaches between your legs and you gasp in surprise as he runs two fingers along your soaking wet folds. "That much, huh?"

You nod, then spread your legs wider, reaching down to the hem of his t-shirt, quickly removing it, leaving yourself completely naked before him.

A silent plea for him to do something—anything—to relieve that pulse going between your legs now.

He rubs his thumb over your clit and you smile, reching up to grip his broad shoulders.

"Did that feel good?"

You nod. "Y-yes."

He looks down at your pussy. "So wet for me, aren't you, baby?"

You spread your legs wider, the backs of your thighs now resting flat on the mattress they can't be parted any further.

And all Nate can think is how needy you fucking are. And he loves it. How easily wet you get for him, how you're already so willing to let him touch and taste and tease you. How you so easily hand over control of your body to him.

He presses a kiss to your lips for just a moment before pulling away, rubbing his thumb over your clit again.

"Mm, Nate..."

He smirks as you close your eyes, expecting him to give you yet another orgasm today.

Finally, he steps away, shutting the bathroom door behind him, the shower turning on.

Your eyes pop open and you shoot up in bed, bringing your legs back together, wondering why the hell he'd left.

Nate takes his time showering, hoping you're lying on the bed sexually frustrated from his teasing you, something he plans to do a great deal more of in-time.

He knows how powerful of a weapon sex can be, and with your experience being null...he never had that kind of upper-hand before. He's beyond elated that he does now.

He'd known Maddy had been lying when they fucked for the first time. When he had pulled out of her and there's been no blood, when she'd clearly known what the hell she was doing. But, because she'd been something warm and tight to stick his cock into, he'd resigned himself to not having a virgin like he wanted.

But you? You don't stand a chance against his sexual prowess.

Once he's showered and has also shaved, he jacks off thinking about the things he's done to you so far, but even more-so the things to come.

When he finishes, it's with cum shooting out, onto his hand, on the dark shower walls. Finally he feels some small form of release.

It's beyond fucking difficult maintaining control when it comes to being intimate with you, but he has a plan and knows he has to—must—stick to it. It's imperative that your first time with him is full of emotion and love and passion.

Because once the two of you have shared that moment?

His hooks in you will be permanently set.

Once Nate had showered, you'd not said anything about his teasing you. In reality, you kind of liked it... You knew he was being a flirt by doing it, if not also a bit of an ass, but for some reason all of that turned you on all the more.

The build-up to something else.

The two of you lied down on his bed for awhile, you naked, pressed into his side, one of your legs twined around his own while while some cheesy romance movie played—something he'd put on, thinking you would like it.

But you couldn't focus on that. Instead, all you could think about was how good this feels. This level of comfort and warmth and trust with someone to be with them like this. Naked in his bed, one of his arms around you, fingertips brushing against your hip, his other bent behind his head.

You think how lucky you are to have him. He's smart, handsome, sweet, so, so kind and giving and selfless, mature, determined...the list goes on.

He moves his hand up, his fingers working themselves against your scalp and you close your eyes, falling asleep listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart.

You're woken by Nate planting featherlight kisses against your cheeks, forehead, nose, chin, lips. Your eyes flutter open and you wrap your arms around his neck, stretching, arching your back. You smile up at him through drowsy eyes. "Hi."

You crane your neck up to kiss him and he melts into you. Literally melts.

Your softness, your graceful femininity, your love and desire for him and only him.

He pulls away for a moment, your gentle fingertips touching his lips as you look into his eyes.

"Time to get up and let me get you ready, angel."

"What if we stayed here in your bed?" You ask, your voice light and dreamy.

And fuck him if he doesn't consider it for a moment.

He shakes his head, then. He needs to get you drunk tonight.

"Sit up for me, sweetheart."

You keep your arms around his neck as he pulls you up with him, yawning as he disentangles himself from you, then takes your hand in his, leading your naked form into the bathroom as he turns on the shower.

Once he's washed you, the two of you go through the same rendition as that morning. And due to your still feeling sleepy, you let him do as he pleases as he brushes out your still-straight hair, forgoing any accessories. He then leads you back into his bedroom, seating you on his mattress as he goes through the bag he'd packed for you. He'd found a comely black dress in your closet that he'd actually been surprised you even owned, it showed so much skin. Well, a lot for you, at least.

But it'd also been shoved into the back, so it clearly was not a favorite of yours.

You raise your arms as he slips the soft black dress over your naked form. He admires it on you for a moment—it's a mini dress, with a plunging neckline, the sides cut out, leaving your sides bare, but against your back is a large bow.

He doesn't consider putting a choker back on you, wanting anyone who looks at you tonight to see the mark he'd put on your body, branding you as his property.

He then kneels down, slipping a black pair of pumps onto your feet which are covered in a pleasant floral pattern, small bows on each.

He then stands, heading over to his closet and throwing on a t-shirt and jeans, and a pair of clean socks and tennis shoes, shrugging on a zip-up hoodie before offering you his hand.

A small smile plays on Nate's lips the entire way over to the party. This afternoon had been so perfect. You naked in his bed, asleep in his arms, then sitting there contently—silently—while he readied you, dressing you up as he pleased. And now here you sit in the passenger side, entertaining yourself with his right hand resting in your lap, holding one of your own while your other traces idle shapes along his veins and skin.

As he slows for a traffic light, he glances at you, how beautiful you look. And all he can think is how much he loves you.

"Are you happy, baby?"

You look up at him, smile, then nod. "Yes."

The light turns green and he looks back to the road before the both of you.

Once Nate has parked, you feel your pulse rising under your skin. Flashing lights, and loud, thumping music come from the two-story house before you, numerous people coming in and out, milling around outside, drinks in-hand.

Once Nate has come around and unbuckled you, you stay seated. "There's a lot of people here."

He just looks at you, waiting for you to continue. "I...I get anxious in crowds."

He takes your hand in his, helping you down. "Just stay close to me, then, sweetheart."

You twine your fingers securely between his, your other arm coming up to wrap around his own and you press your body as close as you can into his side as you enter the strange domicile you've never been to before.

And Nate eats it up—you clinging to him so closely, afraid of being parted from his side—and he feels both a sense of satisfaction, as well as jealousy, if not also possessiveness, as young men's eyes trail along your young body. All of them want what they'll never have. You belong to him now.

He glances down at you and you're already looking up at him, completely oblivious to the men practically lapping at you with their tongues.

He gives you a quick kiss on the top of your head, then leads you further into the house, the music growing so loud you can feel the bass in your chest, intermixing with the wild beat of your heart.

Nate's eyes dart this way and that, looking for possible familiar faces—not because he wants to spend any amount of time with anyone but you tonight—but because he wants the word to spread like wildfire that you're already wrapped around his finger already. Completely devoted to him.

When he spots the kitchen, he leads you in that direction, honing in on the plethora of alcoholic drinks sitting out on the counter.

He releases your hand for a moment, your body pressing impossibly closer to his own, as he looks over the bottles, searching for something good to start you out with. Something sweet and sugary to get you drunk on before he has you start downing hard liquor to keep you that way for the rest of the night.

His goal is to get you drunk enough that you black out and forget what he has planned this evening.

He spots a bottle of sparkling cider and picks it up, pouring some into a solo cup, placing it in your small delicate hands.

"I-I don't drink!" You practially have to scream at him over the music.

His brows furrow, acting like he has no idea what you've said. He leans down, placing his ear close to those pretty lips that he'd put some pink lipgloss on before leaving.

"I don't drink, Nate."

He places his lips against your ear, his hand gripping your hip in silent encouragement. "Just try it, you might like it."

You look at him for a moment, then finally take a sip. And your eyes widen in interest before taking another one. He bites back a satisfied smirk.

"Do you like it?"

You nod your head fervently and he can't help but think how utterly fucking adorable you look.

He takes your cup, filling it nearly to the brim with the orange substance.

He, himself, grabs a bottle of Budweiser before leading you further into the house, seating himself on a couch before pulling you into his lap, one of his hands coming to rest firmly between your legs under your dress.

He takes a sip of his beer, then watches as you take another sip and then another from your cup. He reaches up, tipping it forward, forcing you to down a third of it in one go. Finally, he drops his hand, picking up his beer again and laughs playfully when you look at him, shaking your head with a smile.

By the time you've reached the bottom of your cup, you're already drunk. Your head feels light, like it's spinning. You lean back against Nate, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Did you finish it?"

You merely nod, a giggle escaping your lips.

"Want me to get you another one?"

You sit up straighter, then turn to look at him and burst out laughing.

He can't keep himself from smiling at you.

"Is that a yes?"

You nod, scrunching your nose up adorably before throwing your arms around his neck, pressing a firm wet kiss to his cheek, then kissing his lips. He notes that you taste pleasantly of apples.

You stumble alongside Nate as he pulls you into the kitchen, filling your cup again and you don't notice, as you go to take a sip, that he once again puts his index finger under the base, holding it in-place until half the cup is drained.

He glances behind you, seeing Maddy across the room, wearing some revealing purple dress that nearly shows her ass, Kat at her side.

He watches them as they watch you, Maddy leaning over to Kat, saying something to her, which he can't quite make out.

He thinks, if he's read her lips correctly, she said 'what the fuck did he do to her?'.

He looks down at you, cupping one of your cheeks in his hand. "Do you want to dance?"

"What?" You giggle again, hugging him affectionately.

When you pull away he repeats himself.

"Do you?" You ask, your words slurred.

He doesn't answer before grabbing your hand, leading you into the middle of the living room, pulling your body against his. He grabs your hips, shaking them this way then that, one of your arms slung over his shoulder, the other occasionally lifting your drink to your lips.

He then sees Cassie, who's been watching the two of you for God knows how long, so he leans down, pressing a long, passionate kiss to your lips, adding in plenty of tongue.

You moan against him and he has half-a-mind to reach into your panties, wondering if all the alcohol has gone where he hopes it has.

He refrains. He won't humiliate or disrespect you like that. Not in front of a crowd.

He moves his lips down to your neck and you throw your head back. He moves one of his hands under the cut-out side of your dress, under your panties beneath, gripping one of your ass cheeks. The other comes up to caress the back of your head as he begins kissing your neck, sucking on that purple bruise, keeping it firmly in-place.

He licks your neck when he sees Cassie finally walk away, chugging her beer.

Nate pulls back, looking down at you.

You smile up at him. "I feel so-" you laugh. "So good." you giggle a few times. "I want you so bad."

He raises a brow. "Is that so?"

"Mhm." You reply, kissing him.

He puts his lips right up against your ear. "I bet if I checked them, your panties are fucking soaked right now. Aren't they?"

He feels you nod and blood fills his cock.

"You wet for me, baby?"

You nod again. "Yes," you say breathily.

His fingers tangle in the hair at the back of your head, gently yanking your head back, and he devours your neck. He wedges one of his legs between your thighs, moving his lips back to your ear. "There you go, angel. Take what you need."

You grind against him and whimper.

He presses his lips against your own, teasing you with his tongue.

Your kissing grows sloppy, uncoordinated, your hips bucking randomly against him.

He pulls away and you pout. He pulls you back into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels before holding it against your lips. "Try this one, sweetheart."

You don't argue, you just drink, the whiskey dripping down between your breasts, which he quickly cleans with his tongue. You giggle. "Stop it," you say between laughs.

He holds the bottle to your lips again and doesn't stop until you've drunk more than a sufficient amount.

You tug against his shirt then and he gives you his ear. "I have to-" You laugh. "Have to potty."

He holds you against his side as he goes in search of the bathroom, hoping you can hold it and that you haven't broken that tab just yet.

He finally finds it at the end of a hall. He knocks once, twice, then opens the door, finding it empty.

You stumble inside.

"Can you go on your own?" He does not fucking want to have to wipe you, but will look after you if that's what needs done.

You nod your head, slamming the door in his face.

He leans back against a wall, waiting for you. And rolls his eyes when Cassie comes to rest back against the wall opposite him.

She takes a swig of her beer—because of course she's drinking beer—at least you like the sweet stuff, which he thinks certainly fitting for you—before crossing her arms over her ample chest.

He only gives her a bored glance before leaning his head back, taking a drink of his Budweiser.

"What does she have that I don't?"

"Jesus fucking Christ," he mutters while staring up at the ceiling before looking at her. "Are you serious right now?"

She shrugs dramatically, her eyes widening. "You never had any interest in her before. Didn't you call her 'fucking boring' one time?"

He shakes his head. "Doesn't fucking matter what I said before, Cassie. I'm with her now. End of story."

She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "She's not even your fucking type!"

He laughs, mockingly. He licks his lips, glancing away, then back to her. "You have no idea what my type even is."

"I thought it was me..." She mumbles.

He raises a brow. "Are you fucking slow or something? Alright, fine. You want to know what she has that you don't?

She nods her head dramatically. "Yeah, I do. Because it sure as hell isn't looks, or-"

His fuse is near-gone by now. "She came to me a fucking virgin, for one. I sure as shit couldn't have said the same for you."

She flinches.

"Do you know how humiliating it was to be with you? The way you acted sometimes-" He rubs his thumb against his brow, lowering that hand back down to his side. "You were nothing more than a greedy whore looking for attention, and that still hasn't changed even now. It's why you're trying to make a scene in the middle of a party in front of all our peers. I mean," he holds out his hands, palms face-up before her. "What did you really hope to accomplish with this?" He relaxes one of his arms back down to his side again, the other holding his beer to his lips for a quick drink.

"Look at the fucking way you're dressed for one. You might as well have walked in here naked-"

"Look at the way she's dressed!"

"I know exactly what she's wearing because I put it on her!"

Hurt flashes across her features, remembering when he had once done that for her.

"So, is that it, then, you just needed a new doll to play with?"

He leans back, lightly banging the back of his head against the wall. "You don't fucking get it."

"Then explain it to me, since I'm so ignorant."

He looks at her again. "She's everything I've ever wanted. You can't hope to hold a fucking candle to her. You, Cassie, you were just a toy for me to fuck when I had nothing better to do. You're the girl you brag to your buddies about making another notch in your belt for. She's the girl you marry and provide a life for."

Her lip trembles.

He shakes his head. "Even then, I don't brag about you because I'm fucking ashamed I was ever even with you. I'm probably lucky I didn't catch something, since half the guys around here have rode you like a goddamn Greyhound."

She explodes then. "Fuck you, Nate! I gave you fucking everything! I bent over backwards for you—to be perfect for you. I blew up my life for you! I thought we were in love and that...that we'd have forever together and...so what? What is it, then? Do you love her now?"

He throws his bottle at the wall, no more than half a foot from her head, causing her to jump in fear as it shatters, alcohol spraying on her. "Yes, Cassie, I fucking love her!"

Right as he screams it in her face, you open the bathroom door, hearing every word.

Both their heads jerk in your direction and you glance from Cassie to Nate, back to Cassie, before finally settling on Nate again. You let out a quiet sob. "I can't get them back on, I keep falling over."

He looks down, and sees your panties around your ankles. He suddenly softens then. "Oh, baby, c'mere."

He kneels down, grabbing your hand and placing it firmly on his shoulder. "Lift your leg for me sweetheart."

You do, head spinning as he slips one foot free. "Now the other side, angel."

Cassie watches, heart breaking at how gentle he is with you. The sweet names he calls you—something he'd never done for her. She was, at the most, Cass.

Finally, he stands, pocketing your lacy black panties.

You lean back against the wall to steady yourself, and he cups both of your cheeks in his hands and all she can do is stare at the two of you. At the look in his eyes—seeing that it's true; they're filled with love and devotion and care.

"Did you go?" He asks, his tone gentle, but concerned.

You nod.

He brushes a thumb over your lips. "Did you wipe, sweetheart?"

You nod again.

He presses a firm, yet soft kiss to your forehead, then your lips, before wrapping one of his arms around you, holding you close to his side, not sparing Cassie another glance as he tells you "Let's go get you another drink."

Cassie slams the bathroom door behind her, unable to think of anything else but how, if that had been her, he wouldn't have waited for her, wouldn't have helped, or tended to her. Would've most likely started a fight with her over how she was embarrassing him. How she was being a trashy slut.

What the fuck was so different about you?

Once Nate has gotten you so drunk that you can't even stand up on your own, he has to carry you back to his truck bridal-style. His jacket is draped over you to keep you warm, your face pressed against his neck while one of your hands grips his t-shirt for dear life.

He quickly unlocks the truck, his keys held firmly in one of his hands underneath you, and he lowers you into your seat, carefully buckling you in. He gently shuts the door, coming around to the driver's side. Once he's buckled in as well, he locks both doors, making sure you don't do something stupid in your stupor, like try and open it.

You lean your head back against the seat, holding his jacket over you.

"So dizzy..."

He turns the heat on. "Just close your eyes, baby. We'll be home soon."

You do, wishing the world would just slow down.

Once Nate has gotten you home, he carries you inside, and when he sets you down in the foyer, you slam back against the wall, back to giggling again.

He tries to shoosh you, holding a finger up to your lips, but you gently pull it down, trying to instead shove it under your dress.

He shakes his head. "Are you going to be a naughty girl tonight, then?"

You shrug, but barely, your limbs not entirely cooperating.

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours and you giggle yet again and his hand grips one of your inner-thighs.

He pulls back a little, glancing down the hall, then to you. "Do you want to go swimming?"

You nod enthusiatically, then immediately regret it as you press your forehead against his chest, willing the dizziness away. "Nooooo..."

"So you do or don't?"

"Swim mmm."

He takes that as a yes.

He leads you that way, you nearly falling on your ass halfway down the hall, but he drags you along, despite your stumbling. He grabs a couple beers from the fridge, intending on giving one to you outside.

Once you're in the backyard, he picks you up, slinging you over his shoulder. "Oooh noooo."

"Oh yes," he replies.

Your head slumps, bobbing with every step he takes, until he finally sets you down on a pool chair.

He hands a bottle of beer to you and you can't quite figure out the twist top, so he takes it from you, opening it, then handing it back. He watches in satisfaction as you take a long drink, licking your pretty pink lips.

He kneels down, not even buzzed and reaches his hand between your legs.

You hum with pleasure, closing your eyes.

"Look at me, sweetheart."

Your eyes pop open.

"Do you want to go skinny dipping?"

You nod.

He helps you out of your heels and then your dress, tossing the latter onto the chair you'd previously occupied.

He grips the back of his shirt, pulling it off, then toes off his shoes and socks before he reaches down, unbuckling his belt, and unzipping and unbuttoning his jeans before he pulls them, along with his briefs, off in one motion. You barely get a chance to look over his naked form before he walks the both of you over to the pool. He seats you on the side, your legs dangling in the warm water as he slips in.

He grips your hips, easing you in as well, wrapping your legs around his waist, arms around his neck, and his own arms around you to ensure you don't drown.

You gently lie your cheek against his shoulder, the only sounds to fill the night being the lapping of water, crickets and frogs, and the pool filter humming under the water.

"I love you," he whispers, knowing you won't remember any of this.

"Mmm," is all the reply you can manage, your body shaking with a small laugh.

"You're all mine. Every part of you."

You stay silent, enjoying the bouyant feeling of weightlessness and the warmth of him.

"Can you tell me that, angel? That you belong to me?"

"I..." you giggle. "I belong to youuu."

He hums his approval.

"I'm going to take your virginity tomorrow," he says, tone relaxed.

"Okaaay."

He smirks. You have no idea what he's even saying.

"And when I do, you're mine. Forever."

You only wrap your arms tighter around his neck. "Juuust get the home-" you snicker. "Homework done, 'kay?"

He doesn't say anything as he wades the two of you arond the pool. His studious little angel.

You yawn and he knows it's time to get out then.

You take his hand as the two of you exit the pool. Nate grabs some towels out of a nearby bin, but you laugh when he comes to stand in front of you. He fills with seething fucking rage when he sees that you're looking at his cock when you do it.

"What's so funny?" He asks, hands in fists at his sides.

"I've n-never seen one. In-" You cackle. "real life. It's so-"

If you're about to insult him, he knows he'll snap and do something he'll later regret.

"So preeetty."

All the tension releases from his body. Not quite what he'd been expecting, but he'll take it.

You look up to him with a drunken smile. "I l-like it."

He smirks. "Do you want to touch my cock, sweetheart?"

You nod.

He takes one of your hands in his, wrapping it around his member, which quickly grows harder in your grip.

"Feels funny."

"How?"

"Soft. Like vel-Velveeta."

He knows you mean velvet.

Your strokes are sloppy, unsure. He knows that you have no idea what the fuck you're doing, but it only turns him on all the more.

Just as he begins to consider asking you to get on your knees, he looks toward the house and immediately loses his erection when he sees his dad watching the both of you.

You frown. "What...w-what happened?"

You look up to him.

"You're exhausted. Time for bed."

You hang your head as he wraps your naked body in a towel. "Noooo..."

"Yes, c'mon," he says, taking your hand, grabbing your clothes and his in the other, slipping his shoes back on, handing you yours.

Once the two of you have taken a shower—Nate not wanting his sheets to stink like chlorine—he puts you to bed, lying down beside you, still naked.

Before you fall off to sleep, however, he reaches over, grabbing your phone from the nightstand.

He hopes to God you're not too drunken to answer his next question. "What's the pin for your phone?"

It takes a few tries and a lot of laughing, but you finally give him the four-digit code, which he immediately commits to memory.

And then you drift off to sleep, once again firmly against his chest, feeling safe and happy.

Meanwhile, Nate goes through every single app on your device. He's glad to see you have no social media, minus Pinterest and Letterboxd accounts, neither of which have any messages on them. He browses through your emails, finding nothing of interest.

He next checks your gallery, searching for nudes he's sure he won't find, even checking for hidden folders.

He finds naught.

Finally, after browsing your texts—you only having threads with him, your dad—which you haven't texted with in hardly three weeks, and Lexi—who you left on read Friday when she texted you asking 'what the hell is going on with you and Nate?'—he briefly considers blocking her number, but knows that decision, that action, needs to come from you—he installs an app for tracking your location, syncs it to the very same app on his own phone, and then hides it.

He makes it so that, unless you go into your settings looking through your app list, you'll never find it.

He tells himself that he's only doing it to keep you safe. But he also knows that if he ever catches you with someone else, he'll fucking kill him.

You wake before dawn with an extreme feeling of nausea. You practically jump out of bed—head pounding—and race to the toilet, barely making it as you kneel before it, vomiting up the contents of your stomach.

Nate wakes as well, sitting up, heading toward the bathroom in a panic to take care of you, before remembering that he's naked. He grabs a pair of briefs from the floor, sitting on his bench press as he pulls them on. He comes into the bathroom then, kneeling beside you and pulling your hair out of your way as you continue to get sick.

Once your stomach has calmed, you close the lid, flushing, then lying your head down. "Oh God."

He smirks, running his hand along your naked back. "Hangover?"

"Don't ever, ever, ever let me drink again."

He stands, grabbing a clean washcloth and running it under some cool water before wringing it out and holding it against your forehead.

You merely hum your appreciation.

"I feel so horrible."

"It usually goes down a lot easier than when it comes back up."

You groan.

He presses a kiss to your hair. "Are you cold or hot?"

"Both. My body is freezing."

He stands, grabbing a spare blanket from the foot of his bed, then returning to the bathroom, wrapping you up in it.

"Thank you," you mumble.

And then the feeling hits you again, so you throw the toilet lid open and vomit once more.

It's almost an hour later before you feel confident enough that, if you go back to bed, you won't get sick all over it. Nate puts a trash can on your side anyway.

He'd gone down and gotten you water, a bottle of Gatorade, and some crackers before coming back up and setting them on the table on your side of the bed.

He likes that you now have a side.

While you lie there, facing away from him and instead toward the side that the trash can is on, he also lays on his side, rubbing your back.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For?"

"Embarrassing you, probably."

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"I don't remember most of it."

His hand stills, but only for a moment. So it worked, he thinks, a sick sense of satisfaction filling him.

"What's the last thing you do?"

You close your eyes. "It's like there's holes in my memory. I remember dancing. I think I went pee. I think...I think I went pee and Cassie was in the bathroom with me?" You pause for a moment and sigh. "I think you carried me to your truck. Did we swim?"

A muscle in his jaw feathers. "Just for a little bit. Then we came up and watched a movie until you fell asleep on my chest."

You hum in response. "Was it The Princess Bride? I think I remember."

He's glad you do, because he sure as hell doesn't, since it never happened. "It was."

"Oh."

You're quiet for a moment, then, "Have you ever been drunk?"

He nods. "A few times. I try not to make a habit of it."

You moan. "That's smart. Smarter than me."

He chuckles. "First time for everything. Including get wasted. Honestly, it's more on me than it is you. You've never drank before and don't know your own limits. I should've cut you off a lot earlier."

You press your face into the soft pillow under your head. "That's a lifetime achievement I could've lived without. But it's not your fault."

You lie your cheek against the pillow then. "How long until I feel better?"

He shrugs. "A few hours, better part of a day. Just depends how long it takes to work its way out of your system."

You take a sip of your Gatorade and chew on a cracker. Once you've swallowed you lie back down.

"Just close your eyes and try and get some sleep, angel."

You nod against the pillow. "Goodnight."

He presses a kiss to the back of your head, curling his body around yours, pulling you back against him. "Goodnight," he replies, even if it's now morning.

[mrsrookhunt]

What to Expect When Your Lab Experiment Drinks Formula

PART TWO, PART THREE

A continuation (Mini fic Ver.) fic of what I made for Rook, HERE

| Synop.: You and your lab partner make a mistake in your potion, one that comes out looking strangely like it's related to you.. |

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Floyd Leech, Sebek Zigvolt, (Rook Hunt) x MC

Warnings: Suggestive (Floyd), Angst (Sebek), implied light manipulation (Malleus)

Scroll Farther Alert! There's a narration cut for the second part of each fic after the first portion. Don't miss it! Each ends with fluff. Sebek's is long, fair warning.

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You're trying to make a simple transformation potion, aging up a tadpole to a frog, when you add the wrong ingredient, and use one drop too many on the poor tadpole. The result is a child that looks eerily like the two of you...

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Azul Ashengrotto

"Holy-- great sevens, Azul, is that a child??"

He holds it up a foot away from him, equally baffled.

"Don't ask me! You're the one who insisted on using the wrong ingredients!"

"You were the one who picked those--"

"WAHHHHHH--" The baby flails its arms and fusses at your petty squabbles.

You turn your attention back to the small creature, looking disoriented from being held so far away from any solid ground.

Azul's watching too, as the child seems to scold you both with an oddly knowing glare that could kill.

You've seen that glare before--

"Azul, am I crazy, or does that thing look like you??"

"Weh." It motions towards you as Azul looks over it.

"Gracious, so it does. And it looks like you too. Look at its' nose and eyes."

You come closer to look, but the baby seems intent on having you hold it, squirming out of Azul's hands.

"Ahem, I believe the little one wants you--"

He pushes the wiggly baby into your arms, taking the moment to reposition his glasses, which had slid down with nervous sweat.

"I'll go talk to professor Crewel, there is undoubtedly something he can do about this."

Malleus Draconia

"Child of man! What is that you're holding?"

"Um... it was supposed to be a frog...."

Malleus takes it from you, holding it cautiously. The little baby he holds has soft black hair, slit-pupiled eyes the same color as yours, and suspiciously familiar shorter horns. It coos at him and motions to his horns with curious, grabby hands.

"Whatever we did, we must have touched it at the same time, Tsunotarou... Because it looks like a mix of both of us."

He puts it on the back of his neck with his arms up to support the chubby infant as it grabs at his horns.

"Hm. It's quite cute, Child of man. We can keep it in Diasomnia if Ramshackle doesn't have the capacity to care for it."

You stare on in disbelief.

"It's... its a frog with a transformation potion... we can't keep it, Malleus!"

He frowns, taking the infant down from his shoulders and cradling the small bundle to his chest.

"The potion had birch seed in it. The transformation is permanent; so I don't see a reason to get rid of it."

Malleus smiles, tickling its chubby cheeks.

"There's no way it's totally permane-- Wait. Didn't you have me add some of those ingredients? Did you know this would happen?"

Malleus is suspiciously silent.

"Malleu--"

"I'll go ask professor Crewel if there's a reversal." He sighs, handing the baby to you and moping all the way to the desk.

Lilia Vanrouge

"If you wanted a baby, precious, you could've just asked--"

You nearly slap him. So cocky, when there's a baby that looks suspiciously like you and Lilia on the table where a grown frog should be.

"Sevens, Lilia, this is not the time--"

He chuckles.

"In my defense, I told you not to use a sprig of pine."

You splutter, lost for words and flustered. The baby certainly seems to share Lilia's sense of humor, giggling mischievously at your flustered expression.

You pick it up before Lilia can, determined to barge straight into professor Crewel's office if you had to to get an answer on what this thing was.

"Heh, MC, the baby's smiling at you--" Lilia calls from a distance. You look down and find that the baby is indeed wholeheartedly excited that you're paying it attention, reaching its chubby arms up to feel your face and grab your nose.

"Aww.. so cute," You whisper, blowing a stray breath into its face for amusement.

"I heard that!" Lilia shouts from the table. "Don't go getting too attached now. I'm not raising another child, darling."

"Shush! I'm taking it to the professor right now, you have nothing to worry about."

Floyd Leech

"SHRIMPY, CAN WE KEEP IT---"

Floyd is whirling the baby around in excited twirls.

It's a very cute moment, but you're still baffled at the little creature's existence-- since it very much didn't exist about 10 seconds ago.

"Floyd, I'm pretty sure that's just an oversized tadpole..."

He stops in mock offense, thrusting the baby into your face.

"Does this look like a tadpole to you?? Unless you're suggesting that we both look like tadpoles, in which case, I'm taking offense because this baby looks like us."

He puts it down to play with its tiny legs.

"Look, shrimpy! It's going for a walk--" He pauses to think. "A sky walk!!" And continues to make the little one's legs 'walk'.

While Floyd is busy making baby noises to amuse the child, you're panicking. This potion had birch seed-- an ingredient known to make transformation potions permanent, if you remembered correctly.

"Floyd, c'mon, give it here, we need to take this to profess--"

"NOO we'll keep it!!!" Floyd holds the baby tight to his chest. "It's wayyy too cute!"

You pry the baby from him reluctantly.

"We cannot just keep a child, Floyd, it's not an animal--"

"If you take this one I'm just gonna make another one!!" He cries, moving to grab another tadpole from the tank.

"NO NO NO NO FLOYD--"

"Well don't take my little sea-star then!!"

You sigh.

"I'm almost 100% sure this is permanent anyway, but neither of us are in a position to care for this baby. We might as well take it to the professors and see if they can do something. We can't just hide the fact that we accidentally made a baby for our final project anyway---"

He mutters something about 'could've made a baby other ways, but it had to be the boring way', but allows you to go with the little one, who coos in your ear.

You hear a clatter.

"GET YOUR HAND OUT OF THE TADPOLE TANK, FLOYD--"

Sebek Zigvolt

"Human, explain. Explain----"

The baby bites his finger, which apparently was pointing at it too close for its liking.

"Ouch--! What do you think you're doing, little tyke? Do you think that just because you're an infant that you have an excuse to bite a retainer of the great Waka-sama??"

The baby looks blankly at him.

"You can't scold a baby, Sebek." You scoffed, bouncing the child on your hip.

"Fine! But you still have to explain why this child has my hair and eyes and....-- isn't that your nose?" He looks momentarily horrified as he comes to the conclusion you came to minutes earlier.

"Oh NO NO NO NO MC THAT IS NOT OUR CHILD, TELL ME THAT CREATURE ISN'T OURS--"

"For goodness sake Sebek you're shouting right in our baby's ear--"

"'OUR'?? THAT IS NOT 'OUR' ANYTHING, THAT IS YOUR POTIONOLOGY MISTAKE AND NOTHING MORE--"

He's babbling nearly incoherently at this point, and you have to stop the baby from attempting to bite him again out of what you can only assume is annoyance.

"...I would NEVER have a child with a lowly, magicless human, this CANNOT get out---"

"waah...wEHHHHHHHH"

Sebek stops talking for a moment, ears ringing.

You, too, are shocked.

"Sebek.. if it's not your child then I have ANOTHER auditory atrocity of a person to avoid on this planet."

"..."

"I'm taking it to professor Crewel."

"I think that's wise."

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You/ your lab partner take the child to professor Crewel, who determines that it is in fact a permanent transformation, and that biologically the baby is as much yours as any other naturally born to the two of you.

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Azul Ashengrotto

"Are... you ok, Azul? You've been staring into space for a... ahem, awhile."

The baby crawls around the the VIP Room of Mostro Lounge, bumping into walls. You suspect it may need glasses.

Surprisingly, the baby seems well-tempered, unless you have the misfortune of holding it the wrong way or otherwise inconveniencing it, to which it seems highly irritated.

However, it was one 'just like your father' comment that sent the already figity Azul into an unresponsive state.

"Was, um.. was that too soon?" You ask tentatively.

"..Yes.. yes, I think it was." He responds distantly.

"Azul, it's gonna be ok. We'll figure it out." You get up from the floor to hold his hand.

He meets your gaze, eyes sharp and calculating.

"Yes, of course we'll be fine, how could we not be? Finances are no issue and we could always hire a babysitter and.... well, it's not that. It's just a lot to take in."

"Today's been wild," You agree softly, gently picking up the baby to put it in his lap. "But I'm here for you."

You lean down to the baby's level.

"We're here for you, little one."

Malleus Draconia

"I still CANNOT believe you knew, Malleus--"

You're still squabbling with him pointlessly, even though the damage is already done. You can honestly say you've well warmed up to the baby, and Malleus seems to be doing worse than you on the details, having apparently very little idea how to care for a child other than playing with it.

"I'm sorry, Child of Man. I didn't know it was permanent," He insists calmly, but you don't quite believe that.

You sigh. He can act clueless as long as he'd like, but the overly exuberant smile on his face while interacting with your child says more than words.

He picked up the baby and put it down on his bed, already having sewn little, special pillows for the baby to sleep comfortably with its horns.

"You better be a good dad, you hear me?" You say, less threatening that you thought it would come out.

He beckons you over to the bed to lay down next to your baby.

"I will, Child of Man, I promise."

Lilia Vanrouge

You knock on his dorm room door, baby on your hip.

"So..um.. bad news, Lilia... it's perman-- Are you having a party?"

He shoos out at least 10 members of Diasomnia.

"I know, dear. Unfortunately I didn't realize what you had done in time to stop you. So I was having a little 'last moments of freedom party'. How sad, and Silver was essentially all grown up now.. Well, what's another 16 years?"

You're speechless. You had kind of forgotten that he was Silver's adoptive father.

"I'm... sorry, Lilia, I should've payed closer attention to the instructions and I screwed up--"

"Hush, it's fine. It's not the end of the world."

He takes the baby from you.

"I already brought in an old cradle and some food for our little one, see?"

He points out an old wooden crib next to his bed.

"Wow... you're.. so prepared, and I haven't even thought about that stuff.."

He smiled at you, nuzzling the baby's cheek a few times simultaneously.

"I'll admit, it got me a little excited. I didn't think an old man like myself would get the chance to raise a child of my own flesh and blood. But never say never, I suppose. You have nothing to worry about, precious. What you don't know, I have already experienced."

"...Thank you for being so understanding, Lilia."

"Of course, dear, after all, we're a family now."

Bonus the one stipulation is that you will not and will not ever share the cooking duties with him. Silver makes you swear by it to avoid his own childhood traumas for his younger siblings.

Floyd Leech

You brace yourself for the inevitable flurry of excitement before knocking on Floyd's door.

"WHERE'S MY LITTLE SEA STARRRRRR~~~~" You hear from the other side of the door before the door flies open. You hand the baby off to Floyd, who's more than ecstatic.

"It's permanent," you sigh, hoping he's listening. "We have to take care of the baby now--"

"WheeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEE" Floyd runs back and forth across the small room with the child, making faces all the while.

"Floyd!" You scold, finally breaking his stride.

"Ehh? I hear you, shrimpy, how can I not? It's ok, I have a plan. We'll love this baby with our whole hearts!"

"...That's the plan?"

"I spent two hours thinking of it, do you like it?"

"That child cannot stay here," A smooth voice cuts in. "This room is much too small for the two of us, let alone a third."

"Oh, hey Jade, didn't see ya come in," Floyd remarks casually. "And obviously I've thought of that. The baby will live in Ramshackle, because there's more space. It just needs some touch ups to be babyproof, is all."

"Touch-ups? It needs a whole remodel."

Floyd grins.

"Got an idea, shrimpy. Transfer to Octavinelle! Then the baby can share a room with you and we'll all be nearby!"

"Oh forget it, I'm asking Crowley to help me improve Ramshackle. Until then, you'll have to deal with the living arrangements." You put your hands on your hips and give Jade a look that means you'll raise hell if he doesn't agree to you and Floyd's half-baked plans.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt, so long as it was temporary."

"YESSSSS!!!!!"

Floyd's excitement leads to him jumping on you.

"D'ya hear that, Shrimpy? That means you can stay here too. And we'll be one big happy family."

Sebek Zigvolt

"Sebek?" You gently knock on his door, after having been told he'd been doing nothing but pacing around all evening.

"Sebek," you call again, a bit louder.

The door swings open violently.

"What?? Who dare disturb my-- oh. Human." He ushers you into his room swiftly.

"You still have the child? When does it leave?" He asked quickly.

"It doesn't," You said bluntly, putting down the freshly bathed and swaddled bundle onto his bed.

"Don't touch----! Ugh.. Besides... What do you mean, 'it doesn't'? It's leaving, I will not have that thing associated with the Zigvolt name just because of some lowly human's stupid mistakes!"

If you weren't so exhausted, you would be shouting at a decibel rivaling his own.

"Sevens, Sebek, it's permanent, no way around it. I can't go back in time and change this-! You were the one reading off the ingredients anyway, how dare you blame this on me?" You challenge.

"Ah-ahh.. Well, why didn't you check yourself?? Do I need to do everything for you!?" He crossed his arms.

"No, but you do need to do your task, and competently!"

That seemed to shut him up.

"W-whatever. I cannot be a proper retainer to--"

"Fine. Then don't raise the baby at all, I'll take care of it. I never said you had to involved."

"...I.. Human, I didn't say that." His tone seems to soften. You know he's got the weight of the world on his shoulders in his mind but you still find it hard to excuse his poor behavior.

He sits down next to the baby, picking it up at arms length.

"It's cute, just a bit. But I pity it.. it has even less faerie blood than me."

"Is that the heart of this?" You question gently, knowing it's a sore subject.

"Yes, I suppose so.."

"Sebek. Your heritage doesn't define you, and it won't define our child. You are an amazing, devoted person, and you've worked hard to be the person you are, and that's really all that matters. You have no reason to be upset, or worried. We can make this work, I promise. And I promise that I'll there to help you get through this. That is, if you're willing to."

He sighs, taking your hand.

"I fear I am diluting my sullied bloodline more than it already is. The Zigvolt family works with the royal family as their right-hand consults and guards. It's been that way for generations. But who would want a fae so adulterated with human genetics by their side?"

"I don't think that's true. If you really think that's the case, then why is Silver allowed to train as a protector as well? Malleus and Lilia are equally respectful of you both. You don't have to give up your family's title and honor just because of this."

He stiffens, a proud smile on his face.

"You are right, human! I shall not let this get the best of me. I will raise my child to be as dutiful as me!"

You laugh, relieved that he's warming up to the idea of having a family.

You kiss him on the forehead, giving him a hug that encompasses the baby in the middle.

"I'll work hard at being a good father, I swear on it."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

-June 30th, 2023

-Kaori

[lilbunnis]

❛ ♡. gif credit. ⎯⎯ 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐬. ❜

★ ⎯⎯ big brother!aemond is used to your sweet moans and whimpers, though he is reaching his breaking point--- he must have you, no matter the consequences.

author’s note᛬ hii! first time posting on here--- this is obvi a new acc (personal reasons) but i also just wanna strictly post my writing on this blog. first time writing incest, too! oh, & im in my witchy era. anyways, if u’re a minor then do not fuckin interact, thx.

warnings᛬ mdni! smut, angst, dubious consent, dark!aemond, profanity, she/her pronouns, afab reader, innocence kink, corruption kink, manipulation, pussy whipped!aemond, incestuous relationships, breeding kink, cunnilingus, fingering, obsessive & possessive behavior, pet names. any grammatical errors are my own--- in advance, i sincerely apologize.

word count᛬ 1.5k

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐘.

oh, how sweet her lips were, so soft and plump, like the ripest of peaches during the middle of summer, ready to be kissed. gods, her eyes… so dark and tempting, yet warm and doe-like, a gift from their mother, the queen. her skin was pure and soft and untainted, almost whispering to him to touch, touch, touch--- touch her!

she was his--- since she was torn from their mother’s womb, bloody and screaming, a dragon come forth, his darling little sister.

he loved, he loved, he loved her.

the very epitome of a true born targaryen, made for him.

he knew since the day that she came into this cruel world that she would belong to him, that she would be his.

his, his, his.

“b-brother! no, n-no, i- nghh.. ‘m gonna—“ she babbled cutely, her voice like sweet music to his ears, a siren’s call, begging him to take her maidenhead.

the voices in his head were insistent and loud, screaming venomously at him, luring him to kiss, to touch, to take--- she was rightfully his by birthright, why shouldn’t he indulge?

yes, they hissed, encouraging him with their sweet, persuasive voices inside of his head--- had he finally gone mad? were the rumors of the targaryen madness true?

even so, he did not give a fuck.

his sweet baby sister was his, she always would be, and the way she clawed at his wrist, begging him to fuck her with his deft fingers faster, faster, faster!

or, perhaps… trying to push his hand away--- no, no. she loves him, and he loves her!

it was destiny, their destiny, to be together as husband and wife and bring forth a whole new bloodline of true born targaryens!

yes, his sweet little sister would give him so many babes, he’d fill her up and watch her as she’d grow round and fat with his many sons and daughters.

fire and blood, fire and blood, fire and blood---

then, a scream--- oh, so feminine and sweet; how he just adored his sweet little sister, his little darling.

aemond heard her cry out, the sweetest wail, fat tears falling down her flushed cheeks as he continued burying his long, nimble fingers inside of her sweet, drooling cunny, preparing her for his cock.

meanwhile, he kept pressing against that little patch of nerves inside of her that she could never reach by herself, stroking relentlessly--- meanly.

poor, sweet little lamb.

aemond was panting heavily, watching as her sweet little cunt sucked in his fingers greedily, making his lips twitch in amusement--- he could barely withdraw his fingers due to how fucking tight she was.

uncaringly, yet so lovingly, he would cruelly plunge them back inside of her, wet noises and her sweet, breathy little moans and whimpers filling his chambers.

“that’s it,” he cooed softly, his voice a raspy baritone, so convincing, “—doing so fucking well for your big brother, issa jorrāelagon.”

quietly, he continued into the night, moonlight spilling in through the glass windows of his chambers, his amethyst colored eye was fully blown wide and focused solely on her squelching cunt, watching as her little clit twitched and practically begged him for attention.

and who was he to deny his little sister such sweet, sinful pleasure?

not a second later, aemond moved to settle between his sister’s thighs, lowering his head until his breath ghosted over her wet, puffy folds, allowing him to inhale her feminine scent--- causing him to release a low, satisfied groan.

then, the prince nuzzled his sharp, prominent nose against her little, fleshy bundle of nerves, breathing her in further as two of his long fingers continued to wildly fuck her little virgin fuck-hole.

“b-bro-brotherrr! please, please! need.. n-need to--- please!” came her sweet, girlish voice which was higher in pitch than usual, making him let out a soft, amused hum.

“as you wish, sweetling,” he murmured against her clit, the vibrations from his deep voice causing her to squirm impatiently, before finally, she felt his plush, naturally curved lips wrap around her aching, throbbing clit, causing her to wail brokenly and clutch the silk sheets with tiny fists.

aemond, the kinslayer, could never deny her, could never say no to her--- perhaps, he should be furious at how weak she made him feel, but he could never find it in his cold, blackened heart to ever feel any sort of anger towards her.

his sweet beloved.

it was maddening how helpless he was against her, how deep his devotion to her was--- possibly, others would call it obsession, sinful, an abomination, but aemond knew the truth; dragons did not concern themselves with the likes of sheep.

oh, how he loved her, how he wished to possess her, to be the only person she would ever love, to be her one and only like she was his.

passionately and glowing, burningly real, her nude skin glistened in the moonlight, the few candles that were slowly dying out around his chambers and the burning fire in his fireplace teased shadows from the corner of his eye, the ghosts that still haunted the red keep were always watching and judging them viciously for their sins.

and oh, how their intertwined souls would burn in the brightest of flames, always together, even in the deepest pits of the seven hells, for all of time; for eternity.

still, he ignores the demons--- too drunk by the sweet taste of his little sister’s cunt.

“mine,” he purrs against her cute, twitching clit, suckling the nub into his watering mouth, which made his cock leak even more pre into his small-clothes, causing him to groan and harshly grind his loins down against his bed.

“say it, sweetling--- tell me that you’re mine,” he murmured, wrapping one of his massive hands around his sister’s smooth, left thigh, digging the tips of his calloused fingertips into the meaty skin possessively, holding her in place.

“ah, ah, ah— aemond, nghh..! oh-hmm, ‘m yours,” she babbled sweetly, her words slurring slightly as she began reaching her sixth peak of the night, causing more tears to spill down the sides of her face as she blinked rapidly, trying to clear her blurry vision as she felt her big brother scissoring her weeping cunt open.

wailing in despair, she felt her brother’s skilled tongue flicking and rolling her clit into his eager mouth again, suckling at it and nipping at the little nub mercilessly.

gently, with such cruel, bloodstained hands, aemond squeezed his sister’s thigh harshly, causing her to squeal and thrash her head around on his feathered pillow, her back arching like a bowstring as she finally reached her sixth peak, crying out and babbling her big brother’s name over and over and over--- pleadingly.

“oh, oh, ohhh..! f-feels so--- so good,” she sobbed brokenly, her thighs shaking and clenching around his head, making him continue to dig his neatly trimmed fingernails into the pillowy skin of her left thigh that he was still clutching, while moving his head quickly back and forth, stimulating her little nub until his little sister saw stars.

aemond knew it was sinful, having his sister gush and leak and drool all over his fingers and tongue as he continued suckling at her now overstimulated clit, her skin glistening with sweat, making her skin shine so beautifully against his silk bedsheets--- she was ethereal, an angel, his.

“sweet girl, you’ve done so good for me this evening--- so fucking perfect, little darling,” he praised tenderly, removing his mouth from her clit, while still gently nuzzling the twitching bud with the tip of the cleft of his nose, his fingers still moving almost lazily inside of her cunt, curling his fingers inside of her.

…as if he wished to stay inside of her; forever.

a soft hum escaped him in content, while he continued to gently fuck her with his fingers, more slowly as he heard her soft, girlish pleas--- more like sweet little mewls of his name.

“i think you’re ready for my cock now, don’t you?” he questioned darkly lovingly, pressing soft kisses against her engorged clit, allowing his slightly swollen lips to trail open-mouthed kisses all across the soft curls covering her mound, then across her inner thighs which were covered in her slick, watching as they continued trembling in his strong, possessive grasp.

silently, he gazed up at her longingly, a low purr rumbling deeply inside of his bare chest, the thought of plunging his furiously hard, weeping cock into his sister’s tight little cunny was almost too much to bear for the kinslayer.

oh, and how all of my devotion turns violent, aemond thought wickedly to himself, but no--- not with his sweet, beloved little sister…he would take her as his lady wife, to love and cherish and breed her nightly with loads of his seed until she was pregnant with many of his babes.

even then, aemond would never stop, how could he? she was his everything, and whether or not she was too fucked out by him feasting on her cunny for hours was no matter, because he already knew.

she loved him just the same, even if she truly did not know it just yet, his innocent little sister.

hm, what a sick little head he had, how his love turned into obsession, into possession--- but nonetheless, it was still love.

pure, undying love.

fin.

[loveharlow]

LIVE BAIT

PAIRING‧₊˚  Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader, Topper Thornton x Fem!Reader (one sided)

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚  [4.1k] Left alone with Topper while Rafe is out, his best friend seems to take a shot at you...

WARNING(S)‧₊˚  non-con/dub-con, smut, swearing, dark!rafe, gullible!reader, sexual coercion/manipulation, deception, cheating, yelling, manhandling, implied murder/attempted murder

A/N‧₊˚ part of my angstober event!

˗ˏˋ rafe masterlist ˎˊ˗

YOU SAT ON THE COUCH IN RAFE’S LIVING IN NOTHING BUT ONE OF HIS SHIRTS, WATCHING TV AS HE EMERGED FROM DOWN THE HALL. He had his phone and car keys in hand, the jingling of the metal causing your eyes to drift from the flashing of digital colors to him. 

“Are you leaving?” You inquired, leaning your weight on one arm as you sat up on the couch slightly.

“Yeah, something came up but it won’t take long.” You frowned as you watched his frame edge closer to the front door of The Cameron Residence, his hand on the doorknob as he turned around to look at your half-dressed figure on the sofa. “Go put some pants on. Topper’s still coming by.”

You wanted to groan at his statement. “Can’t he hang out with Kelce? He always want to hang with you. Doesn't he have other friends?”

“He’s still upset about Sarah leaving him and he thinks she’ll pop up around the house. Look just, don’t say anything about her around him. Alright?”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, mumbling something about Topper being annoying before turning away from him to face the TV once again, fully prepared to hear the slam of the front door signaling his absence. You never heard that confirmation, however. Instead, you were met with the feeling of Rafe’s calloused hand on your jaw just before you registered his quick footsteps, the man using his firm grip to tilt your head back where you were greeted with the sight of him staring you down.

“Drop the attitude. If I have to put up with you, you have to put up with him. So fix your damn face and be nice.” He told you sternly and in a hushed tone before releasing his grip and allowing your face to drop, the strain on your neck easing itself out. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the way his words stung in the slightest of ways. You could hear his heavy steps following their path back to the front door, the alarm system chiming and hinges creaking as he opened the door. “And I’m serious, go put some pants on.” Was all he said before you heard the slam of the front door.

NOT EVEN THIRTY MINUTES HAD PASSED SINCE RAFE LEFT. You’d resistantly done as he said, going into his bedroom and finding a pair of shorts you’d left here and tugging them on, despite them being swallowed by his shirt anyway, barely able to tell you were wearing them.

You were on the sofa again, laying on your back as you scrolled through your phone when suddenly, you heard the lock on the front door being twisted, mechanisms clanking against each other and echoing out in the expanse of the room. Head twisting towards the noise, a stream of sunlight welcomed itself in as Topper walked into the home, carefully closing the door behind himself. 

Turning around, he was visibly startled by your face peeking above the back of the couch. “Oh, hey.” He breathed out, realizing it was just you. “I forgot Rafe said you’d be here, too." He spoke absentmindedly. "Where is he, by the way?” He questioned, walking around to stand in front of your outstretched frame.

You politely slid your feet off of the length of the furniture, clearing a space for him to sit next to you. You were both on two opposite ends of the couch and you didn’t miss the way he eyed the length of your exposed legs, tongue coming out to lick the corner of his mouth. 

“He had to do something, said he’d be back soon.” You responded back, mainly giving your attention to your phone as you leaned against the arm of the couch and tried not to look at him. It was mildly awkward in the space — seeing as you’d only ever really interacted with Topper when your boyfriend was around and now that it was just you two, there was a tension that clouded the room. Rafe always served as an icebreaker and he wasn't here to break the ice.

Topper hummed in response. Eventually, you turned off your phone, diverting your attention to the TV and that was when you noticed it — Topper’s eyes fleeting to you every couple of seconds in your peripheral. Your legs were curled up underneath you and his eyes roamed your figure, up and down with little shame. This went on for a couple minutes until he spoke up.

“When did you say Rafe would be back again?”

Your wide eyes drifted to the blonde on the far end of the couch, nervously going between him and the program that was playing low in the background. “Oh, um, I didn’t. But he should be back soon.” 

Only then did you notice Rafe had been gone for a fair amount of time. But it wasn’t anything new. Knowing him he could be back within the next five minutes or five hours, not a care in the world that you were stuck in the house with his best friend who wouldn't stop staring at you. Was there something on on your shirt? Did he want to say something?

“You know, he might be helping his dad. I heard something happened to one of the construction sites. A roof collapsed or something.” He told you, sitting up straighter. “...That could take a while.”

“Oh.” You said apprehensively. “If that’s the case then yeah, he might be a while. I can go to his room so you can have this space to yourself-”

“No, no,” Topper interrupted, dragging himself closer to you across the couch, now only inches away. Your back ached as you pressed yourself against the armrest, his sudden close proximity startling you. “I don't mind. We can keep each other company.” He spoke lowly, eyes boring into yours. One of his hands came up to caress your thigh, his fingers gliding across the flesh as your heart thumped in your chest. You didn't feel comfortable with that.

“It’s just that, I’ve been having a really hard time getting my mind off of Sarah, y’know? I could use the company.” 

“I heard about that…” You mumbled.

The boy scoffed. “The whole island has. She really embarrassed me and it’s just been hard trying to act like I’m okay.” His eyes were on your lips now, eyeing them as he spoke. “But I think you could help distract me…”

You suddenly felt uneasy but also somewhat bad for him. As much as she had the rights to, Sarah had embarrassed Topper to quite the extreme. Not only did she dump him, but she was now dating a pogue who demeaned him at every given chance. It was a rivalry, of course. So, you couldn’t imagine his anger.

“Distract you…how?” Was the first thing that rolled off your tongue, the hand that was kneading your thigh coming up to gently grab your wrist. 

“You could start by solving the problem you’ve created,” He said enigmatically, dragging your limp palm to rest against the crotch of his pants where you could feel a prominent erection poking through the fabric. The action set off alarm bells in your mind, quickly tugging your hand away and pushing yourself further up the couch.

Shaking your head side to side, you spoke a mile a minute. “I think I gave you the wrong idea. I didn't- I don’t think Rafe would be okay with this-”

“He is.” Topper blurted, cheeks turning red.

“...He is?”

“He would be. I’m his best friend, right? You gotta trust me, I know him better than anyone. Plus, he would be proud of you for helping out his friend. I know he would.” The boy explained. 

Topper wasn’t a fool but he knew that you could be. Not a fool necessarily...gullible would be a better phrase. To some people, you seemed bimbo-ish — a pretty face with not a clear thought behind your eyes. He always thought that was why it was so easy for Rafe to walk you the way he did. Rafe had you wrapped around his finger and there was no doubt that he loved you, though it may not always seem evident. 

Topper had always thought you were desirable and secretly admired the way you absentmindedly submitted to Rafe without hesitation, he didn’t know whether it was out of fear or love, or both. All he knew was that look that you got in your eyes whenever Rafe was around, that pleading, doe-eyed look you sported in the presence of your boyfriend was something he’d wanted to see up close and personal for a long time now. You were a craving, a sexual fantasy that Topper could never have. Not until now, anyway.

And if he had to spew a couple little white lies to get you to spread your legs, then he was going to do whatever it took. And Rafe would never have to know. Because he wanted you more than he feared Rafe.

“You really think so?” You questioned the validity of Topper’s claims, the only thing on your mind was the reward you’d possibly receive for helping your boyfriend’s best friend feel just a little bit better in the face of heartbreak.

“I know so. In fact, Rafe...actually suggested it.”

That statement made your gut twist. You didn’t know why, but it just did. It didn't sound like something Rafe would do, but Topper said he knew Rafe better than anyone. You guessed that included you.

“Well, if it’s okay with him then…”

The blonde smiled at this, his hands moving your waist and prying your frame off of the edge of the couch, practically yanking you into his lap. His blue eyes running between your pupils and your lips before he crashed his mouth against yours, wasting no time in slipping his tongue between them. You yelped into the exchange, the frantic neediness of it all catching you off guard.

You maneuvered your legs into a more comfortable position, now straddling his lap as his boner pressed directly against your core through the thin fabric of your shorts. You didn’t know how to respond to any of this — he was so much different from Rafe. You were used to the way Rafe loved you — the firmness in the way he kissed you, the small grunts he would let out in between each one, how he would eventually trail his kisses down the valley of your neck, the valley of your breasts, down your stomach.

Why didn’t he give Topper any kind of pointers when he suggested this? Probably because this is more for Topper than it is for you, you thought. This wasn’t for you at all, actually. You were a distraction. Or so you’d been told.

His tongue roamed the inside of your mouth, the warm muscle circling as it waited for your own to do the same. You tried to focus on pressing your lips against his with the same pressure, but you could never seem to catch whatever wavelength he was on. Eventually, he pulled back, his lips red, wet, and swollen. 

Your eyes tried to catch his but they were laser focused on your collarbone that was peeking out above Rafe’s shirt. His hands balled into fists, balling up the fabric that you wore into them and pulling it over your head and dropping the garment to the floor, leaving the ‘v’ of your breast exposed to him. The bra you had on pushing them up, making them look plump. You didn’t miss how Topper bit his lip as one of his hands came up to fondle one of the rounds of flesh, his hips bucking up into you as he did so. 

His hands circled your back, coming into contact with the clasp of your bra, ready to undo the item and let it fall until he seemingly decided against it, mumbling something about not wanting to make too much of a mess.

He was much more silent than Rafe. Rafe was not one to keep quiet during intimacy, always groaning, or swearing, and whispering something so dirty into your ear that you couldn’t help but moan out loud, arching into him.

The boy stood up with you on his lap, holding you up by your behind as to not drop you. With you in his arms, he turned as he stood up, gently laying you on the couch on your back. He wasted little time in dragging your shorts and underwear down your legs together, leaving you exposed and on display for him, a cool breeze passing between your legs.

“Shit…” Topper cursed under his breath as his eyes were glued to your dripping core. You were slightly confused when his hands immediately went to the button on his pants, undoing the closure and shoving the clothing down his legs, the fabric pooling around one of his ankles as he didn’t even bother to completely remove them.

He propped one leg up on the couch, the other planted on the floor as he pulled you closer by the hips. Using one of his hands, he guided the tip of his cock that was leaking with precum to your entrance. He teased himself before actually pushing it in, rubbing the head of it against the wetness that was dripping from you and onto the sofa, surely leaving a wet patch beneath you. Gliding it up and down, stopping to circle your clit before eventually pushing into you.

You let out a soft gasp, feeling a slight throb of pain as he stretched you out. You watched the boy carefully above you, one of his hands now outstretched as it gripped onto the armrest behind your head, eyes rolling back as his hips stuttered when his dick hit your cervix.

The intrusion didn’t feel bad but it didn’t feel great either. You didn’t know if it was because this was a foreign thing or because he just wasn’t Rafe.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to get you like this…” He muttered, almost mindlessly, under his breath. Eyes clouded over with pleasure as he drew his hips back slowly, only to push back in at an equally slow pace.

The statement threw you, prompting you to question his real motives but Topper was a genuine person, right? And he wouldn’t lie to you for no reason, especially not for his own gain…

Right?

He told you that you were just helping him take his mind off of Sarah, that this wasn’t wrong. So, you were taking his word for it. More than his word, actually. Topper wasn’t just Rafe’s friend, he was yours too, wasn’t he?

Topper’s slow pace wasn’t something you were fond of, you quickly realized. Your orgasm not even beginning to build but you kept quiet. This was to help him, not you. He was breaking out into a light sweat despite his slow momentum, biting harshly into his lips concealing any noise he may have made, veins protruding from his biceps as his grip on the headrest grew deathly.

It wasn’t long before he came, not bothering to pull out as he did so, letting his seed fill you up, some of it hitting the inside of your thighs as he pulled out. When he seemed to have emptied himself out, he barely acknowledged you as he retreated away, standing fully from the furniture as he shuffled his pants back up his legs. 

His breathing was shallow and his face was flushed, he didn’t even bother to clasp the button on his pants back together before he was making his way down the hall, presumably to the guest bathroom to get himself together.

You steadied your own breaths, labored from the unfamiliar experience rather than exhaustion or pleasure. Carefully, you sat up straight on the couch, shimmying your panties and shorts back onto both of your legs and dragging them back up to your waist, trying to ignore the way the fabric smeared his cum against your thighs. Topper’s secretion was still dripping out of you, making the fabric against your center uncomfortable — hot, sticky, and scratchy.

Fishing around on the floor, you retrieve Rafe’s shirt that had been abandoned in the beginning, slipping the loose fabric back over the length of your body.

Assuming Topper had gotten what he needed and your job here was done, you headed upstairs, prepared to shower in Rafe’s room.

You tried to ignore that feeling in your gut that had been bubbling since Topper put his hand on your thigh. You just couldn’t put your finger on why you felt so bad about doing a good thing.

BY THE TIME RAFE HAD RETURNED, TWO HOURS HAD PASSED. You’d cleaned yourself up, just throwing on another one of Rafe’s old graphic tees and a pair of sweatpants. When you’d returned downstairs after your shower, Topper was sitting comfortably on the piece of furniture as if nothing had happened. However, when you went to sit down, he’d tried to beckon you over to lay under his arm. You’d politely declined. 

So, you both sat in silence once again. Topper put on a movie to watch while you went right back to scrolling on your phone, getting a text from Rafe about an hour into the movie that he was on his way back.

When he’d finally gotten back, you couldn’t ignore the way it felt like a weight was lifted off of your chest, shooting your boyfriend a giddy smile as he shut the door behind him.

“Rafe!” You practically cheered, hopping off of the couch and skipping over to where he was kicking his shoes off at the door. 

“Hey, I’m sorry that took so long…” He apologized mindlessly, eyes finally landing on you. “I’m glad you’re in a better mood.” He spoke, squinting his eyes with mild suspicion. His gaze drifted to Topper’s figure draped over the far end of the couch, jutting his head in his direction in greeting. “‘Sup, Top.”

“What’s good?” Topper replied nervously, not even able to maintain full eye contact with his friend. Rafe found it weird, making a face of confusion before ultimately letting it go. His eyes shifted back to where you stood in front of him, winding his arms around your waist, similar to how Topper had just hours ago.

Only Rafe’s touch was familiar — more comforting. The dirty blonde leaned down to press his lips against yours, kissing you lovingly for a few moments before pulling back as his eyes looked you up and down. His hands never left your waist as he walked you backwards towards the sofa. “Did you change?”

You glanced down at yourself, forgetting that you probably looked different than you did when he walked out of the door hours ago. You opened your mouth to reply honestly. You didn’t think what had gone down between you and Topper was some top-notch secret. After all, he said Rafe had suggested it. “Um, yeah. I just wanted to clean myself up after helping Topper out.”

Rafe’s face twisted at the statement. It’s not like it was an odd thing but he just had no idea what had happened while he was gone. “What happened?”

Now it was your face that was twisting, confused at his words. You opened your mouth to reply before Topper beat you to it, neck craned dangerously over the back of the couch as he spoke. “Oh, it was nothing, man. She was just being nice and getting me something to drink and spilled it on herself.”

Rafe seemed to take the answer at face value, not pressing any further as he guided you both to sit on the couch before he stopped in his tracks, hands letting go off you to rub at a dark spot on the fabric of the furniture that wasn’t there before he left. 

“Did you spill whatever it was on the couch?” He questioned irritatedly, rubbing and scratching that patch that wouldn’t budge. 

Neither you nor Topper responded as Rafe huffed, making his way towards the kitchen to retrieve something to try and scrub the stain out before Rose, the clean-freak she was, got on him about it. Standing over the sink however, he took notice of something — there were no glasses in the sink. In fact, the kitchen looked untouched from when it had been cleaned yesterday.

If you’d gotten Topper something to drink, where’d you pour it? Into the palm of his hands?

Rafe’s gaze rose to look at the blonde who was lounging on his couch and he’d looked up just in time to see his best friend’s gaze trail up the length of your frame hungrily. 

The action made a thought appear in his mind, a crazy thought. Rafe wasn’t as naive as you, he saw the way his friends looked at you and heard the way they tried to speak to you when they thought he couldn’t hear. He didn’t expect any of them to act on their whims unless they intended to lose their lives.

He hadn’t even noticed your presence beside him until he felt your fingers on the skin of his shoulder through his shirt, shifting his gaze towards you who was peering up at him. 

“Are you okay?”

The man’s eyes narrowed at you in the slightest, moving so that your faces were inches apart and he spoke in a hushed tone.

“The fuck did you do?” He questioned, tone short and mean. The look in his eyes had you scared and confused.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not-”

“So, nothing happened while I was gone?”

Your next response wasn’t as quick, mouth opening for a few seconds, eye fleeting between the two blondes before you answered. “All I did was help Topper out because he was sad about Sarah. He said you’d be okay with it, that you’d suggested it even-”

“Suggested wh- what the fuck are you talking about?” Rafe’s face was twisted, tone scolding as if he was upset with a child.

“I don’t know, he just started touching me and saying all this stuff-”

You were cut off when the irritated blonde grabbed you by the arms, slightly shaking you. “Tell me what happened.” He spoke menacingly. “All of it.”

You tripped over your words before you got them out, the blonde boy on the couch paying no attention to you and Rafe as you explained how he’d coerced you into sex only hours before Rafe came back. Rafe listened intently as you told him about his best friend came into his house, sat on his couch, and fucked his girlfriend. And he couldn’t believe that he was still breathing. Couldn’t believe that he sat, laid back on his couch like nothing had happened.

Topper was always telling Rafe how you were just a pretty face and had nothing going on up top. Rafe usually told him off, not allowing him to demean you. He’d never thought his words had any deeper meaning.

“...And I showered after. Rafe, I didn’t think-”

“Yeah, you never think. That’s your problem.” He snapped under his breath, snatching himself away from you.

He knew you weren’t the brightest when it came to reading people. You weren’t an idiot or anything. You did well in school, you were academically gifted. But for some reason, when it came to socializing, you just weren’t there. You never caught on to sarcastic jokes, you didn’t know when people were flirting with you or using you. You were oblivious in that sense.

So when he looked back to see you with your head lowered, looking more shameful and upset than he’d ever seen you, he couldn’t help but sigh, using one hand to pull your head into his chest.

“I didn’t mean that, okay? It’s not your fault.” He felt your arms wind around his waist as your face buried into his shirt.

“I didn’t know. It felt wrong but he said you were okay with it. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry-”

“Shh, stop. I know, I know,” He cooed, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Why don’t you go upstairs? Hm?” He pulled back, looking into your tearful eyes as you nodded, releasing your hold on one another before you made your way up the staircase, sparing a solemn look to Rafe before you disappeared.

Rafe eyed Topper who looked like he was struggling to ignore Rafe’s gaze burning into the side of his head. He didn’t know if he’d heard any part of your conversation but he could tell that the boy looked tense.

“Yo, Top?” Rafe called, back now turned as he inspected the kitchenware, eyes landing on the knife block before pulling out the chef’s knife. The object was swinging at his side as he turned back to face his friend. 

“Yeah?” He replied, letting his gaze find the man standing in the kitchen. Topper looked nervous, a bead of sweat on his hairline.

“I hope it was worth it.” He snapped at him. "'Cause I'm going to fucking kill you."

General taglist;@livlaughquinn 

JJ Maybank Taglist; @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @maybankslover 

Event Taglist; @timmytime17

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow

[norizz-nation]

could you write something about lando and reader where he gifts here a vibrator that is controlled by him with an app on his phone. so he just makes her use it before and during dinner with both of their families and during it he just keeps turning it on and teasing her. So when they are back he just fuck her rough since she was needy and didn't behave that well.

Gifted Pleasure | L.N4

Summary: Things get heated when you can't handle the pleasure Lando's gifted vibrator gives.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Size Kink, Spanking, Choking, Degradation, Edging, A Bit of Manipulative Lando, Face Fucking, Praise Kink, Dacryphilia

You have been struggling for an hour now, trying to find the perfect lipstick shade that will make your lips pop. A color that will make your lips more kissable. But you're struggling now. You sigh deeply, earning a laugh from Lando who's leaning at the doorframe, looking at you. "What's so funny, Lan?" you ask him, sounding so frustrated.

Lando shook his head, smiling like an idiot, "You're cute when you struggle like this," he walked closer to you, his reflection now looking bigger in the mirror in front of you. He then softly kisses the side of your neck, his nose brushing your skin, tickling you. "I can't wait to see you struggle with something different." his voice was deep and low, a bit of mystery filled in his words.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked behind, at him. Confused, because you don't really know what he is talking about. "What do you mean 'something different', Lan?" he smirked at you and mouthed 'wait' and left the bathroom. And you are standing standing there, all confused, trying to figure out what his 'something different' meant.

A minute later, he brings a box with him. A small box in his hand.

Read the whole 2.5k fic on my Patreon!

A/N: If it's too much manipulative or dark then do let me know, I'll add it on my warnings. I'll be active on my Patreon. At least, 5-6 fics, monthly. Join my Patreon and read my extended fics. Anyway, requests are still open. I love you.

[iggy5055]

Yandere Whitebeard Pirates X Reader Part 1

Summary: after (Y/N)'s older brother is murdered in cold blood she traverses the cold mountains of her island in an attempt to escape, only to be saved by some unsuspecting heros.

Warnings: gun shot, death, pain, trauma, lying, frost bite, start of emotional manipulation

_________________________

The cold bit into my skin as I do my best to remain awake. Despite being raised in such cold climates I found myself being caught unawares and unprepared. Trudging through the cold windy mountains with nothing on my feet. I couldn't feel my toes anymore, my feet starting to turn a nasty blue and black color.

My hair no longer blew in the wind, frozen to my skull along with my tears. I shiver violently as my body tries to warm me up.

Even from the mountain side I could see my village, in flames. With my vision blurry it almost looked like the sun was rising, but I knew I wasn't that lucky.

I try and make it to the other side of my island, hoping that I could find a way off it and away from all the carnage. It was definitely a rude awakening when I was suddenly shaken awake by my older brother, yanking me out of bed and trudging through the snow towards the mountains. With no explanation as to why, but once I was outside, seeing the fresh warm blood melting and staining what was once pristine white snow with cannonballs and bullets flying in any which way I understood why we didn't have time to put on our shoes.

Houses were burning to the ground as families screamed inside trying to find a way out. And for those who had made it out trying to stop the bleeding of loved ones.

Even only being outside for a few moments I could already feel myself shivering in my light sleeping clothes. My brother holding me tightly by my hand as he drags me around as fast as he can. Weaving thought small alleyways and streets trying to avoid whoever was attacking. It had been made clear to me it was pirates, despite living in the new world we didn't fall under any Emperors protection, and we fairly ever saw marines aside from the occasional ship doing to re-supply. If they ended up here they are almost always off course. we were very close to the calm belt and pretty close to the red line, hence we are pretty out of the way.

Being a small winter island in an out of the way corner of the world came with many benefits. We almost never saw pirates, our island wasn't anywhere on the way to the final island so there wasn't a point to coming here, and with the lack of pirates meant a blatant lack of Marines, we were never in danger so it was never needed. At least never needed until now.

Panting heavily from running around our small little village I could hear loud laughing, Suddenly my brother stopped just as we were about to leave an ally causing me to run into his back.

I gasped quietly as I stood behind him. I couldn't clearly make out what I was seeing, but from the sound of pained screams and cruel laughing I figured I didn't really want to know.

I hid my face in my brother's back avoiding whatever he was staring at. I could feel him start to shiver as he slowly crouched down, leading me down with him, but I knew he wasn't shivering from the cold, he was shivering from pure unbridled fear.

"(Y/N), we need to be quiet and we need to be fast. We have to sneak by them and get to the mountains, once we get past them we will be able to find a boat on the other side and run. Do you understand me?"

I quietly nodded into his back, wanting to avoid making any sound.

Slowly while still being crouched down we moved out of the dark alley. Despite the carnage now being clearly in my line of sight, I stare at the wall of the building we were crouching beside. The last thing I wanted to see was the deaths of my friends. The thought brought tears to my eyes.

"We're almost there, just a little more."

I try to quiet my sniffles, even if it is dark. The fires that have been spreading start to illuminate the village as if it were the sun, and the soft crunch of the snow under my feet that seemed louder than ever when we are trying to sneak around and be unnoticed.

"HEY!!!!!"

My brother whipped his head around looking behind up then down at me with panic all over his face and fear in his eyes.

"RUN!!"

We bolt off into the tree that surrounds the mountains, I turn back to look at who was chasing us and for a split second it looked like a girl with long half up hair in some kind of robe, pointing a gun at us.

Just as I turn back around and run with my brother I hear the shot of her pistol.

"ARGGGGGGGGH"

My brother screams as the bullet narrowly misses me and hits his left shoulder blade. He released my hand from his crushing grip as he collapsed on the ground, clutching his shoulder in pain.

I'm about to get down beside him and help before he yanks me in front of him.

"RUN (Y/N), DON'T LOOK BACK JUST RUN!!!!"

Tears pour down my cheeks as I feel my brother's warm blood stain the snow and touch my bare feet, warming them but sending a chill up my spine.

"no, I d-don't want to l-leave you."

My voice was choked with sobs, as I looked past him and saw the shooter calling over more of her crew.

"You need to go. Find the boat on the other side of the and run, don't stop till you find help."

"I can't"

I can't help the hiccups that come out as I beg for him to get up and come with me, to hold on and to run with me.

My heart was beating a mile a minute. I swear it was about to explode.

"Please (Y/N), I can't watch you die, run. Live for me, find peace for me."

His voice crashed as he banged me to run. I could slowly see that light fading from his eyes. The blood poured out of his shoulder like a waterfall, clearly it hit an artery. I sobbed loudly as I clung to him begging him not to leave me and to get up.

"HE'S DOWN, GRAB HER!!!"

I look up to see several of the pirates making their way over to me and my brother, the woman no longer pointing her guns but still holding them. Now she was accompanied by three clearly tall and muscular men, all coming out of the town and making their way over to us.

I looked down at my brother again, seeing his pale skin and his dark lifeless eyes grow cold as ice. I gently kissed his forehead with shaky lips before getting up and running as fast as I could, regardless of my gut reaching sobs and hiccups.

I could hear them chasing after me, yelling and telling me to stop. Once I was in the tree line I started to zig zag through the trees, trying to be as quiet as possible while also avoiding being shot. Once I was a ways up the ridge I looked back to see the flames of my home grow exponentially.

I no longer heard the yells of the pirates chasing me but I didn't want to risk it so I continued up the mountain, cold rocks and ice cutting into my souls. I was clearly making bloody footprints making it easy to follow but if I'm lucky I'll make it to the boats quickly, leaving no more trails to follow.

I continue hiking up the mountain shivering like a scared lamb, all alone with my consciousness beginning to fade. Black spots started to appear in my vision, fading and reappearing. Between my fading vision and the darkness of the woods at the dead of night I could feel myself fading bit by bit.

It couldn't have been more than a minute till I collapsed into the cold snow.

"N-no, I-I can't d-di-e h-here~"

My voice faded into a whisper as I black out unable to move any further. But before I had completely passed out I saw a great brilliant light of blue and gold. Maybe this was the end of me, I could feel my last tear fall, sad I couldn't fulfill my promise to my brother, I guess now I could apologize in person.

—————————————

Consciousness came to me slowly, my body felt numb, like pins and needles had appeared all over my body, my extremities especially. I tried to move, lifting my hand only for it to feel like they were trapped under boulders. I tried to open my eyes, only to shut them just as quickly from the brightness of the room I was in.

I groaned in pain, even just trying to move a little bit hurt. Warm tears moved down my cheeks. Small sobs escaped my horse throat. I felt something small hop up on my bed, I felt what seemed like a small paws brush on my thighs over and over. A quiet whine came from what I now assumed was a small dog.

On one hand I was glad I wasn't dead, but on the other hand I didn't know it was possible to be in this much pain. Through my small sobs I didn't hear the creak of a door opening or the gentle footsteps coming closer to the bed.

It wasn't until I heard the dog on my lap bark and growl a little at the new stranger I even noticed someone was in the room.

"Quit it Stefan."

It wasn't until I felt the bed dip from the man sitting down beside me that I tried to open my eyes to see who was there but it was all still too bright. Soft hiccups left my lips now as I cried and tried to speak to this stranger.

"Shhhh, pretty girl. it's ok."

The man above me gently cooed as he gently ran his fingers through my hair, giving my scalp a light massage. I tried to do what he suggested and took a deep breath, holding it for a second and letting it out again.

"There we go, atta girl~."

After a few more deep breaths I tried to open my eyes again, I did it slowly and kept my eyes squinted, I could make out tan skin and an orange, what I assumed to be a hat, on the man's head.

"Ohh, it's too bright isn't it, here, gimme a sec."

The weight was lifted off the bed and the dog gave another little bark at the man. I heard the sound of shades being drawn and the light shining through my eyelids diminishes.

The man walks over and sits beside me again. I felt his unusually warm hand being pressed to my cheek.

"Lets try opening those lovely eyes again, huh?"

I slowly started to open my eyes again, after a second of adjustment and waiting for my tears to slow I looked up to see a handsome man with a big grin looking down at me. Now that I could see him properly I saw his incredibly toned skin, skin that just so happened to not have a shirt on it. He had a dark red beaded necklace around his neck and an orange hat on top of soft black locks. Looking over to the paws on my legs I saw a little white dog with a crescent moon mustache.

Looking back over to the handsome young man I tried to ask him where I was and what had happened. The last thing I remember was seeing a bright light before passing out in the snow. But when I tried to speak all that came out was sad little whimpers that hurt.

More hot tears fell from my eyes at the pain, I tried to lift my hand up to my throat but it also wouldn't move.

"Ohhh, Shhhhhh sweet girl, it's ok, it's ok. Just breathe, I'm going to go get someone who can help you ok?

I nodded as much as I could as my head fell back onto the pillow as I closed my eyes again, trying to manage with the pain as much as I could. I could hear his footsteps walk out and the quiet latching of the door being shut again as I tried to comprehend what was happening and how I got here in the first place.

As the sobs left my body I faintly heard the dog the man before called Stefan whine a little as he crawled over to my face, licking away my tears for me.

After a few minutes I opened my eyes again when I heard footsteps outside my room before the door began to creak open. The shirtless man came back but this time he wasn't alone. Another man with blonde hair and an open button up shirt and a blue tattoo on his chest, a tattoo that I recognized. When the other man closed the door I saw the large purple tattoo on his back, the mark of Whitebeard. I was with pirates.

I began to thrash around as much as I could, which really wasn't much but it was enough to have Stefan jump off of the bed. My breathing was uneven as I started to hyperventilate as I tried to get up to run away. All I was really able to do was to push the blanket off of me a little before the blonde instructed the other man, who he called Ace to hold me down.

Ace ran over to me moving in behind me so I was leaning against his back as his two strong hands held onto my wrists. Having him move me into a sitting position was less than comfortable but it wasn't as bad as when I finally saw why I was in so much pain.

My fingers, toes and parts of my legs and arms were black and purple, a clear sign of serious frostbite. No wonder I was in so much pain. but what was I expecting? Passing out on a snowy mountain in your PJ's was bound to do some serious damage. Tears continued to fall as I 'thrashed' to get out of his grip.

I knew there was no point, my merger strength was nothing compared to a seasoned pirate, but there was no way I wouldn't try.

"Marco, do something!"

I saw 'Marco' walk over to me with a syringe filled with some kind of liquid, making me try and thrash around even more. As he got closer Ace pinned down one of my arms to the bed. I began shaking my head back and forth, begging them to stop.

"N-no please n-o."

I could nearly get the words out as I begged them not to do anything.

"Shhhhh, Baby Bird. You're ok. we aren't going to hurt you."

I couldn't help my body trembling as he motioned for Ace to hand him my arm.

"Deep breath Firefly, just take some deep breaths with me."

I could feel Ace's chest rise and fall as he took some deep breaths, encouraging me to do the same.

At first I refused, keeping my eyes trained on Marco and the syringe in his hand, waiting for him to stick me with it, wondering what it would do.

But after a minute or two of him staring calmly into my eyes, massaging my wrist with his hand I could help but calm down as Ace helped me breathe.

"There we go, Little Bird~. This is just gonna help you sleep a little so we can fix you up a little more."

Ace began to gently rock me back and forth in his arms as Marco managed my wrist, slowly bringing the syringe closer and closer.

Ace nudged my cheek with his, pushing my head to look away.

"It's ok Firefly, it's just gonna help you nap a little, you'll be up before supper.

—————————————

Waking up a second time was a lot less painful than before, if not a little more panicked, I was able to sit up by myself and when I looked down to see my hands. They were wrapped in bandages that went up most of my arms, the same bandages going up my legs. 

"Good to see ya finally up. Figured the dose Marco gave you wouldn't last too long, you musta just been really tired."

I gasp as I look to my right, seeing a tall man with brown hair, a goatee and wearing chef's clothes with a yellow bandana around his neck.

"The names Thatch, I'm Whitebeard's fourth division commander, I also just so happen to be the cook here on the Moby Dick."

My mouth hung open as I tried to figure something out to say, I couldn't help the trembling as another member of the Whitebeard Pirates sat in front of me. Talking to me as if we were friends. 

I looked down at my hands again, not knowing what to say to him. All I could do was fiddle with the bandages only for a warm hand to engulf both of mine, making me look back up at Thatch.

"Better not, Marco would have my head if I let you take off your bandages. He did his best to heal you but couldn't heal all of it, your frostbite was super extensive especially on your poor little feet. He applied some kind of cream all over the parts he couldn't fix right away before he applied the bandages. It would be best to just let it soak in and let it work it's magic."

He gave me a little wink before I slowly nodded at him, trying to subtly pull my hands away from him. His one hand completely eclipses both of mine but he wouldn't let me go, just giving me a little smirk when I looked back up at him. 

"Come on Buttercup, we better get some food into ya, you can't heal with an empty belly."

Once he mentioned food I realized how hungry I actually was, not just hungry but really thirsty too. I nodded a little, keeping my head down as I tried to swing my legs over the edge of the bed to stand up only for Thatch to let go of my hands wrap his arm around my shoulders and one under my knees. 

I flinched a little as he hosted me into his arms, my back was fine but my legs throbbed with pain. 

He cringed a little at the sound I made when he picked me up.

"Sorry Buttercup, I know it hurts but trust me, having you walk right now would be a hundred times worse."

I begrudgingly nodded my head. As much as I didn't like being carried around if just being picked up hurt, I didn't want to know how much it would hurt to actually walk around. 

Thatch smiled down at me and started to walk to the door, the second he opened it after adjusting me a little I heard barking.

I looked down to see the little dog Stefan jumping up at me, his front paws resting on Thatches legs.

I could feel the rumble of Thatches chest as he laughed at the little dog's antics.

"We had to keep him out of your room because he kept trying to take your bandages off, he really doesn't like them for some reason. But he's been guarding your room ever since we kicked him out."

Thatch walked down the long corridor and up a large flight of stairs. Stefan follows close behind. As he walked up onto the main deck I squinted my eyes. Wherever we were was hot, even as the sun was setting it was still so warm, a sharp contrast from my home island. 

You could see nothing but sea from all angles, no land for miles most likely. The sun looked beautiful, reflecting the sun and the beautiful colors of the sky.

"Hey Firefly! You're awake!"

Ace jumped off the railing of the ship and ran over to us. I flinched back as he came closer and reached his hand out to touch me.

His face flashed with concern, looking over to Thatch.

"What did you expect, Fire Fist."

He rolled his eyes but before he could say anything someone cut him off.

"She's hurt, in a new place and surrounded by new people, slow it down Ace."

Thatch turned slightly and I was just able to see over his shoulder, Marco was walking over to us. 

Ace nodded sheepishly. Marco walked in front of me, hunching over a little so that we were face to face, not giving me a whole lot of breathing room considering his last statement. 

"How are you feeling, Baby Bird? Woozy, dizzy, nauseous?"

I tried to turn my face away, almost nuzzling into Thatches chest but Marco cupped my cheek with his hand, gently forcing me to look at him. He lifted his other hand to my cheek, slowly turning my head side to side ever so slightly. His eyes examined every inch of my face.

He raised his eyebrow a little, waiting for me to respond to his question. Thatch gave me a little nudge, silently encouraging me to answer him.

"I.... I feel f-fine."

My voice was barely above a whisper. Marco tilted his head at me, clearly waiting for me to say more. After a few more seconds of silence Thatch decided to speak up. 

"Come on Marco, like you said, she's scared. I bet she'll feel more talkative once she gets some food in her system."

He signed but nodded, backing up a little, releasing my cheeks from his palms after giving them a stroke with his thumbs.

Thatch smiled down at me as I curled into myself as much as I could while being left and without hurting myself too much. It was uncomfortable being so close to so many dangerous and world renowned pirates. 

Thatch walked over to a pair of double doors, flipped around and pushed them open with his back and walked down a small flight of stars and into a mess hall, but not before shooing Stefan away, saying no dogs were allowed. 

Thatch when through another pair of doors leading to a beautiful kitchen. He walked us over to a countertop, gently setting me down on top of it before he turned and started to cook.

He walked down a pair of stairs, Marco and Ace following close behind once down I took a look around. the mess hall was completely empty. It made sense, with it starting to get dark, everyone would have had dinner by now probably winding down and doing some last minute chores before dark. 

I shivered at the cold counter touched the part of my bare thighs that wasn't covered in bandages. Ace and Marco stepped into the kitchen not too long after us. Ace quickly noticing the goosebumps that had spread all over my skin almost instantly.

"Well that just won't do."

He hopped up onto the counter with me and grabbed my waist, hoisting me to sit on his lap. I yelped loudly, partly in pain and partly in shock making Thatch look over his shoulder from his cooking only to smirk and look back once he knew I was 'safe'. At least in his terms anyway. On my terms on the other hand, this was less than ideal.

I adjusted myself in his lap a little but with his strong arms wrapped tightly around my stomach there wasn't much I could do. He rested his chin on my shoulder lightly. 

He felt warm, almost too warm, as if he had a fever. his body heat began to smother away the cold from the room. After a minute small flames appeared all over his arms. I screamed once I noticed, causing Marco who was leaning against the counter, staring at a clipboard I didn't notice he had and Thatch who was still making me dinner to look over at us. 

Marco was much more sympathetic to my fear. He stepped in front of me, holding my hands that had been trying to shove Ace's arms away from me, bringing my knuckles to his lips despite my harsh yanking. 

As I panic, screaming for him to let me go and trying to get out of his arms before I get burned I could hear Thatch laugh at my poor attempt to get away. I was clearly weaker than him but the injuries and pain from the jerky aggressive movement didn't help my struggle.

I didn't understand what was so funny. One of his cremates had just erupted into flames with me held in a vice grip and he was laughing. If I wasn't so scared right now and badly injured I would try to smack him, pirate or not.

"Shhhhh, baby bird. You're ok. Calm down."

"L-Let me g-go!!!!"

Ace leaned his head up, pressing his lips into my ear and whispering softly. 

"It's ok Firefly, just calm down for a second. Focus on Marcos hands, on my voice."

After another second of panic I calmed down a little, thought it was less me calming down and more me losing what little stamina and energy I still had.

Marco and Ace kept talking to me softly, coaxing me into relaxing as much as they could. 

"See Firefly? It's not burning you. We would never let anything happen to you."

I whimpered softly as they both held me close, keeping me from thrashing around. But at this point I don't think I could even if I wanted to. After a few minutes of Marco coxing me to take some deep breaths, Ace spoke up again.

"Do you know what a Devil Fruit is Firefly?"

I nod stiffly. 

Thatch came to stand beside us. A bowl of warm food in his hands. I stared at it longingly until Marco gripped my chin making me look at him again as Ace continued.

"Tell me what you know?"

After a few more deep breaths it was able to squeak out a reply. 

I could feel Ace nodding, his soft hair brushing my cheek as Marco gave me a smile. 

"They are magical fruits that give whoever eats them powers, but they can't swim anymore."

"Anything else?"

I shake my head. While I knew what devil fruits were I was never interested enough to actually learn anything in detail. and considering their rarity I figured I'd never come in contact with the fruit nonetheless a user.

"Well Baby Bird, there are a lot of different kinds of Devil Fruits. Some give you powers like super strength, some let you turn into animals and some like Ace can control elements, even becoming them if he wanted too.

I look back down at Ace's arms, the little flames still there. 

"I can control the heat of my flames, Firefly. I could use them to burn my enemies, or warm up those I care about."

Ace lifted one of his hands and covered it completely in fire. Marco took one of my hands he was holding and placed it in Aces. Ace linking our fingers together as I panicked before I realized that the flame wasn't burning me. Just warming up my hand.

"See Buttercup, we wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

"Now eat up, you can ask all the questions you want once you are done."

Thatch nudged Marco out of the way, causing him to let go of my remaining hand, replacing them with a warm bowl of soup. Ace still refusing to let go of my other hand.

—————————————

Once I had finished eating, after forcing Ace to let go of my hand so I could pick up the spoon. Thatch had taken the bowl and washed it, Marco taking his previous spot in front of me. I looked up at him. Not knowing what to do next.

He looks down at my arms and legs, before looking back into my eyes. 

"Before anything else I should check on your wounds and change your bandages. It's only been a few hours But I'd rather be safe than sorry."

I nodded at him, keeping my eyes down. As sweet as they all had been to me they were all more than a little intimidating. 

Marco huffed a soft sigh as he picked me up and started walking out of the kitchen much to Ace's displeasure. 

The second I was out of his arms the room seemed even colder than it was before making the goosebumps coming back with a vengeance. Once Marco noticed he leaned down and whispered into my ear.

"We'll also find you some better clothes."

As warm as it was earlier the night came with an uncomfortable chill in the air especially out at sea. I nodded silently and nuzzled into him a little. As scared as I was, being surrounded by unknowns. None of them had really hurt me yet and I didn't really have any option anyway being in the middle of the ocean and what not.

Walking down a bunch of winding corridors we eventually end up in what I assumed was a med bay. It was really big all things considered. Not something I thought would have been on a ship but considering how big the ship was and how many crew members were aboard it made sense. 

Marco set my on a cot closest to what I assumed was his desk. Behind it being several cabinets that lined the entire wall. Some of the doors had locks on them, others didn't. He walked over to one of the cabinet doors and opened it pulling out a small canister and some more bandages. 

He came over and knelt in front of me, taking one of my calves into his hand, looking up at me for permission. After all that had happened he didn't seem like the person to ask permission but I felt a little better knowing he wanted to make sure I was ok with his going any farther.

I nodded after a second. He smiled up at me before looking back to my leg focusing on the task in front of him.

He slowly started to unwind the bandages, letting me see the damage again. I couldn't help but gasp at the sight of my mutilated legs.

He examined my calf for a second before his hands erupted in blur and gold and blue flames making me scream for the umpteenth time today.

Marco looked at me sympathetically. 

"Its ok Baby Bird, I have a devil fruit too. It lets me heal any injury on myself, it lets me heal others but it doesn't work as well."

His voice was low and calm as he explained his abilities to me. 

"It was you."

Marco glanced up at me for a second before focusing on my leg again, humming a question an what I was talking about.

Tears fell down my cheeks onto my thighs Marco stood up immediately once he noticed, taking my cheeks in his hands. 

"What's wrong Baby Bird? What hurts?"

I shook my head as much as his hands would let me.

"On the mountain, before I passed out and when you put me to sleep."

I looked into his eyes, 

"I saw the same flames."

He smiled at me and pressed his forehead to mine.

"Yes Baby Bird, I was the one who found you."

A sob escaped my throat as I tried to compose myself, I needed answers and he was the one who had them.

"W-what happened?"

He sighs again. 

I couldn't help the choked sob that came from me before I was finally able to say anything.

"You're Island had been attacked by Pirates, we had happened to be nearby when we saw flames in the distance. Once we got there it had been too late, the town was in flames with hundreds dead. We were fighting the pirates and looking for any survivors when I saw a trace of blood leading to the mountains, that's where I had found you collapsed in the snow."

"Survivors?"

Marco gave me a solemn look, before shaking his head.

I couldn't stop my tears once he confirmed everyone else was dead.

"A-are you-u su-sure?"

I could barely get the words out through my sobs.

"I'm so sorry Baby Bird."

I collapsed into his arms, feeling him hold me tightly as I sobbed into his chest. Nearly unable to breath through my grief. 

"Don't worry Baby, we aren't going to let anything happen to you."

But little did I know about the horrifying smirk on his face. Or his plans for my future. 

[daenysthedreamersblog]

KNUCKLE VELVET

Nothing in my heart is hoping you'll come back

Too cold to know what I don't have without you

summary: your main goal in life was to take care of your family, and you had been... until a new peacekeeper comes to your district leaving death and pain wherever he stepped

pairings: peacekeeper!coryo x reader

warnings: MDNI! violence, death, blood, coercion/ manipulation, swearing, power imbalance, hitting, choking, dub-con, oral sex, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, guns.

notes: omggg so this actually was supposed to be a completely different story when i started, but it took a side turn and ended here. its not nearly as dark (so sorry) as i originally intended but hoping where i lacked in darkness i made up for in heartbreak so hope u all still enjoy :)

Death had been your shadow since you could remember, or at least it had felt that way since you were a young child. You saw it for the first time when you nearly drowned in the lake with you sister, it stared at you while you choked on your own short life. It had taken your mother, infected your father, it loomed over you incessantly like a cruel god. You tried hard to keep it at bay, to run from it, make it lose your scent, but it was obsessive, possessive of you. It would come for you some day.

And in a crowded, too-loud, scorching room you saw your death in his beautiful face.

With delicately furrowed brows you shoved the heel of your hand into the dough the ache ever present in your left wrist. You ignored it, focusing on kneading the dough.

Your father was a baker, or at least he had been before he had fallen ill. It wasn't anything special, mostly selling what he could out of your childhood home or trading it for supplies. You got by, your family got by, better than most he always reminded you. It was fine, an easy job, a distracting mundane task that sometimes supplied leftovers you couldn't complain about. So here you were, kneading bread when he no longer could.

You placed the towel over the bowl and wiped your hands off on your apron as footsteps creaked from behind.

"Started without me?" Your sister yawned walking into the kitchen eyeing the three bowls of rising dough.

"Couldn't sleep." You untied your apron and placed it on the counter as she tucked her chin into your shoulder.

She sighed, "You worry too much."

You did, someone had to, but you bite your tongue. "You can clean then." You chuckled walking away from her.

"We should do something tonight." She is already moving the dishes around and wiping off the counters as you look over your shoulder at her, your hand on the wall. "Would be nice to get out of here for a few hours."

You smile, "Sure." And then you disappear down the hallway to your father's room. He's in bed, half asleep when you sit down near his feet making sure he was breathing. "Are you hungry?" You roll your wrist in your hand as you ask him.

His head turns to take you in, "No."

"Did you take your medicine?"

"Yes." His eyes dart to the left and you know he's lying. You sigh as you walk forward pulling open the drawer to find it empty.

You can't look away from it. "I'll get more."

"She is right, you worry too much." He taps his foot against your thigh, "How's my bread?" He ask you to distract you from the tiredness in his voice, from the pale color in his skin, from the fact that he was dying. All you wished then was to take his illness onto yourself so he nor your sister had to suffer.

Once all the bread is made and prepared to be sold, your sister and you leave in the night. You slip on a blue dress and small grey cardigan taking off down the gravel road towards town. Fresh summer air clears the flour from your lungs as you walk next to her arms linked at the elbow a lightness in your step as you try to forget the woes at home.

"Does that band still play?" You asked as the building comes into sight various individuals moving in and out if it.

"Yeah." Her voice is solemn. "They're good but..." It wasn't the same since they lost their singer. She had died in the games, or at least that's what everyone said but you didn't remember, you didn't watch the games if you could help it. Then everyone had moved on like they always did.

You and your sister entered the warm room littered with people from your district and off duty peacekeepers. Most of them were friendly, and the ones that weren't rarely came here on their nights off so you let your shoulders relax. You watched the band perform a few songs with mason jars filled with clear alcohol, even indulging your sister in a couple dances when a familiar face caught your eye, one that had helped you far too often than you deserved. "Last drink?" You nodded your head to the bar. "Don't go too far."

She waved you off still swaying to the tune of the guitar as you disappeared through the crowd. You kept your head down clutching the empty jars as you walked. He was talking as he walked in a perpendicular direction perfectly lining up with where you needed to hit him. You threw a glance over your shoulder the same time your body collided with his, glass jars falling to the floor with a violent crack. "I'm so-Oh." His eyes meet yours as you bend at the knees to try and pick up the broken pieces.

"Medicine." You whisper out when it's just the two of you near the floor. "My father. I need...Please."

He rubs a hand over his face, "I'll try, but...I'll try."

You look at his face knowing he sees the desperation there, "Thank you."

"Need any help?"

Your eyes shoot up quickly staring at a beautiful death.

You've never seen him before, you would know with his clear blue eyes and white blonde hair shining out above the crowd like a beacon. He's standing across from the mess staring down at you, "It was an accident-!"

"You're bleeding." He says drawing your attention to the sudden stinging pain across your palm, the red liquid bubbling up from the fresh cut.

You shake your head, "It's fine."

"We should get that cleaned up." You open your mouth to protest, but he only slips his hand under your arm helping you up. "I insist." You glance back at your friend, Gavin, who often did help you with various needs your father had in exchanged for baked goods, and then you looked back at the other peacekeeper dragging you away.

He leads you towards the back as the band continues to play a loud song. "Sit." He points to an empty barrel, "I'll be right back." And then he disappears back out into the crowd. You glance around the empty room filled with supplies and unused musical equipment. Tentatively, you climb onto the barrel to sit admiring the gash along your hand, the bleeding was slowing, but it did look rather nasty. "They didn't have much," Your eyes shoot up, following him until he stands in front of you with a wet rag and a few bandages. "But it's better than nothing."

"You're new." You observe as he takes your bleeding hand.

He presses the rag to the wound the wince slipping out, "Got in yesterday."

He starts to try and clean it. "Do you like it here?" He scoffs to himself causing the corners of your mouth to turn up. "Dumb question." He glances up at you face close enough your can see the shades of blue in his eyes.

"It has it's charms." He dries off your hand before finding the large gauze pad to tape around it.

"Where were you from?" You regret it as you ask, as a sudden darkness comes over him throwing the room into silence the music a distant thrumming from beyond. You watch him tape up your hand with cheap supplies until it covers the cut neatly. "Thank you."

He doesn't drop your hand, "Are you always clumsy?" He traces the small scar on your pinky.

"Occupational hazard." You watch his face as he looks at you once more the question in his pretty eyes. "I bake, had a few run in with knives."

His mouth quirks up, "I hope you don't often run into knives or off duty peacekeepers."

You take your hand back, "I don't make a habit of it."

"You could...Make a habit of it." He stares down at you his thigh suddenly warm against your knee. "At least certain ones."

You take a sharp breath, "We both know that's not a good idea." You slide off the barrel, chest forced against his as you move and then your sliding past him. "Thank you, again. I should go find my sister."

"See you around clumsy girl."

The blush bites at your cheeks and you hope he can't see it in this light, but you suspect he does as something flashes across his face. You don't stick around to find out as you head back into the crowd. You find your sister talking with another peacekeeper, "I'm gunna head home." You show her your hand.

"Be safe." She smiles going back to her brown haired friend. You glance over you shoulder finding that man who helped you watching you, you should tear your eyes away from him, but he should as well, but here he was, staring brazenly at you something burns under your skin.

You blink shaking your head and turn to leave, tugging the cardigan tighter around your shoulders as you walk home alone. You often did, you never encountered any trouble, but something felt off. The hair on your neck stood up the whole way home like something-someone was watching you.

You turned to look, but nothing was there.

The sun drenches the kitchen in an orange glow as you carefully measure out flour failing to keep it balanced with only one good hand. You scowl down at your bandaged palm as you dump the contents into the bowl. You should just wait for your sister and make her do it, but you opted to let her sleep in to throw yourself into a distraction.

What if he wasn't able to get anymore medicine?

Were you supposed to watch as your father withered away and let death come into your home once more?

You're so lost in thought you don't even hear the front door open until it shuts.

He's standing there in front of the closed door taking up every space he wanted to, and doing it beautifully. You struggle to form the question, to string together a sentence to convey your confusion. He answers anyways, "I wanted to check on you." He motioned with a finger to your hand.

You glance behind him, "How did you kn-!"

He steps further inside before you can finish, taking in the sight of your kitchen/makeshift bakery. "Do you need any help while I'm here?" You know your expression must exhibit the shock still running through your veins as he stands in your home because he smiles softly and rolls up his sleeves, "I'm sure it would be easier than kneading with only one hand."

You submit and take a step back, "Sure uh..." You motion to the bowl, "It needs two more cups of flour." You watch him walk forward, too clean for the room despite the grim coating the tips of his fingers. "You can wash your hands in there." You point to the sink.

"How is your hand?" He asked as he runs his long fingers through cool water.

You glance down at the now tarnished bandage across your palm. "Only stings sometimes." You look back up at him, "My left one gives me more trouble."

He turns off the sink and uses a rag to dry his hands off. "Why's that?"

You watch him with careful eyes move around your kitchen to collect the supplies he made you abandon. "Just years of abusing it." He eyes your left wrist and then scoops out flour. You have to show him how to measure it out properly but he gets it for the most part. You feel yourself relax watching him add it all to the bowl and mixing it.

"Now what?" He asked over his shoulder.

"We let it rise." You walk over to throw a clean rag over the bowl.

"How long?"

You can't help the smile. "A minimum of five hours."

He put his fist against his hips, "Well what do you do while you wait?"

"Make more dough."

So you do. You stand next to him this time walking him through each ingredient helping by throwing in the teaspoon of salt for him. You find yourself laughing as the time slips away, as you sprinkle out the flour for him to knead the dough into. You enjoy the way his body feels near yours, how his arm accidentally brushes against you. He isn't the best, but you had a feeling he never did something like this before, and he was helping.

He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, "How are you not more buff?"

You flex your right arm, "I think I'm quite scary."

He smirks down at you bringing his hand up to wrap around your bicep, "Terrifying." His hand burns your skin as you stare up at him, as blue eyes drink up your face like cool water on this horrid summer day. He's too close, he's too warm and you watch the droplet of sweat slide down his temple.

Your mouth waters. You blink and step back, "I usually don't make this much in one day."

"So you're using me?" He jokes as you slide the tin to cook the bread in.

"Something like that." Your cheeks are flushed and you gently take the loaf from him to place in the tin. "My sister can do the rest. You probably should head back before you get in trouble."

He nodded, "I brought you something." You open your mouth to protest not wanting to push your luck with all his generosity, but he digs into his pocket anyway pulling out fresh medical grade bandages no doubt from his peacekeeper base.

"Oh I can't." You whisper.

"I insist." He takes your hand anyways your body moving forward slightly. "I feel awful about being the reason you got cut up."

You glance up at him as he takes the old wrap off. "You didn't..."

He only smiles to himself as he cleans off the cut because maybe he was. You remembered hitting Gavin on purpose, remembered picking up shattered glass over hushed conversation, and then he was standing over you fresh blood leaking from your hand. It didn't matter, not truly, at least not to you. It would heal and fade and barely be a memory.

His thumb slides over the freshly clean bandage across your hand, "If you need anything..." Your eyes meet as he holds onto your hand, you want to tell him theres no need. Well there was but he couldn't know that, it would get everyone involved killed.

"You've been kind enough."

"Hmm." His other hand comes up, fingers brushing away flour coated hair from your face. "I don't mind."

You nearly sigh as his fingers trail down your face, "Thank you." You whisper out his fingers holding your chin between them.

"Clumsy girl." Something darkens in his eyes as his body lets off too much heat leaning down towards you.

Your breath catches feeling the warmth of his own against your face. You're not supposed to do this, he's not supposed to do this, but you can't seem to care as a slickness forms between your legs. Your lips part and he's quick to press his thumb into your bottom one the tip poking into your mouth antiseptic and flour leaking onto your tongue.

The floorboards down the hallway creak, and he drops your hand the same time you step away from him. With a blazing blush you try to kindly smile at him to avoid the feelings crawling up your spine, to avoid whatever awkwardness might arise.

He dips his head in farewell and leaves before anyone sees him in your kitchen.

Your sister muses beside you as you move around the small stand tidying it up to busy your hands. The frayed edges of the bandages were a good indication that the wound was healing but you kept it wrapped tight while you had something decent covering it. You trace the line of dust colored tape remembering the feel of his warm palm pressed underneath and you hate the skip in your chest.

You glance up eyes meeting Gavin and all pulse inducing thoughts vanish. He frowns as he shakes his head, your heart plummets realizing he won't be able to get your father any medicine. He's gone the next second as your thoughts pound down on you with every worse case scenario flying through it. You go to look at your sister, but she's speaking with someone.

The peacekeeper she had been with the other night is handing your sister money a tender smile in his lips as he pushes too much into her hand. "My Ma will love these." He points to the loaves he wants. "She misses district cooking, says the flour in the Capitol doesn't taste the same." His eyes find your surprised ones and he only motions to the loaf, "Your sister told me all about your famous sourdough, so I had to come try it out."

"Sejanus." She tells you.

"Thank you." You nod studying him, "Your mother is in the Capitol?"

Sejanus's eyes grow distant. "Yeah." He doesn't continue and you know better than to push.

"Sejanus." You look towards the familiar voice your new blonde acquaintance walking up to his side. "Is he bothering you?" He jokes.

"Quite the opposite." It's your sister that responds an innocent pink tint in her cheeks.

The blonde smirks at you, "I'll wrap these up for you so you both can be on your way." You pulled the loaf back and turned around to wrap it up for him.

"How long have you known Gavin?" You tried not to straighten up even though you felt your body locking up at the mention of him.

"Who?" It sounded so stupid coming out of your mouth, too high pitched as your fingers fumbled with the tie on the bread. You never called him by his name, it was easier to pretend you didn't know him at all.

"Gavin." You turned cradling the loaf in your arms. Your eyes scanned the market, you saw your sister and Sejanus conversing off to the side leaving you alone in interrogation.

You chuckled awkwardly handing over the bread. "I don't know who that is."

But his hand came around yours as you held it out for him, long fingers trapping yours a shock going up your bones wherever skin met skin. "Hmm. Must have been a mistake then."

You offered him a smile, "Do you want anything?" You needed to changed the subject, if he saw you with Gavin somehow besides when you ran into him, if he knew... "Don't you want a little taste of all your hard work?"

"I didn't bring any money." He slipped the bread into his hands.

But you were being rash as you sliced a piece for him, "Here, free sample." You watched him take it, "Don't tell anyone I let you have one."

He popped it into his mouth, "It'll be our little secret clumsy girl."

You turned away to hide your blush as your sister returned, "We should go out again tonight." She tried to phrase it as a question, but her voice was too loud and you had a feeling her and that boy planned it all.

You glanced back at them, at those pretty blue eyes, and your worries seemed to be a little bit smaller. She nudged your leg but you didn't need much convincing wanting to let her have as much joy while she still could, "Fine."

She lets you borrow another dress, a dark green one that falls above your knees flowers knitted along the bodice. You hate that your stomach is in knots as you walk with her, you hate that you're interested in what you will find, interested in him. You knew it was wrong but you couldn't help being intrigued how he made your heart race.

She slides through the crowd with you holding your hand with a rough grip to drag you with purpose. She knew where she was going. "Sejanus!" She beams dropping you hand and rushing towards him.

"I got you guys drinks already." He says holding out two mason jars of clear liquor.

You take it graciously and peer around the room suddenly feeling like you were intruding on whatever your sister was planning for her night. So you push around them and climb onto one of the empty barrel chairs and sip on your drink watching the couples spinning around the dance floor.

"I think Sejanus has a little crush on your sister." You feel his chest against your back first as his words float down to you both of you watching the pair laughing together in serene oblivion. You fight the urge to lean back into him.

You take another drink to calm your nerves as his fingers splay along the table near you. "Is he nice?"

His mouth in near your ear now, lips pressed to the shell of it. "Nicer than me."

You swallow turning your head slightly to take in his face so close to your own, "Are you nice?"

"I'm gentle when I want to be." His eyes take in your lips and then float back up again. You tug at your bottom lip the room suddenly beginning to feel too warm, too small. "Dance with me." He pulls back straightening up.

"Oh that's not-!"

But he has your hand in his, and he's helping you to your feet leading you away to the dance floor moving you around until his other hand lands on your hip pulling you in close. The song is slow, but you barely hear it as your breaths come in too loud with his chest pressed against yours. You let him lead watching the small smirk spread across pretty pink lips as your feet move in tandem with his, "Look at that." He chuckles, "My clumsy girl knows how to dance."

My clumsy girl.

It makes your stomach flutter and you know you should stomp out whatever was growing there, but you let him come closer, let his thumb trail across your left wrist to feel your quickened pulse. "Does it always hurt?" He asked.

"No." You can't look away from him even as his eyes are trained on your weak wrist. "Only when I use it too much."

"Hmm." He stills. Then he's slowly bringing your left wrist towards his mouth to plant a single kiss to the veins running underneath it.

Your face burns, your skin burns, you're overwhelmed by the heat.

Someone shouted and your head whipped around as bodies slammed into one another a fight breaking out in the middle of the room. You took a step forward to find your sister but the hand wrapped around your left wrist is dragging you back, yanking too hard where he shouldn't. He was pulling you from the crowd away from the brawl and people shouting, you looked over your shoulder seeing Sejanus sheltering your sister away as well. The side door flew open and slammed shut making you jump by the sudden loudness as the noise of The Hob became distantly quiet.

You turn towards him in the dark alley and can only get a single breath in before he's moving towards you, backing you up against the brick wall, caging you in.

"What are-!"

He swallows your words with a punishing kiss. You're mind goes blank. You feel his hands under your jaw cradling your face, his tongue grazes your bottom lip begging, baiting for you to open but the shock seals you shut. You taste the moonshine on his mouth, the stale flavor of minty military toothpaste and your hands finally go to his chest to push yourself away from him.

"We can't."

He only digs himself further into you smashing your mouths together once more. This time its his teeth that sink into your bottom lip roughly, sharply, until the taste of rust takes over everything else. You gasp in pain as he uses that to shove his tongue into your mouth. He tilts your face up more melding your mouths together and for a moment you do get lost in it, in the blind overwhelming passion, but theres something else there you don't turn your head towards as he grips you too tightly, like he doesn't want you to slip away into the night.

You kiss him back, you even tangle your fingers in his clothes savoring the way he consumed you.

His hand goes to your waist inching up your ribs with every devilish swipe of his tongue. Your eyes fly open as his thumb slides across the underside of your breast. Your hand goes to his wrist to still him, but he grabs it to pin it to the wall above your head.

"Ouch," You whisper out as he bends the joint too far. "You're hurting me."

His lips ghost down your neck, "Sorry," Your eyes flutter close as his teeth graze your carotid. "Can't seem to help myself."

"We-we should stop." You try to get your hand back but he's holding it too tight. "Someone could see us."

He goes still, finally pulling his head up to stare down at you. "Like who." It isn't a question and your brows furrow, "Are you worried your little boyfriend Gavin will see?"

"Wh-What?" You almost laugh. "I don't even-!"

His hand wraps around your throat, not hard, but enough to shut you up. "You're lying. I know theres something going on between you two, I saw the way he looked at you that night, and again at the market, all forlorn and devastated."

"He's nobody." It hurt you to say that after his kindness all these years.

"At least we agree on that." He yanks your jaw forward to sneer down at you, "I don't like sharing clumsy girl." He drops your hand and lets go of your face letting you roll the weak joint around.

You glance up at him, "Why are you being like this?"

He doesn't look at you just watches as he shifts his foot around, "I'll walk you home." He grabs you by the bicep pulling you from the alley and leading you home.

The walk home is silent as you trudge slightly a step behind him suddenly aware of how naive you had been to become tangled with him. He was a peacekeeper, a pawn for the Capitol, why did you ever think he could be something else too? Yet, you still felt something fluttering as your eyes took in his tall frame, remembering running hands along his muscled chest as he kissed you.

"Thank you." You tell him as he deposits you at your door. He did make sure you got out safely during the fight, and walked you home when he didn't need to. You met his blue eyes, maybe there was more to him than rough edges.

He doesn't respond only takes your face in his hands and kisses you roughly sucking on the throbbing wound along your lip until you groan out in pain again, and even then he keeps kissing you, keeps biting you until he finally steps back. His eyes look you up and down before he turns around and heads back into the darkness.

You watch his figure disappear, you stand there for a moment staring at the space he had occupied tracing the bruising lip he had given you still tasting the sweat, and spit, and blood.

You turn your face to the sun letting the early rays drench your skin. It was quiet out here, away from the district, only the birds and bugs to keep you company while the rest of the world slid away from existence.

You let the grass sway against your feet as you curled your legs underneath you staring down at your freshly uncovered hand. It had healed, but the small pinkish scar ran along your palm. You traced it with a sigh unsure where to place everything you were feeling regarding the man who has now given you two wounds.

As if on queue the ground is being crushed by boots and you whip your head to the side watching him approach you. He stops a few feet away a bunch of dying dandelions in his hand, "Your sister told me you might be out here." You hug your legs to your chest as you watch him step forward more. "I wanted to come apologize. I don't know what came over me. I think I had too much to drink and got angry about something stupid." He stops in front of you, blocking the sun holding out the bundle of yellow weeds. "These are for you."

You study his face, sunlight leaking out around his head like a halo casting his shadow over your body, and then you hold out your hand for him to place them in.

"Angry about what?"

He takes it as a sign and sits down next to you. You glance down at the dandelions. "I would have rather given you roses," He reaches out tucking hair behind your ear making you look at him; you know that wasn't what he had been upset about. His hand trails down your face brushing softly along your bottom lip. You wince slightly, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"We're not supposed..." You trail off the words seeming ridiculous in your head, but you weren't supposed to be together.

He inches closer to you until his leg is touching yours, "I know."

It didn't seem like it would stop either of you as you feel yourself leaning into his touch, "Just don't do it again." You find yourself saying taking his excuses and letting him cup your face to lean in towards you. Your breath hitches as his whole hand slides along your jaw, body heat radiates off him like the oven in your kitchen after a day worth of baking and you melt into it. You let him turn your body, let him lay it down on the bed of grass.

His bottom lip brushes yours and you close your eyes. You're aware of everywhere his hands are touching you, your hip, your jaw, aware of his thigh against the front of yours. His tongue licks upward hitting your top teeth and you sigh into his mouth as fingers dig into flesh, as your hands come up to his chest, as he kisses you slipping his tongue into your mouth, slowly, exploring the texture and groove of your mouth. Your hands twist into clothing, his grip hardening as you kiss him back gently, tentatively, like you know you shouldn't but you can't help it.

His hand covers your breast, kneading flesh through your clothes and you find your fingers around his wrist, the protest climbing in your throat, but it struggles to come out as his thumb passes over your nipples. It's overwhelming and raw and wrong. None of it makes sense, not as his mouth kisses across your jaw, down your neck, sucking the sensitive flesh as he rolls your nipple through fabric.

You feel his smile against your neck as you moan dragging his fingers down your body to slip under the hem of your dress. Your hand flies to his wrist again as he climbs up your thigh, he lets you wrap your fingers around his arm, "Shh..." He mutters into your skin. "Let me." He kisses down the column of your throat. "Let me make you feel good." He kisses you collarbone and slowly your fingers are slipping off of him. "Good girl." He traces the fabric of your underwear, sliding his fingers under the side as your toes curl into grass.

With another soft kiss he pushes two fingers inside of you. You close your eyes turning your head as you take a deep breath feeling him curling inside of you, feeling him push in deeper.

"Look at me." He whispers as his hand begins to move in and out of you at a gentle pace. You slowly turn your head, the heat staining your cheeks red as you take in his face. "Do you like this?" You bite your lip nodding your head as he strokes a sweet spot inside of you. "Tell me." He mumbles onto your lips.

Your mouth parts in a gasp as his palm presses down onto your clit and he's swallowing your pleasure. "It feels good."

"What feels good?" He's moving faster, his hand thrusting harder into you. He licks into your mouth caressing the moan out of you, "What feels good clumsy girl?"

"You!" You pant into his open mouth sweat glistening off your pounding chest.

He pulls back to stare down at you, "You gunna cum for me?" You squeeze your eyes shut, back arching into him the pressure building in your stomach as his hand shifts to press his thumb down on your clit to move in tandem with his hand. You feel your legs shaking beneath him, "You are. You must." He sighs contently and it's enough to throw you over the edge, heels digging into the ground, hands gripping his shirt as you clamp down around his hand. You have your eyes squeezed so tight the sun blinds you when you finally open them, as the orgasm blows over you like the breeze pushing the blades of grass.

You don't even realize he pulled his hand out until he's standing over you feet planted on either side of your spread thighs.

"What are-!"

His soaked hand is running along his cock, stroking himself over you. "Just lie there." He tells you with his tongue between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he fucks his fist to your exposed body. You want to look away, not stare, not pay attention to the lewd sounds his hand was making as it slid up and down his hard length.

But you can't help it. Not as he pants out curses, not as he drinks in your body, your face like a man starved for water. You meet his eyes, dark and focused on you and find yourself mesmerized by him.

"Take them off." He grunts out motioning to your drenched panties. "Now." You're still shaking from the orgasm, at least you think, as you slide them down your legs. "Show me." He moves his hand faster as your brows furrow slightly. He presses down on your thigh with a hard boot and you bite your cheek to cover the whine of pain, "Show me."

You let your head relax onto the grass as you part your legs for him to stare at your bare cunt. You watch clouds go by in the blue sky listening to him groan as he fucks his hand to the sight of your naked girlhood. You fist the bottom of your dress chewing on your swollen bottom lip.

Suddenly hot ropes of cum splatter across your bare chest and dress as he slowly keeps pumping his fist letting every drop leak onto you.

The world is darker as he blocks the sun once more, like a fallen angel losing its light as his cum dries on your sweaty skin. He tucks himself away before kneeling down across your torso. He runs two fingers through the clumps of white along to tops of your breast, stares at it, then stares at you. "Open." Your lips part slowly and he's pushing his fingers into your mouth shoving cum onto the back of your tongue. "Lick it off." Something strange creeps up your spine, something you are not sure you like, as your tongue swirls around his fingers taking the salty substance down your throat. "My clumsy girl." He flattens his fingers out, pressing your tongue down and then he pulls them out. He runs his hand along your chest once more smearing everything across bare skin, watching it shine in sunlight along your naked chest, slipping it under the top of your dress to coat it along your breast. He takes his hand back, admiring his work, and wipes his hand off on your clothes.

He picks your underwear off the ground and tucks them away. Then he's walking past you, leaving you lying there.

The sun feels colder as it hits your body, as you trace the boot shaped indent he had left in your leg.

A week passes by and you never see him. You find yourself searching for him involuntarily wherever you go. You glance out of your kitchen window to see if he's walking up to your home, you peer around the market to see if he's paroling the perimeter with the other peacekeepers, you even find an excuse to pass by the base to see if he's just beyond the fences.

You weren't sure why you were doing it, you weren't sure why it tugged at something inside of you, you weren't sure why deep down in your subconscious you felt...relief.

You didn't study that feeling too much.

Maybe he had left, shipped off somewhere else far away from you. Maybe he had gotten what he wanted from you and now he would move on to the next naive girl. You hated that he possibly viewed you as naive, you hated that you knew it was true. You had been naive. You always tried so hard to be smart with your heart, but the first glance at a pair of pretty blue eyes had made you forget, made you clumsy.

You shook your head as your fist pounded dough, falling in love with a man like that would be stupid. Falling in love with him would be like falling in love with darkness; frighting and consuming unless the moon was out. You didn't even know darkness's name.

No, you had just let him touch you far more than you should have simply because you enjoyed the way he kissed you, like he wanted to swallow you completely to keep you with him. You liked the way he made you feel like you were wanted, like you were his. You didn't want to be his...well maybe in a different world that had a different answer.

There was something else there, something horrid that chilled your bones whenever he looked at you in certain lights. You found your relief sitting right next to that feeling.

The door creaks open and your head spins so fast hoping he's finally come to see you.

Your heart sinks, "Gavin." You blink to hide worry, "You shouldn't be here."

He comes into the room more, "I know, I'm sorry. I felt awful about.."

"It's not your fault." You offer him a reassuring smile even though its fake. You tried to understand, but mostly you felt angry.

He sighs leaning against the counter across from you, "Well I had to keep trying." He digs into his pocket before sliding the vial over to you. You stare at it too shocked to move, "I was only able to get one but-!"

You're running around the counter to hug him, "Thank you." He pats your back as you pull back to beam up at him like life had somehow been shoved back into you. You step back grabbing up the vial to tuck away.

"Just make it last a month." He tells you, "I don't know when I'll be able to get more."

You nod heading to a cabinet and pulling down two loaves of bread to give to him as payment. You push them across the counter at him, "Thank you." You repeat because thats all you feel; gratitude and hope.

He scoops up the bread, "Your sister has been hanging around that Sejanus a lot."

You sigh, "I know...he seems nice." You smirk over at him, "But you know how peacekeepers can be."

"Oh I know." He chuckles but nods. "He's a good guy, hotheaded about stuff he shouldn't be, but he's alright." He knocks his knuckles against the counter, "I should head out. Take care kiddo." Gavin walks to the door leaving you in better spirts than he came.

You spend the rest of the day cleaning, sitting by your father's bedside after giving him half a dose of the medicine. He doesn't ask where you got it from, and you don't tell him. You know he suspects how but he never brings it up choosing to let you both live in the bliss of unknowns. You wait until he falls asleep to leave his bedside closing the door to leave him in peace.

It's dark outside as you close the curtains on all the windows before picking up the boxes of trash you needed to take outside. You sigh heavily as you hoist them up onto your hip and push the door open.

The outside is quiet and moonless, dark and empty, an amber street light offering the only glow along your home to guide you on the path around the house. Once everything is out of your hands you finally hear the crunch of gravel, the hair on the back of you neck stands up.

You stare out at the darkness feeling it stare back.

"Hello?"

Your body is slammed backward against your home before you're crumpling to the ground. A hand wraps around your arm to pull you to your feet to shove you back against the wall.

Your heart skips. "You're a liar." He snarls in your face before shoving your head back with the palm of his hand. "I hate liars."

"I-I di-!"

He slaps you across the face, it snaps to the side in a stinging blow. "You said he was nobody." You're too shocked to respond, to ask. "Why the fuck was he here?" Ice trickled down your body as you realize he had saw Gavin here today.

You slowly turn your head, "You never came...I looked for you."

An owl hoots off in the trees as his silence engulfs you. He holds your face between his thumb and finger before coming closer whispering onto your lips, "And then you were all over him like the little slut you are." You stare up at the black sky, "Don't even deny it I saw the two of you hugging in your little hovel."

"It's not what it looks like."

He lets go of your face only to slap it the other direction blood filling your mouth as your lip split all over again. He takes a step back and you try to regain control of your breathing.

"You said you wouldn't hurt me again."

"No you told me not to." He grabs you by the hair and flings you to the ground. "And I don't need to listen to you." Your knees hit the dirt first and you try to move, try to shove away, but his hand is twisted in your hair holding you in place in front of him. "You want to act like a slut." You hear him unzipping his pants. "You'll get treated like one."

You let your eyes close and ignore the sounds of him, ignore what is about to happen, ignore that just a few days ago you had wanted this, wanted him. He tugs on your chin and you let him open your mouth to push himself into it until he hits the back of your throat. His hand hits the wall as he sits there on your tongue for just a moment the taste of him dripping down your throat, it taste like the sweat you had seen slide down his forehead in your kitchen, taste like the scent of him when he bandaged your hand and his body had been so close. You despise how good it is, despise that your body warms. He pulls back and slides his cock back into your mouth over and over and over again until fresh tears spill down your face, as spit covers your chin. He pushes your head back, your hands coming up to grip his thighs fighting the urge to touch him more, fighting the urge to bite down to make him stop.

"Fuck." He breaths and a soft moan leaves your throat causing him to laugh at you. "Like my cock that much huh?" He slams himself deep into your mouth growling as your head hits the wall behind you with the force, "Such a fucking whore."

You don't, you can't, you won't.

But your tongue darts out and your nails dig into his thighs and he's fucking your mouth until he spills down your throat.

"Don't swallow it." He commands pressing his forehead into his arm against the wall. You don't because he told you not to as his cock twitches against your tongue until it begins to soften. He pulls it out and tucks himself away before bending down to gaze at your ruddy tear stained face. "How does it taste?" He pushes hair away from your cheeks smiling as you don't respond his cum pooling in your mouth. He shuffles to the side before running something along your hands, "You feel that?" Your fingers trace the ridges, the grooves, recognizing the shape fear pouring out you. "Yeah that's right. I would hate for something bad to happen to you...or your sister." Your eyes try to stay on his face instead of the gun in his hands. "Don't ever fucking lie to me again." A thumb strokes your bottom lip, "Okay you can swallow now."

You gulp it down, letting the remnants of him slide down your throat as your dignity sat in the dirt between your knees. For a moment you stare at each other, his face half covered in darkness, half illuminated by lamp lights, and for some reason you just want him to kiss you again, hold you. His knuckle brushes the corner of your mouth wiping away whatever cum was trailing down your face. He stands up helping you back onto your feet.

You want to tell him to leave you alone as a tear slides out of your eye, but he cups your face. He leans down, brushing his lips along yours. "My clumsy girl."

"I...I'm not..." You close your eyes wondering which part of the sentence you were trying to disagree with, but he kisses you. He tucks his hand into the base of your skull pulling you closer to him and you find yourself giving into the sensation, giving into him. It consumes you, he consumes you, delving into your mouth, tasting the salty tears, the remains of him still wedged between teeth. You can't even break away from him, he has to be the one to pull away first.

"Don't make me hurt you again." He says it so gently you almost agree with him.

You pull back slightly to stare up at his face coated in the night sky. You feel paralyzed in his arms like a fear shaped boot broke through your vertebrae as the question muddled your brain.

How does this end?

"Sejanus!" You sister's voice floats through the room and your groaning as you stand up soothing the ache in your knees. "What brings you out here?"

Your heart stops in your chest as blue eyes meet yours. You hear the blood pounding in your ears as you stare at him, as he stares at you the room tunneling in on him. You can't even hear Sejanus's reply to the question, but he's digging into his pocket for money as your sister moves around the kitchen.

Your mouth feels dry as your eyes look towards the room your father slept in the same time his does. "How is your father?" You snap back to Sejanus who is now looking at you. "Your sister mentioned he was ill."

"He's fine." You clear your throat moving behind your counter.

"What happened to him?"

You're not sure where to look. "He had to work in the mines...it messed with his lungs."

"I'm so sorry." Sejanus says and you genuinely believe him. "I'm supposed to attend medic training maybe I could find some way to help him."

"How kind of you." Your sister replies as she wraps up loaves he overpaid for and suddenly walking outside with him leaving you alone in the kitchen with this man.

The room feels like its squeezing in on you as he drinks in your frightened expression. He moves, coming around the counter to be standing a few inches from you. You watch his hand come up to trace his fingers along your cheek. "Did you like it?" He whispers against your head. "Don't pretend you didn't." Blue eyes flicker around your face and he begins to chuckle at what he finds there, "I bet you fucking touched yourself to the taste of my cock in your mouth, came so hard with my cum still on your molars." He came close, breath fanning around your face, "You would do the same around my cock isn't that right?"

A tear slipped down your cheek in defeat.

"Say it." He cooed hand sliding down your body to grip at the flesh of your ass pulling your body flush against his. "Fucking tell me." He growled teeth against your own.

"I did." You whisper bile rising in your throat as you remembered sliding your hand, still slick from your spit on his cock, between your legs when you came back in the house. "I did."

"Hmm." He takes your left hand running his nail along your ulnar bone. Then he's stepping away from you, turning around, and leaving without another word.

You slide down the wall with your head in your hands confused, overwhelmed, ashamed. There was only one thing to do to stop this tidal wave of psychological torture you were inflicting on yourself.

You wait for the next hanging, you wait for the next distraction when everyone's heads are turned away, and then you slip out into the night quietly making your way to the peacekeepers base. It's sweltering hot as you crouch behind buildings and slip between broken fences to get where you need to go. You feel sweat dripping down your back, sliding down the side of your temple as you keep to the shadows waiting...waiting...

You used to know his schedule so well, but you had become distracted, sloppy and now you weren't sure if you would even see him tonight to plead for his help. This was stupid, this was silly even if you did find Gavin what were you to say? This devious blue eyed man was stalking you, harassing you? You had let him. You had let him into your home, into your life, let him defile you knowing it was wrong, knowing you were courting death. Even if Gavin believed you his commander would just find a way to make it your fault and get you in trouble somehow.

Your shoulders deflated. You felt stuck.

You glance beyond the wall at the medical building. How simple would it be to slip inside and pull what you needed while no one was watching.

You're moving before you can talk yourself out of it, slipping inside the unguarded door to the thankfully empty room. It smells clean with neat unoccupied beds lining the wall and you wonder how much good they could do if they actually offered to help the district's people. It motivates you to start searching, digging through draws to find anything that could help your father. You feel adrenaline rushing through you making your vision too focused as you sift through vials of medicine that wasn't what you needed, your heart is racing, pounding in your ears as the quiet outside beats down on you.

You pause, it's too quiet. You got inside too easy. It shouldn't be this easy. The hair on your neck stands up a feeling you only got when-!

Flood lights creep into the window shining against his beautifully wicked face as the tears slide down your unblinking eyes. You couldn't look away as he slowly walks forward. He comes near you, face pressed into the side of your hair. "Little thief."

You feel him push hair off your neck to trace your jaw. "I didn't st-!"

His hand is around your throat quicker than a snake's strike and he's shoving you until your back hits the metal cabinet against the wall. "You as bad a liar as you are a thief." You claw up his arm as he stares you down, "I wanted to see you tonight, walked all the way to your little hovel just to find out you weren't there." He squeezes harder as your vision pulses at the edges, "Is this a little rendezvous for you and that stupid boy?" You furrow your brows in pain, in confusion so he slams your head back against the cabinet your ears ringing. "Don't play dumb I know you came here for him." He came forward, "You belong to me."

You fingers loosen on his forearm as you plead with your eyes. I know, I know. You try to tell him so he lets you go, lets you breath.

He does and you gasp for air, blinded by it, overwhelmed with oxygen you don't even realize he's shoving his hand inside of you. "Stop!" You croak out. "Please." But it's too breathy as he presses his forehead to yours curling his fingers as you plead into his open mouth. "I didn't-I didn't do..." You trail of into a moan as his palm presses down against your clit.

Blue eyes stare you down and for a moment you forget he's angry, you forget you're scared.

He yanks you from the wall and shoves you face down into one of medical beds. It groans as your hand tries to force yourself up but its too weak so you're flinging backwards towards him as he hoist your dress up. "Don't." You plead. "Don't do this." You swallow, "He used to help my father. I'm sorry. I-I only want you please, not-not him."

He leans down, kissing your shoulder. "Then don't you want this?" You feel his hard length press against your body.

"Not like this." You squeeze your eyes shut, fingers digging into the metal frame of the bed.

"How would you have me then?" His mouth grazes up your neck. "In your little bed spread open for me?" His mouth presses against your ear, "Or would you want to be top? Up against a wall? Out in the grass and dirt on all fours like an animal?"

His teeth dig into your ear lobe, "I-I want to look at you." You had imagined it, on the nights you came to the images of him above you, rocking into you with gentle ease. It was candle lit and sweet and everything he never had truly been. You tried to turn to look at him, "I want to know your name."

"No." He pulls away from you. You lay there for a moment wondering if this was all some sick way to scare you, that he wouldn't actually do anything. "Don't worry. I don't want you like this either." He shifts around and soon enough cold metal is skimming across your inner thigh.

"Wh-!"

He pushes the gun into you before you can breath. You cry out at the intrusion, your back arches as something burns from inside of you that you know you shouldn't like. He pulls it back slightly to push it in again and again and again thrusting the weapon in and out of you until you start panting. "Please." You whimper unsure what you're pleading for and he's too quick to slide his hand underneath you, rubbing circles into your clit as he fucks you into this thin mattress with his gun. You're a mess, your feet struggling to hold you as your climax builds rapidly. You feel yourself clench around it fisting the sheets, groaning into them to muffle the sounds.

You fucking moan.

You're not even sure if its in pain or enjoyment. "Like that huh?" He asked pressing down onto your clit hard, the ridges on the gun hitting some strange delicious angle. "Like me fucking you with my gun." You squeeze your eyes tight feeling the heat pooling in your stomach, you even push your hips back to take more of it. He growls, "Gods you're a sick fucking slut for it."

Maybe you were delirious, maybe you were everything he said you were, maybe it was the fact he could kill you right now with one slip of his finger, but your orgasm slams into and your gushing around his gun like some pathetic whore fingers twisting into sheets. You're overwhelmed with it, the darkness around you blending together as it takes you under and spits you out. You feel him yank it out of you and set it carefully on the bed beside you.

You feel wrong, you feel empty as you lay there against the bed in a post orgasm bliss and all you want to do is cry. "Come here." The bed dips as he sits next to you, his arm wrapping under your body.

"Let me go!" You sob but he flips you around to cradle your shaking body in his arms. "Let me go." You try again, weaker this time as your body leans into his, as his hand strokes down the side of your head. "Let me go..." You close your eyes as more tears stream down your flushed cheeks.

He never does.

He holds you for a while, his chin resting atop of your head while he caresses your body in his arms until the sky outside the windows starts to split into purples and pinks. He unravels himself from you guiding you to your feet, and without a single glance he walks out of the room. You stare after him loneliness engulfing you in its grey flame.

You drag yourself out of the building and back home, your own disgusting pleasure sliding between your thighs the entire walk.

You go to your father's room taking up the seat beside his bed and close your eyes for a second. "You're sad." He said quietly.

"I'm tired." You sigh.

He chuckles, "Same thing." You meet his gaze, "Does this have anything to do with that peacekeeper?" You sit up straighter unintentionally. "He came by earlier looking for you." You can barely hear what else your father says as you stand up going to the bedside drawer. You catch snippets of him warning you, telling you to be careful, but your eyes narrow on the empty drawer.

The empty drawer.

"He was in here?" It cracks on the way out.

But the front door flies open and your sister is standing in the bedroom doorway out of breath and frantic. Your eyes meet and you know something horrible has happened because of you.

Death was breathing down your neck.

The wind blows your unbound hair back as you stare shocked at his shackled feet dangling in a suspended moment in time. You can't bring yourself to look at his face, at that sweet face that had always helped you time and time again. It was pale now, bruised and cold, and dead.

He was dead.

Gavin was dead, hanging there like he had been nothing.

The tears leaked down your face.

"It didn't make sense at first." He starts. You don't even jump at his voice behind you, nor do you move as he comes closer to you. "Why you purposely ran into him that night we met, or why he was watching you in the market, or why he came by your home, but then you said he had helped your father." You take a shaking breath, "Your sick father." You felt him behind you now, "I found all those empty vials in your home, the same vials you were probably trying to steal from the medical building." You hear him digging into his pocket pulling out an empty clear vial and throwing it at your feet.

The last of your father's medicine.

"I-I needed..." You choke out terrified. Because it was empty, because it was supposed to last you another month if you stretched it, but now it was gone and so was any chance of getting more.

"Daddy needed it more."

You slowly turned to look at him, "He didn't deserve this." You can feel his body hanging heavily like the rope was tied to your own hands. You had practically kicked the stool out from under his own feet that sent him hanging.

"No, he didn't." He cocks his head to the side. He steps closer to you tucking hair behind your ear and his gun looms behind him like a twisted guardian angel.

You stare up at him, "You're a monster."

He leaned down and snarled into your mouth, "Yes I am."

He was never going to stop, he was never going to leave you alone.

You shove him roughly and take off flying past the hanging tree, flying past Gavin's dangling body and into the woods behind it. You run further and further into the woods, you know he probably is faster, more trained than you, but you don't stop, you can't stop. Green and brown blur past you as you sprint through the forest. You try to look over your shoulder to see how far away he is, but you're too busy dodging trees, jumping over loose logs.

Then your foot snags of vines and your tumbling into the dirt. Your left hand takes the brunt of the fall and you bite down the cry turning swiftly ready to kick him away from you, but he never comes.

You sit up frantically looking around for him, but he's no where.

It's too quiet, so quiet the sound of your pounding heart blares into you, so quiet you hear the bullet as it whizzes past your head. It hits the tree behind you, splintering wood, and you don't wait as you scramble to your feet to keep running. You don't look back, you don't look down, you just keep running even as your body groans in weary pain, even as the next gun shot sounds off around you.

He was hunting you like the prey he always saw you as.

You pump your arms faster, push your legs harder zig-zagging your way through the trees as bullets hit the trunks around you. You're running faster than you can breath the only noise in your head was the fear pumping through your veins. Your lungs burned hotter every breath that spat out of your mouth as branches smacked off your face, arms, skin, blood splattering in its wake as you ran. You kept running, you kept running even though it hurt more than the idea of giving up.

You threw yourself behind a tree shoving your palm into your mouth to quiet the rattling gasp you took.

He wasn't far, you could hear leaves crunching underneath heavy boots.

You stifled the whimper.

He was whistling to himself as he slowly walked through the woods soft rain drops plopping down on the leaves above. "Clumsy girl," He sang as thunder clapped overhead. "No need to hide from me." His foot slowly snapped over twigs causing you to jump as he neared you.

You hear him shift and then the bullet hit the tree bark shattering around you as you take off again, but this time he's shooting at your feet dirt splattering across bare ankles. He's not shooting at you, he's herding you. And you had fallen for it.

His arm wraps around your neck yanking you backwards and slams you against a tree wet hair slapping across your skin, and then you're staring down the barrel of a smoking gun. He peers at you, "Why'd you run?" You spit at his feet causing him to laugh as he lowers the gun grabbing you by the throat and squeezing. "Why'd you run?" He presses in close, his nose digging into your cheek and you try to gasp at the firmness between his legs, but nothing comes out. You stare upward at the canopy of leaves as it goes in and out of panicked focus, as the life is choked out of you. Lighting cracks across the sky, rain drops hitting your purple face.

He lets go, lets you finally take a breath, lets your vision return to take in his devoid face.

There's nothing there but blue emptiness.

"You killed him." Your voice cracks. "He was just-!"

He takes you by the hair and throws you to the ground. You start to claw at him, kick at him to get him away from you, but he knows your weak spots all too well having studied every bad habit you had willingly showed him and grabs your right hand to pin it into the dirt. With as much strength as you can muster in it you slap him with your poor left hand pain ricocheting down the tendon. In one swift movement he plants his boot on your left wrist and presses down until you feel the fragile bones snap.

He doesn't cover your mouth as you scream, as pain blinds you, as you writhe under him sobbing rain pouring down now around you turning the ground into mud. He pushes hair off of your face, attempting to be tender after breaking your pathetic wrist drinking in the sounds of you agony like a God of pain, like crushing your bones was a form of foreplay. You roll your head away to take in the sight of your mangled hand twisted in all the wrong directions. It feels numb, you feel numb.

Then you are both staring at each other trying to breath. He watches your chest heave, you watch his mouth part eyes finally meeting. You're afraid to speak, afraid to move. Rain melts your skin as you lay there suspended in a moment of disbelief the distant pain washing away into the dirt beneath you.

"Why'd you run?"

"Because I'm afraid of you."

"Wrong answer."

He flips you over to lay you in the wet dirt as he climbs over you his belt buckle ringing in your ears, his gun thrown carelessly into the mud. No, no, no you panic as his hand pushes your skull into the ground smearing it to the side of your face, as you feel him between your legs. You frantically look around and with pain suffocating you, your broken left hand wraps around his gun and you slam it backwards into his head.

He tumbles off of you as you stagger upward pointing the gun at him wavering on your feet.

He laughs at you. "Well go on then." He nurses the bruise forming on his temple. You're shaking as you hold the weapon at him barely able to keep it upright, but he climbs to his feet. "No... we both know you're not capable of that."

"You don't know anything about me." You try to seethe, but it comes out feebly.

"Don't I?" He cocks his head to the side. "I know if you kill me you'll hang for it, and then your father will die too." He takes a step forward until the gun is pressed into his chest. "And who will be there to comfort your dear sister."

You dare let yourself smirk, "Sejanus. You said he was nicer than you."

His features falter for a millisecond, but then the mask is back. "Which we both know isn't nice at all."

Your finger quivers against the trigger. "Anybody is better than you."

His hand reels, and you think he's going to knock the gun from your hand but instead he slaps you across the face the gun firing into the sky. The force of the blow sends you back into the ground, but you're already moving again despite the sting in your cheek, the blood and dirt in your mouth, running through the storm crashing down onto everything. You see the break in the trees, the dark blue expanse of freedom if you could just get to it.

You gasp coming to an abrupt halt.

You look down.

You watch in a calm shock as blood blooms like a rose across your dress.

The pain never registers, not soon enough as your knee gives out first and you collapse back onto the ground watching him tower over you. You press your hand into the wound feeling the stinging anguish it causes while he watches your broken body bleed out on the forest bed. You were going to die, and all you could do was stare up at him while you hemorrhaged.

He turned on his heel and walked away leaving you to die alone.

You started crying then, crying and holding your weeping wound as the realization of it all crept into you.

"Come back." You sobbed out. "Come back." You whispered, rain and tears drenching your face.

Something flapped above you the black bird taking flight screaming your words out into the woods. "Come back." They called, "Come back." You watched them soar above you smudging together through the water in your eyes. It became a sad quiet song to drift you off into nothing if you let it. You didn't know how far into the woods you were exactly, but maybe someone heard the gunshots, maybe you could get up and try to make it home. Your body felt warm from the blood coating you and you figured you'd never make it home ever again.

You waited for Death.

Boots pounded into the dirt coming up towards you quickly scooping up your limp body and running with it. You groaned in pain trying to look up at him but gave up as your body dangled in his arms. He clambered up wooden steps and soon a door was slammed behind you quieting the storm outside.

You finally looked at him as he gently set you on the floorboards. He tears your dress down the middle examining the bleeding wound, and then he's digging. You scream, your vision going away at the sheer excruciating pain of it, you hope you'll just pass out soon but you feel his fingers inside your stomach, hear every wet noise as blood pours out of you.

You barely register the small ping as it hits the floor beside you. You relish the relief even as his hands press your shredded dress fabric into the bullet hole.

"Breathe." He tells you. "Just breathe."

"You shot me."

His brows are furrowed as he pulls the bloody clothes away and stands up rummaging through things. "I need to close it." Stuff clatters to the ground as the shiver racks through you. He comes back hold a fishing hook and line. You try to brace for it as it pierced your skin, as he tries to close the hole he caused. You flinch but the pain is secondary to everything going on around you, all you can seem to focus on is his face.

"You would be beautiful if you weren't so evil."

A ghost of a smile from him, "So, I'm your villain then?"

"Why else are you doing this?"

The muscle in his eye twitched and maybe because you're going to die he actually answers. "My whole life, all I've wanted was power." He pulls the line through your skin again as your teeth chatter. "With you..." He had power over you, he had control and ownership from the first moment he saw you, commanded you and you submitted so easily. He pushed the hook back through.

You weakly smile, "I must be pretty special huh?"

Something crosses his face, something you don't examine too closely. It's gone within seconds his hands tying off the stitch, "You're nothing."

He leans back studying the hack job of a suture he attempted on you, watches blood still slowly trickle out of it as you continue to shake in shock. "Yeah well...my blood is on your hands."

He stares down at his maroon stained fingers and then meets your gaze. He moves for you scooping you up in his arms and carrying you back out of the door. It's still raining as he walks with your limp body, mud squishing underneath his feet and then water, you hear splashing as he wades through the shallow water with you until his chest is submerged. "Are you going to drown me after all that trouble?"

You stare up at grey clouds as your body floats along the gentle waves. He laughs lightly, "No." He stares down at you running a wet hand along your cheek dirt coming away. "I'm cleaning the blood off."

You let him. You let yourself float lifeless in the dark water as lightning scatters across the clouds. You blink. You breath. You try to stay alive as your wrist throbs, as blood continues to spread out beneath you.

His hands are far gentler than they've ever been as they skid across skin cleansing you of all his sins. You can't stop looking at him, as rain drips off his lashes onto your lips quenching a thirst you know shouldn't be there. He looked so peaceful, kind even, the hero in this twisted story and you figured you had died on that cabin floor. Light was going to split the heavens and take your body, or maybe the ground would open up to drag you into hell.

Water sloshed in your ears. Maybe you would be stuck in this in between of your death, forever wounded, with him.

"Will you tell me your name?" You whisper as rays of sun peak out from behind treacherous skies.

He swallows as he begins moving back to shore, "If you don't die I'll tell you my name."

You close your eyes, body swaying with each long cold step he takes back to that cabin. You knew he wouldn't take you home, not until he knew he wouldn't get in trouble for murdering you. He uses a knitted blanket to dry you off and sets you back on the floor. No, you hadn't died yet as the chilling pain racked through your bones, "Am I gunna die?"

"I don't know." He kneels by your side. "I don't know." The rain still softly patters down against the roof as he watches you breath, "Why'd you run?" He whispers.

Your ribs burn as they expand, as they try to get oxygen to your struggling heart. And maybe because you're going to die you actually answer. Your lips part, mouth dry and numb, as tears slide across your face. "Because I'm afraid of what it makes me."

"What?"

"Falling in love with you." You watch his teeth grid, watch his fingers flex. But nothing else. "Will you hold me..." Your breath rattles, "While I go."

He pauses for quite a while, so long that you let your eyes close. The floor boards creak as he shifts, as his body lays down next to yours, as his arm tucks under your head and he pulls you close to his warm chest. You listen to his heart as yours slows. "I'm leaving." He starts, "I leave for officer training in the morning and I'm never coming back."

"Good." You nod. You'll never see him again, and yet it brings new tears to your eyes.

His fingers trace the curve of your ear, "Look at me." You tilt your head up to him and he leans down softly pressing his lips to yours. You pull your face from him letting the shaky breath leave you, and then you kiss him again.

He opens you up gently swirling his tongue into your mouth, caressing your own in its own embrace as his hands shift your body. You whine out in pain, but he doesn't stop until he's hovering over you. You don't stop him either. He kisses across your jaw, down your throttled neck, licking the hand print bruise he had left there. You wrap your good hand around the back of his neck to hold him closer to you as his own kneads into your breast. He keeps moving lower wrapping his mouth around your peaked nipple lavishing it with his tongue, sucking and biting it so tenderly it makes your back arch into him for the cost of more pain.

He moves down more until his head is between your thighs, prying your burning muscles open, kissing your clit first before running his tongue along it. "Look at you," He peers between your legs chuckling to himself, "And I'm your villain." You run your hand along his buzzed hair moaning for it, for him as he traces delicate circles into your clit fingers pushing inside of you making pleasure consume you so much you hardly remember your wounds.

He makes you forget them too easily. He wraps his mouth around your clit and sucks against it pressing down hard with his tongue until you see stars, until he has you completely undone by him. You moan out into the air as you cum against his face feeling him licking at you as you ride through it.

He picks his head up climbing back up your body, he stills taking in the botched wound in your stomach. He runs his tongue along it before kissing it ever so softly.

"Why did you save me?" You ask as you stare up at him listening to him unbuckle his belt once more. "Why did you come back?"

He blinks, "Because you asked me to."

You feel him plant himself between your legs, "Would you stay," A shaky breath. "If I asked you to." You had wanted and feared this and now you're not sure if you could ever want anything else.

He pushed inside of you slowly, stretching you open in sweet agony and relief. It's blinding and painful and nothing could have ever prepared you for how it would fill you completely. You breath into his open mouth on yours, feeling him slide in deeper, deeper, deeper until you're more full of him than yourself. "No."

Then he shifts to pull back, to slam back into you as you cry out in pain. Not at him, at everything else. You stare up at him the hard metal of his dogtags hitting against your face with every thrust. Your nails dig into his back, legs coming around him to pull him closer, feel his warm skin on your own. He nips at your bottom lip and you don't care that it hurts anymore, you don't care that he hurt you at all. He feels too good inside of you. His hand sneaks between your bodies to press into your clit, "Cum on my cock." He groans into your feverish skin the rough chain cooling your skin.

"Tell me your name." You moan tilting your hips for him. "I want-I want..." You want to know it, know him.

He only fucks you harder, unforgivably harder that has you squeezing your eyes in pain and ecstasy. He bites down on your jaw, digs his teeth into your jugular, taking piece after piece of you. He breaks skin, he splits you apart seam by seam until theres nothing left of you. You would let him crush you, break you if he wanted, as long as he didn't let go. You groan out as his tongue laps at the wounds he gave you, as his fingers dig into your waist to thrust into you hard until you finally cum around his cock pounding into you.

"My clumsy girl," He smiles into your collarbone. You're nodding, your arching your back for him, letting your pleasure consume you as his cock hits every deep rooted thing inside of you. You don't even realize he started moving faster, pounding into you harder. His hands grab you by the ribs and he's spilling inside you thrusting slowly as he pushes everything deeper. Until finally he stops moving.

You don't move, you can't. "I was supposed to win." Your chest hits his with every heavy breath, with every sacred word, "And then they died and I got sent here." Your throat feels incredibly dry. "It still isn't enough, I want more." He stares down at your right hand, then slowly traces the white gash along it from the night you met him. "Come with me." Your brows scrunch in confusion at his whispered confessional, "Come with me." He repeats again running his finger back over the scar.

"Where?" You croak.

He brushes his thumb over it once more, "The Capitol."

The images flash across your mind as you watch him. You by his side in pretty clothing sitting in a warm glorious home with food that wasn't leftover stale bread. Images of lounging on soft couches with his arms around you, with kisses sweeter than sugar and sunlight on your naked skin. He doted and cared and made you matter. And after years of constantly caring for others around you, it was an addicting daydream.

But it's gone like smoke on a mirror. You could only see death in his face, and as sweet and tempting that death would be it would be anything but. He wouldn't kill you softly. He wanted you in a cage for only his enjoyment and control and it would break you down until you no longer existed. He didn't truly care, he just wanted to prove he could, prove that he already had.

Blue eyes meet yours, your answer to him being read there as he finally pulls out of you the hollowness ringing through your soul. He stands up, tucking himself away before rummaging through the house he brought you inside of, then he comes back kneeling by your limp left hand. He gingerly takes it and ever so slowly begins to wrap it up tightly to set the bones back in place. You too numbed by the pain to register it, so you watch his face while he tends to your wounds. Then he sets it back on the ground but you grab his fingers before he lets go completely.

You tug on his ring finger. Stay, You say with your eyes in more ways than one, Stay. He could be free here, away from a haunted past that had made him vengeful and power hungry.

He doesn't say anything. He just lays down next to you, pulling you close once more as your eyes shut, as you drift off into nothing within his arms.

By morning he's gone.

You lay on that cabin floor as the truth sinks in. You're not dead, and he's gone.

He was gone. You were happy about it. You glanced around the cabin eyeing the white shirt spread out for you the silver chain draped across it. You reach for it fingers wrapping around his dog-tags.

You trace his name.

You tug the shirt on your body slipping the dog-tags around your neck and with the little strength you have, you stand up. It takes you a while but you leave the cabin tenderly walking back towards the damp shore. You wade out into the water, like he had done with you broken body, and lean back until you were floating weightless on your back, staring up at the bright sun.

He wanted his power, and he never would find that here; it would never be enough for his starving rotted soul. For some reason your heart hurt more than the ever bullet did.

You wished for his shadows. You wished for his death.

Your father died when winter came, it was too cold, and without medicine, once the winter fever set in he never had a chance.

Your sister does all the baking now. Your left hand never healed properly making it too difficult to use it, you try to help her in other ways, but baking reminds you of him and makes the wounds burn even though they were healed, you hate that they healed. You hate him.

You run your hand along the chain around your neck, the dog-tags tucked deep beneath your clothes. All you had left of him was that precious metal and a gunshot wound, and as you watch him sworn in as president, as your sister sells bread beside you, you hope one day Death sends a baker to destroy Coriolanus Snow.

endnotes: hi friends!! hope u enjoyed!! this story legit was so fucking hard to write. it had a whole different concept and characters and everything but it just never clicked with me even tho i had so many ideas but i couldn't figure out how to move through it fluidly. i rewrote this whole thing SO many times bc i couldn't connect with it, had to take a break, and finally ended up here with a version that wasn't what i set out for it to be, but ended up enjoying it a lot more ? i think hormones got to me and i just made it really sad instead of vicious :) but anyways!! love u all so much!!

[ghouldump]

I have been thinking about young doctor reader whos first reaction to seeing her one night stand admit he his a vampire is to ask if she can study him and do a couple of tests on him

I imagine this to be a lestat vibe yk? He would love the attention and strange admiration of his new weird beloved, while trying to keep her eyes always on him

"so are there others like you?"

"no by beloved, i am plenty enough to please"

Or maybe armand because he wants to be somebodys person in desperate way and i feel like he would manipulate her into staying in his life and be his eternal companion

Sorry if this was weird 😅

002

i couldn’t decide 😂 this is super short and straight to the point

LESTAT DE LIONCOURT

Lestat would take advantage of the opportunity BUT not nearly as extreme as Armand and he has to be really into you - which, luckily he was. You had just moved back home to New Orleans, after living in Texas for a few years, since finishing your residency.

As soon as your relatives and old friends hear about you being back in the lively city, you are invited out instantly. At one of the many parties, he noticed you, dancing with a few friends, you caught everyone’s attention with how festive you were.

He stared from afar and one of your multiple friends told you that he was looking. Encouraging you to approach him, he could hear their annoying giggling as you walked up. However, he also noticed how more beautiful you were as you approached.

“It isn't polite to stare and not say hello, you know,” you told him, as he smirked.

“I was simply enjoying the view”

“Y/n,” you held out your hand.

“Lestat,” he said, kissing your knuckles, your friends gasped loudly, making you look back at them.

“Sorry about them,” you laughed.

“They are surprised that I am talking to you,” he said, hearing their thoughts.

“How do you- my god, your eyes, are these your natural color?” you asked, leaning closer, looking closer.

“Yes”

“I’ve never seen a color so pretty, natural, only to a few patients after-

“After what?”

“They've died,” you said.

“Interesting”

“Allow me to look further into this Lestat, I’d love to understand this better,” you told him, giving him your card.

“Doctor. Y/n, how about we leave here and you can tell me a little more,” he smirked, interlocking your arms, and leading you away from the party.

Ending up in his bed was the last thing you expected to happen. Your fingers ran through his blonde wavy hair, as his hands pressed against your back, holding you in his lap. Blinded by the euphoric pleasure, you didn't even notice the fangs, wincing as he drank your blood.

It wasn't until you were dressing, that you came to your senses, rushing to leave his townhouse. You planned to avoid him, you didn't understand him, and you figured it was best that you didn't dig. However, he plagued your mind, entering every thought, and you could hardly focus during your first day of work.

As your coworker stopped in front of the house, you thanked him for dropping you off and climbing out. You still hadn't bought a car and there was a good distance between your home and the clinic. Watching him drive away, you turned to the steps, but stopped, seeing Lestat.

“How was your work?” he asked, tilting his head.

“How did you find my house?”

“I asked where the pretty doctor stayed and they led me here, did you not want to see me?” he asked, childishly pouting.

“You bit me,” you exclaimed lowly, watching as he began to grin, devilishly.

“And you tasted exquisite, a rarity, beauty, brains, and sweet blood,” he praised, approaching you.

“Please leave”

“Come inside, we have much to talk about, doctor,” he clapped, walking to the door. Your eyes widened as it opened on its own.

Hesitantly, you followed him into the living room, where he began with small talk before he dropped the information, he's a vampire, willing to become your little experiment if he was allowed to feed on you, whenever he'd like.

He liked you, you weren't a nuisance, much like other humans, which is why he preferred the idea of you giving up your blood willingly, still being able to keep your mortality.

You questioned his motives, why did he want to keep you alive, if he thought your blood was good? What did he gain from this? Why didn't he kill you? What was vampirism? Being met with silence, you begrudgingly accepted the transaction.

As your subject, his dramatic theatrics only increased. He was falling out at every prick, claiming it was better for him to drink, your blood from your neck, instead of an IV. It brought him great joy to have so much attention form you.

He would answer any questions seriously, before patting his lap. It was snack time, and he preferred you to sit there instead of next to him. Although, you could sense that he was withholding.

I mean, according to Lestat, he was the only vampire, one in a billion. There were no others, nor was there a need to search. He was all you could need, powerful, rich, and handsome. He was perfect.

For nearly a year, you ran all kinds of tests on him, comparing human studies to his DNA. Then you began to pull away. You were growing closer with him, staying at his house, or he at yours. Feelings were beginning to surface, after months of consistent intimacy.

Nonetheless, you knew better than to think you would have something together. He didn't think the highest of mortals, so what made you different? Little did you know, you couldn't be more wrong.

After seven months of only being with Lestat as his doctor, but also sexually, you decided to give another man a chance. Sleeping with a mutual friend, you thought it was fun until you woke up in the middle of the night, and were surprised to see a deranged Lestat, holding the man as a hostage. Only he was worthy to be subjected under you, to be touched and held by you.

You were near perfection, he could only imagine if you became a vampire. He was your greatest experiment, able to bestow the dark gift unto you. Yet here you were, entertaining other men

You were confused for a moment, realizing it was jealousy, causing him to act so crazed. Calling him out, he confessed his feelings, his anger and disgust towards this man. You had proven yourself to be worthy of the best and he was the best, waiting for you.

Your heart fluttered at his words, genuinely touched when he offered to share the dark gift with you. Nodding, you exhaled as he whisked you into his arms, sinking his fangs into you. Draining you, before feeding you his blood.

The man continued to squirm, his hands and mouth covered and tied, watching the scene in fear. Regurgitating and groaning, you held your stomach, clinging to Lestat in pain, before you stopped.

Standing upright, you faced Lestat, the man’s heart was pounding as your maker pointed to him. Your first meal. Pouncing on the man, Lestat couldn’t be more satisfied, with you as his fledgling, he could now be your patient for the rest of eternity.

ARMAND THE VAMPIRE

Armand was always watching, always one step ahead, and so, when he caught on to your curiosity, his scheme began. While you were a practicing physician, you were constantly looking for your next experiment. Someone you could poke and prod to further your research.

It was your secret, a taboo, you'd been undergoing all sorts of analysis since before you'd gotten your degree. Moving to Paris, you initially put your focus into your residency, until the vampire theater was brought up. Everyone was raving about the place and you had to see it yourself.

Watching the play, you sat on the edge of your seat in disbelief. The murdering of the girl felt too real, her open wounds obviously infected. Then her screams, those screams, the sound of pure agony and fear, you were quite familiar with it.

When the play ended, the actors came back, along with the director, all of them bowing. Staring at the crew, you were inquisitive towards all of them. Strange eyes, ghostly skin, glass-like, sharp nails. If it wasn't for the apparent powdered makeup, you would assume they were dead.

Despite your suspicion, you kept returning out of curiosity. Your eyes could hardly focus on the play ahead, drifting off to the director. It wasn't until one night, that his eyes finally shifted to your own. Nodding slightly at you, you smiled, before turning your attention back to the play.

Your concentration changed from everyone to him overnight. You kept visiting, a small notebook in hand, writing brief notes about his appearance. Nothing about him seemed natural, and that drew you in more.

"I'd prefer if you spoke to me, instead of trying to follow me and make notes about me," he said, smirking as your heart skipped a beat.

"My apologies, it's a bad habit of mine," you shook your head, shoving the notepad into your pocket.

"You're a doctor?" he asked.

"How did you know?"

"You wrote out a few side notes, about wounds and how they should be treated"

"Yes, I mean, I'm still in my residency, but I am a doctor,” you said.

"And how are you liking Paris?" he asked, as he sat next to you.

"It's fine, I am into the darker aspects of life and death, and I was over the moon, finding a vampire theatre, where everything feels authentic. Then, I saw the director, and I've been to nearly every show since," you confessed, as he stared over at you.

It didn't take much longer for him to pull you into the basement, where you partook in the sinful acts.

Pressed against the cold railing, you kept trying to keep quiet, while his face was against your shoulder, taking in your scent.

You begin to regularly meet up with him and it isn't until one night you are out with a male colleague that you find out his identity. He is with his coven members, fuming in jealousy as he watches you laugh with the man. The conversation was nothing but platonic, but the thought of you in the same space as another man made him physically sick.

He naturally, kills the poor guy and you catch him, screaming as he drops the body, it catches on fire, and he turns to face you, blood dripping from his mouth. You run to try to evade him, but he quickly corners you.

He is too jealous, focused on why you were out with another man, to even notice you were confused and afraid.

Realizing you were reeking in fear, he apologized profusely, begging for forgiveness. He knew you only accepted because you were scared he would kill you next, but he would never, at least not unwillingly.

He takes you home where he confesses that he is a vampire and you have to swear to never tell a soul because it goes against the vampire laws. You want distance from him, but he is consistent, bringing gifts, asking for forgiveness daily, trying to prove that he would never harm you.

Finally, you believe him and he becomes your subject. He is the most willing, you'd ever had, allowing as many needles as you want, as long as it means you are touching his skin. He does manipulate you to drop out of your residency and focus on studying him. He says researching vampirism is a one-in-a-million chance, and he is the perfect experiment.

You are so caught up in your research, that you don't even realize that you are straying further and further away from the possibility of being saved. He loves you, he needs you, just as much as you need him, if not more. The final step to his manipulation tactics, turning you.

He could never allow you to age too much and become old, weathering away. You were his lifeline, he needed you as badly as he needed blood, and after months or even years of extreme brainwashing and manipulation, he turned you and made you his companion and fledgling.