Volturi kings x fem reader (separate), smut, some controlling elements, dirty talk, ect. Also I've never written for twilight and I have very specific versions of the kings living in my head so be nice 🥲
Caius, who would want you on your back with your legs wrapped around his waist while he pummels into your poor, spasming little human cunt. Who rests his cold forehead on yours, staring unblinkingly into your wet eyes as his upper body remains eerily still - an inhuman contrast to his lower body jack hammering into you. His hands are braced on the head board behind you, millennia of precision and restraint honed into his arms as they work to stop his forehead from smashing your face in, while keeping you pressed down onto the feather pillow below you with his sweet, sweet pressure.
Caius who would mock you as you mewl and look up at him like you're shocked and disgusted at how good his balls feel slapping against your clit.
"Oh? Does that feel nice dolly? You want my venom in your belly and your cervix bruised from me? Dirty little minx."
Aro who would want you in a similar position, but with your legs over his shoulders and one ankle in his grasp as he marvels at your pointed feet. His ancient mind imagining his venom dripping from the arch of it. Yes, that freaky mf definitely has a foot fetish. He'd have a pillow under the small of your back to angle you slightly higher, but he'd still be above you. His hair falling like an inky curtain around both of your faces as he grins down at you with crazed vermillion eyes, too many teeth, and fingers slithering into your mouth. They press down until you gag and roll your eyes back, because it's just so delicious to be defiled like this.
Also the Aro I have in my head isn't the biggest fan of slow lovemaking or hard, cold fucking. I feel like he'd be less about pace and more about rhythm. He's like a fucked up peacock trying to show off what he can do with his hips, and God can he use them. He'd bury himself balls deep in you and then roll his hips sickeningly slow while rubbing tight little circles into your clit. When he gets really cocky he rests his hands on his hips and look down at you from up his nose, oozing superiority.
Aro at your neck, dragging the sharp tip of his nose across it, up the column, around the shell of your ear. He's whispering filth in Italian - and chuckling giddily when you tighten around him like a fist, just as he predicted.
"oh, oh, oh! - dolcezza, my most belissima girl, take it, take it, take it!"
You will be called a good girl approximately 82 times, and he will probably cry into your boobs when he cums. (He told me himself 😘)
Marcus, who would want you sat up on your knees as his arms wrap around you from behind, your head turned sideways to look up at him from under your lashes. He'd root his fingers in your hair, close to the scalp, and hold you still while he fucks up into you at a moderate pace. I think modern Marcus awakened by a new mate, especially a human mate, would be the epitome of a soft dom. You'd be called "sweetheart" and "tesoro" and all the good shit, but he'd still be a tad controlling during sex (and in general), because now his only purpose in life is to protect you, which translates as constantly controlling you through touch and positioning.
He'd also growl in your ear and need every inch of him touching you and reveling in your warmth. Ladies and disappointments Marcus Volturi is a neck nuzzler!! He just wants you, in any way, but having your back to his front really riles something primal and long dead in him. Also, kind of gross, but he's obsessed with everything that comes from you, including your sweat. He sees it as proof of his effect on you, and your time together.
WORDS: 1.6K
SUMMARY: Them saying "I love you" for the first time.
WARNINGS: Headcanon, Fluff, Established Relationship, Kissing, Cuddling and snuggling, Human! Reader, Vampire! Reader
CHARACTERS: Aro Volturi, Marcus Volturi, Caius Volturi, Carlisle Cullen
ARO
✩ Takes Aro a long time before saying the three words, telling you more with his actions. Walking with you through the gardens, romantic dances and dinners, and gifts, he thinks to show it is better than to say it. Flooding your mind enough that even if you say it to him, you don't even notice he never says it back.
✩ Only after he turns you does Aro say the three words. Looking into your crimson eyes, whispering it in what would be too quiet for your former human ears to hear. Making you realize it's your first time hearing him say 'I love you,' wondering if the reason was you couldn't hear him say it or if he said the three words to what he created.
✩ The words slip from his lips the first time saying it, overwhelmed by your new nature's beauty. Holding your hand, kissing the warm, glowing skin of your hand, trailing up to your shoulder, face inches apart, gazing into your eyes as the three words slip from Aro's lips.
✩ Kisses your lips after saying it, breaking it just to hear you say it back, kissing you harder after you do. Cracking his lips onto your newborn one's, forcing Aro to pull away, saying "I love you" once again, louder.
✩ Doesn't often say the three words, almost saving it for special moments. Hearing him say it during a tender moment together or on your anniversary. Though if you ask or say it more, he'll follow, will even pout if you don't say it back.
Gazing into the crimson-colored eyes of your lover, now matching your own, turned hours ago, only now waking. Sitting up in your shared bed, faint memories of all your human nights you'd spent in them spark within your mind.
Holding your hand, feeling Aro's warmth instead of a constant chill. Helping you up off the bed, standing before Aro, who says nothing but stares as if he's lost in your eyes. Scanning over every inch of what vampirism has made of you, what he's made of you.
"I love you," Aro speaks, bringing your hand up to his lips, feeling their warmth.
"I love you too, Aro," you say, hearing how it sounds much more different than his declaration. Trading the skin of your hand for your lips, feeling their softness at last, even as he deepens the kiss.
MARCUS
✩ Not the first time saying it to you, having said it without your knowledge. Having said in passing or in little moments in a low whisper, too low for your mortal ears to pick up.
✩ A few months before he actually says it aloud for your ears to hear, though, for his low whispered ones, it'll take him a month or two. Doing his best to spend most days with you, even when he has court matters to attend to, never forgetting to utter the three words behind as a silent goodbye.
✩ Taking some time before he gets the confidence to say it aloud, doing so in a moment of pure tenderness. Spending every evening together, holding you close to his chest, absorbing your human warmth, gently kissing the top of your head, finally letting the three words "I love you" out.
✩ Hiding his shock with a stone face, though cracking with a small smile once you look up, surprised. Leading him to say it again and again and again, saying it every chance he gets. Loving the sight of blood rushing to your cheeks, hearing you say it back, causing him to say it again and again, loving your reaction even if it's an annoyed one.
✩ The three words are the first thing you hear after he turns you, and every endless day after that. Hearing it at least a hundred times a day, when he can't be around to say it, he'll leave little pieces of paper written with quotes from your favorite novels that have the three words.
Laying atop the castle's library couches, back pressed against your vampire lover. Feeling his cold fingers play with your features, ones he could see so as not to poke your eye.
Reading one of the many books Marcus had recommended to you, barely reading a single sentence, lost in your lover's gentle touch. Tempted to close the book as his head leans down, feeling his unneeded breath touch down upon your head before a cold kiss follows, sending slivers down your spine.
"I love you," Marcus says, feeling the words upon your scalp and in your cheeks as they flush with red. Planting a kiss atop your head, uttering the words again, "I love you."
"I love you too, Marcus," you finally say back, hearing as he inhales a shaky breath before uttering it again.
"I love you."
"I love you too," you laugh, hearing him again.
"I love you."
CAIUS
✩ Has said it before, aloud, only in a language you wouldn't understand, then gets dismissive if you don't understand. Though he doesn't do it often enough for you to seek out what he was saying.
✩ Surprisingly, it doesn't matter if you're human or vampire, he falls in love with you just the same and says it, though he would prefer to turn you quickly. Says the three words in a language you don't know or one he avoids teaching you to speak four months into your relationship, saying it aloud only a month after.
✩ Says the three words for the first time during one of your extravagant dates, staring into your human eyes, seeing the beauty within them. Hearing your beating heart as it increases in pace, causing Caius to panic, gets even more flustered as he fails to mask it all.
✩ Softens in your arms when you say it back, gazing into Caius' gentle eyes that gleam in the candlelight before your lips meet. Once breaking the kisses, allowed to stare into his star-struck eyes does he say it again, giving you a rare smile when once again you say it back, pulling you into a much deeper kiss.
✩ Says it more when you're alone together, or as he admires your existence, slipping it in the air between you as if it were a breeze. Only for Caius to turn shy, as if you weren't the love of his endless life. Becomes very clingy if you say it first, making sure you hear him say it back, but only when you're alone, of course.
Staring out onto the vast city glowing in the night, flown out of Italy just to see it from the balcony you stand upon. Staying at one of the most expensive hotels in the entire country, your dear Caius had taken you to, being one of the many places you wished to see before turning.
Looking away from the view as a hand touches you back, finding a pair of crimson eyes that belong to your vampire lover. Flooded with ecstasy as he smiles sharply, not bothering to look upon the city, treating you as his breathtaking view. Smile twisting into a smirk, knowing you're his and will be forever, city after city.
"I love you," Caius declares, chest rising with a deep breath. Watching as his smirk softens, hand hardens against your back.
"I love you too, Caius," you reciprocate, pressing against the vampire, cupping his cold, hard cheek. Pressing your human lips upon his, welcomed by the softest kiss his vampiric lips could manage, wrapping his arms around you.
CARLISLE
✩ Has not said it before the first time, living more of a human life than a vampiric one, Carlisle takes the pace as one when it comes to your relationship. Even if you're both vampires, he prefers it that way, savoring each moment.
✩ Takes Carlisle six months of dating before he says the words, though if you say it first sooner, he'll say it back and continue to do so from then on. Has many moments before the six months of wanting to say the words but has too much self-control to say them, but also is a bit worried it might be too early to say it.
✩ Says it on one of Fork's rainy mornings, the window cracked just enough to smell the rain, laying in his bed. Cupping your cheek, caressing his thumb gently, gazing into his amber eyes, hearing as he whispers the three words.
✩ Smiles after, as if it took weight off his chest, wanting to utter the words since the day he met you. Melts as you say it back, becoming very clingy in the moment, pulling you closer to him before kissing your lips.
✩ Tells you "I love you" every time you part in the morning, when he gets home, and during moments when your bodies are wrapped together. Always accompanies the three words with a kiss on your cheek, lips, or neck. You'll know when he's about to say it, as he becomes clingy before saying it.
Thumb gently against your cheek, waking, soft amber eyes greeting your eyes as they open. Hearing Carlisle's even breaths as a smile grows on both of your lips before they connect. Humming between the kiss, your body moving closer to the man you'd been dating for the past six months.
Staying the night after a dinner date night, made just for you to try, telling you about his cooking classes. Filling you with good food before cuddling up on the couch, watching your favorite movies, then offering his bed to you.
Breaking the kiss, fingers still running through Carlisle's blonde locks, gazing into his kind eyes. "I love you," Carlisle whispers, lips inches apart. Feeling the heat of your smile as your lips stretch into one.
"I love you too," you whisper back, causing him to melt in your warm arms. Leaning in, lips connecting as the rising sun shines over the bedroom.
Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!
♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI.
Pairing: Caius Volturi x Reader
Summary: Aro's niece returns after decades of traveling, only to find interest in a certain King she hadn't met yet.
Warnings & Themes: slight age gap but ur vampires so it doesnt rly matter i guess, caius slow burn!!!, sexual tension, aro adding fuel to fire LOL #girlboss, reader basically bugs caius into being her man, caius is kind of mean as usual </3, SEXUAL TENSION X2, eventual brat taming
You were Aro's beloved niece.
Sometimes, you were all the King talked about. Photos you'd sent of places you'd been, people you'd met, people you'd eaten (though Uncle Aro didn't typically encourage reckless behavior, it was quite impressive). Besides, you always cleaned up your messes.
And eventually, you always returned home.
And here you were, after close to 70 years. Pushing the doors to the throne room open, a bright beaming smile on your pointed teeth. You dropped your bags onto the porcelain floor with no shyness, looking straight up at your uncle. You ignored the other two on the thrones, not bothering with introductions. After all, your uncle had never allowed you to formally meet them. Not until you got old enough, of course.. Ironic considering how ancient you truly were.
"Dear Y/n!" Your uncle nearly squealed with delight, erupting off from his throne in flight. When he reached the floor, you pulled him into a tight hug.
Caius Volturi remained on his throne, arching a snowy eyebrow. Hugs. Aro typically despised them. He'd throw someone's head against a wall for even attempting to make contact with his pure velvet cloak.
He studied you while you greeted. You certainly looked the part. Long, black hair cascading down your back. Bright red eyes. A jaw droppingly gorgeous face, made to be a very alluring monster.
Aro held you at arm's length, his crimson eyes sparkling with genuine delight. "Seventy years, and you look more radiant than ever, my dear! The world agrees with you, it seems."
"The world is a fascinating buffet, Uncle," you replied, your voice a melodic hum that echoed pleasantly in the vast chamber. "But even the most exciting buffet grows tiresome. I missed home." Your gaze finally drifted from Aro, sweeping over the other two thrones. Your eyes lingered on Marcus for a moment, acknowledging his eternal, melancholic silence with a slight, respectful nod, before they landed on Caius.
And stayed there.
He was exactly as Aro had described in his letters: severe, pale as a marble statue, with an aura of pure, unadulterated frost. His white hair was like a crown of ice, and his golden eyes held a permanent, simmering irritation. He looked… challenging. And you had never been one to back down from a challenge.
Aro, ever the perceptive showman, saw the flicker of interest in your eyes. A slow, cunning smile spread across his lips. "Ah, but where are my manners! Y/n, you have been away so long, you have not been properly introduced to my dear brothers. You know Marcus, of course." He gestured vaguely. "And this," he said, his tone dripping with theatrical importance, "is Caius. The sharp edge of our justice. The fire to my… intellect."
The same kind of smile snaked across your lips as you analyzed Caius further.
You took a step forward, your movements fluid and utterly un-intimidated by the imposing throne room or its icy king. "Caius," you repeated, your voice tasting the name. "My uncle has written so much about you. Though, I suspect he left out the best parts."
Caius did not move. He simply stared down at you, his expression one of profound boredom laced with a hint of contempt. "Did he," he stated flatly. It wasn't a question.
"Indeed," you continued, undeterred. You circled slightly, your eyes tracing the lines of his throne, his posture, his face. "He mentioned your… fervor for order. Your distaste for chaos. He failed to mention how the light catches your hair. It's like freshly fallen snow."
A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of Caius's mouth was your only reward. Behind you, Aro made a sound somewhere between a cough and a chuckle, quickly disguising it by clasping his hands together.
"Caius, my brother, do not be so stern! My niece has just returned. She brings fresh perspectives from the outside world," Aro chimed in, the picture of innocence. "Y/n, you must tell us of your travels. Caius is particularly interested in the… disciplinary measures of other covens. Aren't you, brother?"
Caius’s golden eyes narrowed slightly, shooting a silent warning at Aro. "My interests are in effective rule, not tourist anecdotes."
"But discipline can be so… nuanced," you purred, stopping directly before his throne and looking up at him. The height difference was significant, but you held your ground, your stance confident. "In the East, I learned a technique for interrogation that involves a single, precise needle and the slow drip of venom. It’s not about pain, you see. It’s about anticipation. The mind breaks long before the body. I thought it might appeal to your… sensibilities."
For the first time, his gaze shifted from one of pure dismissal to one of analytical consideration. He was, if nothing else, a connoisseur of punishment. He leaned forward ever so slightly, the movement so minimal it would have been missed by a human eye.
"Anticipation is a worthless tool if the subject lacks the imagination to be terrified," he countered, his voice a low growl.
"Then you find a way to inspire their imagination," you countered smoothly, a sly smile playing on your lips. "It's a art form. Perhaps I could demonstrate sometime."
The sexual tension in the air was now as thick as the ancient stone walls. Aro looked like a cat that had gotten not only the cream but the entire dairy. He had thrown a spark into a room full of kindling, and you were happily fanning the flames.
Caius leaned back again, the brief moment of engagement over. He looked away from you, as if you had suddenly become a mildly irritating stain on his vision. "Your travels have made you bold, child. And talkative."
You laughed, a sound like chiming bells that seemed horribly out of place in the grim hall. "I'm centuries old, Caius. Hardly a child. But if you'd prefer I act like one, I can start by pestering you relentlessly until you pay attention to me. I'm told I can be very persistent."
You turned on your heel, your long hair swishing behind you, and picked up your bags. "It's been a delight, truly. Uncle, I'll be in my usual chambers. Caius," you said, throwing a final, challenging look over your shoulder. "I look forward to… boring you with more of my anecdotes soon."
As you swept out of the throne room, leaving a trail of disruptive energy in your wake, Aro floated back to his throne, humming with satisfaction.
Caius finally spoke, his voice cold and hard. "You brought that here on purpose, Aro."
Aro's smile was wide and unapologetic. "My dear brother, the castle has been so dreadfully quiet. I merely thought it needed a bit of life. And who better than my dear, persistent niece to provide it? Do try to play nice."
Caius said nothing, but his knuckles were white where they gripped the arm of his throne. He stared at the spot where you had stood, the ghost of your impertinent smile and the echo of your laugh seared into his mind. It was going to be a very, very long eternity.
It became your new favorite game: finding Caius. He was a creature of rigid habit, and after a week, you had his schedule memorized. Your favorite place to ambush him was the ancient, cavernous library, where he would often review centuries-old decrees.
You found him there, silhouetted against a towering stained-glass window, a scroll in his hands. You didn't speak. Instead, you drifted to a shelf nearby, pretending to browse. You selected a heavy tome on medieval torture methods — a subject you knew he respected — and leaned against the shelves, reading aloud a particularly gruesome passage about the Judas Cradle.
Your voice was low, melodic, giving the horrific description a sensual, rhythmic quality. You let your scent, a unique blend of night-blooming jasmine and cold, ancient stone, waft towards him. You felt the air shift, a subtle tightening that indicated he was listening, despite his perfectly still posture.
After a long moment, he lowered the scroll. "The historical account is inaccurate," he stated, his back still to you. "The angle of descent was steeper. The point, blunter. It was not about slow impalement, but about the explosive rupture of internal organs. The author was a romantic."
You smiled, closing the book. "A pity. I rather liked the slow, theatricality of it. But I defer to your expertise." You took a step closer. "Perhaps you could give me a private lesson on the correct application? I'm a visual learner."
Caius finally turned. His golden eyes were like shards of topaz, cold and hard. "I am not a tutor for bored nieces with too much time on their hands. Go pester your uncle."
He turned back to the window, dismissing you as completely as if you’d vanished. The rejection was absolute, a door slammed in your face. But as you left the library, you didn't feel defeated. You saw the way his fingers had tightened on the parchment, crinkling the edge. He had heard you. He had corrected you. It was a start.
Next, you found him walking the perimeter of the inner courtyard, a nightly patrol he undertook alone. The moon was full, bathing the stone paths in silver. You fell into step beside him, not saying a word for several laps. The only sounds were the soft fall of your feet and the distant chatter of the guard.
"You know," you began, your voice soft against the night, "in my travels, I met a coven in the Amazon. They believed that walking in silence with someone under a full moon created a bond stronger than blood. That their souls would intertwine."
Caius didn't even glance at you. "Superstitious nonsense."
"Perhaps," you conceded. "But it's a beautiful thought, isn't it? That without a single word, you could become tied to another for eternity." You let your hand brush against his cloak as you walked, the faintest whisper of contact.
He stopped dead. The air around him grew frigid. "Your attempts at seduction are as subtle as a thunderclap," he snarled, finally looking at you. His gaze was furious, but in the moonlight, you caught something else, a flicker of raw, primal awareness. "You smell of desperation. I have no interest in bonds, beautiful thoughts, or the childish games of a fledgling who has seen too much of the world and understood too little of it."
You smiled in his face innocently, your eyes peering up at him unbothered.
He turned and strode away, his form disappearing into the shadows of the castle walls. The insult should have stung, but it only made your unbeating heart thrill. Furious was better than bored. He was feeling something. You had gotten under his skin.
Finally, you tried once more.
This was his most sacred space. The map-strewn table, the battle plans, the seat of his power as a military strategist. You entered without knocking, finding him leaning over a map of Northern Europe, his brow furrowed.
"Aro said you might need a fresh perspective on the Balkan situation," you announced, moving to the opposite side of the table.
His head snapped up. "Get out."
"I know the terrain," you continued, ignoring him and pointing to a mountain range. "I spent twenty years there. The local covens don't fight by your rules. They use the humans as shields. They—"
"I said, get out!" he roared, slamming his fist on the table. The stone cracked under the impact. The sound echoed through the room like a gunshot. He was across the table in a blur, his face inches from yours, his features a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. "You think your pretty face and your stories give you the right to invade my space? To speak on matters of strategy? You are a distraction. A nuisance. Aro's indulgence is the only reason you are still breathing in my presence."
You didn't flinch. You held his fiery gaze, your own expression calm. The sheer force of his anger was intoxicating. This was the real Caius, the storm beneath the ice.
"You can yell all you want, Caius," you said, your voice as cold as steel. "But it doesn't change the fact that I'm the only one in this castle who isn't afraid of you."
For a long, charged moment, you stared at each other. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the desire to simply snap your neck warring with something else, something he refused to name. With a sound of utter disgust, he turned and stormed from the room, leaving you alone with the cracked table and the scent of his fury hanging in the air.
It was his strongest resistance yet. You were sure you had lost. In fact, you were ready to switch your attention to something else.
Caius was gorgeous, yes. A prize. Something you had your eyes set on more than anything else.
But there were other men in the world. Not as beautiful or interesting as Caius, but.. Close.
For days, you let him be. You were either exploring the mountains of Italy, hunting human prey, reading the millions of books that your uncle had to offer you, or ordering expensive silks and velvets from the tailor to boost your self esteem (not that you needed it much.)
It was past midnight when a silent presence at your door pulled you from your thoughts. You opened it to find Caius. He wasn't raging. He wasn't cold. He looked… weary. And resolved.
He didn't wait for an invitation. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft, final click. The room suddenly felt very small.
"I have resisted you," he stated, his voice low and rough, as if the words were being torn from him. "I have insulted you. I have threatened you. I have banished you from my sight."
"You have," you agreed, your heart a still, silent stone in your chest, waiting.
He took a step closer, his golden eyes burning in the dim light. "You are a plague. A persistent, maddening, insufferable plague upon my existence."
You said nothing, simply watching him.
"And yet," he continued, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again, "I find my thoughts are of nothing else. Your voice. Your scent. Your infernal impertinence."
He closed the final distance between you. He didn't reach for you, not yet. He simply stood there, allowing you to feel the full force of his presence, his centuries of power, his surrender.
"The bond under the full moon," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "A foolish superstition."
"Utter nonsense," you breathed.
His hand came up, his cold fingers gently tracing the line of your jaw. The touch was electric, a shockwave after so much resistance. "Then it seems our souls will have to intertwine the old-fashioned way."
And finally, after weeks of chasing and four brutal rejections, Caius Volturi bent his head and captured your lips with his. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a conquest and a surrender all at once, a release of seventy years of tension. It was full of anger, and frustration, and a raw, undeniable need that had finally, irrevocably, caved.
A sound, half-gasp, half-moan, escaped you. The challenge in you, the one that had teased and provoked him, sparked to life one last time. Your hands came up, not to pull him closer, but to push against his chest. It was a futile, reflexive act of defiance.
A low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound of pure, predatory triumph. He captured your wrists in one of his large, cold hands, pinning them easily against the stone wall behind you. The movement was fluid, effortless, a stark reminder of the immense power he’d always held back.
"Did you think your games would end with a gentle caress?" he snarled against your mouth, his breath a frosty whisper. "You begged for a monster, little one. Now you have one."
He used his free hand to fist in your hair, tilting your head back to give him deeper, more brutal access. This wasn't about pleasure; it was about possession. It was about marking you, branding you as his after so long denying the claim. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, not enough to draw venom, but enough to make your entire body jolt with a sharp, electric thrill.
You being systematically dismantled. Each dominating kiss, each restrictive hold, chipped away at your defiance, melting it into a pool of raw, submissive need. Your struggles ceased, your body going pliant against his. A whimper, genuine and utterly surrendered, vibrated in your throat.
He released your hair, his hand sliding down to grip your hip, his fingers digging into the flesh there with bruising force. He ground the hard ridge of his arousal against you, a blunt, unmistakable promise of what was to come.
"All that impertinence," he murmured, his lips trailing a searing path down your jaw to your throat. "All that clever talk." He nipped at the sensitive skin where your shoulder met your neck, and you arched against him, a silent plea. "Silenced. Finally."
He released your wrists, but you didn't move them. They stayed pinned against the wall by the sheer force of his will. His hands roamed your body now, not with tenderness, but with a frantic, greedy urgency. He tore at the delicate silk of your shift, the fabric rending with a sound that was obscenely loud in the quiet room. The cold air hit your bare skin, followed immediately by the colder touch of his palms, mapping your curves, claiming every inch.
His mouth found yours again, this kiss slower, deeper, more devastatingly intimate. It was no longer just about anger. It was about a hunger so profound it felt like agony. It was the final, irrevocable cave-in, and you were both buried in the avalanche.
When he finally broke the kiss, you were panting, your mind blank of everything but him. His eyes, burning like liquid gold, scanned your face, your lips, your dazed expression, the complete and total submission in your posture.
The ghost of a smirk touched his lips. The brat was tamed.
He leaned forward, until his lips were against your ear. "Now," he whispered, the word a dark, delicious threat. "We begin. And remember, little one," he hummed. "This is what you asked for."
Darling, I'm not doing that to you" Jane's tired tone caused you to let out a loud groan as she stared at you over her book.
"Pleaaseeeee, I've never asked for anything... today, I would just like to see you let go, Your always so careful, I just want you to take what you want" Looking at you Jane raised an eyebrow at your response, that look alone made your thighs softly squeeze together. She was giving in.
"Next time, I'll indulge your weird fantasy next time" YES.
The air's thick with tension and nervous excitement, wet greedy kisses that threaten to overwhelm you interlock between you and Jane. Her mouth keeps brushing yours every time you pull away for air, as though the thought of your lips not being connected with her's for than five seconds is incomprehensible.
You're sitting prettily on her laps as Jane kisses you like a starved woman, hands placed firmly on your lower hips, lips moving against yours in a way that's toeing the line between slow respect and pure neediness.
When you pull away for air, Jane barely gives you time to regain your focus before she leans in again, kiss deepening, like she's trying to memorize the feeling of your lips against hers. Almost like she's nervous.
Your fingers curl into the soft fabric of her uniform, material rubbing against your bare chest as a shallow whisper of her name leaves your mouth and that's all it takes for her to lose her restraint, with a deep groan that sends heat rushing to your core, Jane moves. The world tilting as she guides you back softly until your shoulders hit the bed, mattress softly catching you.
Staring up at Jane, you can see her face is set. She's thinking. And your world's tilting again.
You're on top on her; thighs braced on either said of her lower stomach. Jane's flat on her back, her hands trying to tug you roughly upwards pulling you up, so you straddle her face. You lean your hands on her shoulders, softly stopping her movement.
"Ja-Jane, what are you doing doll?" Your voice barely registers to her, you're still wearing that stupid Victoria secret panties, her eye softly twitches.
"I'm trying to enjoy myself but apparently Victoria's secret is somehow always getting in my way... every time."
The cold air hits you before you can fully register it, the distinct sound of fabric ripping reaches you next. she ripped them.
"Jane! those were expensive!" "I'll buy you more, hell I'll buy you the store. right after I enjoy myself first. Now sit on my face."
Her hands tug you forward, this time you follow.
You sink down without warning, knees hitting the bed as your thighs bracket her ears. The second your dripping cunts meet her mouth; Jane lets out a deep groan that vibrates straight to your core, heat curling deep in your stomach. Tongue pushing past your folds as her nose bumps against your clit.
Her hands unapologetically sink into your hips, fingers digging in hard enough that you can already feel the marks forming, she's yanking you fully down, vampires have no need to breathe at all, and she's reminding you of that.
Ignoring her attempts to make you move faster, you grind slowly at first, finding a rhythm. Lifting your hips when it becomes too much, she chases you, scowl deeping trying to drag you back to her.
"Jane, please its to much" you whine, watching her through your lashes, fingers digging into the matress as Jane gives nothing but a passive responsive hum.
Pairing: Caius Volturi x f!reader || Twilight
Warning: none(?) (Caius and Athenodora aren't a thing in this fic though)
Surprise: @vampyxxxxx
˚₊⊹ masterlist: Kiss ✧ Tumblr | Ao3 ˚ ₊⊹
word count: 2k
"Ah. Truly a shame."
You could tell Caius didn't quite care about what you were saying and, in fact, was doubting whether he had even been listening to you. Sure, he was there, but if anything, you felt as if he was looking through you, and that was not helpful. It irked you, but then again it wasn't as if Caius' stubborn, precarious disposition made him amiable or willing to apply himself to conversations he found unnecessary.
"Are you even listening to me?"
"Hm?"
You stomped, as Caius leaned back in his seat, one leg thrown over the other, elbows prompted into the edges of his throne. The frustration he saw in you caused the faintest pleased, sadistic smile to form on his lips, to even earn a soft huff from him. You, however, found nothing amusing about this situation. About the fact you were telling him it was your birthday and his mind was clearly on something else.
"Even Aro and Marcus cared enough to understand this is important, but you of all pe-... vampires, won't. This is ridiculous. You know, I would've understood if Aro would've made a fuss when I asked him if he could leave us alone for today." You sighed, feeling your blood boiling. "You know it's my birthday."
Caius eyed you; despite the lazy uninterested demeanour he was presenting, he was in fact keenly observing your heated rush of accusations thrown at him. His tongue traced the inside of his lower row of teeth, a soothing gesture as he employed self-control. He was hot-headed, and he knew how feeble you were, how easily he could harm you had he allowed himself to play around with you properly. So his best way of entertaining himself was through angering you, so he could draw all of your strength out against him as a playful challenge.
"Irrelevant..." Caius sighed, leaning his head on his hand. "What is another year to one's existence?"
Then he grinned. Mockingly.
"Ah. That is right. To you, mortal, another year is... well... very relevant."
"Yeah? You know what, if you're going to be acting like this, I might've as well stayed with the Romanian coven. At least they cared."
The vampire lifted his hips slightly, readjusting himself on his throne, uncrossing his legs and shoving himself up. The very mention of that sect was enough to break through his attitude. To truly anger him. He dashed over to you, towering over you, his eyes piercingly red as he glared. One hand had swiftly coiled its cold undead fingers around your neck, nostrils flared, lip twitching as he lifted you off the ground with ease, head cocked to the side.
"Unless you desire this to be the last of your years, I advise you not to speak of those imbeciles again in the presence of the Volturi." He employed his entire self-control in not snapping you like a twig, firstly because he had grown fond of you and disposing of you would've been regrettable and second of all because that was not the way of his name. He was a Volturi; thus his hot-headed behaviour shouldn't have threatened his principles.
"And yet they cared."
Caius's lip twitched again.
"Meek mortal, you don't know a thing about caring. They celebrated your mortality. What is care in that? It's hypocritical and a mockery. For the immortal to cherish one who should die within the blink of an eye to them. What is a year to us?"
You brought your hands to the hand on your neck, trying to peel his grip off, but to no avail. If Caius didn't want to let go, he wouldn't. "You speak as if it aches you to know I'm keeping my mortality."
Caius hissed and brought you to his throne, forcing you to sit on it. His grip released from your neck.
"I have no care for your decision. I am not Aro. I don't understand why he should see you as an asset. I was against you from the very day he brought you here."
Caius wasn't lying, but neither was he telling the whole truth. It was true that he disliked the idea of having a mortal in his presence, but then when Aro proposed that they'd turn you and use your knowledge of the Romanian coven to their benefit, he became interested. At first, due to the sheer ruthlessness of the idea, but then, as you spent more and more time with them, there was something he began to feel. Maybe more, slightly more than his desire for sadistic destruction of what was left of the Romanian coven. Aro could always invoke that the rules had been broken when the Romanian coven had you in their care, thus motivating their attack.
But no.
Caius pushed down all sorts of affection that grew past that. You were a mortal, beautiful in your own way, yet until you'd accept being turned, he refused to see you as anything other than what you were. A tool.
At least that's what he told himself.
That's what he incessantly repeated to himself as he saw your affection for him grow. When his own desire to be around you increased. When he began to eagerly await the passing of those two years you had asked for before he was allowed to turn you.
One completed today.
One was left. One until Caius would not feel the gnawing anger at his own craving for you.
"You're lying."
"Are you accusing the Volturi of lying?"
"No. I am accusing you, Caius, of lying. I know you care about me, even if you're making a fuss about it."
Caius pinned you down, his hands on the armrests of the throne, trapping you between himself and the cold surface of the seat.
"Silence."
"No, you have no power over me. I am not a vampire, and you're not allowed to hurt humans unless they pose some threat which... currently I don't."
Caius hissed.
"If you truly found me so despicable, why is it you weren't against my idea to tell Aro and Marcus to give us one day together?"
Caius would've blushed had he blood in him or circulation. Since he didn't... he became whiter.
"Amusement."
"Stop lying to yourself. Centuries around this earth and you've no clue how to voice what you feel."
Caius gripped the armrests so tightly he nearly snapped them to splinters.
"Sile-"
But despite asking for silence, he had been the silenced one as your lips roughly pressed on his, hand gripping him by the lacy white adornment around his neck and tugging him in. Your strength was obviously not even close to being enough to make him budge. He leaned in willingly to deepen the kiss, driven by a dangerous mix of fierce lust and anger, that desire to dominate you and make you see he was right when all this was doing was proving him painfully wrong by the second.
Your hand went to his nape, buried in his blond hair, while he had to keep his hands on the throne to prevent himself from hurting you with the excess of his eagerness. He knew he'd have no self-control had he gone further. Caius anticipated that if he let himself go, giving in to that lust of the flesh which he forbade himself, you'd not escape alive. His hands were tearing the throne to splinters with ease; had he touched you, your bones would not endure it. And he had no desire to force himself into gentleness when you seduced him so.
"Seducer."
Caius groaned over your lips, pulling away for merely a moment.
"Mortal with gifts... I should now know why the brutes fought so fiercely to keep you within their protection. No... you're never returning to them." He forced another kiss, needier than the one before. "Another year and I will not have to refrain from this... Another year and I will not have to be merciful. I will be ruthless. As ruthless as you had been, making me crave you until I became plagued with your image."
Caius was just about to force yet another kiss on your eager lips, with your hand still clinging to his nape, when he stopped at once, his hearing able to catch on a sound. A sound which implied your privacy had been compromised.
"My Caius, my dear, that was a spectacle! Why, this sweet little girl wouldn't have me, and Marcus admire the show! Although I must say, it was quite tasteless to mention those brutes of a coven, but surely we can forgive that, isn't that so, Marcus? I am sure Caius is more than happy to let go of it... if you would finally permit him to change you?"
Caius and Marcus both turned to Aro in surprise, but he remained as cheerful as ever, his strange mischievous smile not leaving his face.
"Why are you so surprised? Especially you, my dear Caius. You always insist that we find a way to convince this pretty mortal to join us faster." Aro frowned for a moment. "Well... it's true you... weren't always so fond of the idea of allowing just anyone to join us. Wonderful! It must mean you're finally warming up to how pleasant it would be to have a new face around."
Caius shot a gaze to you, to see how you felt about the truth revealed to you by Aro, then turned to him, a sort of anxiety in his words.
"Why would you tell this to the mortal..."
"Oh, silence, dear. Do not pretend as if this mortal, as you so crassly refer to her, doesn't mean a lot to you."
"She does not. She is but a prisoner we took from the coven of brutes before we decimated them."
Aro furrowed his brow, glancing over to one of his servants who came at once and restrained you, painfully so, making you wince. Caius jumped, his eyes darting from Aro to you and Marcus and back to Aro, confusion overtaking him.
"What is this for? Have her released at once. She is being harmed."
"But why should I do that? I wrongly believed, it seems, that she is dear to you and offered her... benefits, but, well, since I have been so utterly mistaken, I see no reason why we should keep her here no more."
Aro was about to gesture to his servant when Caius grabbed his wrist to stop him.
"You will not do so."
Aro laughed, lightly, tearing his arm away from Caius' grip. He glanced at his servant, who released you at once.
"No. Of course not, my silly boy; I merely had to prove your foolish lack of understanding of your feelings to that dear girl. Oh, poor thing, she might've started to believe she truly meant nothing to you had I not done that."
Caius frowned, cocking his head, much to Aro's ease and Marcus' lack of care over the situation. Aro then came to you, while you were still pushing yourself up to your feet. You glared at him for having put on this show at your expense, but he replied with that condescending smile.
"Ah... don't frown, dearest. Wrinkles won't look pretty when Caius turns you immortal." He clapped his hands together, turning to Caius. "Alas, another exact 12 months from now. I am thrilled... oh, truly thrilled."
Caius came over, and despite himself, helped you up, shooting a glance to Aro before returning his attention to you.
"That is for the mortal to decide."
"Caius! I insist you call her by name."
"I will not." Caius's stubbornness was grounded merely in a desire to rebel against Aro for having done this whole act.
He had nothing against calling you by name... with other humans, indeed he had been reluctant but... you were dif- no. Not until you became a vampire yourself would he allow affections to grow.
"Not until she makes the choice... will she ever decide to make it."
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