#kn replies

[knifenotes]

how does [redacted] realize that he has feelings for csk? does he do anything about it?

to quote a very important tweet:

it's not anything about anthony being attractive or sexy. it's small gestures towards [redacted] that show him how invested he is in getting to know him again. after pushing everyone away for so long, [redacted] is finally willing to let his friend back in and the feelings are overwhelming. anthony remembers small specific things about him that he hasn't even spoken about for 10 years. it makes these stupid little butterflies bubble up in his chest until he realizes how inevitable the feelings are

[redacted] doesn't handle it well when he's identified what those feelings are. he simply feels too much all at once and maybe it comes out in bursts of rage that scare anthony a bit. but [redacted] would never hurt him, he just doesn't know how to cope with how pretty anthony has become all of a sudden

[grossdyke]

i cannot fuckitn stress enough how awful everything is currently like im genuinely kinda spiraling and have been for a while and i constantly feel like a fjcking Crazy Person

[prunes-potion-store]

Prune Juice Cookie sighs, looking at his notebook, the long, long list of potions he now had to spend time brewing.

He sighs, rubbing his face as he grabs another notebook and flicks it open to a blank page, grabbing his quill as he starts making a game plan, what Ingredients he needed to get, how much of them, and what order he needed to brew it all in.

"so.. these potions start the same.. meaning I can make a large batch of this... Split it when I need to add that.."

He muttered to himself, his quill scribbling against the page. Scratching slightly as he spent the rest of the day like this.

He'd count all the coins he had received later, at least he wouldn't have to worry about anything for the time being, his needs were met and then some, all the ingredients he'd need covered many times over.

This session of planning and preparing stretched long into the darkness of night, only being lit by a single lantern off to the side.

"I need coffee.." he forced himself to put his quill down when it was.. probably around 3am. Stretching out his tired body as he got up, grabbing a handful of coins from his ever growing pile, and left his small store, locking it up before he headed off to find anywhere open that would sell him caffeine.

[vanmccannsfridge]

bondy bringing up the mtv takeover in 2016 where was the warning.

[riddlesmoon]

hi that was me talking about more possible transformations! Fae transformation would be so fun imma be so real

OMG HIII yes it so would. on my knees. though i guess theres a lot of interpretations. i have a feeling that dol would go with the tiny pixie archetype and have you be smaller than normal. could also help explain why PC never noticed them before. maybe you need to get to know the plantpeople first -> notice the fairies in the forest. idk. ooh what about leaving them gifts or pissing them off leading to temporary blessing/curse status effects. and you can kind of do that when other people cross you or if you want to be kind to them. like a mini angel/demon okay hm that might be a bit much.

itd definitely get tending and housekeeping bonuses tho. and flying/gliding of course.

and most importantly of all we get fairy wings!!!!!!!!!!

[evermoredeluxe]

It’s too good. This fandom always knew but we had to sit back and let it unfold on its own.

i have not said much about that woman (despite everything on her socials) because i genuinely do not believe in tearing anyone down, and she was probably just tryna find her way after her rs ended, but sometimes people can just be nasty. and at the end of the day, im a swiftie first lol

[akay4]

Acrually having multiple trans (also applies to other groups) characters with a variety of lives and personalities rather than The Good Rep Trans Character will ultimately result in better character writing and ways to depict and relate to said group. Having 4 Trans characters that are fucking awesome or flawed or trans in different ways will ultimately be better than One Good Respectable Trans Characters that are focus tested to be as inoffensive and palatable as possible. Go ahead and make a bunch of trans characters with perfection and no flaws, tragic backstories, edgy powers, complicated gender identities, grey moralities, and/or anti heroes. Everyone is more likely to find a character they like when there's a variety of fucking in the trans characters.

That. That last sentence may have came out a bit imperfectly.

[whosmariaaa]

— another angsty/ fluffy drabble of this !

college! sukuna loved arguing with you. the entire reason why he’s so head over heels for you, is because you don’t take his shit. at all. that seriously turns a man on.

yes, he promised himself he’d never make you feel really bad ever again. but riling you up is just a little too funny to resist! especially when you fall for it each and every time, because you do kind of have a temper.

you two are in his dorm, arguing about something stupid again. sukuna’d long forgotten what the argument was even about. you secretly did too. now it was just purely because he wasn’t taking you serious.

“do i look like i’m fucking joking to you, sukuna?!” you yelled, seriously pissed off. that disgusting, stupid smirk of his was glued to his face, making your frustration a thousand times worse.

“calm your tits, sweetheart. you’re always so pissy all the time, i worry you’re going to pop a fucking blood vessel,” he mocked.

this jerk! you curled your fists into your hair, and honestly felt like pulling it all out. “what the hell is your problem, you asshole?” you snarled.

he huffed, “you’re my damn problem, y/n. you’re lucky you’re still my girl even with all those anger issues,” sukuna commented, his tone a little more harsh.

he still had a grin on his face, but his insult still hurt all the same. and you barely felt the tears building up in your eyes.

sukuna was a firm champion at getting on your nerves. he found it hilarious, his number one source of entertainment, but you were seriously contemplating pushing him out of the window.

you stared at him, eyes narrowed, nose slightly scrunched. it was quiet for a few seconds. no ordinary person would’ve noticed your eyes getting a little wet, but of course your boyfriend did.

“what? ya gonna fucking cry now over a joke, baby?” he replied meanly. “didn’t take you for a crybaby with all that attitude, hmm?” sukuna added.

okay, sure, he could’ve said worse things, but you still felt hurt. and also stupid for crying, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“whatever, man. go find yourself another girl that isn’t a crybaby then,” you sniffled. at that, sukuna paused, and his grin disappeared.

to him, you had a tendency to be dramatic, but this time, something in his stomach felt off.

you hurriedly grabbed your jacket and raced out the dorm, leaving him behind. you wiped your tears, and just… walked. not to your dorm, not to campus, just no where in particular. you were just strolling through tokyo, through the damn rain.

but after one hour of not replying to his calls or texts, or better yet, coming back, your boyfriend had started losing his shit.

sukuna was a crap boyfriend. he was a mess. but he loved you oh so dearly, even if he struggled to show you. and now he felt even worse knowing he made his poor girl cry on purpose.

the second sukuna knew you weren’t coming back for the night, he grabbed his bike and searched through tokyo’s streets for you.

he spotted you eventually. soaking wet because of the rain. hood up, eyes a little droopy. the sight made his heart feel heavy for some reason.

at the sound of sukuna’s bike, you turned your head slightly. “what?” you snapped.

“c’mere, sweetheart, let me take you home, aight?” he offered. you glared at him, and flipped him off.

“don’t be difficult, baby. i won’t be an ass anymore,” he replied.

you scoffed, “fuck outta here. leave me alone.”

sukuna surpressed a sigh at your response. “drop the fucking attitude, y/n, and get on the fucking bike,” he sneered.

you clicked your tongue, sighed… but complied. you were soaked to the bone, and honestly all you wanted to do was curl into sukuna’s arms again. not like you’d tell him.

the drive to the dorms was mostly silent. at stoplights, he’d rub your thigh with his thumb, but words weren’t really exchanged.

but, eventually sukuna cracked. “sorry, sweetheart. s’my fault for getting you so riled up,” he told you. you sniffled, “it’s okay.”

“it’s not. but i love you. and i know i’m fucking up every single chance i get from you, i fucking know. but i’m trying, okay?” he said. he grabbed your hand, and placed a kiss on it. you didn’t really reply, but sukuna knew you heard him. and for now that was enough.

safe to say, sukuna attempted to not get on your nerves as much anymore. i mean, he still did. everytime you’d yell at him or sass him, his pants would still tighten, but he started listening to you more. that man loved you more than anything, and more than anything did he want to show you.

──★˙🍓̟!! i hate this so much goodbye. idk it’s not bad but i feel like i could’ve done better. i’m sorry babe @fictionalmen4eva i tried my best, but thank you sosoosos much for the request!!!💗 i do feel like sukuna would be his girlfriend’s 1# ragebaiter just bc he can😣

— taglist ! @imlikeacoffeeconnoisseur @stars4you777 @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @seizecherry @xlilycoco @v1x3n @go-go-gadget-autism @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @paradisestarfishh @13-09-01 @misticsilver @whosmarjj @seellove @aquariusscollection @satorushousewife @rwirxles @anonnieghost @bitchpleaseeeeeeeeee-blog @iminloveweveryone @poopooindamouf @phisen @ryomku @erintaro @clp-84 @mastermasterlist1p1 @katsukiseyebrows @happy2delivur @jup1tersuccubus @nxcxllxsevens @realalpacorn @kxgumi @crankyarchives @itsjustisa @junitries @kodzukensworld @bnbaochauuu @tomsxslvt @flwerie @bwlol7 @szuuyl @grignardsreagent @yourangel04 🍓

[bosspigeon]

i have an extremely bad memory so everything is patchy but i was there :>

BAD MEMORY SQUAD 👏

[thewhizzyhead]

Oh and life update: last April 3rd I turned 20. I made this account when I was 14. And now I am no longer a teen and also I'm gonna start my junior year in college by June. So basically wtf

[knifenotes]

Post reunion CSK and redacted, does Redacted at some point try to track down CSK? Has CSK been keeping tabs on him and watched him from a distance from time to time?

post-reunion, CSK gives [redacted] ways to keep in touch with him (likely through a burner phone or similar) and [redacted] is hesitant to use it because he's suspicious of ALL technology, especially that gifted to him. but eventually he reaches out because it is entirely too tempting

but before the reunion, CSK absolutely keeps tabs on [redacted]. he's been lightly stalking him for years, and is the only person who's been successful at doing so.

for a while, [redacted] hates the idea that CSK knows so much about him and can likely locate him that way, considering their breakup (for lack of a better term) was so bitter. but as the years go on, maybe a sense of loneliness (or perhaps nostalgia) sweeps over [redacted] and he wonders if maybe it's not such a terrible fate to be perceived by an old friend.

[gilverrwrites]

Discretely touching them down there to their parts and gently squeezing when no one is looking and them not being able to do anything (since it's in public).

Ft. Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, & Roy. AN: Anon you're a menace and I love ya!

Bruce

You get exactly one, which he acknowledges with a stern pout and a cocked brow. Flawlessly concealing the fire you’ve ignited but for his laboured breathing and blown-out pupils. You’re walking a thin line, behaving like a brat in front of Gotham’s elite.

If he sees you reaching for him again, and trust, he will see; it will take him precisely 0.8 seconds to lock you in an unsuspecting death grip and pull you close. He wants you to feel the increased tempo of his heart against your chest. To feel the growing stiffness of his hard-on grazing your hip as he tells you assertively to; “Behave.”  

Dick

Dick sees your game; he raises you tenfold. He knows you’re up to something when he clocks the determined bite of your lips as you survey the subway car, and the mischievous glint in your eye as you look back at him. When your hand snakes under this shirt, caressing his v-lines, he juts his hips forward, presenting himself to you; daring you to take it further.

When you sink your fingers below his waistband he sucks in a deliberately loud breath. You freeze to survey your surroundings, but Dick does not. Dick starts grinding on you until he senses you growing nervous. He locks a sturdy hand around your elbow just in time to prevent you from pulling away, leans in close and whispers; “What’s wrong baby? Thought you wanted to play?”

Jason

“Is that a gun in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?” You giggle at your own joke, because Jason is always packing some form of heat. He might have laughed too, might have trapped your wrist in his hands and rocked against your outstretched palm if you’d been at home, or the club, or even the casino. But not the fucking grocery store, you little perv.  

“Are you drunk?” He offers you an out, glaring down at you with a gaze fierce enough to make a nun blush. You respond with a brazen-faced shake of your head, and he can’t help but imitate it out of disbelief at your cocky attitude. You stay like that, locked in a stare of, rock vs hard place, until Jason cracks first, noticing a couple rounding the corner at the other end of the aisle.

He grabs your arm with an unapologetic level of force, spinning you around and trapping you between his body and the trolley. Hiding his hardness by pressing it against your back. “You’re in for it later.”

Tim

Tim is the most taken aback. His pale blue eyes are rapidly examining your surroundings the moment he feels your devious fingers ghosting over the top of his thigh. He’s cute when he’s flustered, with pink cheeks and blown-out pupils. Nobody is looking, too focused on the conference speaker.

“What are you doing?” He hisses, but before he can get his words out, your hand is gone, casually pulling a non-existent thread from your sleeve.

You don’t reply, you just smile and shoot him a playful wink which puts him even more on edge. So much so that when you abruptly return, this time cupping his half-hard cock through his jeans that he fucking flinches. His knee hits the chair in front, and he sucks in a loud breath, earning him many pointed glares from multiple members of the audience.

“Babe.” Be tries to warn, but his hushed breathy tone makes him sound exactly as aroused as he feels.

Roy

You get it, you do. It was a long trip, and he’s starving but you’ve really been feeling his absence over the last few weeks, and the fact that you’re currently sat in a Burrito Bucket, watching Roy devour a tray of tacos, instead of being at home and watching him devour you, is a problem.

He seems to have noticed your sulking, but too late. “You okay ho- “

His question is halted by your foot tactfully situating itself between his legs. His gaze flits between his food and you, defiant eyes watching you through a mop of shaggy hair. A knowing grin spreads across his queso-stained lips as you answer faux-sweetly. “I’m fine, baby.”

“Right.” He huffs, breath hitching, freckled cheeks turning red when you press your toes down and something firm pushes back. He knows what you want, but he just loves to play dumb. So, he takes another bite, jerking every time you tap or roll your foot but never acknowledging what you’re silently begging for. “Is this one of those things where you say you’re fine, but actually you’re not fine?”

“I’m going home.” You finally concede with an exaggerated sigh, dropping your foot back to the floor and gathering your things.

“I’m coming with you.” He’s on you the moment you stand, draping his arm over you and placing kisses to the side of your neck, your face, whatever he can reach as you struggle to move with his deadweight over your shoulders. Notably, there’s still half a tray of uneaten tacos left on the table. “Funnily enough, I’m hungry for something else now.”

Taglist: @wandalfnation

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

little baby lime | s.r. x pregnant!fem reader

“does reid have a girlfriend?” emily asked derek and jj. they both shared a quizzical look with pouted lips, taken aback by the random question.

“not since that one time thing with that lila actress,” derek mumbled. now it was emily’s turn to be thrown off by this new information, “an actress?”

“an old case,” jj informed her. “spencer doesn’t seem like the dating type, mostly. never mentioned anything that might point to it, always doing his usual routine on his days off.” the blonde shrugged off her sentence.

“why do you ask?” derek turned back to emily who jerked her chin while looking behind the two, “cause he’s hugging a girl who might also be pregnant.” an impressed smirk to her mauve lips.

derek and jj wiped their heads fast around you could hear a crack from their necks. true to emily’s words, doctor spencer reid, well know to be a germaphobe, was wrapped in a tight embrace with a shorter woman. his back was to the trio but they could see that his arms were over her shoulders and hers were snug around his torso, also noting that spencer was giving both bodies a gentle sway.

“well that’s a sight,” derek teased. then jj followed with, “why might you think she’s pregnant? we can’t see with tall boy swallowing her.”

emily tapped the side of her nose, “saw her enter just before i asked the hundred dollar question and her tank was a bit snug on her stomach and she even gave it a rub.” eyes moving to the mystery duo then back, “then when spencer went to her he, one kissed her forehead then two also touched her stomach.”

three sets of eyes honed in back to spencer and his mystery guest. you leaned apart, head leaving spencer’s chest but arms wrapped to his back. you smiled brightly at spencer’s rosie face, “you’ve gotten prettier in only a week. not fair.” pouting exaggerated as you rubbed your palms along spencer’s spine.

he smiled nervously at the compliment. “that’s statistically not true. only with time and sometimes diet does your skin start to shift and change. like your body is doing now while going through pregnancy.” a quick peck upon your oily forehead, you sweat too much and sucks that summer is rolling in.

“this little lime is slowly stretching some of my clothes out. but i’m gonna be a sexy mama, like rachel green from friends. so i expect you to defend me against anyone.” teasing spencer since you already know he’ll defend you even over an argument about clothing.

before spencer could reply there was a loud, exaggerated cough from behind. stepping out of spencer’s hold you waffled your hands together and leaned your head against his bicep. a trio of agents you haven’t met before smiled questioning spencer’s way.

“pretty boy, you didn’t tell us you had a gorgeous girl waiting for you.” a tall dark skin man teased like an older brother. he looked at you and smiled his white teeth, “derek morgan, part of the bau.”

“oh, the playboy of the unit. i’ve heard a thing or two about you.” cocking a brow while derek showed surprise but covered it with a laugh, “glad to know i always leave an impression on pretty boy.”

“and thank you for the new nickname, i will be stealing it.” causing the two women to chuckle. a petite blonde woman stuck a hand out and you automatically took it, “i’m jennifer jareau, but you can call me jj. i’m the liaison for the team, deal with media and dictate our cases.”

“and a beaut. glad i snatch up spence before you had the chance.” spencer ducked his chin to his chest while jj just raised her brows, “think it’s for the best you took him off the market first.”

“lucky for me.” pointing a manicured finger to the left of jj, “now you, sexy lady must be emily prentiss since i already know wonderful penelope garcia. if i hadn’t know spencer earlier you would’ve been on my mind twenty-four seven.” a playful wink thrown her way, she didn’t protest to your suggestive words.

“maybe we can get together and see what i’m missing out on. but also, how long have you known reid? we didn’t know you existed.” a huffed laugh.

“use to live in vegas as a kid. thirteen my freshman year to have the local boy genius, twelve year old senior tutor me in algebra. with his help i didn’t need summer school. and i didn’t see him for a while until a few years ago when he’d make visits back into town.” cartoon hearts filtered through your eyes as you recounted your love story. “been dating two and a half years and then this dolt,” a light smack to spencer’s chest, “forgot to practice safe sex and here we are.”

all three of their faces showed complete shock at your last sentence and you can understand why. “don’t worry, spencer takes very good care of me. day and night if you know what i mean.” wiggling your brows suggestively.

spencer sighed, “i think they do, sweetheart. and i wish i could forget this whole conversation.” displeased at where this headed, but still stared towards you like you were the stars in the sky. “now if you’ll excuse us, garcia would like to see her favorite person.”

“second favorite,” derek cheekily pipped in. you waved him off as spencer walked the both of you away and further in the offices. to garcia’s dungeon or lair, whatever she’s feeling that day.

with a polite nock to her closed door and a muffled, “enter traveler,” you rushed inside for her bear hug. “penny!”

“oh my gosh! how are you sexy mama?” penelope rocked you side to side, cheek pressed into her neck. you giggled at the nickname, “is bean pole taking care of you?”

“bean pole?” spencer’s voice was mumbled but an unladylike snort escaping your nose. “i do have a thing for tall, lanky boys.”

“i don’t like this conversation either.”

[lifeofpriya]

I Mean It - Franco Colapinto

[gif credit goes to @argentinagp]

summary: your friendship with franco takes a surprising turn when his protective instincts kick in...

"Oh god, it's Chad again," you murmur under your breath, watching him stumble towards you with his friends in tow.

"Who's that?" asks Franco, not taking his eyes off the road. His grip on the steering wheel tightens almost imperceptibly.

You roll your eyes, the neon lights from the street outside flickering in the car's cabin. "Chad. He's had a thing for me since high school, but I've never given him the time of day."

Franco's eyes flick to the rearview mirror, catching your reflection. "Well, maybe he just needs to realize you're not interested." His voice is calm, but there's an undercurrent of something else—concern, perhaps.

You sigh, watching Chad and his entourage draw closer to the car. "I've told him plenty of times, but he's like a bad penny."

Franco's jaw clenches as he shifts gears. The engine purrs beneath you, a comforting sound in the growing tension. "Why don't you let me handle it?"

You glance at him, surprised by his protective tone. "It's okay, I can handle it."

But as Chad knocks on the window, his leering smile plastered across his face, you feel a shiver of fear. You've dealt with this before, but something about the way he's looking at you tonight sends a chill down your spine.

Franco doesn't miss a beat. He rolls down the window, his eyes cold and sharp. "What do you want?" he asks, his Argentine accent more pronounced than usual.

Chad's smile falters, glancing from you to Franco and back again. "Just saying hi to my old classmate here," he slurs, gesturing towards you with a sloppy wave.

"Hi's been said," Franco replies curtly, his eyes never leaving Chad's. "Now if you don't mind, we're busy."

Chad's friends snicker, but his smile turns sour. He leans closer, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. "What's going on here, then? You two on a date?"

You tense, ready to speak, but Franco beats you to it. "It's none of your business what we're doing." His voice is even, but the muscles in his neck stand out, a clear sign of his growing irritation.

Chad's eyes narrow, his grip on the window frame tightening. "It is when they're with me," he sneers, his hand reaching for the car door.

Without hesitating, Franco's hand shoots out and grabs Chad's wrist, his grip firm and unyielding. "Back off," he warns, his voice a low growl. "Or you're going to regret it."

Chad's friends exchange uneasy glances, taking a step back. They hadn't seen this side of him before—the fierce, protective side that only emerged when someone threatened someone he cared about. You sit frozen in the passenger seat, heart racing.

"Take your hand off me," Chad spits, trying to pull away.

Franco's grip tightens, his eyes never leaving yours. "You heard me. Back. Off."

Chad tries to jerk his hand away, but Franco's hold is like steel. The unspoken message is clear: no one messes with you on his watch. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of his protective stance, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at the intertwined hands—Chad's meaty and desperate, Franco's firm and unwavering.

"You don't know who you're dealing with," Chad slurs, his voice shaking slightly.

Franco's eyes flick to Chad's face, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea." He releases Chad's wrist and the other man stumbles back, almost falling.

Chad's friends grab his arms, whispering in his ear, trying to calm him down. His cheeks flush with a mix of alcohol and embarrassment. He glares at you before stumbling away, his words slurred and angry. "You'll regret this, you little tease."

Franco's gaze follows Chad until he's out of sight. Then, he turns to you, his expression softer. "You okay?" His hand reaches over to give your knee a gentle squeeze.

"I could have handled that myself, you know," you murmur, trying to regain your composure.

Franco's hand lingers on your knee for a moment before retreating back to the steering wheel. "I know," he says softly. "But I didn't like the way he was looking at you."

You nod, feeling a strange mix of emotions—gratitude, relief, and a flutter of something more. You've never seen Franco act like this before, not even when he's racing against the clock. "Thanks for that," you manage to say, your voice shakier than you'd like.

He nods, his eyes flicking back to the road. "No problem," he says, but you can see the tension in his jaw. He's not one to get involved in other people's drama, especially not like this. But there's something about you that makes him want to protect you, even though you've never talked about being more than friends.

The car rolls to a stop at a red light, and you both sit in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound. You can feel the warmth of his hand where it touched your knee, and you're suddenly very aware of how close you are. The chemistry between you has always been palpable, but this is the first time it's felt so intense.

The light turns green, and the car jolts forward. You clear your throat, trying to break the silence. "So, do you do that for all your friends?" you ask, trying to keep your voice light.

Franco glances at you, his eyes lingering for a moment. "Only the ones who are worth it," he says with a small smile.

You laugh nervously, your heart racing. The air in the car feels charged with something new. You both know there's a line that's been crossed tonight—a line you're not sure either of you is ready to talk about.

Franco's eyes flick to you again, a question in them. "Do you want me to take you home?" he asks.

You nod, the adrenaline from the encounter with Chad starting to wear off. The thought of being alone with him, in the quiet of the night, sends a thrill through you. "Yes, please."

The rest of the drive is tense, filled with the unspoken words hanging in the air. You can't help but steal glances at Franco, his strong profile silhouetted against the glow of the dashboard. His focus is solely on the road, but you can feel his eyes on you every now and then, checking if you're okay.

When he pulls up to your house, the engine's purr dies down to a gentle rumble. He puts the car in park but doesn't turn it off. The silence between you is thick, charged with the unspoken tension of the night's events.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Franco asks, his voice gentle but still holding a hint of the steel from earlier.

You nod, trying to ignore the way your stomach flutters when he looks at you with genuine concern. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for, you know, not letting him ruin my night."

Franco smiles, his eyes searching yours. "You don't have to thank me for that." He pauses, his hand hovering over the ignition. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You shake your head. "Not really." The words tumble out before you can stop them. You're not ready to dissect the mess of emotions swirling inside you.

Franco nods, his hand dropping to his lap. "Okay." He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling in the dim light. "But if you ever need to talk, I'm here."

You appreciate his understanding, the sincerity in his voice. "I know," you murmur, reaching for the door handle. The cool night air seeps into the car as you open the door.

"Hey," he says, stopping you before you can step out. His hand grazes your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. "I mean it."

You look back at him, the intensity in his eyes making your heart race even faster. "Thanks," you murmur, feeling the weight of his words. You've known each other for years, but this is a side of Franco you haven't seen before—vulnerable, caring, and fiercely protective. It's intoxicating.

As you step out of the car, the cool evening air brushes against your flushed cheeks. You pause, glancing over your shoulder at him. "Would you, uh, want to come in for a bit?" You hadn't planned on asking, but the words just slip out.

Franco's eyes light up, a smile spreading across his face. "Yeah," he says, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I'd like that."

You lead him inside, the warm glow of your house a stark contrast to the dark, quiet street outside. The door clicks shut behind you, and suddenly, the air feels different—electric. You both know that this night has changed something between you, and you're both equally terrified and excited by it.

\\\

In the cozy living room, you offer him a seat on the couch. He sits, his movements deliberate and cautious, as if he's afraid to shatter the delicate moment. You sit opposite him in an armchair, the space between you feeling both vast and suffocatingly small.

You start with small talk, asking about his racing career, the upcoming races he's excited for, trying to keep the conversation light. He answers, his eyes never leaving yours, and you can see the excitement in them when he talks about his passion. But there's something else there too—an unspoken question, a silent plea for you to acknowledge the shift in your friendship.

As the conversation lulls, the air between you crackles with unspoken feelings. You bite your lip, wondering if you're reading too much into his protective behavior earlier. Maybe it was just a friend looking out for a friend.

Franco clears his throat, breaking the silence. "So, that guy," he says, his voice low. "What's the deal with him?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "He's just an old classmate who doesn't get the hint."

Franco's gaze intensifies, his eyes searching yours. "But he's more than that, isn't he?"

You swallow hard, noticing the way the shadows play across his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and the concern etched into his brow. "Yeah," you admit. "He's been bothering me for a while now."

Franco's jaw tenses, his hands clenching into fists on the armrest. "If he ever bothers you again, you tell me. I won't let him get away with it."

You nod, feeling the gravity of his promise. "I know."

Franco leans forward, closing the distance between you. "But I'm not just talking about Chad," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't like seeing you upset or scared."

You look down at your hands, twisting in your lap. "I know," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur. "But it's not your problem to deal with."

"It is when it involves you," Franco insists, his eyes never leaving yours. "I care about you."

The words hang in the air, and you feel a rush of heat to your cheeks. You've had a crush on him for what feels like forever, but you've never dared to hope he felt the same way. "Franco…"

He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "I know we're just friends," he says, his voice a soft rumble. "But I can't ignore how I feel anymore."

You look up, your heart pounding in your chest. "How do you feel?" you ask, the question a whisper in the quiet room.

Franco leans closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "I think you know," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

You can't help but lean into his touch, your eyes closing for a brief moment. When you open them again, you find him staring at you with a look that makes your heart ache. "I've had feelings for you for a while now," he confesses, his voice a soft rumble. "But I didn't want to mess up what we have."

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "You wouldn't mess it up," you murmur, your voice barely audible. "I've had feelings for you too."

The confession hangs in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the tension that's been building between you for so long. Franco's hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as if memorizing every inch of you.

You lean closer, the space between your faces shrinking until you can feel his breath on your lips. "Then why did you wait so long?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

Franco's hand slides around the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your skin in a gentle, soothing motion. "I didn't know if you felt the same," he admits, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt or rejection. "I didn't want to ruin our friendship."

You lean into his touch, the warmth of his hand spreading through your body. "It's okay," you whisper. "I've felt the same way."

Franco's gaze lingers on your mouth, and you can see the moment he decides. He leans in, closing the gap between you. His lips are soft, tentative at first, as if asking for permission. You give it, your eyes fluttering shut as you lean into the kiss. The chemistry that's been simmering between you for so long ignites, sending sparks through your veins.

The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more needy. His other hand finds its way to your waist, pulling you closer, as if trying to erase the years of unspoken longing. You wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. The world outside the confines of the armchair fades away, leaving only the two of you.

As the kiss breaks, you both lean back, panting. The air is thick with anticipation, your hearts racing in sync. "I've wanted to do that for so long," you murmur, your voice hoarse with emotion.

Franco's eyes are dark with desire, his hand still resting on the back of your neck. "Me too," he whispers, his thumb caressing your skin in a gentle rhythm. "But I didn't want to push you."

You smile, feeling the warmth of his palm against your cheek. "You didn't push. I wanted it too."

Franco's smile widens, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. Finding none, he leans in again, his lips brushing against yours in a soft caress that sends your heart racing. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate, as if he's savoring every moment.

You melt into him, feeling his warmth envelop you like a blanket on a cold night. His arms tighten around you, and you realize that you've never felt safer, more cherished. It's as if he's been waiting for this moment just as long as you have.

"I should have told you sooner," he whispers against your lips, regret lacing his words.

You shake your head, your heart hammering in your chest. "It's okay," you reply, your voice a breathy whisper. "We're here now."

Franco's arms tighten around you, his warmth seeping through your clothes. You press closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, the comforting thud echoing in your ear. The weight of his confession settles on you, a warmth spreading through your body that has nothing to do with the heat of the moment.

You pull back slightly, needing to look into his eyes. "What happens now?" you ask, your voice a whisper in the quiet room.

Franco's gaze holds yours, filled with a vulnerability that makes your heart ache. "Whatever you want to happen," he says, his thumb tracing small circles on your cheek. "We take it slow, we talk, we figure it out."

You nod, your pulse racing. The idea of navigating a romantic relationship with your best friend is both exhilarating and terrifying. But the way he's looking at you now, with so much care and longing, makes it feel right. "Okay," you murmur, your voice barely above a breath.

Franco leans back, giving you some space. He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "I don't want to rush anything," he says, his voice steady. "But I can't ignore this anymore."

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. "Neither can I." The words feel like a confession, a secret you've held close for so long finally spilling out into the open.

He smiles, a soft, gentle smile that makes your heart flutter. "Good," he whispers, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, it's slower, more deliberate, as if he's committing every sensation to memory.

The kiss lingers, and when you finally pull away, you're both left breathless. The silence stretches out between you, filled with the unspoken promise of what's to come. You can feel your heart racing, your skin tingling from his touch.

"I should go," Franco says, his voice gruff. He doesn't move, though, his hand still cradling your cheek.

You nod, your heart racing. "Okay," you whisper, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. You stand up, and he follows, his hand slipping away as you both regain your footing in the new reality of your relationship. The space between you feels charged, the air heavy with unspoken promises and the weight of what's to come.

[evermoredeluxe]

I feel like ed really likes Taylor lmao the fact that he bought all her cds (or took them from the library) is so wholesome

exactly, like he’s just happy for his boy :’)

[wholoveseggs]

Hello love, I love your storiess <33

Could you maybe write something with Elijah and the reader being in a relationship for years now, and they have really good sex, but the reader is annoyed that he never lets go and tries to rile him up and turn him on and in the end the reader gets fucked by a very annoyed Elijah.

It would be so cool if you'd include like maybe he spanking her with his belt or maybe he edges her

Behind Closed Doors

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader} You knocked on the red door. Elijah answered.

♡♡ Thank you for the request beautiful anon!!! This is pure filth...enjoy♡♡

5.4k words - Warnings: smuttt, some {tender} red door elijah, rough sex, light bondage {with a belt}, spanking (also with belt), oral {m receiving}, overstimulation, chasing, giggles, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, choking, teasing gone wrong {or very, very right}, possessive behavior, mild blood-drinking, some sibling gossip && elijah hating pda ...

Rousseau’s was packed.

The music was low, thudding underfoot, glasses clinking somewhere behind the bar, and the warm press of bodies made the air thick. You had squeezed into a corner table with Rebekah, Kol, Klaus, and Elijah... which meant it was already a little cramped.

When Kol stole your chair…loudly and dramatically, claiming his legs hurt … you didn’t even hesitate. You just smiled sweetly and slid sideways into Elijah’s lap.

His body tensed the second you settled there.

You felt it, the way he stiffened under you, like a live wire pulled too tight. His hand landed on your thigh almost instinctively, meant to steady you, but his fingers dug in a little too firmly to be casual.

You pretended not to notice.

You leaned back against him, all innocence, tucking your legs across his lap and resting your head lightly on his shoulder.

Across the table, Kol snickered into his drink.

"Looks like someone's getting cozy tonight," he said, raising his eyebrows at Elijah.

"You steal my chair and then comment on where I chose to sit next? Rude," you quipped back.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Oh no, darling. You can sit wherever you want." He winked. "I'm just not used to seeing my big brother allow such blatant PDA."

"What's PDA?" Elijah asked, his voice calm and even, his face carefully blank.

Rebekah and Kol burst out laughing, and Klaus shook his head in amusement.

You didn't say anything. You just smiled, sipped your drink, and ran your fingers lightly over the back of Elijah’s neck. 

"PDA, brother, means public display of affection," Kol said, still snickering. "It's not your style. Always the gentleman, never letting on what goes on behind closed doors."

"How enlightening," Elijah replied coolly, taking a long sip of his bourbon. 

He didn’t look pleased that this was the subject of conversation. He was still tense under you, jaw set, breathing measured. He was clearly holding himself back, fighting his darker instincts. You knew Elijah tried very hard to keep his more violent urges locked away, hidden behind that invisible red door he never fully opened for anyone.

Not even you… at least not yet.

Klaus raised his hand to order another round, and Rebekah and Kol began discussing the latest gossip in New Orleans. You didn't contribute, too busy pressing a soft kiss to Elijah’s neck, just below his ear.

"If only they knew what you're like in private," you murmured, lips brushing his skin. "They'd never look at you the same way."

He turned his head slightly, looking down at you. Not amused … but you could see the heat burning in his eyes.

"Don't start something you don't intend to finish," he warned, it was clear he wasn't in the mood for your teasing.

"What would the gentleman do if I did?" you prodded, unable to resist chipping away at his resolve, biting his earlobe softly.

"Careful," he said, an edge sharpening his voice now.

"Or what?" you asked, tauntingly.

He ignored you, turning back to his siblings. Rebekah leaned forward, smirking playfully.

"So, you know how I keep in touch with Matt Donovan?" she began, looking around the table.

"Unfortunately," Klaus said dryly, earning a chuckle from Kol.

Rebekah shot her brothers a glare but continued. "Well, apparently Elena and Damon were caught in a rather compromising situation."

"Classy," Kol snorted, shaking his head.

"Wait, there's more," Rebekah insisted, eyes glittering with mischief. "Stefan was the one who... uhh, discovered them."

"Ooh, scandalous," Kol joked.

Klaus tilted his head thoughtfully. "I never understood the doppelgängers' fondness for Damon. He always seemed rather insufferable."

Kol snickered loudly. "We all know you'd choose Stefan, Nik, you don't have to say it."

Klaus raised an eyebrow, amused. "What do you think, then, Kol? Damon or Stefan?"

"Please," Kol scoffed dramatically. "Neither. Elena is far too lovely for the Salvatores."

"Aww," Rebekah crooned. "That's rather sweet coming from someone she killed once."

"I'm a man of forgiveness," Kol shrugged. "I'm willing to let bygones be bygones."

Klaus smirked. "You want to sleep with her, don't you?"

Kol raised his hands, laughing. "Who here wouldn't?"

There was a brief silence before they all began laughing again.

"I'd be lying if I said no," Klaus chuckled.

"She does have a certain charm," Rebekah agreed with a grin.

Elijah sighed loudly, drawing all eyes toward him. "Frankly, it’s beneath us to gossip about the romantic entanglements of a young woman we are no longer associated with."

You had to fight not to smile at the irritation in his tone.

"Yes, yes, old man," Kol sighed dramatically. "We were only having a bit of fun."

"You have a strange definition of fun," Elijah shot back dryly.

You decided it was the perfect moment to step in and make things worse. "So if I were to call her up and ask her to join us in the bedroom," you said sweetly, looking up at him through your lashes, "you would object to that?"

His siblings barely contained their giggles as they waited eagerly for his answer.

Elijah's jaw tightened slightly, but his tone remained measured and diplomatic. "I only have eyes for you, my love. And I do not share."

"Oh, I'm so lucky," you crooned dramatically, reaching up to pat his cheek lightly.

His siblings laughed, raising their glasses in a mock toast, and the conversation drifted into lighter territory. It was the perfect cover.

You leaned in again, kissing his cheek, "You're wound so tightly tonight," you whispered, tracing a fingertip slowly down the sharp line of his jaw. "I can't wait until we're alone. I wonder what will happen…"

You felt him swallow hard, his entire body going taut beneath you. His fingers tightened almost painfully on your thigh, betraying the effort it took to keep his composure.

"Careful," he breathed, so quiet that only you could hear him.

You smiled softly against his skin, knowing you had finally broken through. "I keep thinking about how good your cock would feel stretching my throat right now," you murmured, deliberately filthy, knowing every word would hit its mark. "How heavy you'd be on my tongue…"

His breathing went ragged, uneven, his composure visibly fraying at the edges. You knew you had pushed him to the brink, soon to shatter whatever remained of his careful restraint.

You sat back, smiling innocently at his siblings as if you hadn't just whispered pure filth into Elijah Mikaelson’s ear.

The others were completely oblivious, still joking and laughing, watching a live performance that had begun. But Elijah was silent, his eyes dark with barely-contained heat.

"When can we leave?" you asked quietly, so only he heard.

Elijah turned his head just enough to brush his lips against your ear again. His voice was velvet-soft, but held a promise sharp enough to make your breath catch.

"Be careful what you wish for."

You barely made it through the lobby of your building before Elijah’s footsteps were right behind you. Sharp, deliberate, closing in fast.

Your heart was pounding, breathless laughter bubbling out of you, caught somewhere between genuine excitement and playful panic. The stairwell echoed with your footsteps as you raced upwards, gripping the railing, nearly stumbling in your haste. 

For a fleeting second, something primal tightened low in your belly. It wasn’t fear exactly, but the dizzy, thrilling knowledge that the man chasing you wasn't just anyone. There was something else prowling beneath his skin, something he kept caged behind that door you were foolish enough to keep knocking on.

"Elijah-!-wait!" you gasped, voice pitching up into a squeal when you felt his fingers just brush the edge of your dress. But you didn't want him to wait… not really… and he knew it, because he laughed softly, a low, wicked sound that sent heat pooling between your thighs.

Your laughter dissolved into a breathless gasp as you rounded the landing, fumbling for your keys. He was right there, close enough to grab you if he wanted, but he let you feel the rush a little longer, your blood pumping wildly.

You barely got the apartment door open before Elijah made his move, catching you easily around your waist and hauling you off your feet. You shrieked in delight, your pulse hammering wildly as he kicked the door shut behind him, pressing you firmly against it, trapping you between his body and the wood.

His breath was warm and ragged against your ear, his voice low and dark and deliciously threatening. "You wanted my attention," he whispered, lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. "Now you've got it."

Your head fell back against the door, a soft moan slipping past your lips as he pressed closer, his mouth trailing a hot path down the side of your neck. Your knees felt weak, your mind cloudy, drunk on adrenaline, desire, and the heady sensation of being hunted.

You didn't have to worry about staying upright, not with the way his strong hands were pinning you to the door, lifting your thighs so that you could wrap them around his hips.

"What are you going to do with me now that you have me?" you breathed, trying and failing to keep the needy tremble from your voice.

Elijah chuckled darkly, nipping at the soft skin at the base of your throat. "Oh, I think you know."

One hand tangled in your hair, pulling just hard enough to expose your throat. His fangs sank into your neck, a sharp, stinging bite that made you gasp and squirm. He drank deeply, tasting the wild, heady rush of your adrenaline … it made his own heart beat faster.

When he pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, his eyes clouded with lust.

"You're so hot like this," you cooed, brushing your fingertips across his bottom lip, smearing your blood there.

Elijah smiled, flashing his teeth, and then his mouth was on yours. Warm and demanding. The kiss was all fire and friction, teeth and tongues, messy and rough.

Still holding you against him, Elijah scooped you away from the door, your legs locked around his waist as he strode swiftly toward the bedroom. His mouth never left yours, the taste of your blood still sharp on his tongue.

Clothes became an obstacle and Elijah dealt with them swiftly, tugging your dress up and off in one fluid motion, barely breaking the kiss to do it. You fumbled impatiently at the buttons of this shirt, fingers shaky with need, then finally pulling it open and pushing it from his shoulders.

He dropped you onto the bed, his eyes dark and dangerous as he stripped away his pants. Your pulse hammered at the sight of him above you. You had never seen him quite this worked up, you knew you were scratching at that door again, daring him to open it. Daring him to show you what he hid behind it.

Elijah moved over you, his head dipping to capture your lips, his hands pressed into the mattress next to your head, caging you beneath him. Your hands slid along his biceps, down the strong planes of his chest, fingertips dragging over the lean muscle. You could feel the power coiled there, the strength he always kept leashed. He was the perfect predator, and you were helpless against him.

But you enjoyed being kept under him, to let him do what he wanted. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your heart beating fast, eyes wide and vulnerable as you looked up at him. Because how he used all that power, how he wielded control, was absolutely delicious.

Elijah trailed his mouth down your jaw, nipping and sucking, his fangs pricking your skin, one of his hands sliding along your ribcage, fingertips grazing your lower stomach, just above the edge of your panties.

"Why would you say such crass things in public?" he whispered, his tone soft but firm, like a scolding, "where I could not properly respond to them?"

You giggled breathlessly, your head tipping back as his mouth moved over the sensitive skin of your neck.

"Because I know exactly how to drive you wild," you teased.

His tongue swept a long, slow line across the top of your breast, and your hands instinctively gripped his shoulders, a soft gasp falling from your lips. You desperately wanted him to keep moving lower, but he had other ideas.

"You're a clever thing, aren't you?" he asked, his tone amused.

"I thought that's why you kept me around," you said, your words dissolving into a loud, startled gasp as his hand came down on your inner thigh, just below the lace edge of your underwear, the slap sharp enough to sting.

You felt a rush of heat as his fingers curled around the fabric, ripping it off without hesitation.

"Elijah—"

"Hush," he cut you off sharply.

You bit your lip but couldn't contain a needy whimper as he dipped his head, giving you one, slow, tantalizing lick, all the way from your entrance to your clit, and then he pulled back. 

You groaned, frustrated, and squealed in surprise when his hand came down on your cunt, a firm, sharp slap that had you gasping and shaking.

"What did I say?" he scolded, his tone dark and dangerous.

"Please," you begged, not caring how needy you sounded.

"You aren't listening." 

You yelped as he grabbed your hips, flipping you over and hauling you up onto your knees.

"Keep your face down, and don't move," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You felt his weight leave the bed, heard the soft rustle of his clothes as he picked them up, then the unmistakable sound of his belt sliding free from his pants. Your heart was pounding, anticipation and fear and a rush of arousal tangling in your chest. You didn't turn to look, didn't dare disobey, even though every instinct screamed at you too.

His belt cracked through the air. A sharp, commanding sound that made you flinch, even though he hadn't touched you yet. You waited, counting your breaths, knowing he was watching.

"Will you listen? Or should I bind you?" he asked.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to taunt him, knowing you were already playing with fire. "I'll listen," you promised.

"Good."

The bed dipped under his weight, his hands curling over your ass, his thumb brushing along the curve. And then his palm cracked against your bare skin, hard enough to make your whole body jerk forward, your thighs trembling from the impact.

"We’re going to play a little game," Elijah said softly, dangerously, his fingertips gently stroking the reddened skin he just marked. "You count each one. If you lose track, I'll bind your wrists and do what I please with you. Understood?"

You swallowed hard, heart hammering in your chest. "Yes."

"Good."

His hand cracked down again, swift and merciless, making you jolt forward with a gasp.

"One," you choked out, fingers clawing into the sheets.

Another, sharper than the last, the sting blooming across your skin like fire.

"Two," you moaned, your thighs clenching helplessly.

Again. Again. The blows fell steady and cruel, each one breaking you down a little more, scattering your thoughts like leaves in a storm.

"S-six," you whimpered, your voice trembling with more than just pain now. With need.

Elijah paused, dragging his fingertips across the burning skin of your ass, the touch almost worse than the blows … too light, too knowing.

"Already struggling," he murmured, his voice dark velvet against your ear. "I thought you wanted to play, sweetheart."

You shuddered under his hand, humiliated, aroused, desperate.

Another crack. Another shuddering gasp. You barely remembered the number. "S-seven," you stammered, unsure.

He chuckled, low and wicked, the sound sinking into your bones.

"Poor thing," he crooned. "Already losing that clever mouth."

Two more sharp slaps, delivered in quick, brutal succession.

You cried out, your body jerking helplessly … pleasure and pain tangled so tight you could no longer tell the difference.

"Eight—no, Nine?" you whispered, wrecked, unsure, desperate to please him and failing.

Elijah's hand smoothed up your spine, his touch almost tender. Almost.

"You lost count," he murmured, with something dangerously close to affection. "You know what that means."

Before you could even beg, the belt was winding tight around your wrists, binding them behind your back. "There we go," Elijah whispered, kissing your shoulder. "Now we'll do this properly."

He guided you carefully onto your knees, his hands firm on your shoulders. Your wrists were still bound tightly behind your back, your heart hammering wildly at the helplessness of your position. 

The sting across your ass flared sharply as you shifted, the tender, bruised skin aching with every tiny movement. Elijah stood before you, one hand cupping your jaw, his thumb sliding across your bottom lip.

"What were your filthier words earlier?" he pondered, the dark velvet of his voice wrapping around you. "Something about wanting my cock stretching your throat?"

You felt your face heat, your pulse fluttering with embarrassment and need. But you didn't shy away, didn't back down. Instead, you parted your lips obediently, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Good girl," he praised softly, guiding the head of his cock to rest on your waiting tongue.

Your mouth stretched around him, a muffled moan vibrating in your throat as he pressed deeper, inch by slow inch. Elijah watched you intently, his eyes dark, his jaw tight with restraint, taking his time even as your breathing grew unsteady and tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

He began to move, slow and controlled at first, sliding carefully in and out of your mouth. Your throat tightened around him instinctively, fighting the invasion, making you gag softly. He groaned at the sensation, gripping your hair and holding your head steady as he began to thrust harder, faster.

"Look at you," he breathed, his voice ragged and low. "So desperate for me, aren't you?"

You whimpered around him, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth, slicking your chin. It was messy, filthy, but you didn’t care. You were entirely his to use, bound and at his mercy, and you loved every second.

The raw throb of your spanked skin only made you more desperate, made you squirm helplessly against the burn, even as you fought to stay still and take him deeper.

He fucked your mouth brutally now, deep and unrelenting, the thick head of his cock battering the back of your throat with every thrust. Tears spilled down your cheeks unchecked, your jaw aching, your breath coming in short, shattered gasps whenever he gave you the mercy to take one… but he didn’t slow, he knew you could take it.

"You begged for this," he rasped, tightening his grip in your hair until your scalp burned, forcing you to look up at him. His vampire nature was bleeding through, dark veins spreading beneath his eyes, his pupils blown wide, a flash of fangs catching the low light.

"Such a perfect, filthy little thing for me," he growled.

Your eyes rolled back helplessly, the combination of his voice and the relentless way he was using your mouth sending your mind spinning, lightheaded and dizzy with need.

"There," he crooned, as he wiped the tears from your cheeks. His voice was wrecked with arousal, slowing his thrusts just enough to grind deep on every pass, causing you to gag around him with every deliberate stroke.

You sucked him eagerly, your tongue curling and swirling around him, moaning brokenly. He let you, let you work him over as he twitched against your tongue.

"You like this, don't you? Having my cock buried in your throat? Knowing how good it makes me feel?" he whispered, his voice low and dark, filled with pride.

You whined in agreement, desperate to please him, your eyes fluttering shut as he kept up his perfect rhythm. He groaned at the way your hands twisted in their bindings, at the sight of his cock disappearing over and over into the warmth of your mouth. You were so eager, so willing, taking him as deep as he wanted, moaning around him, begging without words.

He pulled out abruptly, leaving you gasping for breath, a strand of spit stretching from your lips to the head of his cock.

"On the bed," he snapped. "Ass up. Now."

You scrambled to obey, your body trembling, your wrists still bound tightly behind your back, leaving you helpless, vulnerable. The bed dipped violently under his weight as he shoved you down, yanking your hips high into the air.

The second your knees spread, the raw sting of your earlier spanking flared across your ass, sharp and punishing, and you whimpered brokenly, pressing your flushed cheek into the sheets.

Elijah didn’t wait. He didn’t tease. He grabbed your hips, lined himself up, and eased into you with a brutal thrust that punched a broken scream from your throat. You sobbed beneath him, unable to move, unable to breathe, the stinging throb of your bruised ass and the unbearable stretch of his cock wrecking you completely.

"You're mine," he growled. "Tied up and dripping, taking every fucking inch like you were made for me."

He drove into you hard and deep, the headboard slamming against the wall with every brutal thrust. Your bound hands strained uselessly against the belt, your body arching into him despite the merciless pace. Without warning, he brought his hand down sharply across your sore ass. You screamed, the fresh slap setting every nerve on fire, your pussy clenching around him.

"You are the one who wanted to make a show out of our private life," Elijah snarled, spanking you again, making you jolt and squirm helplessly under him. "This is what you get."

His pace was punishing, ruthless, his grip bruising, his voice rough and dark. You whimpered, overwhelmed, the angle letting him hit your g-spot with every thrust, sending heat racing through your veins.

"You wanted them to know what you turn me into?" Elijah growled, his hips pounding into you hard enough to shake the bed. "You wanted to show them the side of me you alone get to see?"

You sobbed out a broken yes, barely coherent, every nerve-ending lit up from the brutal pleasure of his cock pounding into you.

"Careful," he murmured, slowing his pace just enough to make you feel the full, aching stretch of him. "You might just get your wish, sweetheart. Maybe next time I'll fuck you on the bar table while they watch. Let them see what I do to you."

He shifted slightly, angling his hips until every brutal snap of his body against yours crushed that sensitive spot inside you again and again. You couldn't hold it back even if you tried. The orgasm ripped through, tearing a raw, broken sob from your throat as your body clamped down around him, your vision going white.

"That's it," he purred, slowing only slightly, fucking you through the aftershocks, wringing every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body.

You collapsed into the bed, boneless and whimpering … but Elijah wasn’t finished. Not yet.

Somewhere, dimly, you realized you had gotten exactly what you asked for. You had teased the gentleman and unleashed something far darker, far hungrier, from behind the red door he had always kept locked.

And now there was no more pretending, no more polite restraint … only Elijah, brutal and merciless, intent on taking every last piece of you.

Without warning, he pulled out, flipping you roughly onto your back. Your hands were still bound behind you, your body trembling, your eyes glassy with pleasure-drunk need.

He leaned over you, his face fierce and devastatingly beautiful, his fangs flashing just slightly behind parted lips. For a moment you felt real fear, a flutter of instinctual panic. Perhaps you had pushed him too far, that he wasn't temporarily indulging or even pretending, but actually taking what he wanted.

He seemed to sense it, and his expression softened slightly, just for a moment, his eyes dark with hunger, but not malicious. He leaned down, nuzzling the soft skin just below your jaw, the tenderness a stark contrast to the violence of his need.

"You're mine, understand?" he murmured against your ear, his voice rough. "You belong to me."

"Yes," you breathed.

His hands curled under your thighs, lifting and spreading them, pinning them back toward your chest, the angle made you feel so exposed. his dark eyes locked on yours, watching your face as he pushed slowly into you. You were slick, swollen, but still so sensitive that his sudden return had you squirming against him, whimpering with overstimulation.

You let out a strangled gasp as you felt the slow, maddening drag of his fingers over your clit. Light, teasing, circling, while his cock stayed buried deep inside you. You whined, needing more, hips twitching against his restraint, but Elijah only shushed you gently, his fingers never lifting, his cock grinding slowly inside you with the barest roll of his hips.

"So sensitive," he whispered, his lips brushing your own. "My poor girl..."

Your bound wrists were pinned and straining under you, your head nodding frantically, overwhelmed, tears spilling down your cheeks from the sheer intensity of it, from how tender and ruthless he was all at once.

"You're going to come again and again and again...," he said, his voice so calm it almost broke you. "You're going to milk my cock like the desperate little whore you are. And I'm not going to stop until you're begging properly."

You tried to protest, the words barely formed on your tongue, but Elijah cut you off with a kiss, "Do you like this?" he whispered, swallowing your cry as he sank deeper, mercilessly rubbing your clit, lighting every nerve.

"Elijah," you pleaded, the word almost a sob, caught somewhere between a plea and a moan.

"I'll take that as a yes," he murmured, his smile wicked, his eyes dark.

You weren't sure how long he worked you over, how many times he pushed you to the brink, only to let the waves subside, keeping you suspended in blissful torture. He kept you balanced on the edge, a desperate, needy, writhing mess. It was too much, you couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All of your senses had narrowed down to only him, to the heat of his body and the smell of his skin, the feel of his touch.

He watched you intently, the way your face flushed, your eyelashes fluttering, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the soft, helpless whimpers falling from your lips. You were perfect, utterly his, and completely undone.

"Come for me," Elijah whispered against your ear, thrusting just a little deeper, rolling his hips in tight, devastating circles. "Show me what a good girl you are. Show me how you come apart on my cock."

You shattered with a scream, your entire body locking up, pulsing and spasming around him, stars bursting behind your eyes as your orgasm ripped through you. But Elijah didn’t stop … his eyes black and wild as he fucked you through it. He kept his pace slow and punishing, wringing every trembling aftershock from your wrecked body, his fingers still teasing your clit, driving you past the point of reason.

"I know, baby," he breathed when you sobbed, trying to squirm away. "I know it's too much. But you can take it. You always take it for me."

Your body trembled violently, tears streaming freely down your cheeks, but your pussy kept clenching around him, your body betraying you, desperate for every slow, deep grind of his cock inside you.

"You love it," he whispered, reverent. "My good, beautiful girl. You love being so full of me you can't think straight."

He leaned down, claiming your mouth in a kiss, licking away the salt of your tears, sucking and nipping at your lips.

"One more," he coaxed, his voice low and gentle. "Come on. Give me one more."

"I can't," you begged. "Please, Elijah, I can't—"

"You can," he murmured, his hand curling around your throat, the pressure careful but firm, holding you in place.

The angle forced you to look up at him, his expression so tender and adoring, a sharp contrast to the roughness of his movements, the tightness of his grip. Your hands clenched helplessly at the belt binding your wrists, unable to stop the soft, choked moan that fell from your lips as he began to thrust faster, harder. His vampiric nature had taken over entirely, his face savage and feral, his eyes black and wild.

And then he struck, his fangs piercing the skin of your neck, a bright, burning flash of pain. His bloodlust was raw and desperate, but he still had control, drinking only enough to push you over the edge, not caring about the mess you made on the sheets as you came with a helpless, broken wail.

You could barely breathe, could barely hear his broken, stuttered groans, could barely feel the rush of wet heat as he spilled inside you, reaching his own release. You lay there, shaking, limp and helpless, as his mouth found yours again. A tender, lingering kiss, filled with something far deeper than just the passion.

"I've got you," he murmured against your lips.

It took several long moments, and his careful, steady hands, before he was able to untangle the belt from around your wrists, tossing the leather aside. Your arms dropped limp once Elijah finally freed them, tingling and sore from being pinned so long. He caught them gently, brushing kisses along your wrists and the palms of your hands, checking the tender skin for damage.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his expression worried. "I didn't mean to be so rough."

"I'm fine," you hummed lazily, letting him fuss over you a little, sprawling back across the sheets like you had all the time in the world. You were wrecked, sure, your thighs still trembling, your whole body aching, but you felt good, wild and fucked-out and smug about it.

"I'm sorry," Elijah insisted.

You sighed, sitting up, cupping his cheek in your palm. "Hey," you murmured, drawing his gaze back up to yours. "Don't apologize. That was amazing."

"I hurt you," he said, his brows drawing together in worry.

"Yeah, and I loved every second," you teased, smiling up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "It's kind of the point, remember?"

His expression softened slightly, his arms winding around your waist and pulling you against him, your foreheads pressed together.

"You're a menace," he said, voice rough but amused as he brushed his lips against yours. "A beautiful, dangerous menace."

"Can't help it," you murmured, grinning. "You bring it out of me."

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against your skin. "Apparently I do," he admitted, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, his voice softening, turning vulnerable. "Did I truly live up to your expectations?"

"Oh, Elijah," you breathed, tilting his face up to meet your gaze. "You always exceed them."

He smiled, his hands running soothingly up and down your sides, his lips grazing softly over the fresh bite mark on your throat.

Until you broke the moment.

"So," you said, voice a little too innocent, "would you really never consider sharing?"

Elijah stilled, then lifted his head enough to give you a dry, unimpressed look.

You batted your lashes shamelessly.

"I mean, Elena’s cute," you mused aloud, dragging a lazy finger down his chest. "Or Stefan. Broody in a hot way. Perhaps even Damon if I’m feeling particularly generous."

"You're impossible," Elijah groaned.

"I'm not hearing a no."

He sighed, "No, sweetheart," he said firmly, the hint of a threat in his voice. "I would rather gouge out my own eyes than offer you up to the Salvatores." His lips found yours again, the kiss hungry and possessive, filled with promise. "They're not worthy of you."

"I don't know," you whispered against his mouth, grinning. "Maybe I like the idea of you getting jealous."

Elijah growled under his breath, a low warning rumble, and kissed you again, even harder, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

When he pulled back, he hovered over you, his eyes dark.

"Say one more word about anyone else," he murmured, "and I’ll fuck you against every surface in this apartment until you forget their names."

Your thighs squeezed around him instinctively.

You smiled, smug and wrecked and unbothered. "Worth it."

Elijah shook his head, exasperated but smiling despite himself, the faintest trace of a blush coloring his cheeks. "You truly are a menace,”

You just laughed breathlessly, reckless and happy, already plotting how you would break him all over again.