#like lets drive and sit and talk and hold hands and i’ll fall SO in love SO fast

[napping-sapphic]

Go for a drive with me until we end up sitting in a parking lot and talking for hours

[classyrbf]

thinking about jerking off nerd!gojo with your tits in his dorm room. You couldn’t care less for the loser, forced to have him as a tutor because you were failing your chem classes and needed an easy way out of your parents bitching at you. Quite literally you’ve gotten tired of hearing him talk and talk about stupid elements, formulas and equations because you’d rather much see the look on his face when he’s about to cum and hear how he sounds when he’s begging.

So that’s how you ended up on your knees in front of him, shirt unbuttoned and your tits covered in his pre cum, his thick and veiny cock pulsing between the two mounds of flesh as you move it up and down his sensitive shaft. His breath hitches, cheeks flushed a bright red, hands shaking as he struggling to push his glasses back up only for them to slide back down. “F-fuck,” he so sweetly whimpers, licking his dry lips. He loves the way you’re looking up at him, like you’re staring into his soul while simultaneously taking it. His heart pounds against his chest, relishing in the feeling of your soft skin hugging his aching cock, your warm tits only giving him an idea of what your pussy might feel like.

“Nngh, oh f-fuck…we’re…supposed to be…studying,” he managers to croak out through his pathetic moans and whimpers. His sucks in a breath, eyes rolling back when you go even faster, the sound of wet flesh smacking against each other makes the perverted part of his brain go into overdrive. He’s so fucking close.

“Awe, but don’t you wanna cum, Toru?” You teasingly ask, watching the way his throbbing red tip leaks another bead of precum only adding to the lubrication. The nickname alone drives Gojo crazy. He fists the sheets below him, jaw slack, a dazed look in his eyes. “We’ll make a deal, yeah? I’ll let you cum and do this as many times as you want as long as you do my chem work for me.” You smile, holding your tits tighter. “Deal?”

“Ok, ok, ok.” He ferociously nodded, biting down on his bottom lip. “I wanna cum so badly, please.” He let out a ragged breath, falling back on the bed as his body began twitching, hips jolting upward to create more friction. Just in mere seconds, ropes of sticky, hot cum shot up, landing on your tits. “Shit, shit! Ah, ah, nngh!” Gojo’s eyes rolled back. This feels like the most he’s ever came in his life. His legs began to shake the longer his orgasm lasts, groans and whimpers escaping his throat, filling the small room. His raspy breaths fall short, finally coming down from his high. He can barely even think straight now.

“God, you made such a mess!” You huff, looking down at your coated tits.

“Oh, uh—I’m sorry!” Gojo quickly sits up, panicking as he searches around for something to help you clean up. He swiftly hands you one of his shirts, handing it to you. You snatch it from his hands, wiping up every last drop of cum before tossing his shirt to the side. “Are you…um—”

“I gotta go.” You stand up, buttoning your shirt. “Thanks for agreeing to the deal.” You lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Gojo watches as you leave his dorm room without a care in the world, acting like you didn’t just milk him dry with your tits. At least he has something to look forward to every few days now.

[cupidstrace]

Rated PG (for potentially gut-wrenching)

Summary: Your boyfriend cries at kids’ movies, and you fall in love a little more each time. Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

The first time it happens, you think he’s messing with you.

You’re sitting in a mostly empty theater, paper bucket of popcorn between you and massively oversized soda cups balanced in the armrests. It’s Sunday afternoon, and the movie is meant to be background noise. Something soft and harmless to fill the space between brunch and bedtime.

But somewhere around the part where Miguel sings “Remember Me” to his great-grandma, you glance over and catch Satoru swiping at his eyes.

“Are you..” you whisper, leaning in.

He turns just enough for you to see his lashes, wet and catching the light. “Shut up.”

Your lips twitch. “You’re crying?”

“I said shut up.”

Except his voice cracks on the last word, and now you’re laughing quietly, clutching the armrest like it’s keeping you grounded.

“Babe,” you murmur, fiddling through your purse to get him one of those compact tissues you keep on hand. “It’s rated PG.”

He sniffs. “I’m a kid at heart.”

And maybe that’s the moment. The one that melts itself beneath your ribs and attaches to your heart. Because Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, absolute menace of a man, is crying over a boy playing guitar for his great-grandmother.

And you’re not even surprised. Not really.

Not when you know the way he talks to old women like they’re royalty. The way he puts your phone on the charger when you forget, or leaves painkillers beside a glass of water when he hears you muttering about a headache. Not when he insists on holding your hand through every flight, even though he doesn’t mind turbulence, just because he knows you do.

He does plenty of grand gestures, too. Stands on the street outside your apartment window, waiting for you to look outside and see the absolutely gigantic bouquet held in both of his arms. 

But it’s more than what he does. It’s who he is.

You lean over and kiss his cheek.

He lets out a shuddering exhale. “If I die, promise me you’ll remember me. And you’ll write me a song with a guitar that people will listen and cry to so I’ll remain super popular forever and ever.”

You snort.

On the ride home, he asks you to play the song again.

You make a habit of it after that.

Once or twice a month, when the world gets too loud or his shoulders start to carry too much, you buy tickets. Always animated. Always sweet. No gritty realism, no grey areas. Just magical families and memories and robot hugs.

He plays it cool in line. Wears shades like he’s not going to stack 3d glasses on top of them in five minutes. Acts like the arm around your waist is for your protection, and not to guide you to the concession stand.

Acts like he's not going to cry. He will. He does.

Sometimes, it’s a single tear, rolling down his cheekbone like it has somewhere to be. Sometimes it’s a slow unraveling, a shaky breath, a hand that searches for yours in the dark. One time it’s full-on sobs, shoulders trembling while Bing Bong fades into the nothingness of the Memory Dump. 

You squeeze his hand. He squeezes back without a word.

But on the drive home, he’ll talk about it.

“He let himself disappear so Joy could get back,” he mutters, eyes on the road.

You glance at him. “Did you like it when he said ‘Take her to the moon for me’?”

He shakes his head, brow furrowed as if he’s processing a detrimental, life-changing development. “No. Because what kind of animated fever dream has the audacity to hit you with a cosmic metaphor for life, death, and self-sacrifice disguised as a pink elephant in a cotton candy wagon? What were the writers smoking and where can I get some so I can finally understand my feelings?”

You laugh and take his free hand, intertwining your fingers, arms resting on the center console. “You’re soft.”

“You love me.”

You do.

He hesitates, then speaks again, quieter. “You’re the Joy to my Bing Bong.”

You turn to him, eyes trailing over his expression. “..you’re Sadness, Toru.”

“Hey!”

You start to notice it after the third or fourth movie.

The way he sighs a little too long at the happy endings. The way his hand lingers on yours just a second more than usual when the lights come up. The way he stares straight ahead without a word when the credits roll. No laughing. Not even a tear. Like he’s trying to memorize the moment, the feeling, before it fades.

“Hey,” you say once, nudging him gently. “You okay?”

He blinks, smiles, and holds your hand a little tighter. “Yeah. Just.. thinking.”

“About?”

He shrugs. “Time. People. Stuff.”

You raise a brow. “Ominous.”

“You’d hate if I got specific.”

You don’t push. You figure it’s just a bad day. One of those lingering shadows from missions he never talks about.

But later, when you’re back home and he’s watching the city lights through the window instead of sleeping, you hear him whisper, like it’s not meant for you at all. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

You don’t understand what he means. Not yet. But you feel the same way.

Sometimes, when you have free time and don’t want to go to the movies, you sit on the couch with him and put on his favorite. Big Hero 6.

He tries to hold out. Really, he does.

But the moment Baymax says, in that soft, robotic voice, “Are you satisfied with your care?”, and is left in the portal, Satoru lets out a broken little hiccup that turns into a full-body sob.

You blink. “Babe–?”

He lifts a hand to cover his eyes, the other still wrapped tightly around you. “He just wanted to help.”

You bite back a smile. “I know.”

“That’s all he wanted,” he says, voice thick, and now he’s sitting up and wiping his face with the hem of his hoodie. “That’s literally the only thing he was made for, and he still– he still–”

“Died,” you finish gently.

He wails. “And he didn’t even get to finish his sentence, are you kidding me?”

You press your hand to his forehead and lie his head down on your lap, fingers threading through his hair. “You’re gonna short-circuit if you keep crying, Toru.”

He settles into your lap before responding. “That line should be illegal.”

“It should, Toru.”

A beat passes. Then he whines. “Like, am I satisfied with my care? No! I’ll never be satisfied again! He was a robot, baby! His brother made Baymax for him to help, and he just– he kept helping, he went out helping–”

You smile and pinch his cheek. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous for making me watch this again.”

“You asked me to put it on.”

“Because I forgot how much it hurts.”

You laugh. “He’ll rebuild Baymax, babe.”

“..I know.”

And maybe he’s still blubbering a little, and maybe you’re still laughing. But the way he clings to you, like the ache of the world softens when you’re close, is the real ending. The quiet epilogue.

So when he mutters, all teary and trembling, “I just want to help, too,” you whisper, “I know.”

Because he does.

He always has.

And when he leaves for that Shibuya “work trip” – the one he swears won’t take too long, the one he jokes about, promising to bring back weird vending machine snacks – you still play the songs. Still buy the tickets. Still keep the tissues in your purse, even if the reason for the habit is gone.

The theater lights go dim. The screen glows to life. A boy strums a guitar, or a robot hugs a child, or a princess finds her way home. You watch and smile, just barely, like you're saving the moment for his hiccuped sobs. You like to imagine he's somewhere in the emptiness of the seat beside you, somewhere you can't reach or see.

Sometimes, you reach over anyway. Just in case. Hoping your hand will catch something, anything, to prove he's still right beside you.

And when the movie ends, you stay seated.

A part of you hopes that if you wait long enough, he'll turn to you again, eyes shining as he says something like "the pink elephant is a metaphor for self-sacrifice."

But he doesn't.

So you whisper it for him.

Because now, love is nothing more than a lingering echo of his voice in the dark, asking are you satisfied with your care?

And no, you don't grab a guitar. You don't write a song.

But you remember him. You always will.

And when the lights come up and no one's there to squeeze your hand, you cry. As if the grief can bring him back, somehow, somewhere in the breath between the last scene and the credits.

[sturnslutz]

SUCH A SHAME - matt sturniolo

warnings; this is a CHEATING FIC. i do not condone cheating, this is just fiction. p in v (unprotected), nicknames - (baby, sweetheart, big girl, smart girl.), spitting in mouth, drunk sex, grinding against each other, use of y/n, i think thats all??

creds to anyone who has done cheating fics before!!!

3,162 wc.

it was a constant routine between you and chris. you guys argue, mean words being thrown back and forth, you two have makeup sex, and you move on without another word about what you guys were actually arguing about and never actually fixing the problem.

one night after an argument, you had enough and grabbed a couple of club clothes— ignoring the yells being thrown at you from chris, and walking past him, storming off to your car outside of his apartment.

it was around 9:30 already, and you started driving to a nearby bar you’ve been going to for a while. sometimes you, and chris and his brothers would go out and have a great time. but tonight, it was just you.

you pull out your phone as you stop at a red light and text chris’s brother. matt.

matt had always been eyefucking you ever since you and chris even became friends. sly words said to you in secret, small, intimate touches, but nothing ever actually being done about it, as you and chris started dating.

of course you knew matt had a thing for you, but you couldn’t really do anything as chris was your boyfriend and you loved and adored him. tonight was different. you wanted to make chris mad, or at least in your head.

“come to the bar, right now. i’m by myself.” you quickly type out to matt, stuffing your phone into the center console, beginning to drive again. you know matt wouldn’t pass over an opportunity to see you, and that’s coming in handy tonight.

you get to the bar and check your phone again, matt responding almost instantly after you texted.

“omw”

you grab your clothes and your bag and head into the bar’s bathroom, changing into the clothes— which were more revealing than chris would ever let you out in, and touched up some of your makeup. matt texted you about 3 minutes ago saying he was here and sitting at the bar.

you walk out, and see matt sipping a drink. you set your bag down next to him and grab his cup out of his hand, taking a sip. “i’ll be right back, gotta put my clothes back in my car.” he smirks and nods, and you head out. you have a shot bottle in your car, and drank it all, wincing at the taste.

you put your clothes in the backseat before closing the door and heading back into the bar.

matt was faced towards you, smirking the whole time you walked towards him. “so what’s got you all upset, pretty? ‘nother argument with chris?” you nod, rolling your eyes as you sit down in the chair, which was closer to matt than you realized. he had bought you a drink, to which you happily drank before answering his question.

“yeah, some fuckin’ dumb shit again, he’s always starting arguments recently and i’m sick of it.” he tsks, letting his hand fall to your knee, rubbing it softly.

“he’s dumb, i know. don’t let it get your pretty head though, you’ll drive yourself crazy.” you hold his hand above your knee, rubbing his knuckles.

“i love him, i do, but— i don’t know,” you sigh, taking another sip— already feeling the effects of the alcohol flowing through your system. “it’s just a constant cycle and i hate it. we used to never be like this, y’know that, and then something just switched inside of him to always have a problem with every little thing i do.”

you noticed matt’s demeanor has changed, and he seems more considerate with you. it’s not like him flirting, but he genuinely does seem to understand.

“he’s just going through shit, i don’t know. i wish i could help, but he’s barely talking to me or nick recently, and nick’s pissed off by it too. so i get where you’re coming from, even if you don’t think i do.”

you look back at matt, really look at him, and smile softly. “thank you, i feel like i am actually going crazy. my words never seem to go through chris, it’s like they go through one ear and out the other and he’s just never actually listening to me anymore— but you’re making me feel listened to.”

you tighten your hand around matt’s hand, to which he smiles back at you, squeezing your thigh a bit tighter than before.

he orders another round of drinks for the both of you, the conversation flowing between you two easily. you haven’t seen him in a little while—on behalf of chris, as he knows matt thinks you’re attractive and doesn’t necessarily trust him around you. huh, ironic. it’s been about an hour of both of you being here, and it seems like it’s been 10 minutes.

of course you know matt’s attractive, him and chris look alike. but it’s not even that, it’s also his personality. the way he carries himself, his way with words, the way he can make you feel better in an instant without even trying, and that’s why you can feel so comfortable around him.

it was like that with chris too, since about a month or two ago where you don’t know if something happened at work or what— but his whole self just completely changed and his personality that you know and love just completely vanished.

“but enough about me, how’s your life been? any new girls or anything?” you ask matt, giggling softly. the both of you are already at the brink of being drunk, the way words flow out faster and easier than before, and the way you two have drifted closer to each other, without either of you noticing.

he shrugs a bit, taking a big gulp of his drink, finishing it and asking the bartender for another. “eh, not too much. had a thing with this girl named emma, but shit kinda fell through. she made this excuse about being busy at work all the time and kept canceling our dates. she works as a lifeguard, by the way.” he scoffs, rolling his eyes, to which you let out a little laugh.

“i mean lifeguards are very busy, especially now, in october.” you continue laughing, your head falling against his chest, to which his hand moves up your back, rubbing you gently as you continue to drunkenly laugh at your own joke. “i know, crazy busy.” he adds. “so i just kinda broke things off gently, y’know? but she wanted to fuck one last time before she left and that’s what we did. that was about 3 weeks ago, and we were around each other for like 2 months i think?” he sighs, as you sit back up, finally calming down a little bit. your hair was all messy now from leaning against matt and he chuckles a little bit as he reaches up and smoothes down some of your hair. “crazy girl.” he mutters as he examines your face.

“i didn’t say it before, but i really am sorry about what’s happening between you and chris, you don’t deserve that at all, sweetheart.” he says with another sigh, drinking a couple more sips before looking back at you. you shrug, following his actions and taking another sip. “i can’t do anything about it, im jus’ gonna let it be and kinda distance myself until he figures his shit out, because it is affecting me like crazy. i can barely sleep anymore, and all i do is cry about it. i love him so much but his words hurt me so badly, y’know?” he nods, taking your hand in his and rubbing it gently. he nods for you to continue, to which you shake your head.

“i don’t really wanna talk about it anymore, i came here to have a good fucking time with you, and that’s what we’re gonna do. c’mon let’s dance a little bit.” your mood starts to improve a lot more, as you stand up, still holding your hand in his as you try to drag him to the dance floor. “you’re insane if you think i’m dancing right now, honey. i’m probably gonna knock someone over, and that someone being you.” he smiles, looking at your little pout that you give him. “fine, 10 minutes.” you whoop, holding his hand tighter as he finally stands up, following you to the floor.

he hasn’t let go of your hand since the second you grabbed it. he let you take the lead, and you pulled him into a small crowd— maybe 15 or 20 people and started dancing close to matt.

the music was blaring through your ears, and you started looking up at matt with such admiration, as he held your waist tight. you moved against his body to the beat of the music, each beat causing you to get a little closer to matt until you two were right against each other. “careful, sweetheart. you’re dangerous, and i don’t know if chris would like what i’m thinking right now.” you giggled a bit, letting your fingers run through his hair— tightening them every once in a while. “well chris isn’t here, is he? tell me your thoughts, matt. i’m open ears.”

he laughed, shaking his head, his fingers gripping into your hips. “i can’t, because it’s gonna lead us somewhere we might both regret.” you rolled your eyes, taking and moving his hand more up your waist. “i’m not gonna regret anything, matt.” you lower your voice, hoping matt could still hear you, and he smirked— confirming that he did.

“you’re drunk.” he slurs out. “you are too!” you laugh as you continue dancing against him, your hand running through your hair and across his body after. matt took your hand, grabbing it firm, but not too hard and walking the both of you back to the bar.

“are you okay?” you ask, looking up at him as he pays the bartender, and thanking him as he grabs your purse in the process.

he looks down at you and even in the dark lighting of the bar, you could tell— he was hungry for you. “i need you so fucking bad right now, y/n. will you let me drive us back to my place? i walked here and i’m not super drunk to not be able to drive your car. it’s a quick drive, i promise.”

you can see in his face and the way he’s holding onto you tight that he’s desperate. you can’t help but have a flicker of chris in your head before you agree, knowing what was gonna happen between you and matt.

“yeah, yeah. let’s go.” you say fast, nodding. he smiles, saying one last thanks to the bartender before pulling the both of you out of the restaurant. once you unlocked your car, he opened the passenger side seat door, holding it for you to which you smiled and thanked him, sitting inside. you realized you left your phone in the car while matt opened the driver’s side and sat down.

once you unlocked your phone, a crazy amount of notifications came through, all from chris. “chris texted and called me probably a hundred times.” you mutter to matt and he lets out a small curse. “listen, we don’t have to do this, i can just drive you home, it’s okay-“ you interrupt him before he gets another word out. “no, i want to do this matt. i’m drunk, you’re drunk, let’s just fucking do it. i’m sick of chris’s bullshit and i need some relief.”

he looks at you for one more confirmation and you nod, to which he smiles at you, as he starts the car. you take one last glance at the notifications still coming through from chris, before powering it off.

he starts driving carefully, as you watch the views out the window. you and matt stay silent, both overwhelmed with the sexual tension between you two, only the faint sound of the car and the radio in between it. after about 10 minutes of driving, he finally comes to a stop in front of his complex. “we’re here. i’ll open your door.” he’s already out the door before you could even move an inch, your laugh filling the car.

he opens your door, grabbing your hand and kissing it gently, pulling you up.

he grabs your hand again and directs you through the lobby and up the elevator, starting to kiss your shoulder and nibble at it.

”we’re not even all the way up yet, you needy boy.” you giggle. he hums against you, sending chills through you. “couldn’t resist, baby.” he mutters. the elevator ride feels like an entirety before it finally stops at his floor. he stands up, grabbing your waist and pulling you through the hallway before stopping at his door and opening it.

the second he shuts it, he can’t keep his mouth and hands off you.

he’s pushing the both of you to his bed, gently pushing you down on it. “tell me i can do this.” he says as he wraps his fingers around your skirt. you nod, and he tsks. “i need an actual ‘yes’.” you whine, bucking your hips up. “yes, yes you can, please.” he smirks, finally pulling your skirt down to your ankles. “so needy, hm?”

he grabs your top, pulling it over the top half of your body, leaving you only in panties. “no bra? almost like you expected me to bring you up here and fuck you, baby.” you smile a bit, grabbing his neck and pulling his face close to you before you whisper, “maybe i did,” he groans, finally leaning in and kissing you deeply. he’s waited so long to finally be able to touch you, and the fact you’re doing this in secret turns him on even more.

”you’re so beautiful,” he mutters against your lips before letting his tongue enter your mouth, exploring every part. his hands move up to your boobs, massaging them deeply, and playing with your nipple. he lets his lips move onto your left nipple, swirling it around with his tongue, earning a moan out of you. he moves his mouth to your right nipple with a satisfying pop from your left, latching onto the right. his right hand moves down your stomach and your thighs, moving his fingers soft against your already-wet panties. “so wet already?” he says against your boob, leaving marks all over, knowing exactly who will see them later. “mhm, all for you, matt,” you whimper out, causing him to push just a little bit harder against your clothed clit, making you squirm.

“poor chris doesn’t know what his sweet girlfriend’s about to do with his own brother, jus’ because of his own, dumb actions. such a shame, isn’t it baby?” he mutters, chuckling at the thought, looking up at you as you nod. your eyes are already shut, even from his little actions. “open your eyes.” you open hesitantly, looking down at him.

he started kissing your thighs, his right hand still massaging your boob. his left moves your thigh to angle it where he can kiss the inner part, biting them gently. he mouths your clothed pussy, already growing hard himself and grinding against the edge of the mattress, trying to relieve at least some of the ache away. he hums against you, sending more chills through you. “matt, please— do something,” you whine and he hums.

he moves up again, grinding himself against you, causing you to gasp. “y’like that, huh?” you nod, whining a bit still. he taps your cheek with his hand a couple times before gripping your jaw and shaking your head condescendingly. your jaw falls open, and he spits on your tongue—to which you happily swallow. “didn’t even have to tell you anything, y’just know exactly what to do, such a smart girl,” he leans in, kissing you gently before biting your lip playfully, letting it go.

he leaned down and swiftly unbuckled his jeans, letting them fall to his ankles, and stepping out of them. he pulls down his boxers, releasing his cock— which was already painfully hard.

you gasped a bit, and he looked up at you smirking. “y’scared? don’t worry, it’ll be alright, you’re a big girl.” he finally hooks his fingers to the top of your panties, pulling them teasingly slow, before finally letting them fall right above your skirt. he moves his dick through your folds, moving it up and down and pushing it against your clit numerous times.

“matt, stop teasing, please—“ you choke out before he finally gives in, pushing into you slowly. your breath hitches in your throat at the way he’s stretching you out, and by the fact he is bigger than chris. he finally bottoms out, and his hand runs across your face and chest, soothing you down. “i’m gonna start moving, jus’ let me know if you need a break.” you nod, allowing him to move.

he goes in and out slowly as he grabs your hand, putting it up next to your head, interlocking your fingers with his. he goes a bit faster as he realizes you’re moving also, and he grips your hip with one hand tightly, starting to dig deeper into you. your leg is still bent, allowing him to hit a spot you didn’t even know existed.

incoherent words and babbles immerse from your mouth and he sticks his middle and index finger in your mouth, which you immediately suck on.

“there ya go, jus’ needed something in your mouth, yeah baby?” he’s going faster now, the sound of skin slapping together filling his apartment. his groans becoming louder and deeper, and his thrusts becoming sloppier. you gag a bit against his fingers and he almost cums on the spot from the sound and the feeling.

he pulls them out, gripping your hand again. “fuck— i’m gonna cum, where d’you want me?” he says breathless, and his chain slapping against your chin repeatedly pulls your attention back.

“inside, please.” you whine out, and he nods. he feels you start clenching around him, and your squirming. he puts his face closer to yours, looking in your eyes. “cum with me, baby.” you nod fast and he finally puts in a couple more fast, sloppy thrusts into you before finally halting inside, filling you up. your thighs are shaking and moans erupt loudly as you finish with him.

after a bit of time, his dick spluttering inside you, he finally falls on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you tight. “that sobered both of us up.” he whispers, chuckling with it. you nod, giving a lazy smile. he carefully pulls out of you, both of your releases spilling out onto his sheets. “eh, it’s alright , i’ll clean it up later. let’s go pee and take a shower, and you can stay the night.”

[bapelana]

۶ৎ kento nanami’s fav positions <33 thick!black!wife!reader. lowkey a self-insert, reader (and i) have glasses. mean!nanami. size kink go brrrrrr. overstimulation. milf!reader & dilf!nanami are whores for each other <33

he doesn’t often speak about it, or even speak at all about it—but nanami has favourite positions.

of course, he won’t speak nothing of it if nobody asks. but when you do…

he’ll have you folded, flipped, and fucked like you his own personal obsession. because you are. and he shows it.

i. cowgirl; his stress reliever.

after work, he lays back in his slacks and a grey long-sleeve shirt (that was always tight because of his massive pecs and muscles), sleeves rolled, hair messy… just to watch you ride.

you were so thick and beautiful it made absolutely no sense. the way your ass moves, the way your face contorts when you drop down on him?

he moans like it hurts.

“you don’t even k-know what you do to me,” he murmurs, voice low, one hand on your ass and the other trailing up your spine.

he lets you bounce a little—just a little. then grabs your hips and fucks up into you so deep you go slack-jawed.

“shh. h-hush, baby—let me watch you fall apart.”

he talks you through every orgasm. and you both always have more than one.

ii. reverse cowgirl; his obsession.

your ass is fat. so round, thick, and plump. and nanami? he’s devoted. he sits back, arms folded behind his head, dick hard and twitching, just watching that ass drop down.

“go on,” he says, licking his lips. “i’ll let you wear yourself out first.”

he loves the ripples. loves the sound. loves the view. and when you look back at him—eyes glazed, tongue out, drool hangin from your lips?

when you talk him through it? “jus’ like th-that, pa. you always know how t’please m-me—hah!”

he loses composure.

nanami grips your waist and slams you down on him, fast and rough, your ass clapping so loud it echoes off the fucking walls.

“you want this dick? then take it. noo lookin back now.”

and he means that.

iii. backshots; his religion.

nanami puts you on your stomach and spreads you like a prayer. face in the sheets, ass up, legs trembling, lips parted—because you’re already so overstimulated.

but he doesn’t care. not one bit.

he loves it. he lives for it.

“what’s wrong?” he mocks, voice soft, dick heavy against your pussy. “can’t take it?”

he drives his thick and almost monstrous dick in and your whole body jumps. he doesn’t stop. slapping your ass, biting your shoulder, holding your hips as he pounds your sappy cunt into next week.

you’re so weak everywhere, but you find yourself trying to match his strokes, earning a rippling slap! to your ass.

your sweet pussy slurrps! him up with every chance, and he swears you could pull orgasm after orgasm from him.

and when you look back over your shoulder? eyes wet, smirking through the tears?

“o-ooh sh-shit—k-keep lookin’ at me like that,” he mutters. “i’m puttin a—hah!—baby in you tonight.”

and he does. every time. it’s how you ended up with three children already, right?

iv. missionary; his heaven incarnate.

nanami loves it rough. but he loves you more.

your legs on his shoulders, his body pressed to yours, dripping cunny stretched around his monstrous cock. he grinds into you like he’s trying to disappear inside.

and he neeeeeds to see you.

every flutter of your thick lashes. every scream. every time your eyes roll and your tits bounce.

he pulls you onto his dick, watches you melt. you’re both five orgasms in and he’s still not done.

he can’t be done when everytime he pulls out, his cum leaks out your sore pussy. it’s like you’re begging for more (and you are, because you find yourself locking your legs around his waist after every round).

“look at me,” he breathes. “look at me while i f-fuckin’ break you.”

you’re sobbing. he’s moaning. and you cum together, every single time.

and no matter the position, his dick is mean. his moans are high and desperate. his thrusts are messy, deep, and borderline criminal.

nanami’s not just your husband. hes not just the father of your children—he’s your slut—your whore.

and you were his.

who should i dew next? laughs ><

all rights reserved. 17+ © solana / wrstbehaavr. don’t copy, translate, or modify without my consent.

[smallestapplin]

What if the Cybertronians saw the reader drinking blue gatorade and thought it was Energon.

I went with Prowl headcanons, he doesnt get enough love.

-

-

- Energon is known, at least to the autobots on Earth, to be toxic to human, Ratchet stressed after an accident that no human companion of theirs should be exposed to it for too long and to never ingest it for it could at minium do serious harm, but more likely kill their little human.

- Prowl does not mind you always bothering him as he works, he’s grown use to you and your antics making it easier to block you out or at least still get things done. So when you walk into his office, greeting him as always, he doesn’t look away from his data pad as he greets you in return.

- You climb up his desk (with the stairs he absolutely did not build in so you could climb up it safer) and sit near his servos.

- You chat with him with ease, asking about his day which he tells you little about, but he’s still nice to be with.

- Bright blue catches his attention off the corner of his optics, he almost assumed you brought him the worlds smallest Energon cube, until he turns his head and sees you drinking it. His optics widen a fraction and before you know it you’re being yanked into the air, you bottle falling from your hands spilling the liquid all over his desk, but he doesn’t care.

- You ask him what’s wrong but he doesn’t even answer you as he’s speeding out of his office, swiftly transforming making your head spin as you find yourself in the passenger seat. His sirens blaring as he drives, speeding down the hall making any autobot jump to the side to get out of his way.

- “Prowl, what’s going on!?”

- “You are a fragging idiot! We can make it to Ratchet, I won’t let you offline.”

- You’re so confused. Prowl slams on his brakes as he bursts through the medbay doors, gaining the attention of a newly pissed off Racteht, before transforming once more, this time holding you out to the medbot.

- “They drank energon!”

- And like that Ratchet is taking you, setting you on the medical berth and hooking so many things up to you as he’s loudly scolding you for even touching energon. But you can’t remember drinking energon, you didn’t have any! The only time you’re even near it is when you’re around them as they drink it.

- Prowl and Ratchet talk amongst themselves, though it’s clear they are both worried. Ratchet is not trained to handle humans, your bodies are so much more fragile and complex than he studied for. It takes Prowl telling Ratchet the story for it to finally click in your head.

“That wasn’t energon, that was a Gatorade!”

The two bots look at you, optics narrowed, squinting at you in suspicion.

“Aren’t gators those lizard things you spoke of with the powerful bite force? Why would they need aid?” Prowl questions, crossing his arms over his chassis.

“And why would you be drinking it?” Ratchet follows up.

You have to pull up your phone to look it up in bigger words to get it through their processors that you really are fine, it was just a tasty drink! Though it doesn’t help the two bots groans, shaking their helms and muttering something humans being weird, and making odd scrap as always.

But as Prowl holds you in his servo as you two leave the medbay, he looks at you with a stern expression.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, understood?”

You have to fight back a smile, knowing how worried he must’ve been, “I promise Prowl, I’ll make sure to let you know what I got before hand.”

He’s a worry wot, give him a break.

[dragoneyelashart]

WE HUG NOW 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

authors note: this song has been stuck in my head for weeks

warnings: angst, divorce/breakup

you never wanted the money.

not the cars. not the spotlight. not the gated houses or the sold-out arenas. you would’ve lived in a tiny apartment, eating cereal on the floor every night if it meant waking up next to her—billie, the way she was before everything got loud.

she used to fall asleep with her head on your chest, murmuring lyrics into your skin like secrets. used to light up when she saw you walk into a room, like the whole world paused just long enough for her to memorize you again.

but somewhere along the way, the world stopped slowing down.

and she stopped looking up.

you started counting the days between her phone calls. between the nights she came home. between the moments you still felt like hers. you told yourself it was temporary. that fame came with distance, and distance didn’t mean detachment. you told yourself she’d remember.

but then came the fight.

you were sitting in the nursery, holding your daughter while she clung to your arm, the weight of the world pressing down on your chest. billie paced in front of you, her voice sharp, accusing.

“do you love me,” she asked, “or just the life i gave you?”

you didn’t have words. it hit you like a slap in the face, and all the breath left your lungs. you would’ve given everything up for her.

but in that moment, you realized she didn’t believe you. maybe she never did.

so you let her go.

the divorce was quiet. clinical. the kind where nothing catches fire but everything still burns.

she left the house. she left the crib. she left one thing behind—a beat-up old phone, screen cracked, tucked beneath the baby blanket in the rocker.

a single voice memo, labeled:

halley’s comet. for her.

you sat in the dim light of the nursery that night, holding your daughter to your chest, listening to billie’s voice crackle through the speaker.

“hi, baby girl. this is your song. i’ll always love you, even when i’m not there.”

she sang like she was still trying to hold on. and you cried like you already knew she wouldn’t.

your daughter is four now.

she runs everywhere instead of walking. she’s all questions and scraped knees and big, open-hearted feelings. she asks about the stars when she can’t sleep, says she feels safest when you hold her.

she knows the song by heart. you’ve played it for her every night since she was born. she calls it her song, like it was written by the universe just for her. and maybe, in a way, it was.

you’re driving her home from preschool one afternoon, the air warm, the sun soft on your arm, and the radio starts playing a song that makes your heart skip.

it’s halley’s comet.

not the voice memo. the full version. studio-polished. stripped-down and haunting and beautiful. billie’s voice, older now, but still her. still yours, somehow.

from the backseat, your daughter perks up, her voice sharp with recognition.

“mama… my song.”

you grip the steering wheel, the pressure of her words making your chest tighten.

she’s staring out the window, her small hand pressed to her chest like she’s holding something fragile, something sacred. and it is.

you force a smile, blinking back the tightness in your throat. “yeah, baby,” you whisper. “that’s your song.”

a week later, your phone buzzes.

someone sends you a clip from billie’s latest interview—she’s on a late-night talk show, radiant, untouchable. the interviewer brings you up like a distant memory, something forgotten.

“so, you and y/n. what happened there?”

billie laughs easily, like it’s nothing. like it’s a joke.

“oh, that. yeah. we ended it on mutual terms. it’s all good now.”

mutual.

like you didn’t stay awake for months, waiting for her to come home, waiting for her to see you again. like you didn’t rock your daughter to sleep, night after night, with the sound of billie’s voice in the dark, your heart breaking quietly every time. like you didn’t love her with every piece of yourself. like you still don’t, a little.

you pause the video.

the house is quiet. the laundry hums softly in the next room. your daughter’s asleep upstairs, her tiny body curled around a stuffed bunny, the old phone still tucked under her pillow.

you sit there, the glow of the screen fading to black.

and you think—

god, she really believes it was nothing.

you’re just thinking it’s a small thing that happened.the world ended when it happened to me.

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @eloiseluvsbillie @bxllxebxtch | send me an ask, or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[vienssunshine]

Raising the Stakes

pairing: Sylus x fem!reader nsfw: highly suggestive, ostensible dry humping wc: 3.2k author's note: this is based on the midnight stealth mission, but there are definitely artistic liberties taken. maybe i will write a part two, though would need to do more research as i haven't actually played this game haha description: you're willing to do whatever it takes to win sylus' bet. read part two here

He’s home.

If not the sudden tightness in your chest, the gentle close of the front door confirms it.

You’re on your feet and with one last look around his gloomy bedroom, shit, you left the bedside drawer open. You slam it shut, louder than you would’ve liked. Then, you’re out of there, taking care to close the bedroom door much more quietly.

Fuck. The brooch isn’t anywhere in his room.

Stupid bet. Stupid Sylus. Stupid you.

If you don’t find it—you look down to your watch—within the hour, you’ll lose your lead on the Aether Core. That can’t happen, you won’t let it. You have to find that goddamn brooch.

There’s only one place left to check.

You find Sylus in the hallway, pulling a manila folder out of his briefcase and setting it on the entryway table. A wet umbrella leans against the wall, and though it’s too dark to see out of the window, you can hear the gentle rainfall outside.

You saunter up to him, hands clasped behind your back. You’re hoping the smile you have on your face looks warm rather than contrived.

“Hello, Sylus,” you greet him as nicely as you can. Things might be a little tense after yesterday, so you hope he isn't the type to hold a grudge.

He spares you a glance before closing his briefcase and setting it on the table next to the folder.

“Someone’s cheerful,” Sylus says, “Did you find what you’re looking for?”

Of course you didn’t. The asshole knows that.

You smooth those thoughts out to return a seemingly content, “Oh, not yet.”

His hands go to the collar of his coat, but you intercept him, and though you’d meant to only touch the fabric, your haste causes your fingers to end up on his knuckles. You swallow and continue anyway. “Here, let me."

"You want to help with my coat?" he asks.

You nod, your smile tight-lipped.

His puzzled expression is replaced by a incredulous smirk and he returns his hands to his sides, allowing you to be the one that pulls the heavy, black coat from his broad back.

You fold the it over your forearm and smooth the fabric down in a subtle attempt to feel for any hardware hidden within the coat or its pockets.

Sylus turns around and leans back on the entryway table. “Something else must have you in a good mood then,” he observes, "What is it?”

“Just…happy to see you,” you say. You’re laying it on a little thick, so you supplement with, “It’s nice to have someone else to talk to, the twins have been driving me crazy all day.”

There’s nothing in the coat, so you hang it up. Damn it.

“Have they?” Sylus says, “I’ll be sure to speak to them.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, they’re harmless,” you say, eyes falling to the burgundy vest sitting atop his black button-down. “And now that you’re here, it’s better.” You step towards him and your hands go to the top button, “I’ll help with this too.”

Sylus doesn’t stop you, simply watching with a lazy smile as your fingers undress him in his entryway. Even if he is suspicious of your actions—he hasn’t forgotten about the bet—you're certain that he will indulge in his own amusement every time. This personality quirk is evident from his thrilling lifestyle—better dangerous than boring—and one you’ll push to its limits if it helps you win this bet.

You pop the final button open, revealing his button-down in full. You push the vest over his shoulders, leaning a little too close to his chest to get it off his back. When the fabric is recollected in your hands, you look up at him, and he holds your gaze, waiting for whatever excuse you’ll make next. It's clear to both of you that it's too obvious if you search the vest in front of him.

“I’ll go take care of this,” you end up with. You’re not sure what ‘take care of this’ even means since you don’t know if his labyrinthine mansion even has a laundry room. In fact, you still haven’t discovered how your dirty clothes have been disappearing from your room only to magically show up cleaned and folded on your bed the next day.

“All right,” he responds, “I’ll be in the study if you need me.”

“Okay,” you say, pivoting with the vest tight to your chest and walking down the hallway. When you turn the corner, and take a few more steps—just to be certain you're out of Sylus’ sight—your stroll turns into a sprint until you get back to your room.

Breathing rapid, you throw the vest down onto your bed and rifle through it, checking every pocket and fold once and then twice. You scowl. Nothing. The brooch is still on him.

Your fingers twist into the soft threads of the vest, crumpling the jewel-toned fabric. Time is running out. You need a new plan, but your head’s empty. You’ll just have to find him and hope something comes to you.

On your way out, you go to toss the vest onto your desk until, in a strange lapse of judgement, you instead bring the fabric to your nose. Its scent is dark and multi-layered, complicated but grounded by the standout note of an earthy musk. You pause. You've enjoyed this scent before, when wandering around the halls, but that was because you thought it was from the mansion's foreign plants, not Sylus.

You shake your head. He smells nice, so what? You throw the vest onto the back of the chair by the desk. Soon you’ll be out of this place, and then all this strangeness will end.

You make your way to the study, resigned to your fate. You need to check his button-up and the pockets in his pants, they’re the last places the brooch could be.

Arriving at his study, you rap gently on the door.

His gravelly voice answers, “Come in.”

You push the door open and Sylus looks up from the papers strewn about in front of him. The dim glow of the lamp on the desk casts his form in a soft, warm light, allowing you to notice two small changes since you talked in the hallway; there are thinly-framed gold glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and his black shirt has a few more buttons undone, showcasing his strong collarbone.

He looks…good.

“How can I help you?” he asks and it snaps you back to your mission.

You enter his study, strolling by the chair you’re meant to sit in and then past the desk, fingertips grazing the spines of a stack of books piled up next to the lamp.

“Weren’t you just at work?” you say, leaning on the corner of his desk, “And now that you’re home, you’re working again?”

He puts his pen down and sits back in his chair, eyes roaming your figure against his desk. “Work is work. It never ends.”

“It’s too much,” you say, standing up and placing your hand on the back of his armchair. “Want me to help you relax?”

You can’t believe you’re doing this.

Sylus chuckles, “What did you have in mind?”

“You look so tense all the time.” You run your hand from his shoulder up to his trap. He’s warm, and that familiar musky scent wafts up to your nose. “A massage might make you feel better.”

“Really?” he says, his brows furrowing, “You want to give me a massage?”

Yes, it’s true that with narrowed eyes and a snarled mouth you tried to shoot a bullet through his chest yesterday. And yes, that same you is now offering relief for his poor, sore muscles today. He must not understand that debasing yourself for a mission is not beneath you.

“Mhmm,” you confirm, “I’ll give you a massage…if you want one.”

“All right then,” he says, “I’m all yours.”

“Great,” you say, eager to step behind him. The way he was looking at you was twisting your stomach up. And he says such strange things.

You turn your focus to kneading your fingers into his thick traps, pushing down and into the hard muscle. Damn, he’s really tight. Is being the leader of Onychinus that stressful of a job? Well, it must be, it’s a crime ring after all. Spying, stealing, killing, it must wear someone down. And really fuck them up—makes them the type to strike a wager where you have to hunt down a little brooch in a huge mansion.

Sylus lets out a soft groan and the noise fills your face with heat. Your fingers stall for a moment, but you swiftly recover, instinctively repeating the action that got you such a nice sound. You wonder if he’s ever gotten a massage before.

“You’re good at this,” Sylus says. His fingers are gripping the sides of the armchair, veins coursing out from underneath his sleeve to thread through the tops of his hands. They look tired too. You’ll move to them once you check the collar of his shirt.

“Thank you,” you respond, “I’m happy you like it.”

You pause, and lean to the side so you can look at him when you ask, “Is it okay if I massage your neck too?”

His blood-red eyes watch yours intently and you don’t miss how his mouth hangs slightly ajar, his breath heavy. “You may,” he permits.

You right yourself quickly so he can’t see the smile on your face. It has to be pinned on the inside of his collar.

“Tilt your head forward for me?” you ask, and he complies, revealing the thick column of his pale neck. You press your two thumbs to the top of his neck, right where his silver hairline starts, and drag them down, following the natural guidelines of his spine.

He sighs again, but you don’t indulge, focusing on drawing your thumbs further down his neck to his collar, pushing it down and away with the palms of your hands. The fabric folds over easily; there’s no brooch hidden underneath.

Fuck.

You repeat the action a few more times to keep up the facade, sparing a glance to your watch. 15 minutes left. You need to speed this up. There’s a few more places to check—his sleeves, his neckline, and…his pants.

One last drag of your thumbs down the column of his neck and you walk around the chair again. You move his papers and folders out of the way and sit on his desk, bringing his right hand into your lap.

“I’ll do your hands now, since you’ve been writing so much. They look tired to me.”

“They do?” he says, amused. “Then I’m glad you’re taking such good care of them.”

You work your thumbs into the palm of his open hand. His skin is softer than you expected a criminal’s would be. Guess he doesn’t actually do any of the dirty work.

You turn his hand over in your lap and unbutton the cuff of his black sleeve. Sylus raises an eyebrow.

“So I can massage your forearms, too.”

“Of course,” he says, letting you to roll up the sleeve to his elbow. Your hands linger there for a bit longer than you would’ve liked, but you had to confirm it—there’s no brooch pinned to the inside of his cuff.

Returning to your ploy, you begin to drag your hands down his forearm, only to notice how large it is, it’s hard to wrap your hand around.

“Do you work out?” you ask, thoughtlessly.

He chuckles. “Yes, I do.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with forearms like these.” Your eyes trail back down to the sizeable hand resting between your legs. “Hands, either.”

“Do you like them?”

“Hm?”

“My arms…my hands?”

Why would he care what you think of him? He certainly didn’t weigh your opinion when trying to force you to resonate.

“I-I don’t know,” you say, clumsily escaping the question. “Here, let me do the other hand.”

He pulls his hand back into his own lap and offers his other out to you. You take it and start to massage.

Sylus leans his head back against the plush velvet of his armchair, allowing his eyelids to flutter closed. He seems to really like what you're doing, and it's making you grapple with the indecipherable, tingly feeling skating underneath your skin. This is pretend, you’re playing a role to get what you want, but it feels like your ploy has actual stakes, more than just getting the brooch. You push it down, you shouldn’t get distracted from your goal.

Checking his left cuff reveals nothing.

You bite back a frown, tilting your head down to hide your displeased expression.

It’s here, you know it. Just where exactly?

While you work at his palm, your eyes roam around, looking for any unusual shapes or pulls on the fabric of his shirt. You do the same to his pants, but his pockets seem empty, though you can’t be sure from just looking. Then a weight settles over your body.

His eyes are open now, and he’s staring.

You drop your gaze back down to his hand, hoping to look focused and dedicated to your work.

“I think that’s enough,” he says, bringing his hand back into his lap.

No, damn it, you need more time. But before you can come up with another dumb excuse, Sylus says, “I feel compelled to return the favor,” as he rubs his wrist, “Especially since my hands are feeling so much better now.”

His shirt and his pants. You’ve gotta look.

“Do you really want to?” you ask.

“I do,” he says, reaching for your hand. You let him hold it, but then push off the desk and into his lap, straddling him.

You. Cannot. Believe. You’re. Doing. This.

“Oh?” he says, “Getting comfortable now, are we?”

“Is it okay?” you say. But it's not like his feelings should matter; he’s the one who’s hidden the brooch so close to heart.

“More than,” he responds, returning his eyes to your hand, beginning to knead your palm. It feels good.

You let your uncaptured hand settle on his chest, right by the line of buttons traveling down his shirt. As slowly as you can, you move it to one side of his chest, then the other, searching for the pin.

“Feeling around?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know the answer.

“Uh, no, just…steadying myself.” You look down. “Your massage feels nice.”

“Does it?” Sylus chuckles. “I’m glad.”

You steal a glance at your watch, which thankfully encircles the wrist of your free hand. 5 minutes left. You both know it. The question is, how far are you willing to go to win?

Previously hovering, you sit your weight down into his lap, committing. Sylus continues the massage, tracing the lines of your palms with an enjoyable pressure.

You can’t feel anything underneath you outright, so, through clenched teeth, you begin shifting your weight around in his lap.

That’s enough to get his attention.

“What are you up to now?” he says.

“Do my forearm,” you say, pushing it into his grasp. “It’s sore.”

4 minutes.

He complies, pressing his fingers into your flesh in skillful, slightly distracting ways, soothing the muscles tight around your forearm. Damn, he moves like he knows what he's doing.

“What has gotten into you?” Sylus says with a smirk.

Your response doesn’t need to be believable, you just need him to let you continue. So you say, “Keep going. You feel…good.”

You can’t pay much mind to the breathy noise from his throat because your focus is on the opening of his shirt, hand skimming the left side of his neckline, fingers brushing against his bare chest. It's a highly intimate action, but even worse is the way you’re pressing down on his pants. You’re practically grinding on him, and your body is reacting accordingly, that giddy sensation warm and alive in the depths of your stomach.

You push it all away, prioritizing the search, moving your fingers to right side of his open neckline. You’re a Hunter. You can do this.

And then you feel it. Two things. At the same time.

Your fingers wrap around the cool metal of the brooch while the underside of your pelvis settles down on something hard pushing through his pants.

“Looks like you found it,” Sylus says.

Your breath hitches. Though your fingers are on the brooch, you look to Sylus’ face. His glowing red eyes are lidded and his pale face painted with a gentle pink blush. His lips are curled in an all-too-familiar condescending smirk. And you want to kiss them.

This has become too real too fast. Yes, it was pretend, a way for you to get the brooch, but now it’s his hard cock pushed up against your clothed cunt.

Your face burns. No, your skin is on fire. This is all too much.

“I-I’m sorry.” you say, before pushing yourself up off of his lap. “I can’t. I can’t…do this.”

Sylus releases your forearm. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s fine, really. It’s my fault,” you say. The backs of your thighs crash into the desk and you stumble.

He reaches for you, calling your name gently, and the sweetness of his tone only makes you feel worse.

You don't take his hand, stumbling around the corner of the desk and heading towards the door. You worked so hard to get the brooch, but you just can't do this. So you take one last look at him and his outstretched hand, and flee from the room.

The flickering lights of the candles mounted on the walls fly by as you sprint through the hallway. You turn a corner and nearly run into the twins, a quick step to the side saving you all a collision.

“Jeez, what’s gotten into her?” one of them says after you give a quick apology and continue your escape. You get back to your bedroom, and slam the door behind you. You lean up against it, panting hard, the saliva thick in your mouth.

That was too much.

You stagger over to your bed, collapsing down onto it. Though it’s been the best bed you’ve ever slept in for the past few nights, tonight, it’s hard and uncomfortable. You pull your knees to your chest, curling up in the fetal position.

You shouldn’t have let it get that far, let your mind and body get so confused with what was actually going on. Goddammit you tried to kill him yesterday, and now you’re bouncing around on his lap like you're on your honeymoon. Even if it was for a mission, what were you thinking?

You could ask the same of him. He might have been playing along, but you felt him against you, big, hot, hard. No, he must’ve liked it, for real.

And you? Did you actually like it? It felt nice. Him touching you. Him liking you. At the same time, it was so scary. These new feelings. You thought you hated him. And now you're all mixed-up on what's real and what's not.

You groan. Your thoughts are going a million miles a minute, and your heart rate hasn’t slowed down. You need some time to think this over, to process. Maybe you can avoid him for the next few days.

Only, the auction is still tomorrow…and you don’t know if you won the bet or not. Yes, you found the brooch on time, but did you have to take it from him to win? God, it’s all so confusing.

The moonlight shines on the ruby fabric draped over the desk chair and the scent reaches your nose once more.

You on his lap. His hands holding yours. Blood red eyes studying you.

You get under the covers and turn away from your desk. Hopefully you’ll feel better tomorrow.

[fairene]

my woman / ln4 sneak peek

established r. lando norris x f!reader

warning ⋯ language, alcohol use, a bit of fighting, tension, eventual smut.

a/n ⋯ i'm not dead..loll....lando plans to propose.

the drive back to the villa was thick with tension, the silence between you a heavy, suffocating thing. the soft hum of the car engine filled the void where your laughter usually lived, but tonight, it felt more like a reminder of the distance growing between you. lando’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles pale, the faint glow of the dashboard illuminating his face in fractured shadows. he kept glancing at you, his lips parting as though he wanted to say something, but each time, he stopped himself.

you stared out the window, the blur of greece’s moonlit coastline passing by in streaks of silver and blue. your arms were crossed, your posture stiff, but inside, you were unraveling. you could feel his gaze on you, the weight of his silence pressing against your chest, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. not yet. not when your emotions were still a storm threatening to spill over.

when the car pulled up to the villa, you didn’t wait for him to cut the engine. the door clicked open, and you stepped out without a word, the gravel crunching beneath your heels as you walked toward the house. lando fumbled to unbuckle his seatbelt, calling out your name softly, like a lifeline he was desperate to hold onto.

“wait,” he said, his voice trailing after you, but you didn’t stop. the door swung open under your hand, the cool air of the villa rushing to greet you as you moved inside, each step echoing against the quiet walls.

“please, talk to me,” he tried again, his footsteps quickening behind you as you ascended the stairs. his voice was pleading now, the vulnerability in it twisting something deep inside you, but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t—not yet.

his heart was pounding, each step feeling like he was racing against time, against the unbearable thought of you slipping away. don’t go, he wanted to say, the words clawing at his throat, but they stayed there, unspoken. instead, he reached for the bannister, his palm slick with nerves, as he chased after you.

you reached the bedroom first, the door creaking softly as you pushed it open. the room, normally a haven of warmth and comfort, felt different tonight—colder, emptier. you stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind you, not bothering to turn on the light. the moonlight spilling through the curtains was enough.

your bag landed with a dull thud on the floor as you made your way to the bed. sitting on the edge, you leaned back, your legs hanging off the side, the soft fabric of the duvet cool against your palms. you stared up at the ceiling, your chest rising and falling with the weight of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.

lando hesitated at the door, his hand hovering over the handle. he could hear the faint sound of your breathing through the wood, steady but strained, and it made his chest ache. he swallowed hard, summoning the courage to face the storm he knew he’d helped create.

when he finally opened the door, the sight of you—bathed in moonlight, your face unreadable—hit him like a blow to the chest. you looked so far away, even though you were right there, just a few steps ahead. it terrified him, the thought of losing you, of this being the moment you slipped through his fingers for good.

“i…” his voice faltered, and he took a step inside, the door clicking shut softly behind him. “i don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted, his words trembling. “but i’ll try. i’ll do anything.”

you didn’t look at him, your gaze still fixed on the ceiling. “it shouldn’t have to feel this hard,” you said quietly, the words cutting through the space like glass.

“i know,” he said, taking another tentative step closer. “i’m sorry. for all of it—for tonight, for making you feel like you weren’t enough. you are enough. more than enough. you’re everything.”

your breath hitched, the raw emotion in his voice chipping away at the walls you’d built during the drive home. you turned your head slightly, finally meeting his gaze, and the look in his eyes—the desperation, the regret, the love—made your chest tighten.“then show me, lando,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “show me i’m not just someone you can lose in the crowd.”

taglist ⋯

@landoslutmeout@basicallyric@mybluesoul1@toriiez@customsbyjcg-blog@sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora@idgasb@amalialeclerc@laneyspaulding19@staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

[pathologicalreid]

heart to heart | s.r.

in which hotchner!reader is set to have heart surgery, and Spencer can't help but be concerned for her

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x hotchner!reader category: angst content warnings: fem!reader, chronically ill!reader, spencer is anxious, inadvertently made jack hotchner a glass child, hospitals, medications, surgery, heart transplant, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, mostly medically accurate, rejected proposals, spencer's pov, mentions death and dying and wills, howl's moving castle word count: 2.51k a/n: this might be my favorite margotober post of the week. i don't know. it's very introspective. twas a request!

Ironically, his heart was racing. Spencer made his way through the cardiac unit with nothing but his imagination to guide him. He had just left the building a few hours ago when you insisted that he sleep in a real bed, and now he was back.

Your dad hadn’t told him what was going on, he just told him to get to the hospital. It was an hour’s drive from his place in D.C. to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore—you could already be dead by now.

He didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye to you. Not a real, proper goodbye. He told you he’d come back in the morning, which felt ridiculous now.

The sterile fluorescence of the intensive care unit only added to his irritability as he washed his hands upon entry, the CVICU had been your home for the past two months, and in a way, it had become Spencer’s as well. He couldn’t be shocked, you’d been in heart failure for nearly two years, and there was no way he could ignore the worried glances between your doctors and nurses.

You slept more than you were awake most days, Spencer and your dad took turns staying behind on cases, and you usually didn’t have the energy to hold a conversation.

That’s why he’s so surprised to see you sitting up in bed with a cap over your hair, talking to your cardiologist. You looked drained, dark circles gave your eyes a haunted look, but Spencer’s chest filled with relief at the fact that you were still very much alive. “Hey,” Spencer said, looking around the room for even the slightest clue as to what was going on.

Sluggishly, your head turned to look at him, “Hey,” you said back, a weak smile on your face.

He wanted to tell you to lie down, sitting up was obviously draining you of what little energy you had, but more than that, he wanted you to tell him what was going on—he couldn’t guess, he couldn’t bear to be wrong. “What is it? What happened?” His questions were frantic, your father had never called him in the middle of the night like this.

“I’m getting a heart, Spence,” you told him, your voice was gentle.

So, the sky wasn’t falling. The feeling of impending doom that he’s had for the last two years was potentially going to be lifted away, “When?” He asked, stepping further into the room and setting his bag in the chair, crossing his arms as he joined the conversation between you and your doctor.

You took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth, “Tonight.”

He needed to sit down.

“We’re just waiting on some final pre-op labs,” your doctor confirmed, nodding at the both of you. “It’s a good match,” he assured Spencer, “I’ll let you two talk.”

As soon as you were alone, Spencer guided you down to the pillows. Too weak to resist, you leaned back until your shoulders hit the pillows, “Where’s Hotch?”

You hummed in response, “Jack freaked out when we told him I was getting a new heart, dad’s with him until our aunt gets here.”

“He’s worried about you,” he observed, sometimes it was hard to put the age difference between you and your brother into perspective, but at times like this, he remembered just how young Jack really was.

Clearing your throat, you shook your head once, “He’s scared that my new heart won’t love him the same.”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “So, what did you tell him?”

You smiled softly, “I told him it was like in Howl’s Moving Castle.” Pausing for a moment to catch your breath, Spencer took your hand in his, “They’re not taking my love away, I’ll be able to love him even more with a new heart.”

“So, now he thinks your heart is on fire,” Spencer pointed out, tucking a stray hair underneath your cap.

Sighing, you shut your eyes for a moment, “Sometimes it feels like it.”

His chest tightened in sympathy while watching you try to catch your breath, vaguely aware that this was the last night that tonight would be like this, “Are you scared?” It seemed like a foolish question to ask, knowing that you’d had more procedures than most people your age, but this was a big one. This was the big one.

You nodded gently, there were so many things to be scared of, surgical complications, transplant rejection, but you looked at Spencer with pity in your eyes. You were pitying him, “My will is in the top drawer of my nightstand,” you started.

“No,” Spencer interjected, denial creeping up on him.

You sighed, it took everything in you to hold back your tears, “Spence, we have to talk about this.”

He shook his head, “No, we don’t. You’re going to be fine.”

“I need you to be rational,” you pleaded. The irony of the situation was not lost on him, you were begging him to think rationally as refusal crept over him. “You know the statistics. In fact, you probably know them better than me,” you said pointedly.

He sniffled, “You have good odds,” he insisted. “Even if you didn’t have good chances, you’ve always been good at beating the odds,” he reminded you. The two of you had said goodbye before, a nasty battle with bacterial endocarditis had put you in a coma, but you had come out of it, sending you even higher on the UNOS transplant list.

Issues with your kidneys had knocked you out of the running for some hearts, so your only hope was a direct donation. It seemed like you were getting your wish. “My heart won’t be as big,” you murmured, not having the energy to debate Spencer on probability.

“No,” he affirmed, “It’ll be a bit smaller.” Your heart muscle was thick as a result of your cardiomyopathy, and your pacemaker wasn’t able to keep up with your deteriorating health. A transplant became your only hope.

You sighed contentedly, “You always made me feel so lucky.”

“Stop trying to say goodbye,” he told you, tilting his head to the side.

Nodding, he could tell that you understood him, “You’ll never get rid of me, I’ll come back and haunt you.”

Spencer shook his head dismissively, “No dying, sweet girl. We’ve got to take care of your new heart.”

A peaceful silence blanketed the two of you, sitting and waiting for someone to tell him it was time to go. He didn’t want to go. He’d go with you to the operating room if they’d let him.

He said goodbye to you in the hallway, watching you get wheeled away before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking to the waiting room, stopping in his tracks at the sight before him.

A majority of the BAU had gathered in the waiting room, taking up all of the chairs on the right-hand side, settling in for the long haul. “Hey,” JJ was the first one to speak, giving Spencer a quick embrace before stepping back, “How was she?”

“She’s good,” he answered absentmindedly, still looking around the room, a few familiar faces nowhere to be found. “She was tired,” and a bit morbid toward the end.

Jack was curled up on one of the loveseats, a blanket tucked over him. Spencer continued looking around, confusion settling in until Emily spoke up, “He’s in the chapel. Rossi and Morgan are with him.”

Hotch was in the chapel, likely lighting a candle for Haley while Rossi and Morgan said a prayer for you. Oddly enough, it brought Spencer comfort to know that his friends were pulling for you in the ways they knew how, especially when he didn’t believe in it himself.

Spencer looked at the bracelet that you had placed in his hands, it was one of your most prized possessions, and should something happen to you, he was under strict instructions to hand it over to your father.

You were still a teenager when you were first diagnosed, and you were scared of having a big scar from open heart surgery, so your mom went out and bought you a charm bracelet. For each procedure after, you’d gotten a new charm for the bracelet with Hotch continuing the tradition after your mother had passed away.

There was no doubt in his mind that there would be a special charm for this surgery, Hotch usually had Penelope and JJ help him pick it out.

Penelope walked in, handing Spencer a cup of coffee. The average heart transplant takes six hours, but you have so much scar tissue that he wouldn’t be surprised if it took longer than that.

You were two years younger than him, and he found himself enamored with you from the moment you met. Your disease had forced you to leave college early, but your dad had set you up with a job in records at Quantico, both to give you something to do and to keep you nearby.

Until you just kept getting sicker, you were the best person they had working in records, but eventually, you had to leave that too.

The rest of the team caught on to Spencer’s crush, but you found yourself avoiding him like the plague. You turned him down eight times before you finally acquiesced, come to find out the only reason you said yes is because Hotch pushed you in that direction. Of all people, your father had just wanted you to continue living your life—he didn’t want you to become a hermit.

You would be one now though, with all of the immunosuppressants you’d be on post-transplant, you’d be spending a lot of time at home.

Rejection became a trend in your relationship when Spencer proposed to you last year. He’d done it properly, asking your father and Jack for permission, but you’d said no, rattling off some excuse about how he shouldn’t shackle himself to someone with one foot in the grave.

That night, after you had all but broken up with him, you’d collapsed and ended up in the hospital. The two of you made a promise to each other. If you ever got a new heart, you’d finally say yes.

The promise had been your idea, claiming that karma had caused you to collapse in your apartment because you turned him down. Spencer didn’t believe in karma and fate the way you did, but he did believe in you. That was enough for him.

Hotch came back up first, setting a comforting hand on Spencer’s shoulder before he walked back to where Jack was sleeping, your Aunt Jessica was back there with the two of them.

They hit the two-hour mark with no update, and Spencer convinced himself that no news had to be good news.

Derek and Rossi had made their way up to the waiting room, pulling out a deck of cards from the hospital gift shop and dealing around the table. Spencer just watched, he’d played more than enough card games in this hospital before, and he’d likely be playing many more in the future.

You’d have to stay in the hospital post-transplant for approximately a month, but it was some comfort to Spencer that instead of your health declining, you would begin feeling better. It hurt to hope, but he found himself excited at the prospect of you regaining your strength.

By the time five hours had passed, JJ and Derek had fallen asleep in their chairs, but everyone had committed themselves to waiting for you.

Spencer wanted to take you home, settle you into your shared apartment together, and let you heal, but you weren’t going to come home with him. When your month in the hospital was up, you’d go home with your dad and Jack. Your apartment didn’t have an elevator, and he worried about you having to use the stairs all the time. Your dad’s apartment had an elevator, so it became the obvious choice.

You told him you didn’t even remember what home looked like anymore. He couldn’t wait to bring you home.

He’d started to worry after six hours had passed, but just before hour seven hit, your cardiothoracic surgeon came out to the waiting room.

Careful not to wake Jack, Hotch stood up from his chair, approaching the surgeon with a wariness that Spencer had never seen from him. He waved Spencer over, silently inviting him to join the conversation.

“Everything went well, she’ll be in the CVICU still for a few days before she’s strong enough to be transferred,” the doctor explained, garnering the attention of some of the other people in the room. “Visiting hours don’t start for a few hours, but if one of you wants to stay with her until she wakes up, then I’d be willing to arrange an exception.”

You’d be waking up in a bright room with a tube in your throat, and having someone that you knew with you when you woke up would hopefully ease some of your fears. As soon as Spencer was about to offer to keep an eye on Jack so Hotch could sit with you, Hotch interrupted his train of thought, “You should go.”

Spencer frowned, glancing over your father, “Are you sure?”

Nodding, Hotch looked back at Jack, still sleeping on the loveseat. “I need to stay with him, and she wouldn’t want him to see her first thing,” he explained.

If Jack’s fear from earlier was any kind of forewarning, Hotch probably had a point when it came to wanting to stay with his youngest. Even still, Spencer protested, “I can stay with Jack.”

There were a number of people in the room who could stay with Jack, but Hotch clearly wanted to stay, “Don’t keep my daughter waiting, Reid.”

He did not have to be told twice, turning around and following the doctor to your room, scrubbing his hands before approaching the door. Faltering slightly at the doorway, Spencer found himself staring at you. There were so many wires and tubes connected to you that he’d have to take his time doing inventory of them all, there was a tube breathing for you, but your heart—your heart was beating steady.

“You can take a seat here,” a nurse said, gesturing to a chair for him to use. He sat down obediently, setting his bag on the ground next to him.

You wouldn’t come out from under the anesthesia for hours yet, but Spencer found comfort in knowing that he’d be here for you when you woke up. He could let you squeeze your hand when you felt pain, and he’d be there to wipe your tears away. At this point, he’d do anything you asked of him.

For now, all he had to do was wait. He clasped your hand in both of his and sat at your bedside, a ring box burning a hole in his messenger bag—waiting for you to be ready for it.

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 22

Word Count- 12.8k

Warnings-swearing, violence, mentions of bad parents, alcoholism, Mikeal and his abuse, self-loathing

Soulmates. What the hell are soulmates? Well, obviously I know what the definition of a soulmate is but what the hell does it mean in the supernatural world? Neither of the two Salvatores that drove me home last night were very chatty about it. 

“Fables is what it is, Y/n.”

That is all Demon told me last night when he walked me to my front door. After I watched the two brothers drive off I stayed up for hours, actual hours, 5 to be exact, pacing my room waiting for Elijah to keep good to his word and come see me to explain what the hell happened tonight. But with the morning light streaming in my bedroom window, I realize that once again holding a man to his promise is never something I should do.

— 

I stare blankly at the multiple unread text messages and missed calls from Elena. All morning she’s been trying to call me but right now I don’t have the energy to handle whatever she wants to talk about, especially since it’s probably something that everyone else knows and I’m the last one to find out, per usual. 

When I haven’t been staring at my phone, I’ve been staring up at my white ceiling, replaying the events of last night in my head over and over again. Last night when I was up waiting for Elijah I researched everything I could possibly find on soulmates. But the more I read the more I started to freak the fuck out so I had to stop that for my own sanity. Which is ironic because I honestly don’t think I have any sanity left in me to spare. 

“Damn, you look like shit,” Theo’s obnoxious voice comes from an open doorway.

“Leave, Gremlin,” I groan as I grab a pillow and hold it over my face.

“Nope, sorry,” I hear his voice and then the pillow is ripped away from me, “Your depression is stinking up the house and I don’t need it affecting me. So get your ass up. We’re going clubbing.”

I move nothing but my eyes as I look at my brother. 

“We live in Mystic Falls. Where the hell would we go clubbing?”

Theo thinks to himself for a moment before tapping his chin, “Alright. Good point. See this is why we work, you're the brains,” He points to me, “And I’m the beauty.” 

“Leave me to rot,” I groan and try to reach for the pillow and he swats my hand.

“Back, demon! Listen, get your ass up I’m hungry and I’m going to give you the honor of buying me lunch,” Theo declares like this is some great prize I’ve won.

“No thanks,” I grab my blanket and cover my face with it.

A moment later my blanket it being ripped off of me, “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, I swear to the heavens above I will grab the garden hose and drench this entire room and yourself with it if you’re not in the car in 5 minutes,” Theo glares at me and then leans down and picks at a piece of my hair with disgust clear on his face, “Actually make that 10 minutes, you need to kick whatever family of rats is living in that mess you call hair.”

I go to complain but Theo shushes me, “I mean it! I’ll get the goddamn hose!”

I watch Theo dramatically stomp out of my room and I let out a sigh.

—

“I hate you,” I say to my brother as he holds open the door to The Grill for me.

Theo sends me a sweet smile, “No one could hate this face.”

I roll my eyes and begin to walk to an empty table when I notice Caroline and Elena sitting together at a table in front of us. 

Shit. 

I try to blend into the crowd but my obnoxious brother ruins that.

“Elena! Hey, Elena,” Theo’s voice booms throughout the restaurant and I instantly try to make myself as small as possible when I notice people turning to look at us. 

“Theo, stop,” I hit my brother in the stomach but he just grabs my hand and pulls me along.

We get to the girl's table in no time, thanks to Theo’s sprinting, and Elena instantly sits up in her seat when she sees me.

“Hey, Y/n,” Elena smiles softly at me and I nod my head at her and then send a smile to Caroline.

“I’m sorry about your Dad, Caroline. Damon told me this morning,” I say softly to her and she nods.

“Thanks, Y/n. And I was going to tell you myself but I just forgot,” Caroline reasons, and Stefan’s words from last night come barreling through my head. 

“Y/n?”

I shake my head clear and then try to pull a smile on my face, “Ya, totally. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ve tried to call you,” Elena tries to get my attention and I don’t meet her eyes.

“Ya, I forgot to charge my phone last night,” I lie and she looks at me as if she’s not sure she believes me. 

“Oh, okay. Um,” She goes silent for a moment before gesturing to the table, “Would you guys like to join us? We’re talking about the Mikaelson’s throwing their weird ball. Their mother invited me personally because she wants to speak to me about something.”

At Elena’s words, I frown in confusion, “Who are you talking about? Who are the Mikaelsons?”

“Wait! A party?! There’s going to be a party,” Theo’s practically jumping in place as he looks wide-eyed at the two girls. 

Elena looks at me confused for a second before lowering her head, “The Originals. They’re the Mikaelsons. We got invites this morning to attend their ball tonight,” Elena frowns sadly, “Did you not get one?”

A tightness in my chest builds at her pitiful look and I am sent back to my childhood when I would be the only kid in class who never got an invite to any of the other kid’s birthday parties. 

“Naw, we haven’t got anything,” Theo chimes in for me and I feel and lower his hand to wrap his pinky around mine, “Yet. But like honestly even if we do get invites, which we will because anyone who doesn’t invite the Y/L/N siblings are losers, we probably won’t go,” Theo says and looks at his nails as if the conversation is now boring him.

Caroline raises an eyebrow, “Why not?’

I can see Theo look over to me and then back to Caroline, “We’re going clubbing.”

I release a deep sigh at my brother’s words. 

“You guys are going clubbing?”

Caroline and Elena share a look and then I can see Elena look up to me, “And you agreed to this?”

I look down at Elena and an annoying wave of embarrassment washes through me. Even though I know they’re not judging me right now there’s that back part in my brain telling me they know someone like me isn’t cool enough to do anything like that, which is why I agree. 

“Yup. It’s how we bond,” I say, nodding and glancing at my nails. Mimicking my brother who I can see from the corner of my eye, has a huge grin on his face.

“So, are you two going to this dance?” I try to act nonchalantly. 

Caroline shakes her head, “Hell no! It’s some twisted Cinderella fetish is what it is. And Klaus only invited me to piss off Tyler.”

Klaus. Invited her.

“Klaus?”

My voice comes out pathetic, weak, and strangled and I feel Theo squeeze his pinky against mine. 

“Ya, he sent me a dress and everything,” Caroline says dramatically as if she doesn’t notice my change in demeanor, “It’s totally weird. Also,” Caroline looks at Elena, “Why does the evil witch want an audience with you?”

“Evil witch?”

Theo and I say in union and Elena looks up at us, “That was who was in the last coffin. The mother that Klaus killed…actually not so dead.”

I blink at what she says and feel my breathing speed up.

Elena looks back at Caroline, “I have no idea. There’s only one way to find out.”

Caroline sighs, “I thought you told Damon and Stefan that you weren’t going.” 

Great so it seems everyone knows about this dance.

Elena nods, “I did, which is all the more reason why I need a drama-free bodyguard.”

“Well, I think a Salvaotre would look a lot better in a tux, and by that, I mean Stefan.”

“Fuck that asshole,” Theo snarls catching Caroline and Elena off guard. 

“Theo, language,” I warn lightly but honestly don’t care enough to chastise him much.

Theo shakes his head defiantly, “Hell no. Elena, you can’t be seriously thinking about getting back together with the man who threatened to kill you and your best friend?!”

Theo’s uncharacteristic outburst seems to startle both of the girls and Elena shakes her head, “No, of course not. I can’t deal with any of the Salvatores right now. Whatever Stefan’s feeling, he’s channeling it all against Klaus and Damon… it’s not a good idea.”

Theo nods his head seemingly accepting her answer but as I stare at him something in his eyes tells me he’s not 100% convinced. 

Caroline and Elena converse for another moment about Elena kissing Damon and I can’t help but feel like nothing more than a fly on the wall again, just like I did last year and every year before. 

“Hey,” Theo leans down to whisper in my ear, “You good?”

I don’t meet my brother’s eyes because if there’s anyone in this world who could point out my lies it’s him so all I do is nod.

“Careful Y/n, Caroline, and Theo. It’s all well and good until she stabs you in the back,” A feminine British accent has me lifting my head and the sight of Rebekah surprises me. 

“What are you doing here? I know your mom’s rules. No hurting the locals,” Elena accuses.

Rebekah glares down at Elena, “Get over yourself, Elena. It’s not all about you,” Rebekah tells her and begins to walk away but stops when she gets to me.

“Meet me outside in 5 minutes would you, luv? I want us to have a little chat,” Rebekah smiles at me and I for some reason find myself nodding. 

All four of us watch Rebekah walk off over to Matt. Rebekah pulls out an envelope from her purse and hands it to the blonde boy. 

“Even the busboy got an invite,” I can hear Theo practically snarl under his breath. 

“Oh my God,” Caroline gasped, “She’s inviting him to the ball. Why is she inviting him?”

“Probably to get this reaction from us,” Elena says and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

“Or maybe she just wants a date,” I say under my breath and I hear Theo chuckle from beside me. 

Caroline huffs in sits back in her chair, “What time is this stupid dance?”

At Carolie’s words my heart plummets. I’m not entirely sure why. I mean who cares that she was invited by Klaus? Was gifted a dress by Klaus. Is going to dance with Klaus. I mean who cares right?!? Not me!

“We’re leaving,” I mutter to Theo grab his hand and begin pulling him.

“Wait,” I hear Elena call to me and I sigh, “You’re not actually going to talk with Rebekah, right?” I shrug my shoulders and stare at her annoyed, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Elena looks at me like I’ve grown two heads, “She’s evil, Y/n! You can’t trust her,” Elena tries to reason and I raise my eyebrows in disbelief. 

“Coming from the girl that quite literally stabbed her in the back.”

Elena blinks, shocked at my words. 

“Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything, Elena. I’m just relaying the information that has been told to me. Just like everything else that happens in this town,” I smile at her sarcastically and then turn around grabbing Theo’s hand. 

“We’re leaving.”

—-

“Damn, woman,” Theo says as I pull him out the door into the parking lot, “What’s got you in such a bad mood?”

I shake my head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I deny and Theo comes to stand in front of me with his arms crossed. 

“You can pull that denial shit with anyone else in this town, except me bitch. You and me, came from the same womb so that technically means we can read each other’s minds. So whatever you’re doing,” He raises his eyebrow, “This self-sabotaging thing or whatever it is, you need to let me in.”

I stare at my younger brother and feel tears rush to my eyes. Theo must see them because the stern look on his face quickly turns to fear.

“Oh shit, tears,” He quickly shakes his hands, “Please don’t cry! I don’t know how to handle tears,” He shakes his head, “Other than my own!”

“Is there something wrong with me?”

My question seems to catch my brother off guard as he frowns, “What? Like your fashion taste? Sister we’ve already established this.”

I shake my head and push away from him, “Never mind, God, just forget it.”

“Hey,” Theo pulls me back by my shoulders so I’m facing him, “I’m sorry, okay? You know I can’t do emotion without humor and sarcasm. But, why the hell would you ask me that? Did someone say something,” Theo’s concerned eyes turn to ones filled with anger, “Because if someone did I’m going to kill them.”

I just shrug my shoulders, “It doesn’t matter. I already know the answer.”

I begin to walk over to the car but Theo once again stops me, “Hold on for a second and talk to me! Why the hell would you ever think something is wrong with you?”

I look at my brother and clench my nails into my palm, “Because there has to be,” I almost cry out. Feeling the tsunami of emotions I’ve been holding in for the past few weeks rush forward, “There has to be a reason why people don’t choose me. Why my whole life I’ve always been on the outside looking in. Watching everyone live their lives happy and free while all I do is watch and hope that one day someone will notice me watching and ask me to join. I need there to be a reason because if there’s not then…”

Theo watches me with a heartbroken expression, “Then what, Y/n?”

I wipe a stray tear off my face, “Then there’s nothing I can change. And it means that it’s just me,” I point to myself defeated, “That I was just born this way. Born to watch everyone else be the main characters in my own life.”

I stare with blurred vision up at my brother who looks defeated as he shakes his head.

“Y/n, no one thinks that about you. And I promise everyone feels that way every once and a while it’s normal,” My brother’s soothing voice only frustrates me more.

I shake my hands, “You don’t get it, Theodore! Other people may feel this way every once and a while, but,” I shove my finger into my chest harshly, “I feel this way all of the time!”

“Y/n?”

I turn to see Rebekah staring at me confused, and I quickly wipe the tears off my face. Rebekah’s face drops as she watches me and she instantly rushes towards me.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt,” She asks me look a mother coddling her child. 

I shrug her away and nod my head feeling numb again, “Fine. Don’t worry about it,” I look at Theo grab the keys out of my pocket, and throw them to him, “Drive yourself home. I’m going for a walk.”

I turn around and can hear them calling after me but I don’t turn around. 

—

Why the fuck did I walk?

Why the fuck did I throw a goddamn temper tantrum. 

God, can I be normal for five fucking seconds!??

These thoughts run through my head over and over again until I realize I’ve made it to the Salvatore house. Which is still about a 15-minute drive, or a one-hundred-hour walk to my house. Fuck me. 

I’m about to continue walking when a flash of red catches my eye. 

I eye the car that Stefan tried to kill me in for a moment and then shake my head, “No, I couldn’t.”

I take another few steps and then feel a cramp in my thigh. 

“Fuck it.”

—

I speed into my driveway and a laugh escapes my mouth.

I just stole a car. I JUST STOLE A FUCKING CAR.

I laugh to myself like a crazy person as I shift it into park and get out of it. I stand there admiring the stolen vehicle until I hear footsteps behind me.

“I see you’ve acquired a new vehicle,” Elijah smiles at me kindly and I fight the urge to punch him.

“I stole it,” I bite and walk past the Original and up my porch.

“Stole it?”

“Yup, stealing is when you take something that isn’t yours. Pick up a dictionary,” I snarl as I try to put my key into the lock but with my shaking hands I just keep missing.

Elijah is quiet for a moment before I feel him next to me, “Here,” He extends his hand, “Let me.”

I shake my head and keep trying, “Screw off.”

“Excuse me,” Elijah’s tone comes off as somewhat surprised and a little irritated. 

“Telling someone to screw off means they don’t want you around,” I mimic my tone from before and I hear Elijah sigh.

“You’re upset with me because of last night,” He says out loud as if it’s some fucking revelation. 

I finally get the key into the lock, unlock the door, and then open it. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I step inside and try to slam the door in his perfect face but it gets stopped by his perfectly polished designer shoe. 

“Elskan,” Elijah nudges the door open against my weight and I glare daggers at him.

“Stop calling me that,” I bite and he furrows his eyebrows. 

“Please, let me explain,” He tries to reason with me and I shake my head.

“There’s nothing to explain. If you think last night is the first time I’ve ever been let down by a man, you are horribly mistaken. Now leave me alone.”

Elijah's free hand doesn’t move from the door and I realize he’s holding a big white box with his other hand.

“I understand you’re mad at me. You have every right to be. I hate breaking my word, most importantly when it comes to you. I just hope you’ll listen to me now when I tell you how sorry I am,” He says earnestly and I glare at him.

“You’re sorry?”

Elijah nods, “I never intended to stand you up last night but there were…complications.”

I blink at him unimpressed, “Ya, you’re dead mother isn’t dead. Whoopty fucking doo.”

Elijah’s posture stiffens for a moment, “You know?”

“I’m the last one to find out it seems, but ya I do. So I’m sure mommy dearest wants you home for your little ball or whatever so why don’t you get off my porch and go home, Elijah Mikaelson,” I snarl his last name at him and he frowns.

“I understand you need some time to think,” Elijah nods his head and brings the white box up, and gestures for me to take it, “I’ll be at my family's ball tonight. I would be incredibly grateful if you would join me?”

I blink at his question and try to fight back any emotions other than anger. Elijah nods when he realizes he’s not going to get an answer right now and then places the box on the porch swing next to us.

“I hope to see you tonight,” Elijah gives me one last look before walking off the porch.

You won’t. 

—

He will. 

FUCKING THEODORE.

“I fucking hate you,” I glare at my little brother as I put on the stupid diamond necklace Elijah gifted me. 

Theo, who stands next to me in front of my mirror smirks, “You’ll thank me later.”

I shake my head as I struggle to latch the necklace, “Hell to the no.”

Theo tightens his tie and then rolls his eyes, “Whatever,” He shoots me a look and then laughs, “Here let me help you.”

I glare at him but still let him take the necklace and latch it behind my neck.

After he latches it Theo’s eyes stay on the huge diamond necklace that adorns my neck. 

“How much do you think that cost?”

I look at the huge statement diamond that hangs in the center of a dozen tinier diamonds holding the necklace together. I feel the weight of the diamonds, against my chest and cringe.

“Too much,” I look at the huge off-white gown that is encrusted with lace and crystals that I’m wearing and pinch the bridge of my nose, “This is all too much.”

Theo smirks and straightens out his black suit jacket, “Elijah may be a scary old vampire, but you got to give him some props,” He gestures to my dress, “The guys got great taste. And expensive too,” He points to the matching diamond bracelet on my left wrist, “After today you can pawn the necklace and bracelet, make bank, and then you and I hit Vegas.”

I turn and glare at my brother who smirks at me, “Not happening. We’re going to this stupid dance and then tomorrow morning I’m returning all of this crap and never talking to any of the Mikaelsons again.”

I watch Theo nod slowly and raise an eyebrow, “Rrrrrighttttt. Sure, okay. Um, how exactly do you plan on doing that? Also, I thought you and Rebekah were friends?���

I sit down on my bed and strap on the nude heels that were also in the huge white box that carried everything Elijah gave me.

“I’ll,” I stop and blow out a breath, “I’m going to….”

Theo snorts and nods, “Ya, you do that, nerd.”

With a huff, I stand up and take a step to grab my shawl but I let out a squeal when I trip over myself and bump into Theo.

Theo grabs my shoulders and pushes me upright and then dusts off his jacket, “Dude, walk much?”

I roll my eyes and throw my shawl over my shoulders, “I don’t wear heels!”

Theo purses his lips, “Cleary, hoe.”

I shoot him a glare, “Tell me why I’m letting you drag me to this again?”

Theo instantly smiles brightly at me and throws his arms over my shoulder pushing me down the hall, “Because you got personally invited by one of the hosts, and it would be rude to not go.”

I turn my head and shoot him a look and he smirks.

“Ok, maybe I don’t really care about him. But, come on! It’s a party and if we don’t go people will talk about how we were the only ones in town not invited!”

I shake my head as Theo opens the front door, “But we were invited?”

“Technically, you were invited. My invite must’ve gotten lost in transit,” He says confidently to himself, “And also people won’t know we were invited unless we go. And we need a night out. Too much shit has happened and we need fun.”

I go to argue but Theo shushes me.

“Nope. No complaining,” Theo then looks down at Stefan’s red car that is still sitting in our driveway, “Also, where the fuck did that come from?”

I cringe and close my eyes, “I kind of…stole it away from Stefan.”

I open my eyes and cringe as I look at my brother’s mad face.

“Are you serious?!”

I cringe at his yelling, “I’m sorry, okay? I was worked up and mad at the dick so I-”

“Bitch! I’m not mad at you for stealing the damn thing,” He gestures wildly at the car, “I’m mad that you stole a fucking car without ME!”

I blink and then shake my head, “I’m sorry. Next time I steal a motor vehicle, I’ll alert you first. Alright?”

Theo wipes a non-existent tear off his cheek and then nods, “Fine. But I get to drive there.”

I shake my head, “Hell to the no.”

“Oh, so you’re going to drive in those,” Theo asks and points to the heels I’m wearing and I frown.

“Fine. But, if you hit anything it’s on you.”

—

Theo hit 3 mailboxes. Ran a red light. The car no longer has a front fender. 

“Well,” Theo opens my car door for me and I step out shaking, “That was…fun.”

My eye twitches as I look at my brother furiously and outstretch my shaking hand. Theo doesn’t say anything but nods his head in defeat, placing the car keys in my palm. 

“Never again,” I growl.

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad,” I whip around to the car that now has no fender, a broken headlight, multiple dents, and an uncountable amount of scrapes, “Okay, ya. Never mind that one is on me.”

I close my eyes, take a deep breath in and out, and feel Theo grab my arm.

“But at least we look good as fuck. Our parent’s gene pools do it again,” Theo says happily and then stops and cringes, “Sorry.”

I shake my head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know… the fact that we don’t have the same father so your gene pool isn’t his gene pool,” Theo explains and I have to take another deep breath.

“Sarcasm, Theodore. I was being sarcastic.”

“Ohhhhh,” Theo nods and guides me up a huge staircase to the massive mansion that is covered in lights and beautiful decorations. 

We stop as we wait behind three rows of couples and I feel my hand start to shake.

“Hey, it’s all cool,” Theo smiles down at me and I wish for even a second I could believe him. 

“Next!”

Theo and I walk up to the security guard and he holds out his hand, “Invite?”

I look over to Theo expectantly and he does the same to me, “Please don’t tell me you left it at home?”

Theo shakes his head, “Bitch, it was your invite?!”

“But you’re the one that wanted to come!”

“Listen,” The guard catches our attention, “If neither of you have an invite I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” He says and points to the parking lot.

“Sir, my sister was personally invited by the Elijah Mikaelson,” Theo states and the guard rolls his eyes. 

“Ya, I’m sure she was,” He says sarcastically, “Now leave or I’ll have you escorted off the property.”

“That won’t be necessary,” A British voice says and I look up to see the light-brown-haired younger brother of Klaus and Elijah. Kol.

Theo shoots me a look, “Please tell me you didn’t bag, another one!”

I glare back at him, “Shut up!”

“They’re with me,” Kol tells the guard and reaches out an arm for me to take. 

I stare at him cautiously for a moment before I hear people behind me start to express their annoyance. 

With my free hand, I grab Kol’s right arm, while still holding on to Theo with my right arm. 

Kol smirks down at me as he leads Theo and me into a huge ballroom, brightly lit with candles and twinkling lights, “My family can be quite dramatic with these things,” I look up at him and try to not notice how attractive yet another Mikaelson sibling is, “But, with our whole family back together again, our mother thinks it calls for a celebration.”

“How rich are you guys,” Theo asks bluntly and I jab my elbow into his stomach.

Kol smirks at him, “Very rich.”

I hear Theo mutter something about rich bitches under his breath and I try to not laugh. 

“Thank you for helping us get in,” I say quietly to Kol and he shrugs.

“No worries. I thought I’d get to you first before the wolves descend,” He says nonchalantly but I can feel myself shake again at his words.

Kol must notice this because his eyebrows furrow, “Why are you doing that?”

I shake my head, “Doing what?”

Kol raises an eyebrow, “You’re shaking and your heartbeat is incredibly loud,” He says as if the noise annoys him.

“She has anxiety dickhead,” Theo bites at the vampire and I thrash my head over to my brother. 

“Theo! Don’t be a dick!”

Theo shrugs and eyes Kol, “He’s the one making you feel bad for something you can’t control. How are you a thousand years old and not know what anxiety looks like?”

I cringe in pain when I feel Kol’s grip tighten on my arm.

“Theo,” I pinch my brother’s arm, “Please go get us some drinks, non-alcoholic.”

Theo glares back at me like I’m crazy and quickly shakes his head, “No, I’m not leaving you alone. Definitely not with him,” He points at Kol and I inhale a quick breath.

I turn to look at Kol, who is looking at Theo as if he wants to rip him in two.

“Theo,” I bite harshly, “Go. Now.”

Theo’s expression drops as he turns his attention back towards me. He must noticed the nervous look on my face because he lets out a sigh and nods his head.

“Ok,” He looks at Kol once more, “I’ll be right back.”

I watch with bated breath as Theo walks away and disappears into the crowd.

“Friend of yours?”

Kol’s tense voice makes me tense. 

I turn and look at him and see the dark gleam in his eyes.

“My little brother,” I say equally as tense, “Try anything and I’ll steal one of those fancy daggers from your asshole brother and stab you myself.’’

Kol and I watch each other for a moment before he slits his eyes and hums, “If you were anyone else I’d rip your ribs out and stab you with them…but since I don’t want Nik or Elijah daggering me again and locking me away for another one hundred years,” He looks down at me and smirks, “You don’t have to worry about you coming to any harm from me.”

I stare at Kol with wide eyes and rip my arm out of his hold and he raises an eyebrow and smirks at my movement. 

“I notice you didn’t mention my brother in that,” I turn to stand and glare at him, “I may not be able to stab you myself but trust me when I say this, for some reason, Klaus and Elijah don’t like it when I’m upset and people who make me upset,” I pause and think back to Klaus threatening Stefan, “and someone harming my brother would really make me upset.”

Kol stares back at me and after a moment he nods, “If you keep this attitude up, you’ll fit in just fine with my family.”

I furrow my eyebrows, “I want nothing to do with your family.”

Kol smirks as if what I just said was the funniest thing he just heard, “Oh Darling, you don’t have any choice in the matter anymore. Fate’s already picked you.”

I shake my head confused, “What the hell is everyone talking about?! What the hell does fate have to do with anything and what the hell is a fucking soulmate?”

Kol’s eyes widen slightly, “Women never swore as much as you do before I was daggered.”

I glare at him and he laughs, “My brothers say I’m not allowed to tell you anything,” He pauses and shrugs, “Actually they said I’m not allowed to even approach you.”

I look at him and groan in frustration. 

“But when have I ever listened to what my brothers say,” I look up and find Kol smirking devilishly at me, “What do you want to know, Darling.”

I feel a weight lift off my shoulders at the idea of finally getting answers.

“What is a soulmate?”

Kol nods to a waiter passing by and grabs two glasses of champagne, he gestures for me to take one but I shake my head and he shrugs. Then he downs both of them.

“Let me give you the shortened version because I’m sure my brothers have already smelt you when you entered the house, so I’m sure they’ll be finding you soon,” Kol makes a show of looking around the room and then back to me, “Soulmates mean different things in different cultures…but, in your case soulmates mean someone who is bound to you forever. Someone who is a part of you, someone who is you.”

I shake my head not understanding what the hell he’s talking about. 

“There’s not much understanding behind what this means in the supernatural world. There’s been much speculation, but what I do know is that when we were turned, our souls were ripped out. That human part of us was taken away…but it had to go somewhere.”

I shake my head and laugh in denial, “So what, you’re saying that I have Klaus’ and Elijah’s souls in me?”

Kol sighs and taps his chin in thought, “Ya. Pretty much.”

I let out a laugh at his joke.

“That’s really funny. It's good to know you didn’t lose your humor while in your coffin,” I smirk.

My smirk starts to slowly fall though as Kol doesn’t laugh with me. 

No fucking way. 

“You’re not joking are you?”

Kol’s smirk drops, “I honestly wish I was, Darling. I wouldn’t wish that fate on my worst enemy.”

“Elskan?”

Of course.

At the sound of Elijah’s voice, I let out a sigh and turned to see Elijah pushing through a few guests to walk over to Kol and me. 

“Oh, fuck me,” I say under my breath and I hear Kol giggle.

“Don’t say that too loud, or my brother will take that as a request,” Kol gests and I stare wide-eyed at him which makes him laugh again. 

“I wasn’t sure if you would come,” Elijah says as he comes to stand in front of Kol and me. 

“I didn’t want to,” I say.

Kol laughs again and I see Elijah turn his attention to his younger brother, “Brother, it appears you’ve met the lovely Y/n Y/l/N.”

Kol throws a hand over my shoulder making me jump and cringe at the feeling of a stranger's touch, “Yes, we’re practically thick as thieves already.”

Elijah’s eyes darken and narrow as he looks at Kol’s hand that rests on my shoulder, “So it appears.”

I bite my lip as I wait for Elijah and Kol to be done with their glaring at one another. Or more like, Elijah glaring at Kol and the latter smirking. 

“Well,” I say interrupting them, “You two have fun…I’m going to go…anywhere else,” I turn to Kol who turns to me, “I would say it was nice to meet you Kol, but you are kind of weird.”

“Right back at you, Darling,” Kol says and smirks at me.

I don’t spare either man another glance as I try to push through the crowd away from them. 

“Y/n,” Elijah’s voice calls from behind me and I roll my eyes, “Please wait a moment.”

With a sigh, I stop and wait a moment for Elijah. It doesn’t take him but a moment to stand in front of me. 

“What?”

Elijah’s dark look is long gone and replaced with a smile, “You look positively breathtaking.”

I look away from him and nod, “Thanks. I mean you’re the one who picked out the dress so.”

“The dress, although beautiful, has nothing to do with the radiance that is you,” Elijah says as his eyes scour my face. 

I look at him and finally get to focus on just how attractive he looks right now. Y/n he always looks good. Shut up. He’s switched out his usual suit for a black tux that hugs his chest perfectly. His dark hair is styled expertly letting his beautiful face to be put on display.

“You don’t look horrible,” I shrug, “I guess.”

Elijah’s upper lip twitches and he nods, “Thank you, I think.”

Elijah and I stand staring at each other for a moment before he clears his throat.

“I’m glad you accepted my invitation to be my date,” Elijah smiles and uck in a breath.

“Sadly for you, my man,” I hear Theo’s voice come up from behind me, “She’s actually my date.”

I let out a sigh as I feel Theo wrap his arm around my arm and tug me towards him. 

I watch Elijah’s eyes narrow for a moment before he gives Theo a strained smile, “And you are?”

Theo smirks and puffs out his chest, “Theo Y/L/N. Pleasure,” He eyes Elijah, “I’m sure.”

I see the wheels turning in Elijah’s head and his shoulders seem to untense. 

“You’re Y/n’s younger brother. Am I correct?”

At Elijah’s question, Theo nods his head, “The one and only. And let me guess,” He puts his free hand on his hip, “You’re the man who showed up on my doorstep this morning begging my sister to not kick him to the curb. Am I correct?”

I stare wide-eyed at Theo in disbelief, and then back to Elijah.

The Original stares at my brother for a moment and I wait for the backlash.

“That would be me, Theodore,” Elijah smiles, and I raise an eyebrow, “But, I‘m not so sure what your sister has decided to do with me. At least not yet.”

Theo whips around to me, “Well? What are you going to do with him?”

My eyes widen and I switch my attention from Theo to Elijah, who also looks expectant on an answer. 

“Um,” I look between the two men and freeze. 

Thankfully, someone entering through the door pulls our attention. 

Not someone. Caroline. 

Caroline is wearing a light blue gown that makes her look just like Cinderella and beautiful as always. 

“Um, I’m going to go see Caroline,” I turn away from the two men and quickly begin to walk towards my blonde friend. For a moment I think she sees me as her eyes focus on something, but when I follow her gaze behind me I see her staring at…Klaus. 

Oh. 

Klaus, who looks absolutely earth-shattering, turns his attention from Caroline towards me and I feel my heart drop. The enlightened look on his face, the look he had when looking at Caroline, drops when he sees me. The blank look on his face makes a burning start in the back of my eyes and I quickly divert them from him.

With Elijah behind me and Klaus to my right, I quickly book it to my left, through a doorway, and run down a hall. 

I run until I meet a dark brown door and I throw it open and go inside. As soon as I close the door I lean my head against it, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. 

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” A British voice says.

“Fucking Brits,” I groan out and turn around.

The other Mikaelson sibling, Finn I believe, stands before me. His once long hair is cut shorter and he’s wearing a suit that matches his brothers. 

“You’re Finn,” I say and he narrows his eyes at me.

“Yes and you’re the soulmate,” He says annoyed.

I eye him and he eyes me.

 What the hell is up with the Mikaelson siblings and glaring? 

“Is this your room?”

Finn eyes me for another moment before nodding, “Yes.”

I nod and then wring my shaking hands together, “I’m sorry for barging in. I just… I couldn’t be out there. Around so many people.”

He doesn’t say anything and I nod, “I’ll leave. I’m sorry.”

I turn around and grab the handle.

“Wait,” Finn’s voice calls to me and I turn around, “You can stay. Just don’t touch anything.”

I look at Finn and then nod, “I won’t. Thank you.”

I slowly walk towards a couch and sit down careful not to rip my dress. I look up to Finn, who is standing in the corner of the room looking more awkward than I feel.

“Do you want to sit with me,” I ask gesturing to the other couch across from me. 

Finn looks up at me suspiciously and then shakes his head, “I shouldn’t. Mother wants me out with the others,” Finn says and then walks towards the door. 

“I’m sorry,” I say to him before he can open it. 

I see him stop, “You already apologized.”

I shake my head, “Not about barging in…About what your siblings did to you.”

I see Finn’s shoulders instantly tense up and he turns around with a glare on his face, “You have no idea what my siblings did to me.”

I reposition uncomfortably and then shrug, “I know that they left you in a coffin for almost your entire life or at least that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve never been daggered by one of my family members but…I recently was betrayed by some of my family,” I open and then close my mouth thinking of what to say, “So I just…I guess I know what it’s like to feel betrayed.”

Finn’s eyes drop and he looks away from me. I take a deep breath and then turn back to look at my hands. I wait for Finn to either leave or kill me for speaking out of turn. What I didn’t expect though was for him to walk over to the other couch and place himself on it with a sigh.

We sit in silence for a moment before he sighs again, “I don’t blame you for not wanting to be out there,” He looks behind me towards the door, “It’s too loud.”

I nod and then realize just how much worse it probably is for him than me. 

“This must be a lot for you,” I say and play with the diamond bracelet I’m wearing,

“Being away from civilization for so long, and now you have to get used to everything. I wouldn’t want to attend a party either.’’

Finn looks up at me and his face contorts into one of confusion, “You’re peculiar.”

I let out a low laugh, “Trust me, I know. Pretty much everyone does,” I say and take a sigh. 

Finn eyes me oddly for a moment, “What do you mean?”

I shrug, “I’m not a very popular person. At all. For some reason, people don’t like to be around me much. Not even my family it seems.”

I feel my face warm up at the embarrassment I feel for spilling all that to a stranger.

“You’re not the only one that feels that way,” Finn says breaking me out of my embarrassment. 

I look up to Finn and for a moment it’s like looking in a mirror. The sad look in his eyes is one I’ve seen one too many times when looking in my own mirror. 

“You’re not what I was expecting,” Finn says as he leans back onto the couch. 

I frown, “What do you mean?”

Finn eyes me, “You’re my brother’s soulmate. They’re both cruel and monstrous…yet you’re, peculiar.” 

I shake my head, “What does that have to do with Elijah or Klaus?” Finn nods his head, “They said you don’t know anything about your soul bond,” He says to himself, “With souls being connected, the soulmates usually share personality qualities…yet you don’t seem monstrous like either one of my brothers.”

At his continuing insult to Klaus and Elijah, tension builds in my shoulders, “Then you haven’t seen me in the morning,” I joke but Finn doesn’t seem to get it. Or doesn’t find it funny, “Klaus and Elijah don’t seem that horrible. I mean ya they do bad things but, if anyone were alive for one thousand years then I’m sure they would also pile up their own bad deeds.”

Finn seems to be annoyed by my answer as he huffs and goes to stand up.

“Do you have a soulmate?”

Finn stops moving in his tracks and instantly looks at me, “Why are you asking?”

I shrug my shoulders, “I don’t know…Just wondering.”

Finn seems like he’s not going to say anything, but at least he sits back down.  

“I think once I did,” Finn’s voice comes out so quietly I have to lean forward to hear him.

“Before you were daggered?” Finn doesn’t meet my eyes but he nods, “Sage. Her name was Sage.”

I frown at his saddened voice, “You loved her?”

I sad smile forms on Finn’s face, “I did,” He pauses, “I do.”

I feel my heart breaking for the man before me.

“Was she human?”

Finn frowns, “She was. Until she had me turn her so we could be together,” He pauses and takes a shaky breath, “I was daggered shortly after.”

“And what happened to her?”

Finn’s jaw tightens, “Well, it was over 900 years ago…I’m sure she’s…”

I nod, sadly, “Right.”

We sit in solemn silence for a moment before an idea comes to me, “How are you so sure,” Finn looks up at me confused, “That she’s dead.”

Finn shakes his head, “She has to be.”

I shake my head as well, “Finn, it was 900 years ago. She would be incredibly strong, one of the strongest vampires to date. I would be surprised if she wasn’t alive and if she truly loved you, I think she would’ve waited for you.”

Finn looks at me and I can see the wheels turning in his head but he still shakes his head, “It’s not possible.”

I laugh, “Dude, werewolves, vampires, and witches exist. Nothing is short of impossible here.”

Finn stops shaking his head, “Even if she was…there’s no way I could find her.”

I stay quiet for a moment until an idea comes to my mind, “I have a friend. She’s a witch, a really good witch. Maybe…I could ask her and we could find her. All three of us.”

Finn stares at me for a long moment. 

“Why would you do that? Why would you do that, for me?”

I give Finn a soft smile, “I’m kind of peculiar.”

Finn’s solemn face changes for the first time since I’ve seen him. His sorrowful eyes look almost…hopeful now.

“I’d appreciate that. Greatly.”

Finn and I smile at one another until the door opening makes me jump.

“Finn,” A feminine voice says and I turn and see a blond older woman.

“Mother,” Finn instantly jumps up.

“Mother?!”

I jump up shocked and stare at the older woman who eyes me, kind of nastily. 

“What is going on here,” She asks Finn suspiciously and he pauses. 

“Um, Mrs. Mikaelson,” I say and she goes back to eyeing me, “Hey, Y/n,” I point to myself, “Finn and I were just discussing new-age technology. I heard he’s new to this era so I thought me and I could chat about it.”

I turn to Finn, “This was a good chat. Let’s meet…tomorrow. We can discuss how to send text messages.”

Finn eyes me oddly like he doesn’t know what the hell I’m talking about, but he still nods. 

“Great! Well,” I turn back to his mother, “Pleasure to meet you…I guess. I’ll be leaving now. Bye, Finn!”

I quickly speed-walk past both of them and exit the room. I close the door and take a deep breath. 

“Y/n?”

“Oh come on!”

I turn around to see Rebekah walking towards me. Just like all other Mikeaslons, she looks absolutely gorgeous. The green dress she’s wearing matches perfectly with her blonde long hair. 

“Are you alright?”

I nod and start to walk by her back to the party, “Peachy. Just happened to run into your mother. Tense lady.”

Rebekah walks up next to me and smiles, “Yes, my mother is an acquired taste. Don’t let her get to you though, you’re a part of this family.”

I shake my head viscously, “No I am not.”

“Yes you are,” She says as we enter the ballroom. An incredibly crowded ballroom. 

“Literally, am not.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Rebekah laughs. 

We both watch the crowd of people dance, laugh, and talk. 

“My brother has been looking for you,” She says and I groan.

“Ya? Which one?”

Rebekah smirks, “Elijah, and Nik.”

“Well, I don’t want to see either one.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Rebekah smirk, “Unluckily for you, I don’t think you have a choice,” At her tone, I look over to her and she nods her head to her left.

I follow her eyeline and let out another groan at the sight of Elijah making his way over to us. 

“God it’s like he has a tracker on me,” I say sarcastically.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past either of them,” Rebekah replies. 

We both watch as Elijah approaches us with a content smile, “Good evening, ladies,” Elijah says with his perfect accent, “Rebekah, mother wants us on the staircase,” Elijah turns his attention towards his younger sister and she rolls her eyes.

“Fine,” Rebekah says sarcastically then turns to me, “It was lovely to talk to you, Y/n. We’ll chat soon.”

I nod silently and watch as she walks towards the staircase. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” Elijah’s voice makes me close my eyes.

“Doesn’t mommy want you on that staircase?”

Elijah’s jaw tenses and he rolls his shoulders, “Behave, Elskan.”

I purse my lips, “Don’t tell me what to do, Suit and Tie.”

Elijah’s tense expression lightens, “Suit and Tie?”

I shrug, “You have a nickname for me. I think it’s only fair I have one for you, as well.”

“Suit and tie,” Elijah says to himself as if he’s seeing how it sounds, “Hmm. It���ll need work, but it’s fine for now.”

I fight back a smirk at his words, “Fine. I’ll workshop it.”

Elijah and I stand there for a moment and I feel his gaze on me the entire time. 

“What did you and my younger brother talk about,” Elijah asks with a hint of skepticism in his voice. 

“Oh, nothing,” I look at my nails as if I’m bored, “Just the fact that I supposedly have your and Klaus’ human souls in me.”

I smirk as I watch Elijah instantly tense up, “My brother was told not to talk to you about that.”

“Well, no one else wanted to keep their word and talk with me about it. So, I’m glad he did,” I cringe, “Actually…I’m not sure. I still have no idea what the hell is going on.”

Elijah nods, “Once again…I apologize that I was unable to make it last night. You should’ve heard that from me and not from…Kol,” He says the name and I can clearly tell how pissed off he is at his younger brother right now. 

“But I did,” I harshly say, “And I still don’t have any clue what to make of it. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Elijah sighs, “I know, Y/n. And I promise you, that I will tell you everything you want to know,” His eyes travel behind me and he sighs, “Right after I deal with my family.”

I nod, “Elijah, your promises don’t mean anything until you start living up to them.”

Elijah sends me a saddened smile and nods, “And I look forward to doing that.”

I nod and with a final smile, Elijah walks up a grand staircase to meet his siblings. 

“Uh, if everyone could gather, please,” Elijah addresses the crowd of people standing below him and his family. 

As I gaze at each Mikaelson sibling I can’t help but hate them all for how hot they all are. Like seriously, the most supernatural thing in this town is this family's good looks.

Elijah stands before his family, confident and strong; Below him, walking up the stairs, Finn stands with a scowl on his face. Even with the scowl, no one could deny how attractive the eldest brother is; Rebekah who stands behind Finn is a bright light compared to her brother’s darker exteriors; Kol who stands at the top step chugging his bottle of champagne looks so boyishly handsome it could make even the most confident girl blush; and last Klaus. The bitch-ass hybrid stands in the middle of all his siblings as if nonverbally telling all of us looking up at them that he’s the one that deserves their utmost attention and respect. 

As if he could read my thoughts, the bastard’s eyes trail to me. The calculative look on his face doesn’t change as he stares down at me and I don’t care enough to hide the glare I know I have on my face. 

“Welcome,” Elijah’s voice calls my attention once again and I trail my eyes away from Klaus to his older brother, “Thank you for joining us. You know, whenever my mother,” Elijah gestures to the older blonde woman making her way down the steps and I hate to say it but she’s also pretty hot. A shitty fucking person, but pretty hot, “brings our family together like this, it’s a tradition for us to commence the evening with a dance. Tonight’s pick is a centuries-old waltz so if all of you could please find yourselves a partner,” Elijah’s eyes land right on me as he talks, “Please join us in the ballroom.”

I debate on running away before anyone can ask me to dance but as I watch Elijah practically hop down the steps, dodge women trying to ask for his hand, all while having his eyes stuck on me I can’t help but only try to fight back the grin on my face. 

“Elskan,” Elijah gives me a smile that makes me want to curl up into a ball and scream, “I would be ever so delighted if you would join me for this dance.”

I look at Elijah’s outstretched hand and cringe, “I can’t dance. Let alone, Waltz.”

Elijah smiles blissfully, “Then let me show you.”

I bite my lip thoughtfully as I stare at him for a moment before relenting, “Fine,” I point at him, “But if I step on your fancy designer shoes I don’t want any complaining.”

Elijah’s smile doesn’t change as he chuckles, “I’d happily have all of my shoes ruined by you if it meant I’d never have to have a different dance partner again.”

I roll my eyes, trying to hide the fact that his words are making me lowkey freak the fuck out. So all I do is place my hand in his and let him lead me to the dance floor where other couples are lined up. 

“I’m going to fall and make a fool out of myself” I whisper to myself as “Give Me Love” By Ed Sheeran starts playing.

“I’d never let you fall,” Elijah leans down and whispers in my ear and I gaze up to him.

“You’re pretty slick with your words. Y’know that right,” I joke and he shrugs.

“I’ve been told this once or twice,” He squeezes my hand and I’m glad the music is so loud because if it wasn’t I’d be sure every vampire in this room could hear how loud my heart was pounding.

Elijah guides me forward as the music starts and I try to copy the woman in front of me as she glides forwards. We turn forward, directly in front of Theo who is dancing with Mayor Lockwood and I let out a small snort. The glare on my little brother’s face shows that he doesn’t seem to find it as funny as me. 

“Wait,” I look over to Elijah only to find it already looking at me, “You said whenever your mother brings your family together you have a dance… that crazy lady has been dead for 1,000 years.”

Elijah smirks at my observation, “A little white lie never hurt anyone.”

I roll my eyes, “Says the man who can’t die.”

Elijah squeezes my hand and without warning he twirls me. Being caught off guard I trip forward but thankfully Elijah pulls me back into him and I grab onto his chest.

“See, I told you I wouldn’t let you fall,” Elijah, who stands a breath away from me, smiles.

“I hate dancing,” I say exhausted.

Elijah looks over to the other couples for a moment and I do the same. 

Elena and Damon are three couples away, engaged in whatever drama is paining them today. Rebekah and Matt are next to them, and I can’t help but admit how pretty they would be as a couple. My eyes continued trailing over other couples randomly; I stop when my eyes catch the light blue of Caroline’s dress. 

Caroline stands holding onto Klaus as they twirl around. They appear to be in the middle of a conversation and for some reason, all I want right now is to know what the hell they could possibly be talking about. I’d also like to know why the hell he invited her. I didn’t understand him. The man who one day grips my thigh like it’s his life source and the next won’t even spare me a glance. 

I feel Elijah squeeze my hand and I instantly feel horrible for thinking about another man while in his arms. 

“What’s plaguing your thoughts, my love?”

The nickname has me choking on my saliva, only making Elijah smirk. 

“You’ve really got to pick one nickname and keep with it,” I say trying to act more annoyed than flustered. 

“I’ve waited for you for too long to have my feelings confined to just one word.”

All reservations I had are now off the table as I stare wide-eyed at the man in front of me. 

“Elijah…I,” I start but then a tightness in his lower jaw stops me.

“I’m sorry, Elskan. We have to change partners now. But, I promise we will continue this discussion,” Elijah says and with a pained look, he twirls me. 

I’m twirling until a strong hand on my lower back stops me, “Hello again, Darling.”

I raise an eyebrow at the youngest Mikaelson brother, “Hello, Kol.”

Kol seems to be delighted with my lack of enthusiasm as he swings me in his arms. Where Elijah kept a tight hold on me, Kol seems to have more enjoyment in flinging me around the dance floor. 

“So I’ve been thinking,” Kol says thoughtfully and I roll my eyes.

“Here we go.”

Kol rolls his own eyes at my comment but still continues, “So you need protecting, and I don’t want to end up with another dagger in my chest. So…we should team up.”

I frown at his words, “Who do I need protecting from? And why do you think I could stop you from getting daggered?”

Kol looks at me like I’m stupid, “Darling, please tell me you’re smarter than this.”

At my silence, Kol closes his eyes and sighs, “Bloody hell.”

Kol shakes his head, “Alright, you’re important to my brothers. This means their enemies are going to be coming after you; hence why you need protection. And to answer your other question…I’m willing to bet another one hundred years of my life daggered that if you were to bat those pretty y/e/c eyes at either one of my brothers they would move mountains to make you happy. So…”

At Kol’s expectant look, I nod in understanding, “If I tell them I don’t want you daggered…”

Kol nods happily, “Then I’ll stay handsome and perfectly unharmed.”

I consider about Kol’s words.

“You may have Elijah and Klaus’ protection,” Kol’s eyes go behind me to where Theo is dancing with Rebekah, “But your little brother doesn’t.”

I look at Theo who is currently talking a mile a minute with a smiling Rebekah. 

“Fine. You have a deal. You protect me, and more importantly, Theo, and I’ll back up. I don’t think Elijah or especially Klaus care enough to listen to me but I’ll try.”

Kol smirks devilishly but then frowns, “You’re joking right,” He must notice my confusion because he continues, “Bloody hell, you really don’t see how they look at you?”

I shake my head and Kol nudges his head to his left and I catch Elijah watching us with an intense look. I quickly look back to Kol and he raises an eyebrow.

“See?”

I shake my head, “Okay…maybe Elijah and I are friends…but Klaus doesn’t give a damn about me.”

Kol’s mouth drops open and I loud laugh escapes his throat, “Bloody hell, luv. You really are oblivious,” Kol shakes his head, “Let me just say this…I’ve never seen my bastard of a brother look at anyone the way he looks at you. It may not register in that thick skull of yours but it’s true. This whole world could be burning down and my brother would not let a single flame come near you,” Kol shrugs, “He probably was the one who started the fire but what I say still stands.”

I stare at the youngest brother with my mouth hung open and he laughs, “I’ve enjoyed trying to knock some sense into, Little Doll. We shall talk more about our deal later on… Good luck,” He smirks evilly, and without a moment for me to say anything back he thrusts me into another pair of strong arms. 

A strong masculine smell of something woodsy enters my nose and I breathe it in with a sigh. 

“I didn’t know if you were going to show,” That British voice that I know so well enters my ears and I let out a growl.

“Of course, it’s you,” I open my eyes to find myself in Klaus’ arms. 

Klaus gazes down at me and I shoot a glare at Kol who isn’t looking at me but has a smirk on his face, “That fucker.”

“Many people have the same reaction when it comes to my little brother,” Klaus says with a smirk and I just glare at him.

I turn away from him, look to my side, and watch the other couples dance around us. 

“Don’t ignore me,” Klaus’ rough voice calls to me and I turn to glare at him.

“I don’t care enough about you to even care about ignoring you. Let’s just get this stupid dance over with,” I bite and he glares back at me. 

“Fine with me,” He growls back.

“Good.”

“Good.”

We both huff and continue glaring at each other until his eyes fall down to my chest.

“Where is it?”

I glance down at my chest and shake my head at him annoyed, “Where the hell is what?”

“Your necklace,” He insists, “Where is it?”

I look down at my diamond necklace and then back up to him, “Are you blind? I’m wearing it.”

Klaus growls under his breath, “Not that one. The wolf one.”

I lean back in surprise momentarily, “Why do you care?”

“Because I want you to wear it,” He says as if it was obvious. 

“Why the fuck would you want me to…” I stop talking when the answer hits me like a truck. 

“It was…” I release my hands from his quickly and grasp my neck, “It was from you wasn’t it?”

Klaus tries taking a step towards me but with every step he takes I take one back. 

“Don’t come near me,” I shake my head and feel my breathing picking up. 

I quickly run through the couples dancing, not caring about messing up this stupid dance as I run through the doors and out into a low-lit garden. 

I run a hand through my hair taking out the little pins I had holding my hairstyles together and let my hair flow freely. I kick off my stupid heels and throw myself onto the grass, the cold ground calming my hot skin. 

I close my eyes letting out a deep breath and lay down, resting my head on the ground. I look above me to the bright moon overhead and the stairs that surround it. A wave of sadness washes through me as I look at it. I’d always related to the moon. Always felt like she and I were the same. Alone, even though they were surrounded by so many others. The brightly lit stars had each other, thousands of them to hold on to one another, but there was only one moon. Where the stars had their own light and color, the moon only shone because it had the sun shining on it. 

I close my eyes and let a small tear fall down my face. As I’m laying there I feel a warmth come next to me and place itself on the ground beside me. I don’t have to open my eyes to recognize who the owner of the woodsy scent is. 

“When I was a boy,” Klaus’ low voice fills my ears, “My father would beat me for never being the way he wanted. I could never hold a sword the right way, couldn’t hunt enough animals, I wasn’t man enough in his eyes. Even though I was surrounded by siblings, I never truly felt like one of them,” Klaus stops for a moment and I open my eyes to look at him. To my slight surprise, he was lying right beside me on the grass, his left arm lifted under his head and his eyes staring straight up at the sky, “The only time I felt like I belonged was when it was just myself and the moon. I’d spent most of my boyhood cowering, but…whenever I gazed up at the moon, I felt as though I was something greater. Better. It’s been over a thousand years and I still gaze up at her, remembering how that scared little boy held onto it like a lifeline.”

Klaus stops talking and we lay there together, staring up at the moon.

“I’ve been alone a long time,” I say softly and I can see him turn his head out of the corner of my eye, “When I was little, maybe 8 or 9 I’d cry to my mother asking her why none of the other kids wanted to be around me. She’d just tell me it was because I was too mature for them. I never really believed her though. When I was 10, my father started drinking,” I let out a sigh as the words came out of my mouth, “He’d get angry when he drank. He’d swear at me and my mother and do other stuff. He’d tell me that I deserved to be alone. That people like me…there’s something wrong with people like me. That went on for a few years before my father finally decided that starting a whole new family sounded like a better idea than being with his first one. He may have left but his words didn’t. My mother at first told me that what he was saying wasn’t true. That “hurt people, hurt people.” But as I got older and saw that everyone around me seemed to find their places with each other, and I couldn’t ever seem to fit in, I started to realize that maybe my…father… was right. It wasn’t up until about a year or so ago that I began to be one with the loneliness. Or at least I like to tell myself that. When Elena came around I saw it almost as a threat to myself. To what I was used to. Why, after 17 years did someone finally decide to see me? Having friends now makes me feel like a hungry dog. I got a taste of what it felt like to be fed, but it doesn’t seem to be good enough for me. That’s why it’s better for me to ruin anything that can have a hold on me…Even if it can take away that hunger.”

Klaus is silent for a moment and so am I.

“After I turned…the moon wasn’t the only thing that kept away the loneliness,” Klaus says and I turn my head to gaze at him and he turns him to gaze at me, “You were.”

I furrow my eyebrows, “What are you talking about?”

Klaus reaches a hand up and runs a finger along my face as if he’s memorizing every aspect of it.

“At first it was just glimpses. Colors. Almost like a memory that didn’t belong to me. But every night as I’d dream the images would get clearer. Until one night I was staring into the most exquisite y/e/c I’d ever seen. I didn’t know who they belonged to yet. But for the first time in my life, I felt seen. I’m a monster who has done monstrous things, but yet these eyes looked at me like none of that mattered. Like I had finally been accepted, monstrous bits and all. So every morning when I awoke I’d draw them. And every night I’d dream of them. It wasn’t for another 300 years that I would learn that the eyes belonged to the human part of my soul. And when I found that out, I was angry. Furious even. I hated the thought that the only way someone would ever look at me like I was deserving of being understood was if they were a direct result of me.”

Klaus stops and I can practically hear my heartbeat thumping. 

“So I burnt the pictures. Hid anything that reminded me of those eyes and hoped to never come across them for the rest of my eternity. And for 1,108 years I had accomplished that…until one Friday afternoon, in a tiny high school where I locked eyes with that y/e/c. And everything I’d work for became nothing. It was like I was seeing everything for the first time. I was once again that little boy running from himself begging for someone to save him. Because I knew the longer I looked into those y/e/c eyes, the sooner I was doomed.”

Klaus grabs my chin and makes me look into his eyes, “You, Y/n Y/l/n have doomed for me for an eternity,” His eyes search mine, “And no matter how much I try to fight it, fight you, I can’t help but spend every waking moment hoping for you. Hoping for my promised destruction.”

I stare wordlessly at the man in front of me. I keep opening my mouth and closing it but I can’t seem to find the right words. 

“I think I’m going to have a panic attack,” I sit upright quickly and clench my chest. I hear Klaus sit up next to me and clutch my shoulders.

“Y/n, just breathe,” He soothes and I think I am having a stroke because what the actual fuck is happening right now.

“I’m so confused.”

Klaus brushes my hair away from my face, “I know this must be hard for you. I didn’t plan on telling you like this…I actually didn’t plan on telling you at all. But when I saw that anger on your face,” he pauses, “Anger that was directed at me, for the first time in my life I felt sick. So I needed to tell you, that even if you may hate me…I could never hate you. And for as long as I live, you will never be alone again.”

I feel tears brim my eyes as I look over and up to him and shake my head, “If you feel this way then why did you invite Caroline? Clearly, you don’t feel the way you say,” I try to deny.

Klaus’s expression darkens, and he once again grabs my chin. “Do not for a moment try to tell me how I feel about you. The only reason I invited your blonde friend was because Elijah had already claimed you as his date. You can also ask your blonde friend, but the entire night all I did was ask her questions about you. I heard she can’t keep a secret for her life and so I picked her brain about you. If my older brother hadn’t gotten to you first…you would’ve been with me tonight.”

I try to process what he just said and I feel a panic attack come on, “I…I…but…I,” I continue shaking my head as I stand up and Klaus follows, “You and Elijah are just playing some sick joke on me right? As a way to get back at Elena? Mess with the mentally ill non-verbal best friend. Get her to hate herself for getting all flustered over two brothers! Fucking brothers!”

“I can assure you, Elskan. That is not the case,” I whip around to see Elijah walking down the steps into the garden. 

I rub a hand over my face and start walking around in a circle as the two brothers stand next to one another, watching. 

“I mean, come on! You guys have to see how crazy this is right? I mean what kind of whore gets feelings for brothers!”

Klaus and Elijah’s faces darkened and I hear Klaus release a low growl.

“Dont. Ever. Call yourself a whore,” Elijah takes a step forward and continues speaking with a deadly tone, “My brother has said his peace to you, and in due time I will as well. But don’t for a moment think that you should hate yourself for something that fate has put in front of you.”

I continue to stand there like a fish out of water, not knowing what the hell to say next. Thankfully, my saving grace comes in the form of a loud crashing sound coming from upstairs, capturing our attention. 

“Shouldn’t we go check that out,” I point up with a shaking hand. 

“Don’t for a second think that we won’t be discussing this further,” Elijah informs me and I have to fight back the weird feeling in my chest at his commanding tone. 

I nod and Elijah comes towards me and reaches out a hand for me to take. Klaus steps forward and does the same. I stare at both of their hands and swallow my doubts as I place a hand in each and let them guide me upstairs towards the front door where my friends and their siblings are standing. 

I quickly drop my hands from theirs as Elena turns towards me. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem she saw anything as she sends me a small smile. 

Damon stands above Kol’s dead body with an enraged look. 

“Fucking idiot,” I mutter.

“You’ve got that right,” My little brother says as he comes to stand next to me. 

Damon looks over all of us before landing his eyes on me, “Pukey, we’re leaving,” Damon’s tone is harsh but something in his eyes makes my heart tug.

“She is not going anywhere with you,” Elijah says with a dark voice that has everyone looking at him. 

I shake my head, “It’s ok,” I turn to Theo and hand him my *Stefan’s* car keys, “I’ll see you at home, okay?”

Theo looks at me like I’ve got two heads but still nods.

I look over to where Klaus and Elijah are practically seething and sigh.

“Let’s go, Freak,” I run over to Damon and grab his arm leading him away from everyone and out into the parking lot. 

As soon as we’re out of sight from everyone I see Damon’s shoulders instantly drop and I turn to glare at him.

“You’ve seriously got the worst survival instinct, of anyone I’ve ever met,” I say with a hand on his hip.

“I’m never going to be the one,” Damon lets out with a shaky sigh and I instantly drop my disappointed mother act. 

“What happened?”

I take a step closer to him and he shakes his head.

“Elena.”

I take a deep sigh and nod, “Of course.”

Damon lifts his head to look at me, “You look like how I feel,” He says trying to be sarcastic but I can hear the pain in his voice.

“I’ve had a rough night too, my friend. Movie night at yours,” I question as I wrap my arm around his, and his upper lip twitches.

“You called me your friend.”

I roll my eyes and let him lead me to his car, “Shut up.”

[stlllle]

“At My Mercy”

--

Character: Min-su (Round 6)

Pairing: Min-su x fem!reader

Genre: Smut / sub!Min-su / masturbation control

Word count: ~4.2k

⚠️ Warnings:

Sub!Min-su, masturbation (reader jerking him off), reader sitting behind him while teasing, hair pulling, cock slapping, overstimulation, whimpering, begging, dirty talk, light dom/sub dynamic, possessiveness, praising & degrading mix, needy sub behavior.

--

Author's notes:

My requests are open in case you wanna ask me for something 😛 Masterlist –[link]

The room was dim, only the weak light of the bedside lamp painting shadows on the walls. The air hung thick, heavy with the remnants of tension that had been brewing between you all night.

Min-su sat at the edge of the bed, shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned, his breathing uneven.

You stood behind him, watching the way his shoulders rose and fell, the way his fingers fidgeted in his lap.

“Look at you,” you murmured, leaning down so your lips brushed his ear. “All worked up already and I haven’t even touched you properly.”

A shiver ran through him.

“Y-you drive me fucking crazy,” he whispered, voice tight.

You smirked.

“Good. That’s the idea.”

Without warning, you slipped onto the bed behind him, legs spread so he sat between them, your thighs pressing against his hips. One hand tangled in his dark hair, yanking his head back so he was forced to look up at the ceiling.

“Mine.”

“Y-yours,” he gasped, already melting.

Your free hand slid down his stomach, fingertips dancing over the waistband of his jeans. His cock was straining, flushed, leaking against his lower abdomen. The sight made your mouth water.

“Poor baby. You’ve been aching for this all night, haven’t you?”

“Y-yeah… please…”

“Pathetic,” you chuckled, hand closing around his cock.

The sound that came out of him was a broken, needy whimper. His thighs tensed under your legs, his head falling back onto your shoulder.

You started slow, stroking him lazily, the slick of precum making your hand glide easily. He was so hard it must’ve hurt.

“F-fuck, fuck—“

“You like this, hm? Having me jerk you off while you sit here, knowing you can’t do a damn thing about it?”

He moaned, nodding frantically.

“Use your words, Min-su.”

“I—I love it… f-feels so fucking good, please don’t stop…”

You grinned, tightening your grip just enough to make him whimper.

Then you gave his cock a light slap.

He jolted.

“Oh fuck—!”

“God, you’re so sensitive,” you teased, giving him another slap, watching the tip drip.

Your other hand tugged his hair harder, exposing his throat.

“Bet you’d let me ruin you right here in front of everyone if I wanted, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yeah… yes, I would… fuck—“

You stroked him faster, your palm twisting just under the head, making him cry out.

“Good boy.”

He sobbed out a moan, hips twitching, desperate to thrust into your hand.

“Ah ah, don’t you dare move. Stay still, or I stop.”

Min-su whimpered, fists clenching the sheets.

“Please, I’m—I’m so close already, I c-can’t—“

You pressed a soft kiss to his temple.

“You’ll hold it. I didn’t say you could come.”

“Please, please, I’ll do anything—“

You chuckled darkly, giving him a hard slap on the tip.

He cried out, a tear escaping.

“Look at this, fucking mess over a handjob. Didn’t even need to fuck you, baby.”

His head fell back again, panting.

“M-make me yours, I don’t care, please just—“

You sped up your strokes, your grip firm and merciless, the wet sounds of his cock obscene in the quiet room.

His breathing turned erratic, his body trembling.

“C-can I—please—please, let me—“

You bit his earlobe.

“Beg prettier.”

“Please… please let me come, I’m yours, I’ll do anything, I swear, I love you—fuck, please—“

That was enough.

“Good boy. Come for me.”

He came with a broken sob, hot and thick over your hand, his body convulsing against yours.

You kept stroking him through it, making him twitch and cry out as overstimulation kicked in.

“F-fuck, t-too much, I—oh fuck—“

“Take it. You’re not done until I say so.”

Another weak moan, his cock throbbing painfully in your hand.

You finally slowed, massaging him through the aftershocks, pressing soft kisses to his temple.

“Good job, baby. So good for me.”

Min-su melted completely against you, his head on your shoulder, face flushed, hair damp.

“Love you,” he mumbled, exhausted.

You smiled, stroking his hair.

“I know. You’re mine, pretty boy.”

“Always.”

---

End.

[hannahsturniolo]

ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴍᴇ

Summary: you get your nails done, and can’t please yourself, so your best friend Chris helps you out.

Warnings: smut, clit stimulation, fwb?

WC: 1.4K

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You were curled up on the couch next to your best friend Chris, a half eaten bowl of popcorn between you, some mindless movie playing in the background. But you hadn’t been paying attention for the last twenty minutes. Your new set of long, sharp nails looked amazing. But they were driving you crazy for all the wrong reasons.

You shifted in your seat, squeezing your thighs together subtly, trying to ease the ache building inside you. Chris glanced over, eyes dropping to your hands.

“Damn, those are nice,” he said, lifting your hand to inspect the design. “I like this color on you.”

You let out a small, exasperated laugh.

“What?” he asked, smiling. “Why are you laughing?”

You shook your head, looking away. “Nothing..it’s just been frustrating.”

He raised a brow. “Frustrating how?”

You hesitated. “I don’t think I’ll get them this long again.”

He leaned a little closer. “Why not? They look so good.”

You hesitated, lips parting like you wanted to say something, then chickened out. “It’s- never mind.”

Chris turned his whole body toward you now, interest piqued. “No seriously. What’s up? Talk to me.”

You gave him a look, cheeks heating. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I might,” he said with a teasing smirk. “Try me.”

You sighed, avoiding his gaze as you mumbled, “I can’t really.. um- touch myself properly. Not with these claws.”

There was a beat of silence before Chris let out a low laugh, eyes widening. “Oh, uh damn. That’s what you meant?”

You nodded, cheeks hot.

He leaned in just a little more, eyes darkening as he smirked. “So what, you’ve just been sitting here next to me, all worked up, and didn’t say a word?”

You bit your lip, heart racing. “Well what was I supposed to say Chris?”

He chuckled under his breath, then murmured, “Maybe something like, ‘Help me out?’”

Your eyes snapped to his, breath catching.

And that look he gave you, mischievous, a little cocky, and very aware, sent a whole new wave of heat through you.

You looked at him, heart pounding.

“Chris..we’re just friends,” you said softly. “You can’t help me with that.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours. “Why not?” he murmured, a hint of something darker in his voice. “I’ll help you out.”

He shifted closer, his thigh brushing yours as his hand slid gently onto your upper thigh, his touch warm through the fabric.

“I mean.. only if you’re okay with it,” he said, his voice low, gaze flicking from your lips to your eyes.

Your breath caught, every nerve suddenly on fire. You nodded. barely, but it was all the permission he needed.

His hand moved to your face, fingers brushing your cheek as he tilted your chin up and kissed you. It wasn’t soft,it was hungry, heated, like he’d been holding back just as much as you had.

As his lips moved against yours, he felt your thighs instinctively press together, your body reacting without permission. He pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his voice a little rough.

“You really have been suffering, huh?”

Chris leaned back in, kissing you again, deeper this time, his lips claiming yours like he’d been dying to all along.

“Please, help me,” you whispered against his mouth, a soft moan slipping out with your words.

His breath hitched. Without breaking the kiss, his hands found the waistband of your tiny shorts, tugging them down with ease, along with your underwear, and tossing them aside like they were in his way.

“Fuck-” he mumbled, pulling back just enough to glance down. “You’re so wet.”

You whimpered, your cheeks flushed as he ran two fingers slowly up your slick folds, spreading the heat that had been building all night.

“Damn,” Chris chuckled under his breath, teasing you with lazy strokes. “You really needed this, huh?”

“Mhm,” you moaned, your head falling back, lips parted as his fingers found your clit. He started rubbing slow, steady circles, gentle but deliberate making your thighs twitch and your breath hitch.

“Just relax,” he murmured, his voice low, right by your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

You sank back into the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as Chris shifted beside you, lying on his side to stay close. His fingers never stopped moving between your legs, slow, steady.

You were a moaning mess beneath his touch, hips twitching, breath coming out in shaky gasps. And Chris? He was eating up every second of it.

The way you squirmed, the way your body reacted to him, it drove him crazy.

“Does that feel good?” he whispered low in your ear, his voice rough with arousal.

“Oh my god, yeah,” you moaned, barely able to speak.

The pleasure was building fast, overwhelming and hot, and your hands moved up your own body instinctively. You lifted your shirt just enough to expose your chest, fingers immediately finding your nipples and rolling them gently between your fingertips, amplifying everything he was doing to you.

Chris glanced down and let out a breathy laugh, watching your hand, your flushed skin, your parted lips.

“You’re so fucking sexy like this,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss your neck as his fingers kept working you toward the edge.

Chris’s fingers slowed slightly, the pressure on your clit easing just enough to make you whine from the sudden tease. You bucked your hips a little, chasing the friction, but he just smirked and held you steady with his free hand.

“Easy,” he whispered against your neck. “Don’t rush it. I wanna feel you fall apart slow.”

You whimpered in frustration, but it only made him go softer, light, lazy circles on your clit, just enough to keep you aching. You could feel how wet you were, how slick his fingers had become, and the fact that he hadn’t even touched himself yet made it all so much hotter.

“You’re not fair,” you panted, dragging your nails lightly across your stomach as your other hand played with your nipple.

He laughed low. “I know. But you’re so perfect like this, squirming, needy.”

His fingers dipped down, teasing your entrance before sliding back up, then pressing harder on your clit again, finally giving you the rhythm your body was begging for. Your hips lifted, meeting each motion as he rubbed tight circles with his two fingers, watching your face twist with pleasure.

“Just like that,” you gasped, head tilting back.

“Yeah?” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. “You close, baby?”

You nodded, barely able to form words. Your legs were shaking, your body tense, every muscle coiled tight around the building pressure in your core.

He pressed a soft kiss just under your jaw. “Let go for me.”

And with one more perfect flick, his fingers rubbing faster, deeper, you did.

Your body arched off the bed, breath catching in your throat as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through you. Your thighs clenched around his hand, your moans spilling out raw and unfiltered as your orgasm crashed over you.

Chris slowed his fingers, guiding you through it, whispering things you couldn’t even fully hear over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “So fucking beautiful when you cum.”

You collapsed against the pillow, still panting, body trembling and spent, but completely satisfied.

You were still catching your breath, chest rising and falling as the aftershocks of your orgasm slowly faded. Chris lay beside you, propped up on one elbow, watching you with a smug little smirk and something softer in his eyes.

You turned your head toward him, lips parted, still slightly dazed. “Chris-“

“Yeah?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You gave a small, breathless laugh, cheeks warm. “Thank you.”

His brow lifted. “For what?”

You smiled shyly, fingers reaching for his. “For making me cum like that.”

He chuckled low, clearly pleased. “Anytime,” he said, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Really. I mean it.”

You giggled, squeezing his hand. “I’ve seriously never felt it that good before.”

Chris grinned, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. “Good. You deserved it.”

You looked at him for a moment, really looked, and felt something shift. A quiet kind of affection humming under the heat.

“Best friend ever,” you teased softly.

He laughed, eyes crinkling. “Yoi say that now, wait for round two.”

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Taglist❤︎:

@courta13 @riggysworld @heartsonlyforchris @mattssidepiece @matthewsangel @whore4chris @mattsturniolofuckingsexy @sturkneeohloww @leila-marie4 @sturniolo-szn2 @tezzzzzzzz @fictionalboysstuff @sturnixblogger @vall67 @chrissbxby @sturniolobananas1 @sophand4n4 @stvvrn1olo @xxxxxxlovesstuff @mattspillowprincess @moond0llie @emely9274 @briizysturn @sturniolooluvv @kenziesturniolo54 @d0llworld @kalel2005 @yourfavejules @rheaasturn @babyt0matoes @bambixz @spencer812003 @mattstromboli @wesj11 @bluesundaylover @elianamattlvr @alinagrace11

[luminnara]

Free | Saja Boys x demon!reader Part 2

Masterlist | Requests are open!

Summary: the Saja boys aren’t the only powerful demons walking around on earth.When you're with them, you no longer hear Gwi Ma's taunting voice in your head, and for the first time in years, you finally begin to feel free from the Demon King's clutches. Something far more ancient and far more powerful is taking hold, though, and maybe with it, you can all help each other find a little freedom...

Part one

Warnings: adult content, MDNI

Tags: @rerarlo @mod-strap @yuurisfavblog @moonjellyfishie @inojinieeee @misscaller06 @littlemissfix-itfic @syraxnyra

Where five demons learned how to cook so well, you had no idea.

You weren't complaining, though.

Energy ebbed and flowed throughout your evening with the Saja Boys. One moment you were all enjoying a meal, the boys talking over each other as they chaotically shoveled food into their mouths; the next, everyone was sitting around the living room, Mystery's head in your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair. Abby slept nearby, broad chest rising and falling peacefully as he lay stretched out on his back, while Baby and Romance slumped against each other on one of the other couches.

Only Jinu was awake, leaning back in a nearby chair as he stared blankly at the tv. A recap of the Saja Boys' sudden appearance and rise to fame was on, scenes from their new 'Soda Pop' music video playing on a loop.

"You guys are popular." you commented, looking down at the phone you held in your free hand. "There are already so many fan sites. The Pride is blowing up online."

Jinu glanced back at you. "You've been keeping up with us on social media?"

“It’s hard to avoid when you’re the only thing anyone’s talking about.”

He grinned as he stood to face you fully. “So you’re a fan, then?”

“Don’t give me that smug look,” you scowled.

“You did stay for our entire performance…”

“‘Soda Pop’ is catchy, I’ll admit it.” You sniffed.

“It has to be if we’re going to win over all of Huntrix’s fans,” Jinu said, standing before you.

You looked up at him, watching as he watched you. He seemed to be studying you, golden eyes examining every inch of your face. “I’m sorry if I seemed…disinterested earlier today. I was afraid we would all lose focus before our TV appearance.”

“Am I that much of a distraction?” You asked dryly.

“No!” He said quickly, eyes widening. “I mean…yes? I mean…” he huffed a frustrated sigh. “Your scent…it…drives us crazy.”

You put your phone down onto the cushion next to you, leaning your elbow on your knee and your chin on your hand as you smirked at him. “Am I driving you crazy, Jinu?”

“Yes,” he said in exasperation.

Something about his confession made you feel smug…though you couldn’t deny that you felt the same.

All night, they had doted on you. The meal they prepared was perfectly to your tastes, and between the heavy flirting, they had had moments of what could only be described as reverence.

You sat first.

You ate first.

You retired to the living room first.

Through all of it, they had followed your lead, even Jinu.

And you had liked it.

“I don’t know why. I don’t know what it is that’s making us all behave this way. I’ve…never felt this before, in all my 400 years.” His shoulders sagged as he groaned. “Tell me…what do you feel?”

Mystery shifted in your lap, his face pressed into your abdomen. You could feel his warm, steady breathing through your clothing, and as you stroked his hair, you heard him let out a small, contented sound.

He had remained the quietest one throughout the evening, though he stuck close to you, always trying to catch your scent, always trying to touch you. Whenever he did, you felt sparks—something unnatural, something magical. It happened with all of them, whenever they took your hand or brushed against you, and you were beginning to feel that with every touch, innocent or otherwise, you were falling further and further.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve met any other demons,” you admitted. “I usually try to avoid our kind just as much as I avoid the huntresses. Part of me didn’t even want to show up tonight.”

“Why did you?” Jinu pressed.

“You all make me feel…warm.” You said, looking down at Mystery. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Neither could we,” Mystery mumbled against you, practically purring.

You caught the sight of Jinu’s lip raising in a snarl for just a moment before he caught himself, closing his eyes. “Sorry.”

Mystery rolled over to look at him, one bright eye shining through the curtain of hair. “Jealous.”

“Can’t help it.” Jinu muttered, looking at the floor.

“I know.” Mystery propped himself up with a hand on your thigh, rising to face you. “She’s just too delicious.”

You felt your patterns thrum as he looked at you, as if they had a pulse of their own, a bright, white hot heat spreading along your skin. As his claws dug into your leg, he raised a hand, cupping your cheek.

“Beautiful,” he murmured before leaning in.

Mystery’s lips met yours in a suffocating kiss, and for a moment that felt like forever, it was as if he was your entire world.

You melted against him, arms snaking around his neck as he slowly moved to kneel between your legs, still cradling your cheek in a warm hand. He was everything, he was surrounding you, an intoxicating scent overtaking everything else and leaving you deaf and blind to the rest of the room.

When you finally parted, his chest was heaving, eyes glowing wildly, patterns swirling and shining as if they were alive.

“Perfect,” Mystery growled, moving in for more.

“Hey,” someone snarled distantly, the voice muffled as if underwater.

You didn’t stop to find out what they wanted. You were all too willing to dive back in, to sink into the heady warmth and envelope yourself in Mystery again, forsaking the entire world for a few more moments of whatever this was.

“Hey!”

As your lips moved with Mystery’s, you cracked an eye open.

Abby was awake, rising from his slumber like an angry bear, huge and enraged. Before he reached you, Mystery broke the kiss, whipping around with a low, possessive growl to face him.

“Mine,” he rasped, voice dragging over hot coals.

“No, mine,” Abby snarled, patterns surging to the surface as he bared his fangs.

Mystery jumped up to face him, tusks jutting out from his mouth as his skin turned gray, entire body bristling. He looked small, standing before Abby, but the pure primal rage radiating off of him should have been enough to deter the larger demon.

It wasn’t, and you sat back to watch, catching your breath as Jinu quickly jumped in to mediate.

“They’re behaving like animals,” a smooth voice said behind you as you felt a pair of hands sliding onto your shoulders.

Baby lowered himself, lips brushing your ear. “Let’s go someplace quieter.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he took your hand, leading you away. Your head was still buzzing, your patterns still glowing brightly as you felt his fingers clasp yours. He took you to a bedroom, closing the door with a smirk, the others’ voices finally muffled on the other side of the wall.

“Isn’t that better?” He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets nonchalantly.

Despite his innocent movement, he was watching you hungrily, eyes dark as you backed up to sit on the bed.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, heart still pounding.

“When I want to be.” He approached you. “Couldn’t let them have you all to themselves, could I?”

He reached out, tracing the patterns on your shoulder with his thumb and humming thoughtfully.

“I don’t care why this is happening.” He shrugged. “Jinu is obsessed with finding answers. I’m not. I just know what I want.”

“And what is that?” You asked bravely.

He chuckled darkly. “As if you don’t know.”

“Maybe I want to hear you say it.”

His eyes met yours, glowing gold, like molten lava rolling down a mountain.

“I want to see you right here.” He ran his hands down your arms, his knee parting your thighs as he pressed closer. “Beneath me. Begging me.”

“Maybe I don’t beg.” You replied bravely, sinking down onto your elbows as he loomed over you.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, nails turning to claws as they pinned your wrists above your head. “I’ll make you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, patterns glowing with each beat. “Good luck, Baby.”

His eyes were shining, blazing with a delighted fire as he lowered his face to yours. “Luck has nothing to do with it. I’ll have you begging. Crying.”

He said it like a promise. Like a prophecy.

“Don’t ruin her before the rest of us have a taste,” Romance said from the doorway.

Baby made a disgusted sound, not even bothering to look at him. “Does the word privacy mean anything to you?” He smirked, breath hot on your ear as he lowered his voice to a whisper, as if he had a secret to tell you and only you. “Maybe he just likes to watch.”

“You wish,” Romance drawled smoothly, pushing off from the door frame and stalking towards the bed. “You look so gorgeous like this, sweetheart…”

“Doesn’t she?” Baby asked smugly. You could feel him smiling as his nose brushed against the side of your face. “All for me…”

“Don’t think so highly of yourself,” Romance said, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he crept toward you. “You just got lucky.” His face came into view above you, his yellow eyes soft. “So pretty…it’s been so long since I’ve been with another of our kind…”

Baby’s lips pressed against your throat as he murmured, “touch her patterns.”

You felt Romance’s light touch on your cheek and he let out a shuddering breath. “O-oh, that’s…exquisite.”

“Told you.” Baby said, a hand running up your side.

“I-it’s been a long time for me too,” you stammered, leaning your head back as you felt Baby’s teeth gently prodding at you. “I’ve never—this has never—“

“Shh,” Romance kissed your temple. “We’ll take care of you, love…”

Though Mystery’s scent had faded, it was quickly being replaced by theirs, the air growing thicker and thicker by the second. You sighed, the feeling of their hands on you somehow seeming so right, so perfect. There was nowhere else you wanted to be. There was nowhere else you could be. There, with the Saja Boys, you felt content, your chest feeling full and warm, your patterns glowing as Romance’s hand found yours.

“I just know you taste good,” Baby said, kissing your shoulder. “Been thinkin’ about it all night…”

“The moment we saw you in the crowd, we all knew we wanted you,” Romance breathed. “Made it so hard to be patient all day…”

“Romance!” A familiar voice snarled.

“Uh oh,” Romance chuckled, eyes never leaving yours. “Guess we’re in trouble.”

You heard heavy footsteps growing closer and suddenly Abby was on top of you, shouldering Baby to the side and snapping at Romanced until he backed away. He had a desperate expression on his face, his eyes full of panic as he looked down at you, checking you over as if the others could have possibly done anything that he wouldn’t.

“Abby, I’m fine,” you said, a hand on his chest.

“You scared me, Princess,” he sighed, burying his face in your neck. “Disappearin’ like that…”

“Where am I possibly going to go?”

“Don’t wanna think about it.” He mumbled, pressing himself against you.

“Abby, it’s alright,” you slid your arms as far around him as you could reach, feeling how solid he truly was. “I’m fine. I’m more than fine.”

“We were having a great time,” Baby sneered, pushing himself up to lean back against the headboard. “She was so warm under me…”

Abby’s entire body shuddered with a deep, guttural groan.

You swallowed hard.

“Oh, I think she liked that,” Romance piped up from somewhere behind you. Suddenly, his voice was in your ear, sly and cunning and silver. “You love being under him like this, don’t you? Feeling all of him? He wants you so bad, sweetheart…I can smell it on him…”

You could, too.

“Fuck,” Baby hissed, shamelessly adjusting himself in his pants.

“Need you,” Abby growled, his voice ragged, his patterns flaring to life. “Please, baby…”

It was as if he was trying to sink into you, his body hot and heavy as he wrapped his arms around you and heaved a sigh. You managed to move your legs, opening your hips in a way that had both of you gasping, Abby’s breaths coming in uneven huffs as he grew tense.

As your ankles hooked around him, he was helpless, completely at your mercy, a desperate demon who wanted nothing more than to bury himself as deep inside you as he could and stay there forever. When you twisted and reversed your positions, he had no choice but to move along with you, his hands immediately finding your hips as he bucked up into you.

“Oh, I like this view,” he grinned, his fangs huge and glistening in the glow from your patterns.

“I don’t even know how you did that,” Baby purred, suddenly behind you, “but thank fuck you did…”

“So much easier to reach you this way,” Romance appeared at your side, lips immediately finding their way to your cheek.

“Is this better, Abby?” You purred, hands on his chest as you leaned down, Baby and Romance moving fluidly with you as if you were all three connected by invisible threads.

You heard a deep growl rumbling through him as he raised a hand to cup the side of your neck possessively. “You’re killin’ me, princess.”

You looked down at him, your eyes half-lidded and heavy. “Don’t die on me yet, handsome.”

You could feel how badly he wanted you, hot and hard against you, even through clothing. When you moved your hips, the sounds that left him were raw and desperate, dripping with need as he bared his teeth in another deep groan.

“You’re driving him crazy,” Romance said, nipping at your ear.

“I wanna see you take him,” Baby whispered, encouraging you like a depraved devil on your shoulder.

You rocked your hips again and you felt like you were on fire.

Abby’s claws dug into you, his nostrils flared as he growled. “Fuckin’ tease…”

He felt huge, all of him, massive and dense and strong. Your mind felt comfortably hazy, their scents swirling around you lazily, and as your claws gripped his chest, you felt a pure lust spreading through your veins.

“Beautiful,” you heard Mystery’s voice, felt his thick hair brushing against your cheek, heard his sharp inhale as he took in your scent.

There were hands on you, everywhere, leaving warmth in their wake as they slid up your arms and down your thighs, pulling at zippers and buttons until there were none left to pull. Lips singed your bare skin, kisses pressing against your spine, your throat, your breasts. Goosebumps prickled at you, the darkness of the room illuminated by the violet glow of swirling, living patterns that pulsed together like one heartbeat.

You felt Abby’s muscles below you, your fingers running over his washboard abs. He looked up at you in awe, his golden eyes shining, his lips parted as his breath came in pants.

“You ready, baby?” He asked, his hands holding your hips tightly.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please—“

“Not yet.” A voice rang out.

Jinu.

Abby let out a frustrated snarl, his claws sinking into your flesh. His entire body was tense, muscles straining as he held himself back. He trembled, shaking with the effort, chest covered in a sheen of sweat as he looked up at you in desperation.

As Jinu entered the room, the movement around you fell still, the demons pausing to watch. He approached you slowly, like a big cat prowling, his posture calm but his eyes blazing gold. When he reached you he paused, raising a hand and gently holding your chin, claws gliding over your jaw as he simply looked at you for a moment.

“I want a taste first.”

You gasped in surprise as his arms wrapped around your waist and he lifted you, Abby’s claws dragging marks into your hips as you were pulled away. Your legs immediately hooked around him as he carried you, but before you could do anything else, he had deposited you in a chair situated against the wall. His body hovered over you for a moment, shielding you from the rest of the room, and as his lips found yours, you heard a series of jealous growls from the bed.

They didn’t move, though. They simply watched as Jinu peppered kisses down your throat, your tits, your stomach, sinking down onto his knees before you and parting your legs. You felt his teeth on the soft flesh of your inner thigh and your hand flew to his hair, tangling in it in a way only egged him on.

“Let me worship you,” he breathed against the mark already blooming across your skin. “Let me taste…”

His voice was smooth but his breaths were ragged and desperate. Despite his hunger, his need, he looked up at you, watching for your permission. Waiting. Obedient.

Your grip on his hair tightened and you guided him between your legs, and that was all he needed.

He dove in like a man starved. Like you were his final meal.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you forward, his breath hot on your sensitive flesh. A long tongue swept over you and you sucked in a gasp, thighs closing around his head for only a moment before his hands found your knees and pried them open.

"Don't be shy," his voice rumbled below you. "Let them see what I do to you..."

You looked up and were immediately met with the sight of four pairs of shining yellow eyes. They were hungry, watching you like a pack of wolves, lips parted to reveal fangs and tusks that glistened in the low glow of their patterns.

Jinu's tongue dipped into you and you let out a moan that was echoed by five deep voices. Your fingers tugged at his hair as he dragged another depraved noise from you, his mouth moving expertly as he lapped at you. Another sharp tug and he growled, golden cat eyes flashing up at you, his shoulders flexing as he leaned into you harder.

"J-Jinu," you gasped, throwing your head back. You were falling apart, unraveling as you felt a growing heat in your core.

His lips found your clit again and he sucked on it once before giving it a sharp nip that had you shrieking in surprise and rewarding him with a delicious wetness that he lapped up greedily, as if it were ambrosia. Your face felt warm, cheeks hot, lids heavy as you took in the sight between your thighs. True to his word, he was worshiping you, praying on his knees as he took his communion.

A sinner greedy for redemption.

"That's it, baby," a voice brushed against your throat.

"Let us see you lose control..."

"C-close," you breathed, chest heaving. "So close--"

Jinu's fangs rubbed against you as his tongue slipped deeper, twisting and swirling before pulling out to massage your clit. Each swipe shot electricity through your limbs, flames lapping at your skin, the heat growing unbearable as you whimpered and gasped. You were climbing, higher and higher, back arching off the chair, nerves firing, barely registering the hands on your thighs and hips and tits. The air around you was heavy. Your head was swimming.

And you felt like this had to be heaven.

Your pleasure mounted, flames hotter, chest tighter, until finally, finally, a feeling like a star bursting inside of you released the tension and you tipped over the edge, falling, tumbling back down.

And Jinu enjoyed his reward.

"Fuck," you caught your breath, heart pounding. You looked down with half-lidded eyes to see Jinu sitting back on his heels, licking glistening lips.

"Perfection," he sighed, gazing up at you with drunken eyes.

He was gorgeous, still clothed but his hair mussed, a beautiful demon whose tongue was far better than silver. The way he was looking at you, you would have thought you were a divine being, his expression full of nothing but adoration.

A growl had you looking across the room at the bed, where four sets of eyes still watched hungrily, waiting their turn.

"Come here." Jinu stood, slipping his arms around you and hefting you up against his chest.

You sagged against him and he chuckled.

"That good, huh?"

"Passable," you mumbled into his shoulder.

You heard the shuffle of movement as he laid you on the bed, the heat of the other Saja Boys surrounding you as they closed in.

"Now she's ready," Jinu said.

"Finally." Abby appeared above you, his broad chest rumbling with a deep growl.

"Exquisite," Romance sighed from your right.

"So kind of you to prepare our offering," Baby drawled, smirking down at you.

And you assumed the lips kissing their way up thigh belonged to Mystery.

"Thrown to the wolves," you laughed breathlessly, arms slipping around Abby's neck.

He grinned, muscles flexing as he slipped his hands under your hips, rolling onto his back and pulling you down on top of himself. "Where were we?"

[saturnzlv]

HELPING HAND

leon kennedy x gn!reader

notes: mature language, college au, suggestive content, re2r adjacent | wc: 1.1k | m.list

when life couldn’t get any worse, you want to fuck a blond guy.

he keeps his white reeboks pristine, his hair is always well-kept and brushed neatly, his lips never seem chapped, and his fingernails look better than your own. with the way he holds his pencil and drags the graphite along the paper, his handwriting looks more perfect than a teenage girls in her diary.

this guy is seriously starting to piss you off.

“you got that?” leon asks.

you snap out of your brief daydream, gaze lifting from his hand holding a pencil to those wide blue eyes that can pull you in like a tide. “uh, yeah,” you say, sitting up straighter in your chair. clearing your throat, you glance to your notebook that leon had written in.

“good,” he says. “i think we can finish up for today then.”

he lets you take a look at his notes on your paper. turns out this tutoring thing is seriously needed. his handwriting fills the page, correcting all your errors. how were you supposed to know how to properly use semicolons and em-dashes? you had fucked up so many of those damn symbols, it looked like hundreds of halves of winky-face emoticons were attacking your paper before leon edited your work.

a sigh falls from your lips, and you lean back in your chair for a second. “this shit is driving me insane,” you mutter.

as you stand from your chair and pack away your notebook, leon tilts his head up to look at you. it’s a pretty sight, but he ruins it when he opens his mouth.

“at least you’re not bored,” he jokes.

god, that horrible humor of his just makes you want to drop to your knees and unzip his pants to get him to shut up. however, the little smile he has makes up for the shitty joke. you can’t help the corners of your lips lifting in response, and you’re sure leon’s proud that he got you to react positively to his joke.

“whatever, blondie.” you wave your hand in dismissal of his words, pulling your bag’s strap over your shoulder. “same time thursday?”

he stands from his chair, gesturing to the door of his dorm room. “yeah.” he nods. “i’ll walk you out.”

that earns a slight laugh from you. “walk me out,” you repeat with a roll of your eyes. “you’re walking me, like, two feet to the door.”

“it’s still walking you out,” he counters. he opens the door for you, and you step out into the hall. you give a small wave before turning, and the door clicks shut behind you.

your next tutoring session comes by, and you quickly realize you can’t pay attention for the life of you. sure you get distracted during class, but your professor is the worst at explaining the damn language she speaks. it isn’t your fault you’re failing, and it isn’t your fault that your tutor is so distracting.

the tone of leon’s voice is always light; it’s softer than most boys you talk to. you notice how his brows briefly furrow when he re-reads a sentence, or when he makes a mistake and has to erase what he wrote. his tongue sometimes darts out to wet his lips, bringing his bottom lip in for just a moment.

he’s a pretty boy with cute habits. from hours of being tutored, there’s hours of staring. it’s almost laughable at how you’ve now memorized the little details of his. the beauty marks and light dusting of freckles littering his fair skin, the small indent at his chin, the soft curve and tiny bump along his nose—you’ve memorized it all.

and as he goes on and on, verbally editing your essay that’s due tomorrow, you just want to shut him up with a kiss. it’s nice of him to take time out of his day to tutor you. he won’t take cash payment, he’s said so numerous times, and you’re no good with your words. however, you know that the phrase ‘actions speak louder’ exists for a reason.

“i think if you were to move this sentence from here to the beginning, it’ll read more smoothly,” leon says.

his head lifts, baby blue eyes finding yours, and his lips part to continue speaking. you don’t allow him to continue when you lean in and cut him off with your lips pressing to his. he almost freezes as your lips meet and your palm cups his jaw, but his eyes quickly flutter shut and his lips purse against yours when he registers what the hell just happened.

it’s a little too short for his liking. when you pull back and lower your hand from his jaw, leon’s almost disappointed. he wants to reach out and bring you back in for another, but he’s damn near shell-shocked. not even a stupid quip can fall from his lips.

you, however, can make a stupid quip. “you talk too much,” you say. leon finally finds his footing and brings you in for another kiss.

one more thing you quickly realize is that, despite his awkwardness, leon actually knows what he’s doing. his hand skims along the muscle of your thigh before resting at your hip, drawing you closer to his body. it’s difficult, since you’re sitting in two different chairs, angled oddly, but you get the message and lift yourself from your seat.

with him manspread, your knee rests between his thighs against the wooden seat of the chair. both your palms cradle his face as you lean over him, kissing him over and over again. you’re kissing him like he’s oxygen and you’ve been deprived of breathing, yet he doesn’t complain about the desperation of it. in fact, he’s enjoying it more than you know.

you soon learn that leon’s an absolute sucker for kisses. when you pull away to fix your position, a borderline whine elicits from the back of his throat, the loss of your lips on his making him feel needy for more. his hands at your hips ever so slightly tightens its hold as you straddle his lap. your lips find his once more for a quick kiss or two, and you then forcibly (gently) tilt his head back to trail your kisses down the column of his neck.

a whispered prayer of your name falls from leon’s lips. his fingertips snake under the fabric of your shirt and along the bare expanse of your side. his begs are silent, yet who are you to deny him from his wants? besides, you know damn well you want it too.

[yokohamapound]

ok but like consider,, dazai, akutagawa, kunikida and atsushi (or anyone else u wanna add my request is mainly for akutagawa and kunikida) working alone and you open your coat to reveal you're just wearing lingerie underneath <3

Ah, such a classic move! <3

Characters: Kunikida Doppo, Dazai Osamu, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Nakajima Atsushi, Nakahara Chuuya

Contents: gn!reader, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, mild derogatory dirty talk

Kunikida Doppo

Kunikida is often to be found working late in the Armed Detective Agency’s office, especially after the conclusion of a case. Or if Dazai has been especially a pain in the ass that day and prevented Kunikida from keeping to his packed work schedule. Kunikida is not the type of man who’ll let the day’s work slip over to tomorrow. That’s how nations start to crumble (according to him). 

Hours after the rest of the agency have gone home, even Fukuzawa, Kunikida is still there, typing away at his laptop, the glare of the screen making his glasses seem opaque. His only concession to the late hour is a half-drunk cup of coffee sitting beside the laptop. 

His head twists around when the door to the agency office opens. Who could it be this late at night? Atsushi coming to check up on him? Dazai coming to sleep on the couch again? He tenses when he sees the tan colour of a trenchcoat through the wavy glass of the office door, but his shoulders loosen when he sees you in the doorway. 

“What are you doing here so late?” he asks you, turning back to finish that last bit of paperwork. “And what’s with the coat? You’re not trying to dress like Dazai now, are you?”

He hopes not. Kunikida doesn’t need to be jump-scared like that every time you meet up with him. He’s only half-listening when you give him some excuse about being cold. Faintly, he picks up the sound of high heels clicking against the polished floorboards as you make your way over to him. He catches a hint of perfume as you come to stand at his shoulder. 

“I’m almost finished,” he grunts, his fingers flying so fast across the keyboard they seem to blur slightly at the edges. He’s tired, and it must be late indeed if you’ve come to pick him up. He turns his head to ask about what you two should pick up for dinner on the way home, when his jaw falls open like someone pulled out a screw holding it shut.

You’ve allowed your trenchcoat to fall open, revealing your body clad in scraps of structured silk and lace. Something classy and timeless, in soft cream or sultry black. It’s like something out of an old movie or a vintage catalogue. Kunikida’s glasses steam up briefly, before he slams his laptop closed.

“Doppo,” you chide, faking a gasp. “You didn’t put a period on that last sentence of your paperwork. You can’t just leave it…unfinished like that.”

Kunikida pulls off his glasses, his expression stern. “This time,” he proclaims, his voice deep and momentous, “I’ll make an exception.”

Kunikida drives you home, driving so close to the speed limit he’s practically edging it, with one hand buried firmly between your thighs. If you’re very misbehaved, he might use his notebook to conjure something to keep you…occupied…on the drive home.

Dazai Osamu

You went one better for this and stole Dazai’s trenchcoat. Let’s leave it up for debate whether he knew what you were up to and let you steal his coat to pull off your little performance—it’s more fun that way. 

Because it’s Dazai, you arrange to meet at a bar for a date. Preferably one where he’s not already run up a tab or been slapped by all of the female bartenders and waiting staff. There are a few of those left in Yokohama, you just have to look really hard for them. 

When you arrive, Dazai is sitting on a barstool, one foot propped on the footrest, his elbows on the bar. He’s sans trenchcoat, dressed in his dark waistcoat, with the sleeves of his blue pinstripe shirt rolled up to his mid-forearm, revealing the bandages wrapped around his wrists. Spotting you in the reflection of the bottles behind the bar, he glances over at you. Dazai’s dark eyes sweep over you from head to toe, and he immediately knows there’s something interesting going on beneath that trenchcoat.

“You know,” he drawls. “I lost a coat just like that this morning. It’s quite the startling coincidence, don’t you think?”

He's so intrigued that he even cracks open his wallet to buy you a drink (shocking, I know). Dazai's eyes are glued to the sight of you cinched into his coat. His eyes drop down when you sit on the barstool beside him, crossing your legs. His fingers tighten around the cut crystal of his glass. 

"Is that...lace?"

At your smug confirmation that is indeed lace, Dazai knocks back his drink. No time to savour the liquor. He pinches the hem of the trenchcoat and lifts it up a little further to see the stocking clinging to your thigh. 

Dazai's eyes glint dangerously in the dim overhead lights of the bar. 

"Bella." His voice is a lusty purr as his hand runs up your thigh, fingers plucking at the top of your stocking, tracing circles into your soft flesh. "I'll give you a thirty second head start. When I catch up to you..."

I hope you can find somewhere relatively private in the next thirty seconds. 

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

If you thought it might be a good idea to copy the move above and wear Akutagawa’s trenchcoat over your lingerie, let me gently pry that idea from your eager little hands. It is not a good idea, and it will not end well. Just get your own trenchcoat. Maybe in a nice shade of camel?

Akutagawa waits impatiently for you in the middle of town, watching the civilians amble around between stores, his eyes narrowed in irritation. He doesn't know why you asked to meet him here, but it feels like a waste of his time. He decides he will wait only five more minutes before he leaves.

A flicker of something pale from the corner of his eye. It's a Pavlovian response—Akutagawa's head whips around. Instead of his former master, he instead spots you click-clacking toward him in a pair of heels, wrapped in a light trenchcoat. Hair? Done. Make-up? Flawless. 

Akutagawa's forehead furrows, his voice pitched low with annoyance and confusion. "Why are you wearing that?"

You're used to his pricky demeanour by now and it doesn't faze you. You turn so you are facing away from the crowds, slowly untying the belt. You peel open the front of the waistcoat enough to give Akutagawa a glimpse of what lies underneath. 

Black lace. Smooth skin. Silk. 

His throat tightens, and for once it doesn't signal the onset of a coughing fit. Akutagawa's eyes widen, his teeth and fists clenching.

"What in the hells are you wearing?" he demands.

"Lingerie," you say, retying the the belt of your trenchcoat. "Don't you like it?"

Akutagawa knows every alley and alcove of Yokohama. Every blind spot and dead end. He puts this knowledge to good use as he manhandles you into the nearest semi-private spot. Bands of Rashoumon wrap around your wrists and ankles, pinning you up against the alleyway wall. 

Akutagawa's pale hands tremble with suppressed excitement as he unties the trenchcoat and peels it open again. The sight of you, dressed in such a lewd fashion and bound, makes his cock harden fast enough to make him dizzy. His voice is low, curt.

"If you insist on dressing like a harlot, I shall treat you like one. After all, that is what you wanted, is it not? My attention."

Please don't worry about making any noise. He'll simply use Rashoumon to gag you. <3

Nakajima Atsushi

Oh dear, are you trying to give the poor boy a heart attack?

Atsushi is at the Armed Detective Agency office alone. Perhaps it's lunchtime and the rest of the agents and staff have retired downstairs for coffee and lunch at Cafe Uzumaki. Atsushi needs to finish his report, or he's flat broke and doesn't want to have to mooch of Kunikida in the cafe again, so he's eating some cold rice balls at his desk.

He sputters on a mouthful of onigiri when the door swings open, popping up like a daisy from his desk, expecting it to be a client. He sags in relief when he sees it is just you, hastily brushing some grains of rice from the front of his shirt.

“Hi!”

Oh, he’s so chirpy to see you. It really is adorable. Look at how the smile blossoms on his face. There are practically sparkles coming off him as he heads toward you. 

Only for Atsushi to stop in his tracks when you casually untie the front of your coat and flash him the sight of your body in sweet, pink-and-white lingerie. You’re frosted in lace and frills like a little cupcake, and Atsushi’s brain jams like the printer.

“H-buh? Whuh? You…you…”

His face burns crimson, standing out stark against his white hair, and he whips his head around to make sure there is no one else in the office, even though he’s relatively sure he’s alone. Atsushi grabs the front of your coat and covers you up, flushing when you laugh at his embarrassment.

“What are you wearing?” he hisses, his eyes wide as saucers. “Why are you wearing it here?”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise~”

“It is,” he stammers. “It’s very…it’s so nice.” He opens the coat a little, peeking at what lies beneath, before closing it again, his ears burning. “But…but not here. Maybe at home?”

You give an airy shrug. “Perhaps you can tell Kunikida you weren’t feeling well so you had to go home early?”

Smash cut to Atsushi fake-coughing down the phone to Kunikida. 

Nakahara Chuuya

It's late. Yokohama is a glittering sprawl beneath the windows of Chuuya's plush office. The office is dim, save for the light of his laptop screen and the recessed, moody red lighting of his shelves. He eases away from his emails, rubbing at his eyes, and crosses the room to pour himself a whiskey from the cut glass decanters. 

For Chuuya, 'working late' often involves taking a few heavies and going to threaten someone, not sitting and trawling through emails, but now and then he needs to engage with the corporate bullshit that comes with being an executive. 

The buzz of his personal phone draws his attention. He scoops it up, his thumb tapping the screen. He has his gloves made custom so they work with touchscreens. A text message from you pops open and he grins, leaning against the edge of his desk. 

The image is simple, but evocative. Smooth skin under red lace. He's not even entirely sure which body part it is, but it's tantalising all the same. He's sure he'll find out after your dinner reservation that evening. Steak, of course.

A knock sounds at his office door and he lets out an annoyed grunt, immediately locking his phone and laying it facedown on his desk. 

"Yeah, come in."

His annoyance evaporates the moment you saunter in, all high heels and cinched black trenchcoat. And damn, is that red lipstick? It is. 

"Hey, doll. Whatcha doin' here?" 

He's running his gaze over that trenchcoat, trying to imagine what you're wearing underneath. His smile widens into a full-blown grin when you turn and lock the door behind you. 

"Don't know where this is comin' from, but I like where it's goin'."

You make a show of it, untying the knot on the belt, letting the smooth fabric rasp as it slides against itself. First baring one shoulder, then the next, shimmying the coat off you like its a fur stole. It crumples to the ground, leaving you in all your glory.

Chuuya drags a hand down his face, letting out a low, ragged laugh that sounds just this side of feral.

"Fuck, dollface..."

Bro launches himself at you, pushing you up against the back of his office door. His gloved hands slide over your bare skin, gravity starting to make less and less of an impression on you as he floats you. His mouth crushes against yours. 

Unfortunately, you miss your dinner reservation by several hours.