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That look... My heart.

Ian Somerhalder as Damon Salvatore THE VAMPIRE DIARIES (2009-2017) S01E013 - Children of the Damned.

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Elena’s breath hitched, her fingers twisting into the sheets as a sharp, delicious shudder wracked through her. He was all heat and hunger, leaving a trail of fire in his wake, and she was already drowning in it, in him.

Her head tipped back against the pillow, a broken gasp escaping her lips as his mouth teased, tormented, owned every inch of her. She could feel his smirk against her skin, the dark amusement laced in his words only making the ache between them sharper, deeper.

Her hands found his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands as she tugged, just enough to get his attention. “I don’t need to keep up,” she murmured, her voice breathless but edged with something just as wicked. “I just need you to stop teasing.”

Her hips lifted slightly, a silent plea, a challenge, a demand. And then, with a sly curve of her lips, she added, “Unless you’re scared you can’t handle me, Salvatore.”

She knew exactly what she was doing, knew how easily Damon would take the bait. But she also knew she wasn’t walking away from this untouched.

No, she was in too deep now. And God help her—she never wanted to come back up for air.

She was fire beneath his hands, burning him alive, and God, he had never wanted to be consumed more. His grip tightened, rough and wanting, as he pulled her flush against him.”I can keep up, Gilbert..” he murmured back, his lips brushing just shy of hers, teasing, tormenting. “There’s no worries there..” He had her beneath him again, his weight pressing her into the mattress, caging her in completely. He could feel her heartbeat—wild, frantic, matching the pulse of heat between them. He loved it.

His teeth scraped along her jaw, down the delicate curve of her throat, lingering at the mark he’d already left before sucking it deep, hard-claiming her yet again with the knowledge that it’ll disappear if she drinks from him again. Damon shifted down the bed as his lips trailing lower, down the center of her chest, lingering just enough to make her gasp before continuing his path further down. He let his tongue flick over the sensitive dip of her navel, savoring the way she tensed beneath him and smirking against the skin.

Hands followed the curve of her waist, fingers splayed as he traced slow, teasing circles, dragging his nails lightly down her thighs before gripping them, spreading them just enough to settle himself between them. He never stopped, kissing, nipping and licking every inch of newly exposed skin as he worked his way lower, lower— “Still think you can keep up, sweetheart?” he murmured against her skin, his voice pure sin, full of dark amusement. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her thigh, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin, slow, deliberate, teasing. “Because I can hear your heart racing.” Then, finally—finally—he glanced up at her, his eyes burning with hunger, with wicked, unrelenting intent. Hiis mouth hovering just shy of where she needed him most.

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Don't mind her jotting down ideas this gives her.

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Elena barely had time to catch her breath before she was on top of him, her world tilting as effortlessly as he moved her. The sheer force of his presence—the way he commanded the space between them—sent a thrill racing down her spine. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, steadying herself, though it wasn’t the movement that had her head spinning. It was him.

The way he looked at her. Like he devoured her with his eyes before even touching her. Like she was something rare, something precious, something he ached for. It made her shiver, heat pooling low in her stomach as he traced fire along her skin with his hands.

But it wasn’t just lust curling in her veins, making her heart pound in her chest. It was something deeper. Something terrifying and intoxicating all at once.

She leaned in as the cool air licked at her freshly exposed skin, her lips barely brushing his as she whispered, “Then take me, Damon.” A slow, deliberate taunt. A dare. A confession.

Her hands slipped into his hair, tugging him closer, her body pressing against his in a way that left no space between them. “If you want me, I’m yours,” she murmured, her breath ghosting over his lips. “No hesitations. No running. Just this.”

Because she was tired of pretending. Tired of fighting against something that had already consumed her.

Her fingers trailed down his chest, nails raking lightly over the hard planes of muscle before slipping lower, teasing, testing as she sat herself back up. Her smirk was playful, wicked. “But you better keep up, Salvatore,” she purred, tilting her head just enough to expose the faint bite mark he’d left. A challenge. An invitation. A promise.

“Because I’m not holding back anymore.”

His restraint, his reason, everything that had kept him from crossing this line before was unraveling. The only thing keeping him from giving in completely, was the way she sighed his name—soft, breathless, grounding. Pulling him back from the edge when all he wanted was to jump.Hearing her breathless voice say his name pulled him back into his body, his fangs withdrew with an almost reluctant slowness, his lips lingering against her throat as he sucked in a shuddering breath. His fingers curled against her waist, fighting the instinct to pull her closer, to lose himself in her completely.

“Elena…” Her name was a husky rasp against her skin, edged with something raw, something wrecked. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, his breath hot and uneven, his body wound impossibly tight. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” He forced himself from the home he made in her neck to lift his gaze to hers. She looked flushed and breathless, her fingers teasing at his jaw, smearing the evidence of their connection against his skin. 

“Then be mine.” He caught her thumb between his lips, his tongue flicking over the smear of crimson before he sucked it clean, his gaze never leaving hers. In one swift motion, he had her in his arms, flipping them effortlessly until she was straddling him once more. His hands mapped the curve of her thigh, fingers pressing into warm, bare skin as they trailed higher, tracing slow, deliberate paths that left fire in their wake. 

With a practiced ease, he found the hem of her dress, bunching the fabric in his fists before peeling it from her body in one fluid motion. He let it fall away carelessly, his smirk deepening as his eyes raked over her. “Look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with hunger, his fingers ghosting up her sides, savoring the heat of her skin. "Absolutely stunning."

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Elena gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders as his fangs pierced her skin. A sharp sting gave way to something deeper, something molten and consuming, and her body arched instinctively into him. The pleasure-pain of it sent a shockwave through her system, every nerve ending alight, her head tipping back as she surrendered to the sensation.

Damon was drinking from her, really drinking, and she should have been afraid. But there was no fear—only the heady rush of something intoxicating and primal. She felt connected to him in a way that defied reason, defied logic. It wasn’t just about the blood. It was about trust. It was about giving herself over to the moment, to him, without hesitation, without second-guessing.

Her breath shuddered out of her as his grip tightened, possessive and unyielding. The sound he made against her skin—God—it sent a ripple of heat through her, pooling low in her stomach. She had never felt anything like this before. Never felt so alive. Her hands slid into his hair, tugging slightly, wordlessly urging him on even as her pulse fluttered wildly beneath his lips.

"Damon—" His name left her lips on a breathless sigh, a plea, a demand. She didn’t know what she was asking for, only that she needed more. The line between pain and pleasure blurred, their bodies pressed so close there was no telling where she ended and he began.

She could feel him, every sharp inhale, every twitch of his fingers against her spine, the way his body reacted to hers. She loved it.

Her head tilted just enough to meet his gaze, her pupils blown wide, lips parted, skin flushed. She lifted a hand, brushing her fingers over his jaw, smearing a trace of her own blood there as she traced the sharp edge of his cheekbone.

"You ask what you did to deserve me?" Her voice was husky, wrecked, laced with something dark and dangerous. A slow smirk curled at the corners of her lips, a knowing gleam flickering in her eyes. "Maybe I was always meant to be yours."

She dragged her thumb over his lower lip, watching the way his breath stuttered at the contact. Her smirk widened. "Maybe I want to be."

The blade’s edge bit into his skin, sharp and fleeting, but the sting was nothing compared to the rush of adrenaline surging through his body. Damon barely felt the pain, too lost in the high of the moment. His heart pounded, a wild, unrestrained rhythm that he was sure Elena could feel—could hear—matching hers in this feverish, high-stakes exchange. "Take what you need," he murmured, his voice husky as he tilted his head, exposing himself fully to her. A slow exhale left his lips as the warmth of his own blood beaded up from the cut, the anticipation thrumming between them like a live wire.

Her lips met his neck and Damon’s breath hitched as a shiver rippled down his spine. His fingers flexed against her hips as he held her in place, his grip tightening instinctively. The way she latched onto him, hungry and eager, sent a deep satisfaction coursing through him. His blood in her system meant she would be safe, no matter what came next. And yet, it was more than that. It was intimate in a way words couldn't capture. Damon had shared blood before, but never like this. Never with someone who made him feel like he belonged to her as much as she now, in this moment, belonged to him.

"That's a good girl," he groaned, the praise slipping out as his hands slid beneath the hem of her dress, seeking the warmth of her bare skin. His palms roamed the length of her back, fingers pressing firmly against her as he pulled her closer, until there was no space left between them. The heat of her body, the way she clung to him—it was mind numbing and consuming.

Elena was drinking from him like she needed it, like she craved it. And Damon reveled in it. The way her lips moved, the way her body pressed into him and her hips grinded down on his, the little sound she made as she gave into the hunger—it was raw, unfiltered desire.His head tilted further, giving her more, letting her take whatever she wanted. Because, God help him, he wanted this just as badly.

Her hunger sent a thrill through him, her need raw, consuming, and Damon relished every second. His blood was inside her now, claiming her, binding them together in a way words couldn’t capture. "What did I do to deserve you?" he murmured, voice thick with something between reverence and sin.

And before she could answer, he dipped down, lips ghosting over her jaw before he trailed lower, lower—until his mouth found the pulse point at her throat. He lingered there, feeling the way her body tensed beneath him, the way her breath hitched. Then, he sank his fangs in. The moment was electric. Damon moaned against her skin, her blood like fire and silk on his tongue. And as he drank, he held her tighter, knowing full well neither of them would ever be the same after this.Because this wasn’t just a night of passion. This was something darker. Something deeper.

She was his—and he was hers in every way there was now.

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Elena’s fingers curled around the knife as she studied him, her pulse hammering in her throat. This was different. This wasn’t Damon forcing his blood on her in a desperate bid to save her life. This wasn’t survival. This was choice. Her choice.

Her gaze flickered over him—his smirk, the undeniable fire in his eyes, the way his hands rested possessively at her waist, grounding her, claiming her. She had spent so long fighting her instincts, letting fear and guilt dictate her every move. But here, in this moment, with him, none of it mattered. No more running. No more being a martyr. Just this. Just them.

Slowly, deliberately, she trailed the blade along the curve of his neck, pressing just hard enough to let crimson bloom against his pale skin. Her breath caught as she watched the thick, rich red bead up, a stark contrast against him. She had tasted him before—but never like this. Never because she wanted to.

She leaned in, lips hovering over the wound, eyes flicking up to meet his. “You do realize what you’re asking for, don’t you?” Her voice was low, teasing as she mimicked his earlier hesitation, but there was a sharp edge to it, something dark curling in the depths of her stare. “Because once I start, Damon, I don’t know if I’ll want to stop.”

She let her lips brush over the wound first, tasting him before she truly took. And the moment his blood touched her tongue, something inside her snapped.

A low, satisfied hum vibrated through her as she sank her teeth into his skin—not nearly as graceful as a vampire’s bite, but Damon groaned nonetheless, his grip on her tightening. The taste of him flooded her senses, warm and electric, like fire igniting in her veins. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and God help her, she loved it.

That was all the proof he needed. Damon’s hand tangled in the back of her hair as their lips crashed together, his eyes shutting as a wave of euphoria surged through him. He kissed her deeply, greedily, determined to savor every second of her. There wasn’t enough time in one night—hell, not enough time in her entire lifetime—to do everything he wanted with her. But he would take every moment, one by one, and commit it to memory.

When she pulled back, he followed, setting the bottle down on the rolling cart without breaking contact. His hands found her hips, holding her in place—not that she was going anywhere.“I like that plan,” he murmured against her skin, pressing slow, heated kisses along her neck. He could feel the steady pulse beneath his lips, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, inviting him, taunting him. His grip on her tightened slightly. “I want to be selfish,” he admitted, his voice rough with need. “I want to lock us up in this room forever, keep you all to myself—never share you with another soul, living or dead.”

His lips trailed along her jaw, lingering there at the weight of her offer. Letting her drink from him—it was dangerous, intoxicating, and yet, it settled something inside him. A promise. A reassurance that if things spiraled tonight, she would come back to him. Would Stefan and Bonnie kill him if Elena was turned? Absolutely. Klaus too, most likely. But it was better than losing her altogether.

“Deal,” he said, voice thick with anticipation. He pulled her onto his lap, settling her straddling him at the edge of the bed. His eyes locked onto hers, dark with excitement. “Drink from me, Elena.”

The words were a command and an invitation, laced with something deeper. A raw, unfiltered desire. He smirked as he reached over, grabbing a steak knife from the cart and holding it out to her. “Not too hard,” he teased. “Just enough to break the skin.”

She had tasted him before but he had forced it. But this? This was something different. This was trust. This was want. And the heat simmering between them only burned hotter because of it. “I’ll heal,” he reassured her, tilting his neck just enough to give her the perfect angle. His breath hitched slightly, anticipation thrumming beneath his skin. “Go on,” he murmured, eyes never leaving hers. “Take what you need.”

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Elena barely had time to process the way his fingers tangled in her hair, the way his voice dipped lower, wrapping around her like silk and smoke. The teasing edge in his words only made her pulse spike, but it was the challenge beneath them that made something in her ignite.

Her breath hitched as he hovered just out of reach, testing her, tempting her. If he thought she’d let the moment slip away, he had clearly forgotten who he was dealing with.

Her hand slid up his chest, slow and deliberate, nails scraping lightly over his skin as she followed the open path of his unbuttoned shirt. "You think I need to try harder?" she murmured, her lips barely brushing his as she spoke. "Funny, because I thought I was making myself very clear."

And then she chased the moment.

She surged forward, closing the distance completely, her mouth slanting over his with heat and purpose. There was nothing soft about it—no hesitation, no second-guessing. Just hunger. Just need. If he wanted proof that she was done thinking about consequences, she was more than happy to show him.

When she finally pulled back, just enough to catch her breath, her eyes gleamed with something reckless, something unapologetically alive. Her fingers curled around his shoulders, keeping him close, her lips brushing against his as she spoke. "You want a plan, Damon?" Her voice was low, dangerous in a way that was far too tempting. "Here's the plan: we keep going until we can't breathe. We drown in this. We don’t stop until we have to."

She exhaled against his skin, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "And if that means a club, then lead the way." Her fingers traced the bite on her neck, tilting her head slightly, teasing. "But I wouldn’t mind a round two first. If you ask nice, I'll drink you, so you don't worry about me fading into the night."

His smirk was slow, deliberate, but his eyes burned with something more. "Ah, there's the truth," he murmured, reaching out to twirl a strand of her hair between his fingers. His other hand wrapped around the neck of the wine bottle as he took another drink, the bitter warmth coating his throat. He had known there was something she wasn’t telling him, something driving this reckless abandon. But this? This was what he had been waiting for.

"It does answer my question.," he hummed in agreement as she licked the remnants of blood from his chin, a flicker of something dark and electric shooting through him. But as much as he enjoyed the game they were playing, he had follow-up questions. "But—" His free hand snaked to the back of her neck, fingers weaving into her hair, holding her there, just close enough that he could search her eyes.

His lips brushed against hers with each word, voice low and teasing, but laced with something deeper. "If you’re trying to convince me you’re not still thinking about consequences, you might need to try a little harder." The tension crackled between them, thick and charged, but Damon wasn’t about to let her off easy. His grip loosened, fingers tracing lightly over her skin before he finally pulled back, just enough to watch her, to see if she’d chase after the moment or let it slip away.

"So, what's the plan, Elena?" Damon drawled, his smirk downright sinful as he twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers. "Another bottle of wine? Go back to being seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes—and throats—off?" His grip on the back of her neck tightened just slightly as he tilted her head, his lips hovering near the curve of her throat like he was considering another bite. The tension between them crackled, charged and unpredictable as always.. "Or," he murmured, amusement flickering in his eyes, "we can take this party on the road and find a club nearby? I live to serve you tonight.”

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Elena let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her smirk faltering for just a second before she downed the rest of her wine in one long sip. The warmth of it did nothing to dull the ache inside her, the constant weight pressing against her chest—the same weight she had been carrying for what felt like forever.

She set the glass aside, fingers toying with the sheets as she stared at them, as if gathering the right words. And then, finally, she looked up at him, something raw and unguarded flickering in those deep brown eyes.

"You want to know what finally pushed me?" she asked, voice softer now, but no less edged with something sharp. "I got tired, Damon." She gave a breathless, bitter laugh. "Tired of running. Tired of being hunted—by vampires, by witches, by whatever else decides my blood is some kind of prize.” Her hands curled into the sheets, gripping them tight. “I can’t take a breath without someone deciding my life is worth more than me."

Her gaze locked onto his, something desperate in the way she held it. "I just wanted one night where none of it mattered. Where no one was dying because of me. Where I could just—"be” without thinking about the consequences." She swallowed hard, then exhaled, shaking her head as if shaking off the weight of her own words.

And then, like flipping a switch, that teasing glint returned to her eyes, but it was laced with something darker now, something real. She reached for him, fingers ghosting over the blood still staining his chin. "You’re the only one who’s ever let me just live," she admitted, voice dropping to something almost intimate. And then, without hesitation, she leaned in, lips brushing his skin as she licked the remnants of blood from his chin, slow and deliberate.

Pulling back just slightly, her lips hovered near his. "That answer your question?"

Even Damon, with all his years of experience, couldn’t mask the shock flickering across his face. He was frozen, eyes wide with disbelief as Elena boldly closed the space between them and took a taste for herself. He wasn’t often at a loss for words, but in this moment, he found himself utterly speechless.

“What are you doing?” His voice was low, not truly a question—because they both knew exactly what she was doing. And she knew the effect it had on him. Would it be wrong to admit he liked this Elena? He had loved every version of her he’d encountered, but this—this was something else entirely.

His gaze followed her as she moved away, unable to look anywhere else. Fearless, reckless, utterly intoxicating. A smirk tugged at his lips before he finally shook himself from his daze and followed, sinking onto the plush mattress beside her. She poured herself a glass of wine, and without hesitation, he plucked the bottle from her hand, bringing it straight to his lips.

“I have to know something, Elena,” he mused, pausing to take a long drink, savoring the rich sweetness before lowering the bottle. “Just out of curiosity…” He trailed off, fingers working at the buttons of his shirt—not for show, just to get comfortable. His eyes never left her. “What finally pushed you to let go of that pesky humanity you’ve been clinging to so tightly?”

She was still human, of course. But right now, it felt as though she’d given that little switch a teasing flick. Damon could only imagine the kind of chaos she’d unleash if she ever turned and  truly turned it off. The fun that would bring.

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Elena watched him as he drank from the butler, her pulse still thrumming from the aftershocks of their moment. He was trying to be nonchalant, to act like he hadn’t just unraveled completely against her skin, but she saw the way his eyes stayed locked on her, the way his grip tightened just a little too hard on the poor man’s chin before compelling him away.

And then, as the butler left, she saw it—the trail of blood staining the sharp curve of Damon’s chin, crimson against his perfect smirk, the evidence of his indulgence. Her lips curled into something wicked as she stood, padding toward him with slow, measured steps, the silk of her dress whispering against her skin.

“You missed a spot,” she murmured, her voice thick with amusement and something darker, something hungrier. She reached up, her fingers curling around the bottle he still held, lowering it with gentle insistence until he let it go. And then, with deliberate slowness, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his chin, her tongue flicking over the stray blood.

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her own dark and glinting with mischief. “What?” she teased, tilting her head. “You were the one who said we have a lifetime for more.” Her fingers skimmed down the front of his shirt, playful, testing. “No harm in getting a taste now and then. Right?”

She turned away then, making her way back toward the table where their forgotten meal sat waiting. Pouring herself a glass of wine, she took a slow sip, savoring the way the flavor bloomed on her tongue. Then, with an arched brow and a smirk, she glanced back at him over her shoulder.

“As for what we do with the rest of our freedom…” she let the sentence linger, her smirk deepening. “Well, I suppose that depends on just how reckless we want to be. This is our time out; we can do anything. I'm all yours right now, remember?”

Damon couldn’t help but to shiver as her lips brushed against the shell of his ear and she called him out so effortlessly. She was right, of course, he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to hold her against him forever, fangs deep in her neck as her lifeline filled his mouth and touched his soul. She was warmth, she was light, she was everything that he wanted wrapped up in one fragile little human. For a brief moment, Damon saw himself giving in—losing himself completely in Elena. But he had restraint. He wasn’t a ripper, not some crazed blood addict with no self-control.

“Of course I wanted more.” Damon winked as she sat back, finally pulling himself from the bed, giving them both space to eat.. “I have your lifetime to enjoy more of that moment.” He walked back to the poor butler boy who had to watch that scene, still speaking to Elena as he circled the butler and turned him around so that Damon could see Elena as he got ready to have his own meal. “Get yourself refreshed.I can’t have you fainting on me from blood loss or starvation.” He was joking, but there was an actual undertone of worry. The two of them have done nothing but drink and build up sexual tension for the last 24 hours, this was a break that they both needed to get ahold of their needs. 

Damon tilted the butler’s head to the side—like he had with Elena, though this time with far less care—before sinking his fangs into his neck. The taste, compared to her, was nothing special and almost tasted rough compared to what he was previously blessed with. He couldn’t take his off of her, even in this moment as he was fangs deep in the man’s neck. Eventually he pulled away, the red blood dripping down his chin as he grabbed the man’s chin to look at him and compelled him. “You won’t remember any of this.” Damon spoke to the guy, biting his own wrist for the other to drink up so the wound would heal and brought it to the man’s mouth for a few seconds before sending him on his way 

Rolling his shoulders, Damon watched as Elena uncovered their food, but his attention barely lingered. Instead, he strode toward the bottle of wine, plucking it from the table with practiced ease. The cork popped free with a satisfying sound, and he didn’t bother with a glass—just tipped the bottle back, letting the rich liquid flood his mouth. It wasn’t what he really wanted. Not even close. But it would have to do.

This little runaway of theirs had been reckless, indulgent—exactly what he craved. But reality loomed just outside these walls, waiting to drag them back. “What are we to do with the last bit of our freedom?”

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Elena's breath catches in her throat the moment she hears his voice. She turns slowly, eyes widening as she takes him in—really takes him in. He looks different, like the time away has worn him down, but there’s still something achingly familiar in the way he stands there, hesitant, like he’s not sure if he belongs anymore.

Her lips part, but for a second, nothing comes out. Then, a shaky breath.

"Stefan."

It’s barely above a whisper, but the weight of his name on her tongue feels heavier than she expected. Her gaze drops to the small box in his hands, and something tugs at her chest—something fragile, something hopeful.

She steps forward, closing the space between them until she can reach out, fingers brushing over the wrapping paper as if testing to see if this moment is real.

"You didn’t have to..." she starts, but the words falter because, truthfully, she doesn’t want to tell him not to. She doesn’t want to push him away. Not after everything.

Finally, she meets his eyes again—warm, conflicted, so full of things left unsaid.

"I missed you too."

And just like that, some of the weight between them lifts. Maybe it’s not everything. Maybe it’s not enough. But it’s something.

the younger salvatore brother steps forward, rather hesitant before he makes his presence known by knocking on the wall beside him lightly. “hi.” he says with a weary smile. after being gone for as long as he was, he wasn't sure how well his return to mystic falls would be received. maybe he should have just made a run for it, gone a different way and let the world think he was still missing, but that'd never work. there were too many people he cared for to leave behind, them included.

"i, uh, got this for you. not sure if it's too late for presents or not, but it reminded me of you and i... i missed you." he holds up a delicately wrapped box. presents weren't going to make up for lost time, but hopefully it was a start.

open starter bc i’m back and so is stef ~

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A breathless, shuddering laugh escaped Elena, her body still humming from the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure. She was dizzy, but not from the bite itself—from him. From the way his lips lingered against her skin, the way his body molded so perfectly against hers, like he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

“Dumb?” she echoed, amusement threading through her voice, even as she tilted her head just enough to let him continue his slow, reverent kisses against her throat. Her fingers threaded through his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, and she swore she felt him shudder beneath her touch.

“If that was dumb…” she continued, voice sultry, teasing, just barely above a whisper, “then I guess I like making bad decisions.” Her smirk deepened, wicked and knowing as she pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her eyes dark with something dangerously close to satisfaction.

Her fingers trailed down his chest, slow and deliberate, before she leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You didn’t want to stop,” she murmured, her breath warm against his skin, taunting him with the truth he had tried—and failed—to deny. “I could feel it.”

She pulled back slightly, enough to meet his eyes again, her smirk softening into something almost… inviting. “Your dinner is getting bored while you enjoy me... We should both eat now, don't you think?"

Damon growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her skin as her blood hit his tongue like the richest, most decadent sin. She was intoxicating. No. She was ecstasy. She flooded his senses, unraveling the last frayed threads of restraint he had left. His arms wrapped around her, possessive and unyielding, one hand tangled in her hair as he pulled her closer, the other laid flat against the small of her back, anchoring her against him.

He drank deeply and greedily, each pull sending a shiver of pleasure through him. Her heartbeat thrummed beneath his lips, her body melting into him, offering him everything, and God help him, he wanted everything. He didn't want to stop. He didn't think he could stop. She was fire and temptation and he wanted to burn in her completely.

Her voice teasing and taunting cut through the haze, pulling him back from the edgel. Damon's teeth lingered for just a moment before he finally pulled back, lips still brushing her skin as he exhaled shakily, his own head spinning from the taste of her. "Elena," Damon breathed against her neck, his voice rough and unsteady in a way that was so unlike him.  "That was… dumb." The words left his lips, but even as he said them, his actions betrayed him. His lips ghosted over the puncture wounds, pressing loving kisses against them.

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A sharp gasp escaped Elena’s lips, her fingers twisting into the sheets as a shiver tore through her at the first sharp press of his fangs. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before—pain laced with pleasure, sharp and intoxicating, sending a delicious, heady warmth curling through her veins.

Her pulse thundered beneath his mouth, her body instinctively arching into him, giving him more—offering herself to him in a way she never had before. And God, she loved the way it felt. The way Damon took her, claimed her, like he had been starving for this, for her.

A breathless laugh left her, half-dazed, half-drunk on the sensation of him. “And here I thought you were going to hold back,” she murmured, her voice laced with something teasing, something wicked. Her nails raked lightly down his back, feeling the way his body tensed beneath her touch.

Her head tilted further, exposing even more of her throat to him, silently daring him to take what he wanted. "Guess I was right about you all along," she breathed, her voice a sultry whisper that would strike against his ear. "You do love it when I play with fire."

Damon let out a slow, shuddering breath, his restraint hanging by a thread. His smirk faltered for only the briefest second—just long enough for her to know she had his full and undivided attention. His fingers tightened on the bed sheets before  he finally gave in, reaching up to cup her jaw, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the hunger burning in his darkened gaze. "You really are playing with fire, Elena," he murmured, his thumb sweeping over her cheek as he angled her face just so—guiding her, exposing the elegant curve of her throat even further.His lips brushed the skin just below her ear, lingering, teasing, savoring. He could feel her pulse hammering beneath his mouth, the heat of her body pressing into him like a brand. Damon didn’t have it in him anymore to make this slow, to drag out the anticipation until she was trembling beneath him, begging for more. But another, much darker part of him—one that had been starving for far too long—wanted to take, to claim, to lose himself in her completely. "You’re right," he murmured against her skin, his voice low, rough, filled with something almost dangerous. “I do want this.”  And then, with a growl barely contained in his throat, he finally sank his teeth into her skin.

[maledictussanctus]

Elena let out a slow, measured breath, her pulse hammering beneath her skin. If Damon was expecting hesitation, he wasn’t going to get it—not this time. She had made her choice the moment she had taunted him, the moment she let those words slip from her lips, full of intention and wicked want.

Her dark eyes locked onto his, her smirk unfaltering even as he closed the distance between them. "You really think you can blame this on the alcohol?" she murmured, tilting her head just slightly, baring the column of her throat to him in an unmistakable challenge.

Damon's breath hitched, just for a second.

She leaned in, her lips mere inches from his, her voice dropping to something sultry, something teasing. "You’re not the only one who’s been craving something, Damon." Her fingers skimmed up his arm, tracing the muscle beneath, before sliding to his chest. "The only question is… are you sure you can handle it?"

The air between them was thick, suffocating, burning. He had been the one to ask if she was sure, but now, she turned the tables, knowing full well that she had already won this game the second he climbed onto that bed.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him just a breath closer as she let her lips ghost over his jaw—never quite kissing, but close enough to drive him mad. "Because I’m very sure," she whispered against his skin. "And I think you are too."

Then, she leaned back ever so slightly, her chin tilting up in deliberate, teasing invitation. "So what’s it going to be, Damon?"

Damon had already taken her little "well" as permission, circling the poor butler like a shark in water, searching for the best angle to strike. One hand pressed against the man’s head, tilting it to the side, fully intent on diving in. But then, he heard movement—shifting on the bed.Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at her, half-expecting hesitation, maybe even second thoughts.

But oh—he was wrong. His voice dropped, thick with the same tease she had offered him. "You’re playing a very dangerous game." He could practically feel the heat of her desire radiating off her, making the ache of restraint all the more unbearable. "But I have to ask… do you really want me to bite ?He took a slow step closer, his gaze trailing over her exposed thigh, the way her dress clung to her curves.

Or is this drunk Elena talking?"The bed shifted under his weight as he crawled onto it, predatory and unhurried. His lips hovered just above her skin, his breath hot against her."I’ve always wanted to know what you taste like, Elena. In more ways than one."His voice was a sinful whisper, dark and edged with hunger. The air between them crackled with tension, anticipation hanging heavy in the space that barely remained between them."You have to be sure you want this," Damon warned, though his resolve was already fraying. His mouth all but watered with the deep, dangerous desires he had fought to keep at bay for so long.

[maledictussanctus]

Damon reluctantly pulled away from her, raking a hand through his already tousled hair as he rolled his eyes in pure exasperation. “This better be the best food of your entire life,” he muttered before striding toward the door.

Elena exhaled sharply, trying to steady herself as she sat up, legs still trembling from the intensity of what had almost happened. Almost. The ache of it sat heavy in her chest, a frustrating mix of desire and anticipation left unfulfilled.

Damon yanked the door open with a forced smile, dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you—” he drawled as the butler stepped inside, pushing the silver cart laden with their order. The poor guy had no idea he had just interrupted something dangerous, something on the verge of snapping.

As the butler turned to leave, Damon’s hand shot out, clamping over the man’s shoulder. “Wait here,” he ordered smoothly, voice laced with compulsion. “Don’t speak.”

Elena’s pulse kicked up as she watched the butler’s body go rigid, his eyes glazing over in obedience. Damon turned back toward her, lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“You wouldn’t mind if I also ate, would you?”

Her stomach clenched at his words, but not in fear.

She tilted her head, gaze flickering between Damon and the butler before settling back on him. “Well,” she murmured, voice lilting with amusement. “He did interrupt, didn’t he?”

She leaned back on her palms, watching as Damon circled the butler like a predator deciding how much fun he wanted to have with his prey. Her skin still burned where his mouth had been just moments ago, and she knew—knew exactly—what she wanted.

Her voice was softer this time, teasing. “But you know… he’s not the only one I want you to bite.”

Her lips curled into a slow, taunting smirk as she slowly slipped her legs back apart as he had had them. With a slowness, she bent one leg slightly to force the hem of her dress to shrink back and expose her thigh again. Feigning innocence, she said, “I thought you wanted me to admit it.”

Damon’s smirk was pure temptation, the glint in his blue eyes dark with unspoken promises. His grip on her thighs was firm and borderline possessive, as his lips ghosted over her heated skin. He dragged his mouth along the inside of her thigh, deliberately slow, savoring the way her breath hitched with every teasing brush. His fangs grazed her skin, a silent warning of just how easily he could ruin her—and how much he wanted to.

“I want you to admit you want it,” his voice was a husky whisper against her skin, lips still dancing over sensitive flesh. “For the first time in your life. Admit you want me.”He ended his words with a nip, sharp enough to make her gasp. Her fingers tangled in his disheveled hair, while his own pressed just enough to send her pulse racing beneath his touch.

The anticipation was intoxicating, the air between them thick with everything left unsaid. He could feel the pulse beating away like the wings of a hummingbird beneath his lips, with each kiss he was centering in on his target and she would just say it out loud- he’d end the game of cat and mouse they were both suffering through. 

And just when Elena was on the edge, teetering between resistance and complete surrender, and Damon thought she was finally going to admit it to him-  the butler arrived 

The sound shattered through the haze, yanking him back to reality. Elena’s body was trembling under him, and for a brief second, Damon didn’t move. His lips lingered against her thigh, his grip refusing to loosen, like he was debating whether to ignore the interruption entirely. With her groan of frustration filling the room, Damon finally pulled back with a long exhale and dropped his forehead against his leg for a fleeting second as he regained his composure. “This better be the best food of your entire life.”

He reluctantly pulled away from her, hands running through his hair and down his face as he rolled his eyes with annoyance for the turn of the events and went to the door. “Thank you—” Damon said to the butler, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice as he stepped aside to let the man roll in the cart loaded with food and wine. Once the butler turned to leave, Damon caught him by the shoulder, tilting his head as he met the man’s gaze.  “Wait here, don't speak.” He compelled the man.The butler froze, obedient under compulsion, and Damon turned back to Elena with a wicked little smile, something dark and knowing glinting in his eyes.. “You wouldn’t mind if I also ate, would you?”

[maledictussanctus]

H𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍?repost , don’t reblog! bold  what  applies, italicize what  sometimes  applies, strike through  for  never  applies.

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑.  jaw  clenching.  hands  balling  into  fists.  teeth  grinding.  yelling.  going  nonverbal. vocalizations.  stuttering  speech.  slow,  concise  speech.  rambling.  quiet.  arms  crossing.  shaking  head.  curling  lip  upwards.  baring  teeth.  tearing  up.  animated.  expressionless.  projects.  internalizes.  vents.  withdraws.  tighter  movements.  passive-aggressive.  direct.  physical  outbursts.  verbal  outbursts.  pacing.  going  still.  anger  boils  over  in  the  heat  of  the  moment  but  cools  down  quickly  afterwards.  anger  brews  slowly  but  lingers  longer.  will  act  out  of  impulse  when  angry.  will  stew  on  their  anger  and  plot  revenge.  holds  grudges.  forgives  easily.  forgives  but  never  forgets.

𝐉𝐎𝐘.  easy  smiles.  fighting  back  grins.  suppressed  laughter.  loud  laughter.  giggles.  chuckling.  smirks.  whole  body  laughs.  covers  mouth  when  laughing/giggling.  throws  head  back  when  laughing.  looks  for  eye  contact  when  laughing.  sparkling  eyes.  bubbly  happiness.  quiet  sublte  happiness.  obnoxious  happiness.  wants  to  spread  joy.  quietly  savors  joy.

𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒.  crying.  bottling  it  up.  seeking  distractions.  wallowing.  meditating  and  processing.  avoidance.  seeking  out  comfort.  withdrawing.  swallowing  thickly.  talking  it  out.  internalizing  it.  sad  smiles.  depression  naps.  using  alcohol.  using  drugs.  seeking  out  sources  of  joy.  fidgets  with  sentimental  item.  sits  in  silence.  broods.  gets  moody.  wants  someone  to  share  the  misery.  tries  to  hide  negative  emotions.  nurtures  others  to  make  themselves  feel  better.

𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓  /  𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐄.  blushing.  looking  away.  rubbing  at  the  back  of  their  head.  running  a  hand  through  hair.  clearing  throat.  covering  the  face.  laughing  nervously.  laughing  it  off.  overthinking.  letting  it  go.  self-depricating  humor.  deflecting.  getting  irritated.  smiling.  withdraws.  crossing  arms  over  stomach.  crossing  arms  over  chest.  hands  in  pockets.  shoulders  sinking.  shrugs.  falling  into  silence  until  comfortable  again.  talking  a  lot  to  compensate.

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓.  avoiding  eye  contact.  shoulders  sinking  low.  head  hanging  down.  crying.  chest  aches.  lashing  out.  internalizing.  apologizing.  deflecting.  communicating.  withdrawing.  grand  gestures  for  forgiveness.  accepting  fault  easily.  punishing  themselves.  martyrdom.  victim  complex.  over-active  guilt  complex.  healthy  conscience.  internalizes  even  after  forgiveness.  seeking  redemption.  moves  on  easily.  denial.  shuts  off  empathy  to  cope.  lack  of  guilt/conscience.  sorry  they  got  caught  more  than  caused  harm.  can't  handle  knowing  they  hurt  others.

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑  /  𝐀𝐍𝐗𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘.  trembling.  crying.  sarcasm/sass  to  cope.  humor  to  cope.  rambles.  going  quiet.  going  nonverbal.  getting  angry.  fidgeting.  freezing  up.  impatience.  clenching  jaw.  picking  at  nails.  chewing  at  lip.  pulling  at  clothes.  adjusting  jewelry/clothing/hair.  pacing.  swallowing  thickly.  eyes  widening.  over-reacts.  under-reacts.  calm.  logical.  panic.  irrational.  overthinks.  carefully  analyzes.  talk  to  themselves.  breathing  exercises.  flight.  fight.  withdraw.  fawn.

tagged by; @crowsalvation

tagging; @vintagedegeneratexx @inkmisfitroses (and anyone that sees this and wants to do it <3)

[maledictussanctus]

Elena’s breath hitched as she felt Damon’s lips ghost over her skin, his voice dark silk against her flesh. The brush of his fangs sent a delicious shiver down her spine, and she swore he could feel the way her pulse pounded beneath his lips. Every touch, every whispered taunt unraveled something inside her, something she wasn’t sure she could ever put back together.

She gripped his hair, not to push him away, but to hold him there, to anchor herself in the storm he was creating inside her. Her fingers twisted into the dark strands, a silent plea, a challenge she wasn’t sure she wanted to win.

"You want me to stop pretending?" Her words dripped with something darker than desire, something that made her entire body feel like it was teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

And she wanted it.

Her lips parted, her breath shaky as she tried to find more words—any words—but before she could—

A knock at the door cut through the thick, hazy air between them.

Elena jolted slightly, her body still humming with anticipation, her mind struggling to catch up to reality. No. No, no, no—

"You have got to be kidding me." Elena’s groan escaped her before her head dropped back against the headboard in pure, unfiltered frustration.

The absurdity of it all hit her at once, and she barely bit back a laugh, though her body still trembled from everything he had just done to her. She was still trapped in the moment, still breathless, still aching.

"Room service!"

Elena pressed a hand to her face, inhaling deeply as she tried to collect herself, but the moment was far from over. Her skin still tingled where his lips had been, her body still wound tight with need. She had watched as Damon finally moved, slow and deliberate, like he wanted her to feel the weight of everything left unfinished.

She felt it in every pulse of her body, in the way her fingers still trembled slightly when she finally let go of the sheets.

Elena tensing caused him to smirk against her thigh, his lips brushing along her inner thigh in a way that was just short of sinful. “Waiting?” He murmured, his voice dark silk against her skin. “No, Elena. I’m savoring. Because once I start-” Fangs brushed against her once again, knowing it wouldn’t take much for him to break the delicate skin and get one of the two things he was in desperate desire for. “-I can’t promise that I’ll stop.”

His hands tightened on her thighs, a silent warning, a promise wrapped in temptation. He pressed another slow, lingering kiss to the soft curve of her thigh, his tongue flicking against her skin like a whisper of what was to come.

Damon drawled, lifting his gaze to meet hers from between her thighs, his smirk wicked and knowing. The sharp glint of his fangs teased at the edges of his lips. "You love the thrill of it, don’t you? I can hear it—your heart racing and your breath hitching—just waiting to see if I’ll take a taste."

[maledictussanctus]

Elena’s breath hitched, her fingers gripping the sheets beneath her as a slow, shuddering exhale left her lips. Her body was a battlefield between restraint and surrender, and Damon—damn him—knew exactly how to push her closer to the edge.

"You say that like you think I’m still holding back," she murmured, her voice smooth but breathless, her fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to thread them through his hair and pull him closer.

Her thighs tensed beneath his touch, but she didn’t move away. She let herself feel it—the warmth of his mouth against her skin, the tantalizing scrape of his fangs that sent a dangerous thrill racing through her veins.

Tilting her head back against the pillow, she let out a soft, knowing hum. "You’re the one hesitating, Damon." Her smirk was pure challenge as she shifted slightly beneath him, making it clear exactly how much she wasn’t holding back. "What are you waiting for?"

Elena let out a quiet laugh, low and teasing, her lips curving in challenge. "And you think I don’t know that?" she whispered, her voice silky smooth as she let him guide her touch higher, fingers pressing just enough to make a point but not enough to give him what he wanted. Not yet.

She let the moment stretch, their mouths so close she could taste the whiskey on his breath. Her pulse thrummed, not with fear, but exhilaration. He wanted her to pull away, to play it safe, to give him another reason to smirk at her and remind her of all the ways he had the upper hand.

But Elena was done playing it safe.

With a slow, deliberate movement, she tilted her chin just enough for her lips to brush against his—just a whisper of contact, barely there before she pulled away again, dragging her nails lightly down his thigh as she settled back.

"I like fire, Damon," she murmured, licking a stray drop of whiskey from her lips as she reached for another shot. "And I don’t scare easy. I have a little brother, remember? And an original vampire who wants my blood more than you."

She knocked back the drink in one smooth motion, then tilted the empty bottle at him with a smirk. "Your turn."