#I could talk about bonnie all day long

[bxnnie-bxwl]

Heyo-!! I got a question, before Ruin DLC were you sad that there wasn’t a Bonnie animatronic? Btw love ye art!

hii!! thank you for the question!

so I remember when security breach was announced and I had been out of the franchise for a while and I thought the game looked very cool from the teasers! But realised bonnie wasn’t gonna be there.. so I was a little sad ): cause he has been my favourite since game 1, I saw about the mystery of bonnie being sort of missing and monty being put in his place so I was a little sad I didn’t get to see him in this new era….but then ruin dropped.. and we got to see all the hints, SEE BONNIE HIMSELF AND HOW HE HAUNTS THE NARRITIVE. I became obsessed all over again… consuming all about bonnie and my old favourites and officially joined the fandom, always liked the series but never was in the fandom completely… so I’m very glad that glamrock bonnie is actually a thing! and his design is to me PEAK

[lologoinsolo]

How I think the 141 would be with you being pregnant.

It’s the way that I know in my heart of hearts that Price wouldn’t tell his team until after the fact that he got you pregnant and also about the baby already being on your hips. Like??? The men have to suddenly stay at his place for some reason and he minorly forgets about the bomb that’s gonna go off once he gets home since he’s bloodied and bruised with possibly cracked rips. He planned to mention you and his baby to the team in a more controlled setting…oh well… “Here’s my wife(“WIFE?!?”) and my baby(“BABY?!?!”).” None of the men, except Ghost, were pleased to find out so late but they knew it’s because the man’s protective of you.

Gaz is a little secretive about his wife’s pregnancy, the team knows he’s married. He gushes about you nonstop to the guys and proudly wears his ring. But your pregnancy is something he wanted to keep hidden for a bit. He eventually made mention of it and suddenly all three were announcing themselves uncles to their soon to be nephew/niece. Gaz has you and his baby, once the sweetheart is born, as his Lock Screen. The men came like a day after you gave birth to drop off flowers, goodies, food, baby supplies and just about anything they could stuff in the hospital.

Soap is loudly talking about his bonnie wife and barin. The men were there nearly every step of the way of your pregnancy since Soap would go on and on about all the milestones. Even the small ones. The Scot proudly parading his bairn and you up to base once you were rested and probably saying some stupid shit like “I made that. Look at’em, just as bonnie as my wife!” His family is his pride and joy and he’ll be loud about that to anyone that will listen. Spoilers: they have no choice. He’ll yap for hours about you. Price bans your name from being mentioned after he had to sit through 2 long hours about his bonnie wife and wee one.

Ghost tells not a single soul that 1. He’s married. And, 2. His kid has already been born and a year old already. Not even torture can get that info out of him but it’s you that decides his most trusted men deserves to know. You show up to base with your toddler on your hip, Soap and Gaz’s jaws dropped to the floor when you introduced yourself as Mrs. Riley. The absolute chaos that shook the base was astounding. Price had been the one to ask Ghost why he’d mention the two of you now since he understands the most for the need for secrecy. Ghost simply grunted out, “the misses wanted to meet you,” while his toddler sleeps in his arms.

[shotmrmiller]

johnny dates your friend and then asks her if she's got any friends (you) for his friend (simon). but simon freaks you out. he can't hold a conversation— or won't, you're not sure; you're lucky if you get monosyllabic grunts out of him as if he were a neanderthal. the only times you've seriously heard him talk is to bark out words at either johnny or the bartender.

he walks around with a poorly concealed weapon on his hip, almost like he is expecting trouble. he wears all black, which is completely fine, but then a skull balaclava that he refuses to take off, even to drink his liquor. you don't try to hide the grimace on your face when you watch him sip through the thick fabric. he's got skeleton gloves on his hands too, like some sort of shit cosplay to match his mask.

and he fucking stares, unashamedly so. it is unblinking, scrutinizing, intense— his dark eyes, pools of midnight, keen. he stares at the people walking in through the door, stares at johnny when he takes your friend to the dance floor, and when you tell him out of courtesy that you're going to go get another drink, you can feel him boring holes into the back of your head as you walk away, piercing flesh and bone.

the phantom fingers of his gaze trace icy paths along your spine, erupting your skin in goosebumps. you find him immensely creepy, and you thank the fucking stars you're only here as a favor for your friend. you don't think you want to do this again. he's either a wanted serial killer or just a goddamn freak.

a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders once you're at the bar, and with a sneer on your lips, you turn to the owner of said offending limb, only to come face to face with johnny. he leans into you, close enough to where you can feel his stubble grazing the shell of your ear. (back up, brother.)

"listen, bonnie!" you wince; it's really not that loud in here for him to be yelling like that. "ah ken, ghos— er, simon, might no' be yer average man. he can be a little off-puttin'—" a little? if he doesn't follow you home and skin you alive, you'd be incredibly fortunate— "but ah promise ye, while he may no' be boyfriend material, he's an incredible fuck."

excuse me? he's got to be positively pissed. "maybe you should slow down, yeah? you might already be three sheets to the wind if you're gassing up your unsettling friend's cock. no offense."

"naw! ah'm tellin' ye. long ago, we had a mission tha' ran everyone tight, 'n so we relieved tension the only way we could— big, strong guy like him had me limpin' for a few days after."

you're about to ask for an angel shot because there is no way in hell that your friend's boyfriend is making casual conversation about him getting absolutely railed by—

"give 'em a try. jus' the once, i swear he don't bite," johnny pauses-- the rosy flush on his nose and cheeks vibrant, "unless ye ask nicely. yer friend said ye needed to get laid, anyways." oh, you're gonna fucking kill her, that long-tongued cretin.

"right!" you drink the remainder of your cocktail in one big gulp, liquid warmth trailing down your throat, before not-so-kindly shrugging him off. "i'm gonna go, you, uh— we didn't have this conversation, for the sake of my friend." you gesture at the bartender. "one more, please. i'm gonna need it."

-

damn. now johnny's got you thinking about getting your back broken by simon. maybe you really are just down horrendously, or maybe it's the alcohol in your system that has decided to toss all self-preservation out the metaphorical window because now you can't stop noticing him.

he's real tall— enough to have him slightly tipping his head to walk through a doorway. his shoulders are mountainous, his hands the size of a bear's paw. his physicality is undoubtedly impressive and well, you've always been weak to burly, commanding men.

you make eye contact with johnny from across the room, his bright blue eyes alive under the dim light of the dingy bar, and the bastard shifts his gaze from simon to you, giving a cheeky wink.

lifting your glass, you drink the last of your liquid courage— the taste of it bittersweet. it has been a long time since you've gotten laid.

double damn.

"hey." you lean slightly toward simon, cupping your hand around your mouth. "you and i both know why we're here. take me home?" the way he looks at you has you shifting restlessly in your seat. did you perhaps make a mistake? oh, fuck. did you just throw yourself cunt-first at someone who is not interested? your face burns with embarrassment, heat licking up your cheeks. maybe the earth will split open, right here ri—

"let's go then." oh thank fucking god. you don't know what you would've done if he'd said no. shrivel up and die, probably. "uber'll be here in 4."

when it arrives, he places his leather jacket around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth— the heady scent of nicotine clings to the garment— and leads you outside with a hand on the small of your back.

-

the world outside the car blurs into a hazy painting as the driver navigates the streets. colors blend together, once sharp outlines now dissolved. the rain gently taps on the window, a soothing sound that could easily lull you to sleep until you start when a roughened palm suddenly glides along your thigh— fingers slowly tracing intimate patterns on your skin.

simon's hand is hot, and it only burns hotter the closer it gets to your center under your least favorite skirt. he cannot be serious right now. you place your hand over his, short nails biting into him because there is no way you're about to be fingered in an uber—

his voice is deep, a deliciously thick rumble, right by your ear. "nice kitty." you've never been one for pet names or anything else for that matter, but the pulse of arousal that shoots up your spine has a shaky exhale leaving your lips, a ghostly breath fogging up the window.

the tips of his fingers tease the seam of your knickers, a generic cotton fabric that clings to your dampening cunt like a second skin— desire trickling onto the gusset. your whimper is drowned out by the terrible music the driver is currently playing when his small finger grazes over your slit, featherlight.

"so wet already? i've barely even touched ya, love." again with the cunt-clenching nicknames. he has no business purring them out like that. "i can smell your sweet pussy from here. you really must be achin' for it." of course the time he chooses to be vocal, it's to spew filth. "don't worry, i'll treat ya good."

somehow, you actually manage to choke out a response. "i'm sure. johnny-" you hiss through clenched teeth when he slips under your knickers, a finger brushing along your slick entrance, "said you had him walking side to side once." you buck your hips, seeking the friction you need, but it only makes him pull away a bit; how unsurprisingly cruel.

"only because he was bein' a brat. you're not a brat though, are ya? gonna be good f'me?" your tongue is heavy in your mouth, words lodged in your throat— all you can give him is a slight nod. "i expect verbal answers. i'd hate to spank your arse raw. how would ya sit down after?"

the idea of being bent over his strong thighs, face pressed into his couch as his firm hand takes you into the needy subspace you crave is too much, or maybe not enough because you're tucking your face into the side of his neck in an instant. "please," you warble, unsure of what you're even begging for.

he curls his finger, slipping between your lips, and when he finally brushes your clit— a fleeting, tantalizing touch— your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head. "needy little thing. i bet there's a damp spot right where you're sittin'. drippin' all over my fingers—" your breath is ripped from your lungs when he abruptly pulls his hand out and away, the sodden material of your knickers snapping against your heated skin. you're about to snarl out a vicious what the fuck, but the once-blurred scenery outside sharpens into focus.

the driver parks and looks at you from the rearview mirror. "we're here." you mumble a muted thank you, stepping out with quivering legs and a drenched cunt. a crisp breeze dances across your skin, a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat from inside the car.

as soon as the car drives off, you're hoisted onto a broad shoulder. the world tilts, and you fist the back of simon's shirt for stability. "highly unnecessary. i can wa—" you let out a squeak when he slaps the back of your thigh, the sharp bite of it sending a jolt straight to your throbbing center.

"hush."

you sputter indignantly as you hold on tighter, breaths coming out in short gasps, syncing with each step. "i beg your pardon?"

you yelp when he gives you another slap, this time closer to your cunt. "then beg." you're rendered speechless.

wow. maybe you've actually bitten off more than you can chew.

the wet cement under you is a blur, the texture lost in the rush of his movements until he comes to a stop, and you hear a familiar jingle of keys. he bursts through the door, the hinges groaning in protest, and you're staggeringly planted on both feet.

"nice place." a lie. it looks unlived in— brand spanking new. you vaguely hear the lock behind you as you take in your surroundings. a perfect, leather couch, not a crease in sight. the rug under it is pristine and bland, a cream color that matches the rest of his flat. impersonal. not an ounce of real personality anywhere. you begin shrugging off his jacket when you're suddenly pressed against the cold door, simon bent at the knees in front of you, his dark eyes— sharp as blades— lock onto yours.

"gonna beg?"

the fire in your lower belly reignites at the sight of his unmasked face. ash-brown hair in a simple crew cut, thick brows with the right one bisected by a pink, gnarled scar. slightly crooked nose, broken one too many times, and thin, pale lips. a countenance to match his rugged personality.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when he licks a hot stripe over your covered slit and you mewl at the sensation. "i asked you a question."

the words rush out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping them. "yes, yes! please, god, i don't- just- please let me come! i-" his thumbs hook into the waistband of your knickers and tug them down slowly, strings of arousal sticking to the gusset, smearing on your inner thighs.

"alrigh', since ya begged so prettily." your vision goes white when he throws one leg over his shoulder, and his slick tongue slides through your folds, the tip flicking your clit lightly. he laps at your cunt like it drips milk and honey— nourishing and sweet. simon groans into you, the sound crawling up your vertebrae and into the base of your skull.

he begins to draw lazy circles around your pearl, every swirl of his tongue has your back bowing as if winding it, inching you closer to the precipice. your toes curl in your shoes, hands finding purchase in his coarse hair, knuckles staining white as you start the feel the familiar tightening in your lower belly.

and then he pushes one thick finger into you, down to the scarred knuckle, and crooks it. the squelching noise your dripping pussy makes when he presses on the tiny patch of rough skin inside is loud and obscene; practically echoing off the dull, ivory walls of his flat.

"gonna come f'me? make a mess all over my hand?" simon adds another finger, a slight burn nipping at the heels of the pleasure coiling under your navel.

"c'mon. give it to me, pet." his lips encircle your clit, giving it a light suckle and it's—

the coil snaps, a sudden release of tension. it is violent and oh, so exquisite. white noise in your head, your ears, coursing through your veins. it prickles, it stings; it's pleasure and pain. your soul sinks back into your body— like a feather returning to its nest— and you blink, momentarily unbalanced.

"ya with me?"

you breathe deep— the taste of salt in the air, the scent of sweat-slick skin, your heart pulsing with life. "yes. i'm here." the man took you to the stars and laid you on them. jesus.

"good." the room spins, and you're weightless, nestled in his arms. it'd seem innocent if it wasn't for the stickiness in between your thighs, or the prominent bulge in his jeans occasionally pressing into your arse.

simon kicks a door open, knob bouncing off the wall with a crack, and quickly places you on the bed before tugging his shirt off. the belt and jeans come off next, and—

"you don't wear pants." why would he let that monstrosity just hang like that?

"good observation. is water still wet?" he asks, tonelessly. you narrow your eyes at him, pushing your tongue against the back of your teeth.

"fuck me for having eyes and using them as intended, i guess," you mumble under your breath. he grabs you by the ankle and tugs the skirt off, then your shoes, "ouch, i like my feet where they are, thank you," and literally rips your shirt in half. "you'll be giving me on of yours before i leave as recompense."

he holds himself up with his arms over you, your thighs burning as they cradle his hips.

his cock is a heavy, hot weight on your stomach— ruddy, leaking tip right under your navel. you're not small by any means, but he's going to tear you in half. there's no surviving such an onslaught. he's not just leaving you with a limp, he's going to turn your two smaller holes into one big one.

he tears into a golden wrapper with his teeth, and expertly rolls the condom on. simon lowers down to his elbows and nudges your jaw with his nose. "i'll stop the moment ya call it. tap on me if you're feelin' overwhelmed."

that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you, and the fact that it comes from a massive creep who stares at people like they owe him money has you a bit dumbstruck.

his stubble grazes the side of your neck as he glides his cock along your slick folds; once, thrice, until the head catches on your swollen entrance. simon pushes in slow, agonizingly slow— you don't know if it's better or worse because you feel every devastating inch of his length as it forcibly wrenches your walls apart.

your senses are solely focused on him: his body enveloping yours completely. his breath, sweetened like malt, wafts gently across your skin. his thick waist that you can't fully wrap your legs around. everything about him is big— his physicality, his presence, his cock.

"take a deep breath for me, pet. feel everythin' i'm givin' you."

your lungs expand as you do, and when you exhale, your muscles slacken. rapturous pleasure begins to bleed through the delicate membrane that separates it from the bite of pain, until boundaries are blurred and—

and he sinks into you like a rock breaking the surface tension of still water, bottoming out in one, smooth stroke. you can't help the mewl that falls from your lips nor the way your walls clamp down around him.

"fuck, there it is. so bloody tight, this greedy cunt is takin' my cock like it was made for me."

there isn't a single coherent thought in your head and you're glad for it. finally, someone to fuck you stupid.

simon gives you an experimental thrust, dragging his length along every single one of your nerves, and then another— desire overflowing from where he stuffs you to the very brim. "good. ready?"

he takes your tiny nod as an answer this time and begins to fuck you in earnest. it takes everything in you to not black out from how perfect it felt.

simon puts his weight behind every thrust, a steady pull out, and a spine-jarring push in. you can feel him deep in your stomach, a delicious pinch of discomfort each time he presses against the plug of your womb.

"so fuckin' wet, your cunt's droolin' all over me." he hooks an arm under your left leg and lifts, the angle he's put you in tittering dangerously on the tightrope of rapture and ache.

it's so good, so fucking good, your slick walls fluttering as he carves himself into you, your soul, your cunt when you feel a tight snap inside.

simon pulls out in an instant, taking your breath with him as he does. you look down at his cock and notice that—

"the condom broke. i've got another in the drawer, gimme a sec."

there is some weird thing that lodges in place somewhere deep in your sternum when you realize that he's been nothing but considerate and attentive to you since he brought you home and hasn't fussed over anything once. it's an extremely low bar, you are aware. rewarding what should be the bare fucking minimum is sad, but you're not completely altruistic in your motives anyway. you want to feel his bare cock inside as he rearranges your insides.

"no!" he quickly turns to look at you, "no. it's okay. i'm clean and i'm also on the pill. if that's okay with you, of course."

a man his stature should not move as fast as he just did, blinking from one side of the room to the other. he quickly throws both of your legs over his shoulders, heels resting on his back when he sinks back in, this time letting out a guttural groan as he does.

you can feel the ridge of his flared head, the warmth of his cock seeping into your tender walls— a new level of intimacy. he fucks you with fervor now, a precise snap of his hips that has your teeth clacking with every thrust.

your climax takes you by complete surprise, crashing into you like waves on a rocky, jagged shore. burst after burst of blinding pleasure threatens to consume you whole, and when your limbs are loose and syrupy— body limp— only then do you realize that he came just as fast. thick white ropes of viscous spend cover your stomach and trail down to your abused cunt.

your hamstrings already hurt with delayed onset muscle soreness. you might actually need a wheelchair to go back home.

(thank god your hips held out, and no, you don't care that it's essentially sacrilegious of you to even think that.)

his breathing comes out in ragged bursts, beads of sweat dripping onto the valley of your breasts.

and he's back to the fucking staring. "simon."

"pet."

"please stop looking at me like that."

he huffs and dips his head to flick your hardened nipple with his tongue, making you hiss with over sensitivity.

"make me."

-

as dawn breaks, the world begins to stir awake. hues of pale pink stain the sky, the first blush of morning. light and shadow begin to blend in the bedroom.

your phone vibrates under the pillow, simon's arm tightening around your soft waist at the buzzing sound. his lips press a light kiss on the sensitive skin by your ear, and his large hand begins to weave its way downward, pads of his fingers gathering the evidence of last night (or early morning) and gently parts your folds, brushing light strokes on your clit.

when he places your leg around his hip and sinks into you from behind, your phone buzzes again-- alone and forgotten.

good morning!!! i expect a full, detailed report by lunch or so help you god.

sent 5:30 am

about time you got laid, you're not you when you're horny.

sent 5:49 am

[klaus-littlestwolf]

would you make a Klaus fic, where he and reader are under a sex spell? just a sex magic fic, you can decide on the plot🥰

love your fics btw💕

Warning:Dubcon cause sex pollen, talk and use of sex toys, desperate/passionate fucking, needy Hybrid sex, brief realization of Yandere behavior at the end

‘You’re joking!’ I exclaimed, unable to unhear what Bonnie had just told me.

‘No, not at all. We need to keep you away from everyone else because this spell can potentially effect others who come in contact with you. Caroline has already said you can stay in her parents cabin, Damon is taking you there now.’ She shooed me out of the room and outside to Damon’s car.

‘Get in the back!’ He snapped as I moved to slide into the passenger seat. ‘I don’t need this shit effecting me next-‘

‘Why can’t I just stay in the cell in the basement? That way I won’t be alone…I’m scared-‘

‘Because Klaus was hit by that shit too, we don’t know if he knows what it was yet and with how desperate he is for you every other day without being bewitched, I can’t even imagine what he would do with you now.’ He explained as if I were a small stupid child and I wanted to hit him desperately.

A warlock coming after Elena (as always) for Doppelgänger blood for one of his spells had attacked us. I had grabbed a potted plant outside of the Grille and cracked it over his head which gave Elena enough time to run and find Damon, though as he whirled around to me there was suddenly an angry Hybrid standing in front of me which gave the Warlock pause.

Klaus had seemingly taken an interest in me as soon as he arrived in town and while I don’t encourage him, I’m also not cruel or mean either, which seemed to make him think he had a chance.

The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a small spell bag before dumping some pink powder into his hand and blowing it at the both of us. I couldn’t help but inhale it, only breathing in more when I began choking and hearing Klaus do the same, my eyes and nose burning as I felt his hands holding onto me. Though he was still coughing himself he checked on me (which I found very sweet), hands on my face and inspecting me before brushing the powder off of me leading to me returning the favor. He had no clue what it was and neither did I but after a quick thanks I left to find my friends and a witch to tell me what the fuck I just inhaled.

Turns out we had both been choking on a very powerful potion that people had dubbed “Sex Pollen”. Many witches used to use it several hundred years ago but most stopped once people began insisting that it led to way too many people becoming effected (since all you needed to do was injest a drop) and ending up sexually assaulting whoever came across their path. The potion is typically in a liquid form but talented witches can make it in a powder, however it is about ten times more potent.

‘Stay here, theres food and water, TV, books. Everything you could possibly need. Caroline also bought you some…play things…to help. God this is so gross, they’re in the bedroom. Get out of my car-‘

‘No! How long do I have to stay here?!’ I snapped making him roll his eyes.

‘Bonnie said in the powder form it can take several hours to kick in but it lasts a few days, though with how much you breathed in probably a week at least. Go! Before you infect me too and we really have a problem!’ I grabbed the bag that Elena had packed me and slid out of the car, walking inside and locking the door behind me with a heavy sigh.

‘Fuck All Of You Assholes!’ I screamed, hating my friends for abandoning me just so they wouldn’t suffer as well before I looked around the cabin, finding the bedroom with a large California King that was quite comfortable. I also came across a basket on the bed which contained a rechargeable wand, a 7 inch pink suction cup dildo, a butt plug and a bottle of salted caramel flavored lube. ‘Why The Fuck Was She So Thorough?!’

I set the basket aside and stripped out of my shirt and jeans as I began feeling warm, climbing into the bed under the sheet and deciding to try and take a nap before I get hit with killer horniness.

The nap didn’t last more than an hour before I woke up rolling around restlessly, my body sweating now as a hot feeling in my stomach began intensifying. I couldn’t tell you how long I laid there writhing in misery before I heard a loud knock at the door, instantly hating the world that much more.

‘What are you doing here?!’ I snapped as I finally dragged myself to the front door, moody and uncomfortable which made me unable to be kind.

‘I thought I would come and assist you. Wouldn’t want you suffering through this alone, now would we?’ Klaus asked, looking every bit as put together as always but I could see in his eyes how desperate he was. I could also see his impressive bulge tenting his jeans.

‘How did you find me? I was-never mind. Go away Klaus!’ I groaned, moving to shut the door.

‘I followed Damon, he wasn’t very careful, my guess is he didn’t much care if I found you. They just wanted you away from them before they had to suffer too, your friends that you protected sent you away to save themselves. Seems really selfish to me.’ Any other day I would disagree but with how I was feeling I couldn’t argue with him, prompting me to agree.

‘You’re right…Fuck them! Couldn’t even put me downstairs! Had to leave me all alone!’ I raged as I was overcome by a cramping pain straight down to my pussy causing me to double over.

‘Invite me in Love, let’s help each other? It’s going to be days with only brief hours of relief between…let me help you get some relief?’

‘Klaus, I can’t-‘

‘You want me just as much as I want you, don’t lie!’ He growled, eyes glowing gold now as he showed how desperate he really was, so far gone that he wasn’t able to hide it anymore.

‘It’s just this stupid magic-‘

‘No! No, I’ve wanted you since I first set eyes on you, and you…you need me too.’ His hand reached down to grab his crotch, pupils nearly swallowing his entire eye whole. ‘I can make your pussy feel so good baby, you need me! Who else could go anywhere near as long as a Hybrid, huh?’ He was right, if anyone could help me it was Klaus, especially with how pent up he is himself. ‘Please Y/n? I need to be buried in your little cunt, and you know you need it too! Your fingers can’t help you the way my cock can and I know you’ve dreamt of my cock in your needy little pussy since long before this ever happened-Fuck! I Need You! Please?!’ He begged and as I felt a rush of wetness coat my panties I whined, nodding my head. ‘Say it Y/n…Say It!’

‘Come in Klaus! Please?! I need-‘ I didn’t get to finish my statement before I was tackled to the floor with the Hybrid yanking his pants open and shoving them down enough to free himself before tearing my panties off of my body and shoving himself into me roughly.

‘So Fucking Perfect! Knew your cunt would be perfect! Tightest little cunt-Fuck! Never gonna stop fucking you baby!’

‘Yes! Don’t Stop! Fuck Klaus, your cock! So good!’ Tears leaked from my eyes as he continued thrusting into my body. The sound of skin slapping together echoing through the house and out the front door that hung on one hinge from where the Hybrid had nearly ripped it off as he entered. ‘Oh Fuck!’ I threw my head back against the carpet as my first orgasm rushed through me out of nowhere, only realizing he had finished with me when I felt the hot cum inside of me as he continued thrusting, never once even slowing down.

‘I need to feel you squeeze me again Babygirl, cum for me! Cum for your Alpha!’ The second orgasm was just as strong as the first as I came and felt his body tense up as well before he finally stilled, breathing heavily into my neck.

‘I think…we’re in trouble…’ I panted heavily and he chuckled before looking down at me, hesitating only a second before pressing his lips to mine in a soft, lovely kiss. ‘Don’t stop.’ I insisted when he pulled back, grabbing onto his neck and pressing my lips to his this time as I enjoyed our kiss.

‘This isn’t how I wanted it to happen, I wanted to take you on a date, show you how much I love you…then I was going to fuck you…wanted to make you feel so good you would never leave me again-‘

‘It’s okay, you’ve just done it backwards…you can still take me out, just after this is over because I don’t think people would appreciate you fucking me over our table.’ I teased, enjoying the genuine smile that I got from him, only ever seeing it when he looks at me which has always made me feel special.

‘That’s the spell talking-‘

‘I liked you before that you idiot! I just never really thought you were all that serious.’ I admitted, pushing him up and feeling his (once again) hard cock slide out of me as he helped me stand up.

‘How could you think that? I’ve gone out of my way to show you-your friends told you I was using you, didn’t they?’ I nodded and he huffed a heavy sigh before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into a rough kiss. ‘I love you, regardless of any doppelgänger or your awful friends. After all of this I will take you out properly, I promise…but until then-‘

‘No! No more floor fucking, there’s furniture and a bed here for a reason, no more carpet, it hurts.’ I explained, feeling the rug burn against my back and ass.

‘No more rugs, but I need you now.’ He growled, lifting me by my thighs and appearing in the bedroom instantly, dropping me onto the bed. Just as he spread my legs he paused, glancing over to the table and reaching out to grab the basket with the things Caroline had left. ‘What-‘

‘Caroline left them for me. I guess she wanted to help me since I’m all alone.’

‘Interesting…does she know you well, or not?’ He wondered, picking up the butt plug and raising his eyebrows making me blush as my body started sweating.

‘Klaus! Stop the teasing and get inside me! The cramps are starting, so if you’re not going to help me then get the Fuck out and I’ll do it my-Ah!’ I cried out, feeling the rounded end of the plug pressing to my tight hole and rubbing against it. ‘Oh God!’ Klaus took the lube bottle and squeezed a healthy amount onto the plug before tossing it to the other side of the bed and pressing it back against my ass.

‘Relax Precious, this is going to make it feel so much better!’ He promised, pushing the plug harder until it popped into my hole. Klaus could feel his cock throbbing even harder at the sight of the jewel on the end of the plug. ‘You are so fucking perfect! How do you fee-‘

‘Klaus! Please?!’ I begged, pulling him closer and yanking at his shirt before getting it off and sighing in relief at the feel of his hot skin against mine.

Klaus shoved his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off, finally naked as well before taking hold of his cock and pushing himself back inside of me. ‘There you are love, feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Both of your slutty little holes stuffed up?’

‘T-Too much-Never-‘

‘Never been so full before, I know Baby! I-Fuck!’ Suddenly as if he could no longer control himself he began thrusting into me frantically. ‘Mine! My Fucking Cunt!’ He snarled, Hybrid visage taking over as he fucked into me so hard I briefly wondered if he could shatter my pelvis like this.

‘Yes! Yours! All yours, don’t stop! Please don’t stop?!’

Y/n couldn’t have said how long Klaus continued like that. How long he thrust into her cunt at a painful speed, how many times the both of them had climaxed together while he still continued to fuck his (somehow still) hard cock into her, she couldn’t even say how many times he had buried his fangs into her throat in an effort to mark her as his like a werewolf marking his mate…and maybe he was. Odds are she was never getting away from him now-not that she wanted to.

It was a week later that Damon finally came back to the house to check on her finding the front door ripped open.

He ventured inside, not hearing anything and figuring that it was over for Y/n and who was inevitably Klaus that had torn the door off the hinges. He was prepared with jokes galore for the the drive back, excited to pick on the young girl for giving into the monster that had been after her for months but sadly he never got to use those jokes.

Damon opened the door to the bedroom to find his girlfriends friend snuggled into Klaus Mikaelson’s naked chest fast asleep. The Hybrid however seemed to have awoken as soon as he turned the doorknob, his yellow eyes finding his with an intensity that he had never seen. He bore his fangs, lifting his head and Damon (one of the only people who had never truly feared Klaus Mikaelson) was instantly terrified. It was like a bucket of ice water dumped on him, alarm bells ringing in his head declaring the danger that he is in prompting him to throw up his hands instantly. As Klaus moved to sit up, the young vampire shut the door promptly and hightailed it back to his car, peeling back down the driveway.

He doesn’t know how long that stuff will take to wear off but it definitely hasn’t yet and he would not be disturbing them again!

Y/n and Klaus were in the house for nearly 2 weeks before they felt as if their bodies were back to normal though they stayed for another week after that. No one could have imagined how close such a spell would bring them…no one except Klaus of course.

The witch he had hired to make that powder had done a wonderful job, money well spent in the Hybrids mind. The spell had worked better than he ever could have imagined and it had gotten him exactly what he wanted.

The only thing left to do was to kill the witch that had helped him and ensure that his mate never learned that he was the one who had dosed her.

He finally had his girl, he couldn’t let something so trivial ruin it.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 5: Night Out

You find yourself squeezed into the center of a round corner booth, Johnny to your left and Kyle to your right with John beside him. The bar is relatively quiet, even for a Saturday night. It is early, though. Plenty of time left in the night for more people to file in. Apparently they go out drinking every third week of the month, a day set aside for them to be together and celebrate another month of success. It’s sweet that they invited you, if not a little nerve wracking - you’re not exactly sure how much they plan on drinking and you’ve been known to be rather… sloppy after one too many.

You nervously adjust your top while Johnny yaps about the equipment sales person with the incredible ass. It’s hard not to squirm being packed in between them, hyper aware of the width of your hips and the size of your arms as they squish against far more toned, muscular limbs. A mean itch in the back of your mind lectures you about taking up too much space - about inconveniencing the people around you. About the optics of the pitiable fat girl tolerated by the handsome men around her.

An elbow to your arm finally knocks you out of your daze. “Och! There he is!”

You blink, following Johnny’s gaze to the man climbing into the booth beside him. It takes your brain a moment to catch up, processing the person in front of you. Your eyes turn to saucers as you realize it’s Simon - signature tattoos, piercings and all - just without his usual surgical mask. It shouldn’t make that much a difference, he still has that low brow and big dark eyes that slide over to you and make your stomach flip…but now you get the addition of his crooked nose, broken more than once and not set right, a small cleft scar leading down to a part of pretty, pink lips that quirk up in the corners when he catches you staring. A few scars scattered across his sharp jaw you hadn’t noticed before and a light layer of blonde stubble around each engraving on his face.

“You’re pretty!?” You gasp, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them. You bury your face in your hands while the others (Johnny) burst out in a fit of laughter. Simon’s shoulders shake in that signature, barely audible chuckle as he settles into the booth. Suddenly you feel a little less self conscious about the amount of space you take up in comparison.

John orders a round for everyone. Some light mixers to sip while you talk. You stick to listening, mostly, while the boys talk shop. You pick up a few personal tidbits here and there - specifically about Simon’s apparent sweet tooth as Johnny teases him about going through an entire package of licorice in one sitting. You file that away for later. Apparently John got his start after he enlisted in the military and got several very shitty tattoos during the first couple of years. Dropped out to get an apprenticeship, figuring he could do better. Kyle rolls his eyes, as if he’d heard the tale a few too many times.

“Where ye thinkin’ of lettin’ Kyle ink ye?” Johnny leans in close, breaking out of the group conversation.

You tilit your head. “Haven’t really thought about it. Wherever he’s comfortable, I guess.”

“Givin’ him free reign? Tha’s dangerous, bonnie. Might put it somewhere scandalous.”

“Wouldn’t be the first.” You blurt, regretting it immediately when you see that impish sparkle in his eye.

Johnny dips closer to you, shoulder pressing against yours. “Oh? Thought ye were a good girl, hen.”

“I’ve got a couple you haven’t, and will never get close enough to see, MacTavish.” You laugh.

“Is tha’ a challenge?” He grins, hand just barely ghosting over your thigh.

You shrug, face hot. ”Even if it was, you’d lose.”

There’s probably something deeply wrong with flirting with your coworkers while your boss sits a foot away, but your skin is too warm and your drink tastes to good for you to focus on that fleeing thought for long.

“From the gentleman at the bar.” A woman appears in front of your table, sliding a glass of pink cocktail toward you.

You stare at it before glancing up to meet a pair of dark eyes. He’s handsome, smiles and nods before going back to his own drink. Something cold runs down your spine, the bar warping for only a second. Your lip catches between your teeth before you push it away.

“That’s bold.” John scoffs, a twitch in his brow.

“Not gonnae take a free drink, bon?” Johnny teases, batting at your arm. “He’s no’ half bad lookin’. I’d take a bite.”

“I don’t take drinks from strange men.” You snap, a little harsher than you meant as you push the glass even further. “You can have it if you want.”

There’s a beat where you keep your eyes square on the table, waiting for an insistence that you take it, that you talk to him, that you just do what he wants because he seems nice enough. That you’ve ruined the mood by being sensitive, like you always do. Instead, Johnny grabs the glass and downs whatever fruity cocktail was inside.

“Alright, if I pass out ye have t’ carry me now.” He laughs, the conversation returning to the same pace as before. You just look up at him for a moment - his eyes bright and unwavering.

The more you’re with them, the more guilt you feel for doubting them in moments like this - but, equally, the more unreal they seem. Too perfect of men for you to have stumbled across. Too good for something as damaged as you. There’s a pang of loneliness at the thought.

You’re one again pulled from your thoughts - well, redirected, more like - when John’s arm comes to rest around the back of the booth behind Kyle, fingers brushing against your shoulder ever so slightly. You’d been noticing it more recently - John’s tendency to hover. He doesn’t cling like Johnny but he stays just a hair away. Fingers ghost over your arms and a hand hovers over your back. Sometimes he holds the back of your seat, leaning over you while looking at the appointment book, that wafting scent of leather and petrichor enveloping you.

He doesn’t look at you, talking across the table to Simon about some business thing. At least you think, you really hadn’t been listening. Maybe you should have.

“We should go check out that new place up the street.” Kyle announces, scrolling through his phone. “They’ve got great room for dancin’, apparently.”

“Is dancin’ the mood for the night?” Simon sighs, tilting his head forward. Even without the mask his expression remains placid. Difficult to read.

“Aye!” Johnny wraps an arm firmly around your shoulders. “We’ve got t’ take our little lass out on the town!”

You scoff, cheeks warming at the idea that you’re theirs. Their lass - their girl. Fuck that last drink really good to you, huh?

Johnny walks with an arm sling around Kyle’s waist ahead of you, John laughing and shaking his head at them. Simon hangs back a bit as you walk, taking small, slow steps to stay beside you with his hands in his pockets. The same as when he walks you home every night you close together. You silently revel in the safety of it - of having this massive man in your shadow to block out everything else. You risk glancing up at his face - so new to you despite knowing each other for weeks. His skin glows in the passing street lights.

So not fair that he’s been hiding lips that kissable.

That’s totally the drinks talking.

“Y’alright?” He murmurs, glancing down at you.

You jump a bit, not realizing you’d been staring, eyes wide and hazy. Since when we’re you such a lightweight? “Yeah.”

“Still bothered about that guy?”

You blink. In all honesty, you’d completely forgotten him. Too busy enjoying your time with your boys. Your boys. Your boys. Their girl. That feels really good.

“No.” You shake your head and grin. “Sorry for being weird about it.”

“Y’weren’t.” Simon shakes his head solemnly, lapsing into a comfortable silence as you walk. It’s made up for by Johnny’s forceful cover of Pink Pony Club.

The place is packed when you get there, Simon having to use his bulky form to push through and secure you all a standing table. Not that you really need it, it’s mostly so the four of you can do a few shots - as per Johnny and Kyle’s insistence. Yours too, but it’s more fun to use them as an excuse to down two green tea shots back to back. You’ve never been good at saying no anyway.

“C’mon, luv.” Kyle herds you toward the dance floor and you follow, not unaware of Johnny right at your back. Your head buzzes, the world feeling loose and slow and comfortable around you. That wall you might otherwise have up long gone as you’re safely pinned between two of your favorite boys.

Kyle’s hands trail down your sides to knead at your hips, guiding them to move in tandem with his. Johnny presses closer to your front, hooking your arms up around his neck. If you were any more sober, you might have thought twice about the way you grind back against Kyle and press your chest into Johnny - your coworkers - but as it stands you couldn’t care less. Your body buzzes with a comfortable warmth, the music seems to course through your veins. It’s so easy to let them guide you, to melt into them, to tilt your head back onto Kyle’s chest and grin up at Johnny’s big blue eyes.

It’s the loosest you’ve felt in a long, long time

Johnny says something you can’t hear, his head ducking and lips grazing the shell of your ear. A touch starved part of you wants to whine, to throw yourself into him and burrow into his chest. Bury yourself right between his ribs - surely it’s warm in there. The very sun itself housed where his heart should be.

Maybe you’re reaching the water-only time of the night.

You tilt your head, half-lidded eyes making contact with Simon’s. They’re boring into you, seemingly memorizing the way you three move against each other. Each step and sway stored away for future reference. Surely it’s in your imagination.

Eventually, you shuffle around - trading yourself for Kyle as John’s big hands come to rest respectfully on your waist. The music slows a bit, at least, making it easier to dance with your boss without feeling like you’re crossing a boundary. Not that you would mind crossing that boundary. You’d leap over it if you could - those pretty blue eyes smiling down at you in the multicolor bar light. Leather and petrichor fill your nose. There’s a spice to it that isn’t usually there. Your drunkenness sets your fingers alight as they trace up his strong arms to rest on his shoulders.

“Glad y’came tonight, dove.” John says, barely having to shout over the music. His voice just has that commanding timber to it that makes itself heard no matter the circumstance.

You give him a crooked grin. “Me too.”

John just hums, swaying you carefully. People don’t do this, a small part of you thinks. Don’t dance with their bosses. You look down to where you’re pressed together. It feels good, though. You wonder if you’re more to him than an employee - if he considers you a friend despite your inequalities of age and rank.

“Is it silly to say that I’m really happy?” You mutter, not expecting John to hear over the music.

“Not at all.” He shakes his head, dipping lower so you can hear him more clearly. “I’m very grateful that we get to have you.”

Somehow your face gets hotter and in an attempt to calm down you glance over his shoulder to where Simon still stands, leaned against the wall with a glass in hand. His eyes rake over the crowd, sometimes resting on Johnny and Kyle, sometimes you and John, sometimes they seem to just look off into the distance. A woman walks up to him. She’s pretty. Tall with dark hair. You can’t see her face - can’t tell what she says. A slimy, nosy little part of you doesn't like it, despite having no right to an opinion. Simon’s expression remains flat as he responds and she stomps away.

You turn back to John. “Does Simon not dance?”

John chuckles. “Rarely.”

You pout. “I hate that he’s all alone.”

“He’s fine, love. Promise.”

“I’m gonna ask him.”

“Good luck.” John laughs, letting you push your way out of the crowd as the current song comes to an end.

“Si!” You call loudly over the music, movements sloppy.

“Hm?” He cocks a brow.

You lock your hands around his wrist like a child trying to pull their parent toward some bright thing that caught their eye. He doesn’t pull away like a more sober you might expect. “Come dance with me!”

“I don’t dance.” He scoffs.

“Please?” You beg, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. Not nearly as effective as Johnny’s but they’ll have to do.

“No.” Even in your drunken state you notice the corner of his mouth quirk up before he forces it back down.

“You can’t stand over here all night!”

“Watch me.” Simon huffs.

You pout and let your fingers drift over his forearm, all muscle and so very vascular. His skin is warm under your hands, the ridges of scars dancing across the pads of your fingers - invisible to the eye under his tattoos.

“Well, then, I’ll just have to do what you like to do!” You say with a discerning nod, clambering up onto the stool at the table beside him.

He frowns. “Don’t let me take you away-“

“I don’t wanna leave you alone!” You continue to pout, the cotton in your head only making things fuzzier outside of your new single minded goal: Hang Out with Simon.

He looks you over for a moment, something passing through those dark eyes of his. They’re so mysterious - so deep. Like the Mariana Trench. That’s the really big one, right?

Simon sighs and downs the last of whatever golden drink was in his glass, setting it on the table beside you. “Fine. I’ll give you one song.”

You’re practically preening as you pull him into the crowd, hand firmly around his thick wrist. Part of you briefly acknowledges a few jabs from Johnny and Kyle as you pass them on their way toward the bar.

A squeak escapes you as Simon suddenly turns you around, pulling you close and leading you to the beat. He’s good. Weirdly good. You feel a bit like a floundering fish all of a sudden. It definitely doesn’t help that you’re a lot more drunk than you felt five minutes ago. He smells like spice, too.

“So much for can’t dance!” You laugh.

“I said I don’t dance, bird. Nothin’ about can’t.” An arm loops around your waist, suddenly twisting to dip you low - holding your weight so easily. You fall into a giggling fit, face hot as you playfully push at his chest.

As the night goes on, things get fuzzier. Blurred. There’s one last shot with Johnny and Kyle and all you know is an overwhelming sense of joy.

A/N: Don’t love love this part but it’s cute and this is supposed to be my easy to write fic so I’m not stressing about it. Suuuuper excited for the next couple parts tho🤭

[shortbcofkoffee]

Tim threw open the door to his and Bernard's bedroom, quickly scanning the area before his eyes landed on the man on the bed. Tim beelined to where Bernard was sitting against the wall and fell on top of him, burning his face in Bernard's stomach. Bernard tossed his phone to the side and wrapped his arms around Tim's tired body.

"Long day?"

Tim groaned. "I'm gonna bomb the office building."

Bernard hummed and began to run his fingers through Tim's hair. "How would you do that?"

Talking about things, while not specifically this subject, helped Tim unwind. He liked planning things, even if he was never going to act on them.

"Probably would plant a bunch of thermals all over the first couple of floors. a few in the stairways so no one can escape. I dunno if I'd want it on a timer or an external trigger." He nuzzled his face further into Bernard's stomach. "And I'd block all the exits."

Bernard chuckled. "You're so fucking scary."

"You love it."

"I do."

Tim pushed himself up, balancing his weight on his palms, until he was face to face with Bernard.

"Would you help me bomb it?"

Bernard pretended to consider. "Probably. Then we could run off together. Bonnie and Clyde style."

"We could live in a bus. Travel the country and elope." Tim moved forward, straddling Bernard's lap and resting his head over the blonde's shoulder.

"I've always wanted to go south. Maybe New Mexico." Bernard buried his head in Tim's neck.

"I'd have to make us new identities. I probably can't use Alvin anymore, I'll have to come up with a new name."

"Ooh, can I be Topher? I always liked that name."

Tim laughed. "I'm not marrying someone named Topher. You can pick a different name."

Bernard pouted. Not that Tim could see. "Fine. What about... Carson?"

"That's better. So we'd be Carson and... Rufus?"

It was Bernard's turn to laugh. "You are not changing your name to Rufus."

"Fine," Tim huffed. "I can be Lance."

Bernard hummed. "Carson and Lance. Married in New Mexico. I like that."

[quarterlifekitty]

I feel that after the first baby, it just further fuels these men's need to breed, so how quickly are they trying to get reader to have another baby/how long does it take to secure Baby 2: The Sequel? Do they use the same methods as the first time or do they switch it up? I imagine they're waiting just until reader is cleared by the doc to start trying again. Sorry if this is weird

Don’t ever apologize for being who you are. It is us freaks that are the cultural backbone of society.

It depends a lot on you! Like, baby one is obviously the hardest sell. Usually if mama liked baby one then baby two is not a hard sell at all if the means are available! But I think they do vary a lot on the in between period.

Uhmmm author’s note now that I finished this: I am so sorry I did you first, Gaz. Because I clearly just got progressively more insane and you suffered from first pancake here. No one look at me I’m ovulating rn

cw: pregnancy. So much baby.

Gaz wants like 1 year of baby one before moving onto baby 2. Enough to get used to things. Then, he will gently broach the baby 2 topic. Starts heavy with the compliments.

“He’s just so perfect. Having a baby with you has been like a dream come true, love. But you know what’s better than one baby?”

Soap is gonna wait til one of the development milestones, either speech or assisted walking. Truly, he wasn’t sure that he even wanted another one, but once your baby starts talking he’s like oh my god. It’s all happening too quickly. Tomorrow I’ll be sending him off to college. I need another one.

“Don’t ye think he’s a bit… lonely, hen? Think he needs a little sibling… Maybe two. And, well, ye dinnae want there to be a middle child, so, four total should do it, right, bonnie?”

Ghost is going for a 4-6 year gap. I think you all underestimate just how much he loves your first baby. Light of his life. Never thought there could be something in this world as beautiful as you. Perfection incarnate. How is it just? That he should be such a bastard for his whole life and get blessed with this? He mourns every moment he misses. Thinks about quitting the service altogether— just to spend more time at home. He never felt the itch to come home from deployment before he met you, and now that there’s the baby too, it’s agonizing. Every photo sent to him from you is equal parts soothing and torturous. Every time he has to leave, he says sternly to his baby, “you’d better not be any bigger when I get back, sweet’art, or you’re in big trouble.” It’s when she starts going off to school, getting dropped off for the whole day, that he’s ready for another. Be just can’t bear the thought of coming home on leave and not having a baby to spend every second with. He’ll cry if he has to drop her off at school every day without another little rugrat in his arms to keep him strong.

“Must be gettin’ bored— little darlin’ off at school all day…Think I’ve got a solution for that, dovie.”

Price is the man that’s waiting for the doctor’s go ahead to start trying for another. He wants one in your belly, one on your hip, and one clutching at your skirts at all times. He wants to be covered in munchkins when he walks through the front door. This man doesn’t just want a family, he wants a clan.

“Just the three of us in this big house…. Seems like a waste, doesn’t it? And I remember that wallpaper you fancied at the shops the other day… perfect for another nursery, don’t you think?”

König is waiting 2-4 years. He is another man who has complete and total reverence for the miracle that is his first child. I like to imagine he felt such giddiness at seeing your baby photos, now that he has his own? It’s nothing short of euphoria. He’s a papoose kind of dad— loves the constant contact. Similar to Soap, he has a complete crisis when his baby takes her first steps. “What if one day, she doesn’t need me anymore? Gott in himmel— it’s all happening too quickly, meine liebe.” So he’s quite eager to have another once you’re both feeling settled and a bit more confident with the first.

“You are a wonderful mother, you know. I knew you would be. I think… we can handle one more, ja?”

Nikolai has a sort of que sera mentality. Whatever will be, will be. Of course he would love a big family, but he won’t be tracking your cycles after the first baby. He’s confident in his virility. Will you go on birth control? No. Will he be pulling out? Also no (mostly. Sometimes a pretty girl needs a pearl necklace). So if you get pregnant again straight away— lovely. If it takes another year or so for things to line up that way, that’s fine too. More time for him to think of names. He’s not a greedy man, he knows that having you in one arm and your baby in another is a wealth most men will not know in their entire lifetimes, and he has a lot of life yet to live.

“A gift that begets more gifts. That’s what you are, malyshka. I’ll not forget that for as long as I live.”

[wakayrd]

More theatre stuff! I've started to put all the theatre doodles I do under a tag called "isat curtain call" because I wanted to be organized lol

MIRABELLE! Mirabelle is kind of a powerhouse at the theatre. She acts in a lot of the plays they put on (and gets really nervous before going on stage). She has lots of folks who are her neighbors or friends who attend shows and always overwhelm her with tons of flowers. She appreciates it but it can be a bit much! She's always around to help- She will show up for set construction, set decor, lighting design... anything- and all on top of acting! She's even the theatre's health and safety rep! (the little bit at the bottom is inspired by true events... yeah...)

Bonnie!! Bonnie started volunteering with the theatre recently after coming to see a pantomime for Peter Pan. They love to help out with the snack bar, and even wear nice clothing for the shows to look all professional. They also usher sometimes! All with adult supervision of course. They are allowed to come help with set decor (painting the set!) but NOT set construction. They sometimes convince their older sister to stop by the theatre when everyone else is working to drop off homemade goodies. They also like to hang out in the sound/light booth, the stage looks so different from up there! They're close with Odile, who shows them a ton of stuff. They hope that sometime they can also start doing the light cues during a show. They don't want to work near Siffrin backstage, even though that's something they could perhaps start doing now.

Sometimes... it feels like there's something in the theatre, hanging out in the catwalks, judging silently. Maybe... someone... But if you turn around to see them, they're gone! The theatre might be haunted, who knows. That seems the most plausible theory... Siffrin tends to spend a lot of time on the catwalks as well. Perhaps he'd know more about this mysterious spirit of the theatre?

The Spirit of the Theatre! (Loop!) They're always around. They're actually convinced that they're not able to leave the theatre. The hat? They stole it from the costume room! It makes hiding that glow ever so easy- Sometimes they steal coats or matching robes from there, just to make hiding easier. They're so knowledgeable in all things theatre, especially the theatre the group operates out of. Sometimes they spend their time alone at the theatre straightening up the props room or making sure all the actor's props and costumes are in their proper places. It really seems like they consider themselves an integral (and invisible) part of the team. They like to watch from afar, that's all. Meeting Siffrin was an accident, one that The Spirit of the Theatre couldn't avoid. Now they have to deal with Siffrin coming to talk to them often, even looking for advice. It's unclear how long they've been there, and when asked for a name, will only say they're the "Spirit of the Theatre."

And that's it from me today I promise I am normal lol I am having fun watching this all form in front of my eyes a little. It's mostly silly goofy stuff and as much as I'd love to stick to canon best I can, I may have to fiddle with it to get it to make sense... especially for Loop :) but if you have any ideas or stuff my inbox is so open I love talking about this- these drawings were stacked up from the last couple of days just me preparing to post... teehee!!

[chimerafeathers]

reading the end talks knowing how everyone feels about staying with each other feels like being beaten over the head with a hammer. the subtext that Siffrin is taking away from each conversation confirming his own expectations of the others' expectations, versus the subtext that each of them are desperately trying to convey back to him without coming across as weird and clingy because of their OWN perceptions of everyone's expectations.

Bonnie (regular): "Wait, that's such a long journey though!!! I'm not gonna go find you just so I can punch you if you're wrong!!! That's dumb!!! [...] Okay, then I'll believe you!!! Hopefully I won't have to walk forever to punch you!!!"

Bonnie (friendquest): "...I'll miss you, Frin. ... I know you'll leave soon, but, um... Y-You should come by Bambouche one day! So you can meet my sister!!! So I can say... "That's Frin! They helped me a bunch! They're really cool!!!" So come and see me sometime, yeah? Promise? [...] I'll be waiting for you, Frin!!!"

"i know you'll leave soon" "that's such a long journey" assuming that Siffrin would never want to stay close by, that wherever he goes would be arduous for them to reach. ...and, maybe in Siffrin's interpretation, not worth the annoyance and exertion it would take to reach them.

Isabeau (regular): "I can't wait to go back to my old job, you know? Make sure to say hi when you're near Jouvente, 'kay?"

Isabeau (friendquest): "...I hope...I hope you'll at least visit sometime, Sif. Our journey is over, but don't be a stranger, okay?"

Isabeau, short and restrained after his aborted confessions. maybe keeping it brief and simple to not overcomplicate the triumph of the moment, hoping he'll have the chance to express himself properly later (they're all having dinner together tonight, after all! they'll have time for feelings talks then! why wouldn't they?). not wanting to overwhelm or assume. how can he ask for anything more substantial than a visit before Siffrin knows how he feels, what he might want, what Siffrin might want?

Odile (regular): "But now I can finally get back to traveling. [...] It'll be weird to travel alone now, but I'll get used to it again. Or I could just go home to Ka Bue... Hm... [...] Ha...I'll miss you, Siffrin. You're a little strange, but you're a good kid. Maybe try letting down your walls every once in a while, huh? And come to Ka Bue anytime. Maybe we'll meet again during your travels."

Odile (friendquest): "It was fun. Traveling with everyone. I will miss it. [...] I... I suppose everyone will go back to their homes, now... Mirabelle will probably stay here, Isabeau will probably go back to Jouvente, and we'll ask someone to accompany Bonnie back to Bambouche... And what about you, Siffrin? Will you be going back home? [...] Oh... Why no-- ... No. Sorry, this isn't any of my business. But... No home at all... I never knew. I'm sorry. [...] ...I'll probably be going back to Ka Bue soon. Our paths will diverge soon... But if you ever come towards Ka Bue... Please come by, and say hello, won't you? ...Don't be a stranger, Siffrin."

Odile, reinforcing everyone's assumptions, backing away from the opening Siffrin gave her out of respect for their privacy, and sharing more of her own hand than Siffrin may even realize—resigning herself back to the quiet of her own company after the warmth and noise of being with everyone else. but even as a fellow traveler, both ~obviously intending~ to continue their journeys, there's no suggestion that their paths may intertwine deliberately, only inevitably diverge and briefly cross by happenstance or on a whim.

Mirabelle (regular): "...You can be so nice, Siffrin. [...] You know, um, um... Um!!! I know we haven't known each other for that long... B-But I hope you know I really treasure your company! I do! I really really do!!! And so... Thank you! Thank you for accompanying me on this journey! [...] ...I'm sure you're excited to go back to traveling on your own... But don't forget me, okay? Come see me at Dormont anytime! I'd love to hang out! Promise!!!"

Mirabelle (friendquest): "I have a lot ahead of me, still. But I never would have realized this without you, Siffrin! S-So, whenever you're done traveling, or you'd like to stay someplace for a little bit... Maybe think about coming to visit Dormont? Just to say hi? B-But you don't have to!!! It's just an idea!!! [...] I'm glad we're friends, Siffrin. ... D-Don't forget about me on your journey, okay!"

Mirabelle got so goddamn close to an actual, straightforward invitation for them to stay with her. "whenever you're done traveling or you'd like to stay someplace for a bit" could be a long-term thing of indefinite duration! but then she anxiously backtracks to "visit," "just say hi," "you don't have to! it was just an idea!" out of fear of coming on too strong, imposing too much. she's the one afraid of being forgotten, here, worrying that she'll fade as easily from their mind as anything else, unmissed. trying to balance emphasizing that his company is something that she genuinely wants, but leaving room for them to back out without feeling awkward if it's not something that they genuinely want.

in every case, Siffrin's plans "to keep/go back to traveling" are assumed, the distance is assumed, the separation is inevitable. it's all Siffrin can hear, couched in polite, socially mandated overtures to keep in touch. everyone will be gone and they will be alone again, outside of brief, occasional reunions (and always reunions that he would have to impose to initiate—how can they choose to visit Siffrin if they have no home to visit?—how can Siffrin know if they truly meant it when they asked, if they'll still mean it as time goes on?).

it's all the rest of the party can imagine, too—of course their mysterious rogue will quietly disappear back into the forests and crowds, impossible to find or contact after it's all over. they're left asking, begging, through the clenched teeth of social restraints, not to be left behind or forgotten, either. please visit, they say. don't you get it? don't you know how important to me you've become, how much i want to keep you in my life? they don't say.

and now all i can hear when i read back these lines is

i can't ask you to stay/come with me, but please, please don't let this be the last time i see you.

[dietcane]

⚢ barbed wire baby - prologue

cw: dead dove, do not eat !!, age gap (ellie is late 30's, reader is 21), elements of domestic violence, toxic relationship, death, themes of organized crime (gangs/mafia/drug cartels), cheating, bribery, abuse (physical, drugs, alcohol), mentioned gambling, bloodplay, strap-on usage, heavy manipulation, dark!ellie. more to be added!!

synopsis: as the adrenaline becomes more and more overwhelming, so does the danger. stakes are higher than ever. dingy prison cells, double entendres whispered through jail phones. knowing glances exchanged with prison guards. her modern day bonnie to her clyde. your life weighs in the balance. you know ellie has pull inside and out. you have to decide if you're willing to risk everything for her. are you?

ULTRAVIOLENCE

⤷ m.list

Casinos were one of Ellie's favorite pastimes. Poker chips rolled between tattooed fingers, crystal whiskey glasses, and half-naked women for dealers. She was a shark. Cards in hand, expression deadpan, and a mountain of poker chips beside her. Ellie wasn't a flamboyant poker player. She didn't do ‘splash-in-the-pots’ or string bets. She played quiet, dirty even. But she never cheated. Games played with slow rolls, check-raises, and a daunting poker face. Ellie was good. Barely ever lost. She’d really only ever lost to her father, a very powerful man. A man with enough pull to get rid of you with a snap of his fingers. Her father was a dirty man. Dirty man with jailbait for arm candy. Barely legal nineteen and twenty-year-olds draped over him, high on whatever was just smuggled in through their family port. Joel Miller was a nightmare come to life. And Ellie? She was worse.

To say Ellie is powerful is a devastating understatement. She owned over half of the casinos in the eastern half of the country and nearly all of the ones in Vegas. She had the police and even some of the FBI tucked neatly into her pockets. Judges, too. She had everything. Monopolies on top of monopolies. Ports lugging in drugs, guns, *women*. Anything you could think of, she had.

But most importantly? She had you. Caged underneath her palms, strings pulled and orchestrated, all to the dangerous *bum-bum-bum* of her own drum. You were her girl. Her caged dove. Caged in a jail of steel with barely any room to peek through. Captive. Ellie doesn't like that word, though. Made it seem like she held you against your will, on display like a puppet. That wasn't the case though.. right?

She preferred *attached*. Attached to her like arm candy. Red lips, tight dresses, high heels. Typical WAG attire of Ellie’s caliber. Ellie dictated every single thing about you. The color of your hair, your nails, your outfits, and makeup. Even what you ate. She controlled every aspect of your being. You didn't have to think about a single thing. She took care of all that. You didn't dare question her. But really, why would you?

You learned about questioning and talking back to her a long time ago. Bright-eyed and barely eighteen at the doorstep of her bar, begging for a job. For stability. Young and fiery and full of personality. Full of *fire*. She snuffed that fire out very quickly. She was thirty-six. Full of wisdom and experience. Everyone warned you against going towards those shady bars for work. You didn't listen. Thirty-six, tired eyes, short auburn hair. She was powerful and it leaked out of every single pore. You were desperate for stability, though. More than anything. A half-assed promise of ‘I’ll do anything you ask. Anything. Everything. I just need to get by.’ You learned very quickly the weight of your words. Words tossed out in a fit of pleading and despair. A big mistake, that was. That night she gave you a home. A purpose. You almost lost it that night, too.

“You’ll be one of my girls. We call ‘em bar bunnies. Or bottle girls if you want to fake being classy.” Her voice was smooth. Decadent. You hung onto every single syllable. You followed closely behind her as she navigated her way through the back rooms of her bar. The back hallways of the club were a stark contrast to the opulent main floor – a labyrinth of concrete and exposed pipes, smelling faintly of stale smoke and desperation. You trailed after Ellie, her heavy boots resonating against the grimy floor as she navigated the maze with unsettling confidence. Blindly following her. Following her lead into the underbelly of a life you barely understood. A life where she held more power than you could even start to think of or imagine.

Topless girls filtered out of private rooms and back out onto the floor. Skimpy costumes held up by thin strings tied into pretty little bows. Clouds of seductive perfume wafted off of them. They were all gorgeous. Dancers covered in shiny body glitter, shimmery eyeshadows, and sticky lip glosses. A door creaked open down the hall, spilling a brief burst of music and muffled laughter into the dim corridor. A dancer emerged, her sequined skirt slightly askew with her bra pulled below her tits, her expression a practiced mask of indifference. She brushed past Ellie, heading towards the main club area. As she passed, Ellie's lips quirked into a subtle, knowing smirk. She smirked at her. A coil tightened in your stomach. A heavy, unwelcome coil. Lined with disgust and laced with an unspecified yearning.

It wasn't that familiar coil of arousal. The knowing feeling of slicking up in your panties, sweat beading at your hairline, and pants for air. This was something else. A feeling rearing its ugly head into your stomach. Jealousy. Envy. You were filled with an overwhelming sense of it. It felt like you were going to burn from the inside out. Nerve ends frayed and burnt. Your lungs felt like they were filled with smoke. A simple action like that? Working you up and filling you with unbridled rage? Unlike you. A lazy smirk directed at a topless stripper? Really? This wasn’t like you.

Ellie turned to glance at you, a lazy action, yet her gaze was sharp enough to cut through steel, and scoffed, the sound laced with something akin to amusement and a hint of something else, something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. "An aversion to my dancers, I see." Her eyes, dark and knowing, bore into you, dissecting your feigned composure with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. It felt like being pinned under a microscope, every flaw magnified, every secret laid bare for her amusement. A flush, unwelcome and betraying, bloomed across your cheeks, a traitorous flag signaling the inner turmoil you desperately tried to conceal. It crept up your neck, painting you in shades of vulnerability you never intended to reveal. "It's nothing," you managed, the words a pathetic whisper, a mere puff of air that barely escaped your lips, sounding weak and unconvincing even to your own ears.

Ellie's smirk widened, morphing into a predatory curve that hinted at a dangerous game, a silent promise of pleasure and pain intertwined. "Is it now?" she purred, her voice a silken caress that sent a shiver tracing its way down your spine, prickling your skin and setting your nerve endings alight. She turned her back to you again. Broad shoulders filling out a perfectly tailored suit. Crisp lines and cinched waists under belts. She was the epitome of clean-cut. Straight lines, sharp edges.

"Perhaps," she murmured, her gaze never wavering, never releasing you from its captive hold, "You’ll learn eventually, little girl." The words hung between you, suspended in the air like a fragile crystal, heavy with implication, a challenge, an accusation, and a promise all wrapped into one exquisitely dangerous package. You fought to meet her gaze, to hold your ground and maintain some semblance of control, but the weight of her scrutiny was a physical force, pressing down on you, stealing the air from your lungs, and threatening to drown you in the turbulent depths of your unspoken desires. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the chaos within, as you struggled to find your voice, to formulate a response that wouldn't betray the raw, visceral emotions raging beneath the surface.

You clear your throat. “I just think it's stupid. Dancing naked for someone else's entertainment? I think it makes you trash—,” You don't get to finish your sentence. The words were barely out of your mouth, a desperate attempt to salvage the situation, when the world exploded in a blinding flash of pain. Ellie's hand, surprisingly swift and strong, connected with your cheek with a sickening thud, the force of the blow snapping your head to the side. A wave of dizziness washed over you, leaving you momentarily disoriented and gasping for breath. The taste of copper filled your mouth, acrid and metallic, as a thin trickle of blood escaped from the corner of your lip. The room spun, the vibrant colors of the club swirling into a nauseating vortex, and the music, once a pulsating rhythm, now pounded against your skull like a relentless hammer.

Your ears rang, a high-pitched whine that drowned out the murmurs of the surrounding crowd, isolating you in a bubble of shock and disorientation. The sting on your cheek intensified, a burning fire that radiated outwards, consuming your senses and leaving you reeling in a haze of pain and disbelief. Your cheek throbs. You touch your cheek in shock, pulling back shaky fingers to see blood. Your eyes zero in on her rings. Gold, freezing cold and snug around her fingers. They nicked you. Leaving small scars and blood bubbling to the surface. She stands in front of you, arms crossed against her chest. The sleeves of her suit strains against her toned arms. You swallow. You’re intimidated. You’re scared. She’s consuming every single one of your senses until you can’t do anything without her having some sort of twisted influence over you.

“Watch your fucking mouth when you talk to me. My business, my rules. I might as well fucking put you up on stage. See how trashy it really is.”

You learned that day, indeed. She made you dance for six months. Tireless hours practicing. Leaving colorful bruises in yellow and red and purple all over your thighs and between your knees.

Six months. One hundred eighty-three days. Four thousand three hundred eighty hours. Two hundred sixty-two thousand eight hundred minutes. You didn't dance for her club. The club and its filthy rich partygoers, no. She made you her own *private* dancer. Critiqued you on every single minute detail the usual coked-out customers wouldn't notice.

Point your feet. Pull your back in. Arch harder. Orders barked out with heavy expectations for them to be followed. Belts lashed out against body parts as a warning, hair tugged to position your head, forceful (yet light impact, thank god) smacks to get your attention on her. You learned. Learned to appease and be docile. Speak when spoken to. Learned to be her caged dove. Learned to be her ride or die, damn near. Her right hand. In six months, you’d done so many depraved things besides enjoy her merciless demands. Only for her.

The casino is loud and bustling. Ellie has you perched over her thigh, slotting the muscular skin between your thighs. The scent of her cologne envelopes you whole. Strong wafts of black coffee, spice and vanilla all wrapped into one. Her hand is digging into your hip. The game is frustrating her. Her cold rings carve into your hip bones and you can feel the indents already beginning to form. Her breathing is calm despite the anger bridling beneath her surface. Ellie flicks the ash of her cigarette carelessly, disregarding the yelp it tugs out of her opponent as it lands onto his leg. Chips click loudly as the final round progresses- only Ellie and some sleazy, grubby man across from her are left. He goes all in and Ellie prods her tongue into her cheek. You glance at her cards- a royal flush. Rare that you get one of those. She presents nervously, shifting you in her lap. She’s bluffing. Her opponent is getting cocky. He takes a long swig of his cheap beer and shakes his head at Ellie. His cards go down- a straight flush. Ellie huffs and splays out her cards. She wins, you think. You don't pay attention to these meaningless games. She collects her rewards and stands with you.

She tugs you over to a corner of the bar, forcing you to sit as she stands behind you. There’s a football game playing faintly in the background, drowned out by incessant laughter and cheers. The repetitive hum of the slot machines hummed quietly, soft echo of beeps and chimes drifting into the dimly lit bar area. Ellie's lips, soft yet insistent, pecked repeatedly against your neck. It tickled. Her lips were slightly chapped, leaving wet trails behind as she progressed up your neck and behind your ear. The scent of expensive cologne mingled and tangled with her always present aroma of whiskey. You instinctively shuddered at the ghost of her lashes against your skin.

“Els.” You’ve always been soft spoken with her, save for the night you met. Flame snuffed out, leaving smoky wisps behind. No more fight. Just quiet obedience. She kisses with more fervor, more force and intention behind it.

"You can tell me to stop," Ellie murmured, her voice a husky whisper that barely carried over the bustle of the casino. Her fingers, laced through your hair, tightening slightly. A warning. Tell me to stop. Only if you dare. The illusion of a choice. You couldn't say no. It was a test. Were you going to defy her or not? You don't in the end. Just silently baring more of yourself to her. She bites down forcefully.

Her teeth graze the spot once she pulls away. The sharp-edged dagger of her canine teeth. Sharp and present. She bites again. More aggression, more force. It's electrifying. Your heart hammers against your chest. You feel like you’re being held underwater. Drowning just below the surface. Lungs filling more and more with water every time you inhale. You can’t breathe. It's making you dizzy with heady arousal. You’re wrecked underneath her hands.

Pliable. Malleable. She’s kissing and tugging and biting and you feel like you're on cloud nine. Everything was nothing but background noise to you. Her warm body pressed against your back, her hair resting over your shoulders, tattooed hands around your waist. It was only you two. In your own bubble. Blissful and domestic, draped over your back, soft hums sounding in your ear. Her veiny hands slot into yours, thumb rubbing affectionately against the heavy diamond ring on your ring finger. She lets out a pleased hum at you. “Oh, hello. Look at you go. Pretty rock on your finger for my pretty girl, huh, babe? Nice and shiny for ya—,”

And then it starts. Overlapping screams, frenzied scrambles. Illegal high rollers bolting for purchase to stay hidden, tables clattering. Chairs scattering. Glass breaks. The entire bar is swiped. Crystal whiskey glasses and bottles of aged wine pattering to the floor. A cacophony of wails and panicked grunts fills the air. And then the agents come in. Guns trained and pointed. Red beams scanning the room. Ellie swallows against your neck. She stands taller, yanking you up. She had always thrived on the edge, dancing between risk and rewards. This was a game she expertly knew how to play.

She knew how prison worked. Hell, she probably had minions tucked into every prison and jail in America. She disarms herself, sliding her handgun over the table before the agents got to you two. She pulled you close, kisses pressed against your temples. You knew what this meant.

She pushes you. Launches you into the steady stream of people scrambling to escape. The lights go out. It's dark, there's people screaming. You’re shoved into a flurry of pushing and crying. Blue and red lights flicker through the darkness.

You glance back.

She has every single agent’s red beam pointed at her forehead. They cuff her. Roughly. She makes eye contact with you through the chaos. Everything goes quiet. Ellie stands still where the agents try to hustle her out. There’s a Glock pressed against her temples. A bruise is blossoming where it presses against her head.

“I’ll be home soon. Hold it down for me, Bonnie.”

[the-californicationist]

What would your fave position to be in with the 141, either individually or together... asking for a friend... <3

Mmm. Well. If it were me, personally?

(NSFW/MDNI under cut)

For Gaz, it’s gonna have to be big spoon little spoon. He’d be making us both late for work every morning, turning my hips just right so that he could slip his heavy morning wood inside. He’d start off so soft and gentle, but by the time he was stuffing himself down to the root of his huge cock, I’d wake up, feeling the wetness he’d been busy creating, nearly choking from how full I feel. My body would be rocking back and forth as he had his way with me. And when I chastise him for making me miss the train? Just placating little excuses murmured between kisses — “I’m already workin’, babes. Can’t ya feel your man? Hard at work…”

For Ghost, it’s the cowgirl to lotus to missionary pipeline. He’d start off flat on his back, demanding some face sitting or a sixty-nine situation. Then, he’d stick me right on top, egging me on — “Lemme see those fuckin’ tits bounce, love. Good girl.” Then, he’d get too bothered, unable to hold back, too hungry, too much of a control freak. So he’d sit up, wrapping his legs behind me, moving my hips with his hands and grinding me into a shaking trembling mess. Finally, when I could barely remember my own name, he’d press forward, pinning me on my back, arching over me like a shield, telling me — “Shh, shh. Tha’s alright, love. You don’t need to fuckin’ talk. Suck on my fingers like it’s my prick, yeah? Tha’s it… all the way in, there ya go.”

For Soap, it has to be legs-over-shoulders. That big Scottish cock is curved and I will be taking no notes! None. It’s bent at a cruel angle and perfectly shaped to drag his ruddy head right across my g-spot with every stroke. He’d love to press my thighs to my chest, going deeper or harder, his hands staying busy with my clit or my nipples or my mouth, always finding new buttons to push. He’d especially enjoy ripping mind-breaking orgasms from me, shoving my vibrator against my clit as he fucked me, teasing me with it and saying shit like — “Is she gonnae come again for me, bonnie? I ken there’s one more in her, and I willnae stop until I have it…”

And for my darling captain, John Price, it’s nothing but straight-up, bone-shaking, soul-rattling doggy. After a long hard day of dealing with unimaginable bullshit? I’m on all fours in the fucking foyer, face pressed into the hardwood, pussy spread open like a cheap whore, stuffed full of cock. When he sees me in that tight pair of jeans that he likes a little too much? There I am, shirt raked down below my breasts, back arching as I’m bent over the kitchen counter, his meaty palm wrapped around my neck, bruising my hips with how hard he’s rutting into me from behind. In the middle of the night, his fat prick drooling and heavy, swaying between his huge thighs? He’ll fist my hair in one hand and grope my ass with the other as he breeds me, snarling into my ear, “Filthy fuckin’ slag. Whose cunt is this? Hmm? Nuh-uh. Say my real name…” And he won’t come until I call him Daddy.

But all together? Preferably a perfect seal: Price and Soap fighting to fit inside my pussy, Gaz stuffing himself deep in my ass, and Ghost filling up my throat!

What about you, anon?? Got any favorites?

[silkenwinger]

You know you're about to have a problematic day when you wake up with your tinnitus giving you hell again. At breakfast, Gaz reproaches you for not wearing the ear guards that one time, again, and you almost shove him off his chair. You massage your ear while drinking your coffee when Soap shows up, expression decidedly cat-like.

"Lass, you may want to check the notice board in the corridor," he hums, twinkle in his eyes.

"For what? Someone selling their used raggy shoes?"

"Nope," he pops the p, "it's all about you, bonnie." You frown.

"Soap, if you did an-"

"Not me," he raises his hands, apparently guiltless, "I had no part in this!" He saunters off, and you get off your chair like it's burning.

"I have a bad feeling," you glance at Gaz, and he's getting up too, now.

"Let's go see."

The board is full of old ads and invitations to meetings. The colour of some of them has faded from how long they've been stapled up there. An eye blinding white paper now sits on the lower edge, previously empty.

To the girl in 141 We kept quite the long eye contact the other day. I'd like to talk to you one on one, respond to this note if you're interested

Well.

"How is this even supposed to work?" You tell Gaz, who's scratching his head as well. The juvenile nature is often intact in military men. "He didn't even put a date. And anyone could reply!"

"Forget that, did you stare at this guy for so long he took it as interest?"

"I- I don't know! Sometimes I space out," you mutter, not remembering anyone you don't know standing out to you lately, "I don't do it on purpose."

"So? Are you going to respond? You can tell him to fuck off too."

"I-"

An arm manifests in front of your eyes. All black, the shadow of someone taller attached to it. The notice comes off the board cleanly, mechanically. Your lieutenant looks at the note to the general costernation of both you and Gaz.

He's a fast reader. A second later, he's already tearing the paper apart, thin white stripes first and then even shorter ones, rendering the original writing completely unreadable. You gape at Ghost, a bit shocked at the reaction. He finally takes note of your face, because he looks away and up, thinking of what to say.

"Task Force 141's members' identities are not supposed to be available for everyone to chatter about," he hisses, his brown eyes now glaring at you again.

For some reason, you don't think that's the full truth of it. Your ear rings quietly.

[arbitrarykiwi]

heyyy can i request some nam-gyu fluff…or some maybe angst…😏😏😏

Illumoria

Illumoria- the realization that every person has hidden parts of themselves. a light they rarely share

I DID NAWT FORGET ABOUT YOU ANON! I had this cooking up since you sent it in and it literally just spiraled. This had me struggling in the best way possible. I’ve said before, angst is not my strong suit- I cannot do a cheating trope I’m too much of a ween. I don’t do well writing toxic relationships- again because I’m too much of a ween and a sucker for a happy endings. So getting this, angst to fluff?! Oh yeah we could work with that. 😏😏

I worked so, so hard so I could post this!! Today (30th) is my birthday and I worked mad hard this past week to get this finished so I could celebrate with y’all!! I wanted to give yall a wee gift. So enjoy this long ass request that turned into a full on one shot fic. 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

Warnings: 18+ , drug dealing , slow burn , gun violence , physical violence (not committed by NG or reader) , small fight scene (bad drug deal) , more drug dealing , drug usage , did I say slow burn , mentions of sex , drug usage , roommate trope lmao , Nam-Gyu being a dick , Bonnie/clyde like trope , probably more , read at your own risk

Everyday you ask yourself why you answered a random ad on the web for a roommate. You know at the time it was because the rant was cheap and it was a close commute to your work- but now? Now, you doubt those small benefits make up for what you’re dealing with- your fuck ass roommate.

His name was Nam-Gyu. You didn’t accept the offer blindly, you looked him up to make sure he wasn’t some serial killer. You found his social media. He didn’t post a lot but you found out he was a club promoter at some club, enjoyed weed (based on the many pictures of it in his feed), and was friends with some purple haired rapper. He also wasn’t bad looking, he had strong features, longer hair and dark eyes.

So with all that combined and the looming threat of higher rent- you weighed your options and took your chances and responded to the ad.

It started out okay, you would hardly talk to each other. Your days seemed to work out to where when he was leaving for work, you were coming home; you two hardly crossed paths. Every so often when you’d be out late, your schedule shifting, you’d catch him in the kitchen or in the hallway- exchanging nods and glances of acknowledgment.

It started as little things, dishes in the sink that you knew you didn’t place or loud music that he’d play when he’d come home from work to shower at 4am- things that drove you mad but you gave him grace, working as a club promoter couldn’t be easy.

He also found himself getting irritated by you. He really hoped some laid back dude would answer his ad for a roommate- not some office working princess. You seemed so put together, like you had your life in order. You left at the same time, 6:15am to go to work, at your (what he presumed to be) an office job, and came home around 12am. And from the glimpses he’s caught of your room, you were organized. Maybe he shouldn’t hate you for redeeming qualities but the face you were so much better than him pissed him off.

He hated that he could smell your shampoo and body wash hours after you had ended your shower. He loathed how he could hear the switch in your ‘professional’ voice and your ‘regular’ voice through the walls when you’d switch from a work call to some other call. He despised how sometimes when you would cook he could smell it from his room (it smelled so fucking good but he would never admit it).

But as the months passed you two were the worst possible roommates. You and him never got along, always butted heads, and seemingly hated each other. You two couldn’t be more different from each other. Well…he seemed to hate you. He began to make your life a living hell (so in turn you had to hate him).

When you’d turn the heat down, waking up covered in sweat, he’d bust out of his room-some how hearing you click the thermostat and come out to yell at you about how he pays the most of the utilities (because he’s the one that racks it up the most). You not being a docile person always fought back. And he hated that.

When he would cook in the kitchen he would banish you from not only the kitchen but from the whole common area of the house. He’d say he hated that you’d watch him like some begging puppy. You could stay out in the living room but he would make it known he hated it with annoying, childish huffs and whispered insults under his breath. So you just resorted to going to your room.

When you would shower he would make it a habit to run his dirty clothes in the laundry, making sure that the shower water would run cold during your time in the bathroom. Nothing could replace the joy the sound of your squeak of surprise from down the hall would bring him when the washer would start- the water in the bathroom turning ice cold.

He hated how your music would clash with his through the walls as you did whatever you did in your room. You hated how he seemed to NEVER put his shoes by the front door where the shoe rack was but drop them somewhere in the middle of the apartment. He despised how you would come home making so much noise, those stupid fucking keychains jingling obnoxiously against your bag as you walked to your room. You hated how him and his stupid friends would stay up till 4-5am blasting shitty rap and railing lines.

It took a couple months for things to bubble over…but eventually you guys would argue. A snide comment on Nam-Gyu’s end here, a bitchy remark on your end there- and suddenly it ends with both your bedroom doors slamming.

There was also one time he stumbled into the apartment on something, what it was you never found out, but, he busted through the door- damn near taking it off the hinges. You remembered you nearly jumped out of your skin at the time, practically choking on the cup noodles you were eating in the kitchen. “You know how to use a door right?” You harmlessly joke, it was lighthearted…okay, maybe it was definitely sarcastic and ended with a scoff but it wasn’t hostile!

“Who the fuck are you talking to, bitch?” He snarls at you from the door as he slams it shut. The force vibrates the apartment, you can hear the dishes clanking in the cabinets. Your eyebrows furrow, immediately you’re shifting into a person that he’s never seen- if he was the tiniest bit more sober he might have been thrown off.

“The fuck is your issue?!” You’re seething, putting your noodles down and coming out of the kitchen striding across the living room to face him properly. When you’re closer to him you realize that he’s fucked up, not just drunk or weed high….no he’s on harder shit. You knew he smoked weed, hell on the rare occasion you two were docile and cordial, you’ve even smoked on the balcony together. You also knew he wasn’t impartial to pills or even doing lines, you’ve seen the remnants though you’ve never seen him do it. But this- this was something different.

“My issues is I have to come home to a raging cunt of a roommate every god damn night.” He says lowly, throwing his keys down onto the coffee table and kicking off his shoes. He kicks them off so hard he’s denting the wall by the floor.

“Woah, woah.” You’re hissing lowly, stalking up to him. He’s so far gone but he’s surprised you’re standing up to him, getting in his face and not shying away. For some reason that pisses him off more. “You’re the one who put the fucking ad out because you needed help with rent.” You growl, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

Maybe if he was the least bit fucking blitzed he would have asked you about your split eyebrow and bruised knuckles but he genuinely couldn’t see straight. “Okay and? Didn’t expect to get a smartass girl answering the ad.” He says shoving his way past you and into the kitchen. When he passes by you can see a bright red spot on his inner arm, near his elbow. Your suspicious are confirmed. Your eyes are widening, and your mouth hangs open a bit. Sure he was not the best person, but you knew his job and you knew the shit he had to do to keep it and even make rent (as much as he tried to act mysterious and keep his life hidden).

You watch as he opens the fridge and pulls out a beer. “You sure you need that? Maybe you should get some sleep..” you say, your tone lighter- you’re not even trying to continue the argument- just trying to make sure he’s okay. You have no time to react before he’s throwing the bottle to the ground in a fit of rage. It shatters on the tile of the kitchen, the foamy liquid spreading across the laminate.

You jump, the action startling you. It was nowhere near you, you’re across the house still, near the entrance, but you have never seen him like this. “I am I grown fucking man. I don’t need my roommate being my fucking mommy.”

You look at him for a moment, just shocked and unsure of what to say. When you finally find your words, all you can muster is a “Go fuck yourself.” You’re throwing your hands up and walking to your room. Your door slams behind you, rattling the dishes in the cabinets like they did when he entered the apartment. This time he jumps, the sound and vibration somewhat snapping him out of his drug induced haze.

When you wake up in the morning to go to work, his room door is closed, signaling he’s home and likely asleep. You want to be angry and just leave, walk out the front door and just go to work- but you can’t. You have to at least check on him. So you tip toe over to his door and turn the knob, pushing it open.

He’s sprawled out on his bed, still in the clothes that he came home in- but he’s snoring. He’s breathing. He’s alive. You notice how his face twitches and he turns away from the door, the extra light from the hallway flooding into his room and annoying his sleeping self. Content with seeing he’s at least alive, you slowly close the door back.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and continue down the hallway to the kitchen. The beer bottle shards and the beer was cleaned up on the floor, the evidence of his outburst nowhere to be found. At least he cleaned up after himself.

When he was certain you left for your little office job for the day, Nam-gyu snuck out of his bedroom. He felt like death personified. His head hurt, the room was spinning every time he took a step and he was certain that if he looked in one place for too long whatever he was looking at would start to move….whatever fucking drug he did he was not doing it again.

He admittedly didn’t want to do it…but his job was riding on it. The look of his boss, the one telling him to take the offer from the VIP or else his position would be cut, was enough to make him do it. The ‘bonus’ was not only a surprise (he hardly ever got something ‘extra’…he guessed his boss became more generous on whatever the fuck he took) it wasn’t nearly enough compensation for what he went through….

For what he made you go through.

It was just enough to cover his rent for the month, barely and it kept him his job…that’s how much it cost him to do some drug he had no idea what it was. Wow, stand up person he was. Stumbling, he makes it to the kitchen, hands slamming against the cabinets desperately to open it and get a glass for water. When he grabs the glass and slumps over the kitchen sink the trash can is in his direction field of view. He can see the shards of the bottle he broke. The amber stained glass hard to miss against the black plastic of the trash bag.

He groans, his brain pounding has memories of the night prior rush back to memory. He hardly remembers coming back out late in the middle of the night, rather early in the day- before you even got up for work- to clean up the mess. He knew he wasn’t the best roommate, hell…he wasn’t the best person…but whatever came over him that night; you didn’t deserve that.

And who could forget the time, not even a week after the huge fight you two had- a knock sounds at your closed bedroom door late at night. You know only Nam-gyu could be the one knocking at this hour, the apartment is locked up and he definitely didn’t have anyone over, but, it confuses you as to why. He never comes to you for anything.

It’s three soft knocks, like Nam-Gyu is testing to see if you’re awake. You never slept good, always in and out of sleep. So when your half-asleep body focuses in on the soft sound, you’re awake immediately. You sit up in bed and look towards your door. Maybe you dreamt it? Fuck, maybe that goodnight blunt kicked your ass more than you thought it did.

One more soft knock- like he’s testing to really make sure you were asleep if you weren’t going to answer. Nam-Gyu sighs. He’s so glad you didn’t answer- you were asleep. He begins to turn on his heels about to get on with his scheduled meeting.

The creak of the door knob makes his body turn to ice. He freezes awkwardly, half turned away from the door. He’s so still, like a kid that thinks if they are completely frozen, they’re invisible.

“Nam-gyu?” Your tired voice cuts through the still air of the apartment like a knife. Okay….so looks like freezing in place didn’t work.

Nam-gyu turns on his heels to face you again, an almost bashful look on his face as his dark eyes meet yours in the hallway. He coughs, trying to fix his dry throat to no avail, “h-hey…uh…thought you were asleep…”

His words fumble out of his mouth in choked, embarrassed syllables. His tone is hushed, maybe if he talks low enough you’ll think you’re dreaming. He wants to kick himself when he realizes how pathetic his words come out. He can even see the way your eyebrows knit together in confusion and shock as you try and wake yourself up more.

“I…well I was.” Nam-Gyu cringes at your response. Of course he ruined your sleep by knocking. He made his situation so much harder. “Yeah…sorry about that…” He drawls out.

Nam-gyu coughs awkwardly “So…um…I’m gonna have someone over-“ You immediately scoff, “Dude, I don’t care…get your dick wet. You don’t have to tell me about it.” You say surprised, that’s the only reason you can think he’s coming to tell you that, a ‘hey stay the fuck in your room I’m trying to get laid’ thing. You’ve lived with him for months and he’s never done this…come to think about it you’re not sure if he’s ever brought a girl home…but this is strange.

Nam-gyu seems to falter and look at you dumbly. He shakes his head violently, hands thrown up dismissively, “N-no it’s not like that. Just…stay in your room and try not to make too much noise m’kay?”

His voice is jittery and anxious but it’s also eerily calm- like whatever he was about to deal with was something he’s done time and time again. “Uhhh….yeah…sure…” You nod, still half asleep and delirious. “Wha…what is going on?” You mumble, eyebrows knitted together as you try to stare at him in the dark hallway.

He seems to realize how anxious he appears, he fixes his posture and changes his tone. Clearing his throat he speaks, “None of your business, just stay the fuck in your room okay.” He spits, glaring at you. His hand brushes past your waist, nudging you out of the way of the door. He grabs your door knob and slams the door shut.

Fumbling backwards into your room you stare at your closed door. Did he seriously just slam your door? Slam it backwards?! What the fuck was going on.

You obviously end up staying awake, ear pressed to your closed door as you try your best to hear anything that happens outside your room. You can hear a knock at the door and Nam-Gyu walking down the hallway, away from your door.

You hear the telltale sound of the deadbolt on the front door unlocking, the creak of the door opening, and muffled introductions being made and then the door shutting.

“Yeah man…I told you that I was getting the money I swear, just a couple hundred behind.” Nam-gyu’s voice is hushed and uneasy- you can tell he’s trying to keep whatever was going on, on the down low. He didn’t want you to hear.

You’re nosy though.

You shift more, nearly trying to make your face melt through the wood of your bedroom door. “You sure didn’t seem so scared when you were borrowing the 6 bands.”

The voice that answers Nam-Gyu is rough, it’s louder, obviously not caring of the idea of ‘quiet’. “I’m fucking serious, if you don’t have the money I’m going to fucking-“

“Okay okay! Jesus fucking Christ, just be quiet will you. I have a fucking-“ Nam-Gyu cuts himself off, he doesn’t want to tell this loan shark he has a roommate- just someone else to get involved with his bullshit. Nam-gyu chocks it up to him being strategic, he doesn’t need anyone else meddling in his affairs- but deep down he knows it’s to protect you. The last thing he needs to see is your pretty face hung over him while he gets the shit beat out of him.

“I have fucking neighbors. Walls are thin. You wouldn’t want them hearing this would you.” Nam-Gyu awkwardly corrects himself, hoping, praying, that this intruder wouldn’t question him further about his awkward grammar.

“You said you would have the money” this time, the unknown voice is matching Nam-gyu’s in volume.

Nam-gyu’s hushed panicked voice cuts off the other, unfamiliar voice, “I don’t have the money okay…” a sharp breath rings through the apartment, like he’s waiting to get hit for saying the truth. Moments pass with no sign of altercation, Nam-gyu lets out a breath, “I promise I will get it to you end of the month, with interest even!” He says, pleading with the stranger in your home.

“End of the month. 40% interest. All paid in cash.”

You assume Nam-Gyu gives some kind of nod of affirmation or something silent to show he agreed because the stranger scoffs and lets out a gruff ‘good’.

“But you’re also so fucking stupid if you think I’m leaving empty handed.”

Your breath hitches, it all happens so fast- you hear a sharp smack, a large thud against the wall then the telltale sign of a gun cocking.

Your hand hovers over the door, getting ready to say fuck it and deal with whatever the fuck was going on inside the apartment you paid rent for, but the scuffle subsides just as soon as it started. You hear footsteps stomping away. Presumably Nam-gyu’s footsteps following. Then the front door closing and locking. Stepping back from your bedroom door you let out a shaky breath, hand still hovering over the door knob as if going out there would do anything.

Nam-gyu’s bedroom door slamming shut, vibrating your bedroom walls answers any conflicting thoughts you had- he’s in his room so it only made sense for you to stay in yours.

The day after, you could see Nam-gyu had a busted lip. You wanted to say nothing about it- you’ve lived with him for long enough, you know he was not the type to want to be ‘checked on’. You really did try, but the really sketchy random man that Nam-Gyu let into your apartment, with a gun, had seemingly beat him up- you had to ask.

At an odd time in the week, when both of you happened to cross paths in the kitchen, you genuinely had no ability to stop yourself. Up close you could see not only was his lip busted, his cheek and temple were bruised.

“Did you get fucking pistol whipped!?” The words fall out of your mouth before you can even stop yourself. You’re slamming your cup noodles on the counter and gawking at his face.

Nam-gyu’s eye visibly twitches at your words, his hands that were washing the bowl he just used, clench around the cheap plastic- warping and bending the material. “Mind your fucking business.” He shakes his head, the hair that was once tucked behind his ears falls over his face, shielding the bruises from your point of view.

His response comes through clenched teeth, like he’s holding himself back- giving you the benefit of the doubt- maybe you’ll listen and mind your own like he wanted.

“Mind my business?!?” You scoff, whipping your head to the side to face him. “You have any idea how fucking sketchy that was last night?! You coming to tell me to stay in my room like some scared deer? I fucking heard a pistol cocking, and now I see you messed up and bruised?!”

The comparison of him to a scared deer makes Nam-Gyu practically throw the dish back into the sink, hands coming to grasp at the counter. “I told you to mind your business. Seriously, I don’t need you up my ass. It’s my fucking job. I don’t need you worrying about me.” When he finishes speaking, he furrows his eyebrows, how the hell did you know the distinct sound of a gun cocking?

“Okay, your busted fucking face aside,” Nam-Gyu cringes at your words, you can see the insult he’s getting ready to throw back at you but you speak again, “I pay rent here too, and you let in some stranger who very obviously had a gun and who may or may not have pistol whipped you.”

That seemed to be all Nam-Gyu could take, and it wasn’t even much, you just seemed to set him off. “You answered the fucking ad. You don’t like it? Move the fuck out, I genuinely don’t care, it would be better with you not here. You have no idea what it’s like to do what I do, keep your mouth shut and let me do my damn job or pack your shit.”

With that he’s storming away. You’re left there in the kitchen, mouth hung open as you’re trying to process the interaction you just had.

Neither of you mentioned that night in the days and months to come, you both acted like it never happened.

The tension between you two didn’t change one bit. Since then his view on you seemed to change. He seemed to hate you more than he did before- so in turn you hated him more.

He seemed to think you were some prissy ‘better than you’ girl. He remembered he came to that conclusion rather quick after that one night. It all happened one day after you came home from work. It was the first time he got any idea of your work life. Your schedules often differed so he hardly ever saw you. And when he did you pissed him off too much for him to care about your intricacies.

You worked a boring office job that had you practically pulling your hair out but you had to dress all formal. It was probably fancy and paid well. Hell, you probably have gone on company vacations all expenses paid on the regular….that’s what Nam-Gyu believed you did.

There was one night, you came home late, talking on the phone with your boss about some analytics and statistics for the company, getting rather annoyed that you still have to deal with his even on your off time. You’re spouting words he can’t even conceptualize a definition of and practically throwing your winter jacket on the hook. It was hard enough that the metal of the rack vibrates and makes a ringing sound.

He watched as you kicked off your heels in the entry way and shrugged off your blazer off. You didn’t even realize Nam-Gyu was in the living room right in front of the door, frozen with his nose hovering over a fresh line of white powder that laid on the coffee table. You end the phone call and turn around. When you see him you both look at each other wide eyed. You could see the way his eyes narrowed even so slightly. You didn’t have the capacity to deal with this situation so recent into your tenure as roommates and you’re far too tired. Also, who were you to judge- you weren’t a saint yourself. So you quickly saunter off to your room like an uneasy fawn in your dress pants and silk blouse, blazer hungover your shoulder.

You’re running off to your room to avoid a fight with him like normal, you never stay to talk with him anyways! Quite frankly, he was miserable to be around. He was a dick and had little to no people skills. But when you got off the horrendous phone call with your boss and walk into your apartment to see your roommate railing blow off your coffee table….you just want to go to bed and crack open the fresh pack of weed gummies you got- hoping to relax after a long day.

But he takes your hasty and awkward departure as you thought you were better than him. Such a pretty, innocent thing all dressed up in expensive clothes (they were thrifted) and heels- coming back to the apartment from a cute office job where you’re probably the heartthrob of the office making a comfortable living (you weren’t and you were barely scraping by)- to see him, a lowlife club promoter who gets paid minimum wage, who can hardly pay his share of the rent, railing lines off the coffee table you bought for the living room. You also saw him come home that one night when he tried the new injectable drug for a bit of extra cash at the club….Yeah, you definitely think you’re so much better than him. You had one over him, he knew little to nothing about you and yet you just saw him dealing with a huge vice of his on more than one occasion….yeah, no, he didn’t like that. It just made him hate you more.

The thing was, you weren’t the overly perfect, prissy, princess image that he crafted his mind- you were far from it. Admittedly the office job was a front, it paid like shit and it was at some sleazy loan shark firm, you were just forced to dress in overly formal attire to look more ‘inviting and appealing’ to the unsuspecting souls who walked in the door…it was a front for your real source of income. Drug dealing. That was what you hid from him. He seemed to have no idea about your side hustle, no matter how many times you’ve come home beat up and bruised after you were jumped or were involved in a deal gone bad- he was none the wiser.

You weren’t proud of it and you never intended to get involved with that scene but one too many months of not having enough rent or getting evicted when you were too behind on payments; you had to do something. The opportunity fell in your hand when you went out one night with a group of friends to some shady club.

Admittedly, you were the odd one of the group, you weren’t too keen on dancing on random men like your friends were, you were side eyeing any man that tried to get near you and you looked annoyed you were even there (you were, you wanted to go home), and you didn’t buy any of the overpriced drinks from the bar, and you had a neon ‘guest’ band meaning you didn’t even pay the cover to get in; someone else did- so maybe that’s why your boss scouted you out. You seemed like you could handle your own- you could. You weren’t a violent person but you were always down to fight if it got down to it. You’d protect your friends and throw a strategic punch square in a grown mans jaw if you needed to. And you were down on your luck, you needed money.

So when you left the bar, your friend’s long gone; he approached you. Of course, at first you were uneasy by a grown man who appeared to be in his 50’s approaching you. But with some slick talk, speaking to you like a wise Italian grandfather with a fortune to pass down to you, and a rough estimate of what you could be making- you accepted the job. Making drug runs for this man and his ring, dealing to people that he didn’t feel like going to or dealing with. Of course it was shitty, dangerous work…but you were desperate. You wanted to get enough to allow you to quit your other job, get enough to keep you steady for a bit while you find better work…..that was also 4 years ago.

Nam-gyu knew none of that though, it wasn’t exactly something you were proud of. You most certainly weren’t going to tell him either. Doing the drugs and being the dealer are two different things…as much as you despised what you were doing, you made enough money to keep you afloat and that’s all that you cared about for the time being. You knew the guys you worked for weren’t lacing the stuff you sold so it made you feel a little better…you still didn’t like doing it. But..It was better than where you were. So you continued to do it.

Nam-Gyu was always far too drunk, high, sleep deprived, or a combination of all three to ever notice the black eye you had spontaneously gotten or the bruised and split knuckles you came home with far too often. It was not an easy job. You were intertwined with some shady people, directed to go off to bad places late at night by yourself- you had to defend yourself. And you knew how to do it well! That’s what kept you alive and kept you in business.

It was a side of you that you only felt shame for, a dirty secret that was quite literally the only thing that could keep you afloat in this economy. That should say something in itself, insight some sort of worldwide change to make it where you weren’t driven to do this, it wasn’t some dream land though; it was real life.

Recently, your boss had given you the details on a couple deals that could set you up for a long while. Two deals that could even get you out of the drug dealing ring for good! Of course, the bigger the deal the more dangerous and the more risky….however, the higher reward was far too perfect to pass up.

When your boss texted you with a location and a time- you responded promptly. After putting on some jeans, a tight fitted top and a jacket, you’re headed out the door and hauling a taxi to get to where you were told to be. Club Pentagon.

You were directed by your boss through text message to use a fake name once in the club, walk to the back of the club to the VIP rooms, give the fake name and you would be led to the buyer. Off rip, you were warned to keep your sarcasm to a minimum, to be polite and kiss ass- this was a big deal that your boss could not lose. The price of the product was firm, it always has been, but you knew the game- make them think they can bargain or are already get a bargain to get in good with the clientele.

Wanting the pay out, the money that could get you out of this job and the shitty office job you have- you comply, enter into the club, and maneuver your way to the back of the club. The VIP area was lit up by a bright neon sign that nearly made you have a headache. You walk over to the attendant standing at the lux velvet ropes that separated you from a dimly lit hallway lined with multiple doors on either side.

“Name?” The attendant says looking down at you with a skeptical look. You’re thankful you took the couple minutes to remember the fake name your boss gave you because the man behind the velvet ropes that held the list of names was a hulking older man who was downright terrifying to look at. You relay the fake name expertly like it was the name you were given at birth.

The bouncer looks over the list he has in his hands, finds the name you relayed and nods. “Alright, you can follow me.” The bouncer’s demeanor changed, he’s more serious- scrutinizing you and looking you up and down with a threatening stare. When he turns to lead you down the dim hallway he makes a show of lifting his shirt up on his hip to flash the shiny gun that’s holstered there.

You swallow thickly, it’s nothing you haven’t done before but the proper place of the deal makes you uneasy. It isn’t an open area in the middle of the street, it isn’t some rundown house where you know the individuals who live there have nothing but shitty knives- this is the big deal.

Step after step down the hallway, more armed men join you in a makeshift entourage that escorts you down this back hallway of the club. You begin to wonder if you’re even in the same building- turn after turn you’re believing that there’s no way this hallway could possibly be attached to the club.

Even if you wanted to stop- to turn back now the group of armed club workers prevent you from turning around, they’re so close to you that even if you side step a centimeter off, you’re bumping into one of them and being shoulder checked back in line.

After what seems like forever, you’re brought to a room- on either side of the closed door another guard. You’re led into the small room, it was very obviously a room used for private dances.

You weren’t graced with a stripper, you were met with multiple men seated on a sofa with even more bodyguards around them. Seated in the middle of the couch was a man who looked to be the buyer- expensive suit, gaudy chains and rings layered with diamond and gemstones that are worth more than 6 months rent for one crystal that inlays the jewelry.

Straightening your posture and putting on a brave face, wanting nothing more than to get this deal over with so you can get your cut of the money, you nod politely to the man.

“Didn’t think you’d be the one he’d send.” The man says, eyeing you up and down like you’re a meal ready to be eaten- you hate it.

“You told him to send his best man for the deal, here I am.” You say simply, keeping your hands stuffed in your jacket pocket to hide your trembling fingers. You’ve done hundreds of deals, thousands even, but this was so much different. This was the big league. This was large amounts of high priced substances going from one kingpin to another.

With a scoff, the man motions to a brief case laid on the table, one of the guards opens the case with a click. Bundles of money sit in the briefcase, pressed and pristine. The client, the man who quite literally holds your life in his hands at the moment, nods to you.

Taking a step forward, you eye the cash, “that’s not what was agreed upon.” It’s easy to tell, you know what this large amount is supposed to look like, and what was in this small briefcase was not it. You look back up to the man, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Ahhh, smart one.” He says mockingly, talking down on you with an evil undertone. “Who would have thought.” He jokes, elbowing the people next to him to try and get them in on the shitty joke he was making. “The rest of the money should be coming shortly…what kind of man would have this much money readily available, darling.”

The name makes you cringe, the whole interaction is making you feel more uneasy by the second.

The room shifts when the door opens, everyone standing to attention, “here’s the money boss.”

Your eyes widen, you can only see the back of the person as they walk in that room- but you know that voice. And when the person who entered turns, backpack slung over the shoulder. You know you’re fucked.

Nam-Gyu.

He seems just as shocked, if not more than you to see you out of all people standing in the room for one of the biggest drug deals his boss was about to complete. He honestly thinks he’s hallucinating.

The views you two had of each other collapse in on themselves like exploding stars. It’s so fast and violent that you feel like you might throw up. Sure you knew Nam-Gyu wasn’t the greatest guy, you knew he had to work somewhere that was open overnights- but you would have never thought he would be working at the club and for the sleazy, shitty, man you’re doing business with. And Nam-Gyu? Well he was fucking dumbfounded. He saw you as some holier than thou office worker who was early to rise early to bed. He thought you were some good girl who would never end up in a place like this.

Yet here you both were.

“Is there a problem?” The boss says, glaring at Nam-Gyu who was paused by the doorway eyeing you. He shakes his head, it’s sporadic and anxious like he’s shaking his own surprise out of his head. “Uh no, sorry not at all.” Nam-Gyu responds, hand anxiously gripping at the strap of the backpack that was slung over his shoulder.

The big boss laughs, motioning Nam-Gyu over and taking the backpack from him. “Just partied too hard, hm?! That’s what I like to hear!”

Nam-Gyu laughs, it’s so uneasy and awkward, no one but you seems to notice. His wide eyes stay trained on you as he moves within the room. Like he was told prior to the deal, he takes his place behind the couch.

He tries hard to get rid of the pit that’s forming in his stomach. There’s no fucking way that you were the dealer in this big deal that his boss was talking about for months. The one he knows was a set-up, he was part of the planning!!

Take the backpack, you check the money, and while you’re busy- head down in the cheap bag to count your earnings, the one guard in the back left corner was supposed to take you out. Clean and simple. Something Nam-Gyu had been involved in countless of times, something he had no issue with doing. Fuck, he was the one that was tasked with getting rid of the fucking corpses! He should be completely fine and locked in as Thanos would say.

He oddly starts thinking of Thanos then, about the many times he’s come over and asked about Nam-Gyu’s ‘sexy lil roommate’. He hated when Thanos would call you that, he told himself that it was just him being respectful- Thanos shouldn’t be talking to you like that….but then again when has Nam-Gyu ever cared about being respectful. Thanos would always tell Nam-Gyu that he should make a move, that he obviously has a crush on you. Nam-Gyu would always deny it, brushing him off and inevitably insulting you to make his point.

But now….Thanos assertions were starting to make sense…the longer he spends in this room, knowing that you would take the place of whatever unknown corpse…yeah, he’s going to fucking throw up.

It probably wasn’t a good idea for him to take a bunch of drugs before this either- to his defense he didn’t fucking think it was going to be you in this deal!! He normally could go into this crossfaded and be completely fine but now the sweat on his forehead gets worse and he’s genuinely trying to not vomit.

“Well alright then,” Nam-Gyu’s boss’s voice brings him out from the memory riddled haze he was in, his worried eyes look over to you then to his boss, “As you can see, here’s the rest of the money.” Nam-Gyu’s boss finishes, grabbing the backpack and tossing is unceremoniously to your feet.

You quirk up an eyebrow and scoff, “you’re going to treat me like a dog? I have the deal of a life time for you and you’re treating me like this?” You look back down at the bag, making a show of not moving an inch to pick it up. “Your mother ever teach you manners?”

Nam-Gyu doesn’t know whether to be turned on at your boldness in such a situation or fear for your life- he knows the people he works for all too well. They don’t take kindly to people talking back.

“Oooohh~ feisty. Seems like he picked a good one.”

Nam-Gyu lets out a shuddering breath, thankful that his boss seemed to enjoy your attitude and are getting some sort of praise from his boss. He knows what’s coming, the inevitable plan that will sour the deal but leave the boss of the club with money back in his pocket and some free drugs.

With a raise of one singular finger, the boss motions for one of the guards to pick up the backpack. The large man crosses the room and with an outstretched hand, holds the bag out to you.

You take it, nodding in thanks with a small smirk quirked up at the corners of your lips. “Much better, thank you.” Your fingers fiddle with the zippers of the backpack. Placing a strap of the backpack over one arm, you slide the duffle bag you had off your shoulder and drop it to the table.

You zip it open effortlessly, hovering close by it as you show off the copious amounts of drugs inside. “All here, like you ordered. If you sell this without issue then my boss said he has no problem continuing business.”

Nam-Gyu’s boss inspects the substances packaged in various bags and nods. “Looks good to me, why don’t ya make sure that’s a good enough payout for ya boss there sweetheart.”

When you scoff and go to open the zipper of the bag, Nam-Gyu decides he can’t watch what was to come. He can’t watch you die over some fuck ass drug deal.

He moves quickly, shoulder checking the guard, his coworker, that stood next to him and on holsters the gun hanging on the man’s thigh. With one fluid moment, he’s raising his arm and aiming at the guard in the room that he knew was tasked to kill you.

A crack rips through the room, everyone ducking and beginning to become frantic. Nam-Gyu’s intended target is struck in the leg and drops to the ground.

Instantly the room turns into chaos, the men on the couch hold up right and unholster their weapons. You get pulled into a headlock, gun to your temple as they try to keep you as some sort of hostage for negotiation. Who they’d negotiate with? All you knew was whoever it was on the receiving end of that bargain would most likely let you die over some drugs.

With fluidity that takes your captor off guard, you’re showing his stomach, forcing him back and yanking his own fire arm from his hand. You have no time to celebrate, you’re running back and trying to figure out what the fuck went wrong. Nam-Gyu shot one of his own men? Why the fuck would he do that?!! You genuinely have no time to figure it out in this moment.

Bodies are clashing together, fists are flying, there’s definitely blood on the floor and bullets are ricocheting off the walls. At this point it’s so chaotic you’re almost 100% positive some of the guards in the room got confused and have started fighting people on their side. Your eyes land on the door you walked into the room from, you could absolutely make it if you booked it hard enough. But then you see the money that litters the floor- spilled from the backpack that lays on the ground- lost to the chaos of the room.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you bolt to the bag. Sliding on the floor you’re quickly scooping up stray bills into the bag and hauling it over your shoulder. Whipping your head to the door, you plot your escape. Moving to a squatting position you’re propelling yourself upwards and breaking into a sprint.

One stride. Two. Three. You’re nearly there, you can almost reach out to the doorknob.

Pain erupts from the side of your skull, you’re plummeting down to the floor before you can even look at whatever, or rather whoever just hit you. A large weight crushes your stomach, making it hard to breathe. Your vision is hazy and it burns to open your eyes but you have to keep going.

The boss, Nam-Gyu’s boss, the big wig who was supposed to receive the drugs you were ordered to sell is on top of you, one hand on your sternum and the other raised in a fist. You struggle, wiggling your body to try and get him off of you but the weight of a grown man is much more than you hoped for.

The first hit comes down hard, you immediately taste blood and your mind is filled with static. Oddly enough, the only thought that forms is one of Nam-Gyu. He was in the room, started the gunfire and is still probably fighting. You hoped that he got out, you didn’t know why…he was a complete dick to you most times, but you just hoped he was out of this shit show- alive.

You think you may have passed out, maybe gotten a few more hits from the man who had you pinned, you’re not too sure. Your eyes are forced open when someone is practically ripping you from the ground.

“Nuh-uh, you’re not dying on me.” The second Nam-Gyu’s voice fills your ears, you feel like you’ve gotten a second win. You laugh weakly and fall into his arms, gunshots still ringing out in the room. “C’mon!” Nam-Gyu taps lightly at your cheek, waking you up more. “You can fall on me and be all weak later, we gotta get the fuck on!”

“‘M not weak.” You mumble out, standing up straight and wiping the blood from your lip. Nam-Gyu groans and yanks you by your wrist, “Yeah, I know. You definitely aren’t,” he says, voice laced with a weird admiration. He yanks you quickly, you fall instep with him as he ducks and weaves you through people jumping to get you.

You two practically fall through the door, the wood splintering as you barrel out into the dimly lit hallway.

Nam-Gyu has your wrist in an iron grip as he’s pulling you out of the room and down the corridors you came from. He knows if he can at least get you two to the main part of the club- they’ll have to stop shooting. He hopes.

You fumble over your steps as you try to get a hold of the situation, but the way Nam-Gyu is pulling you, you have no option but to keep up with him. Bullets are whizzing past you and each one that flys by, you’re thanking whatever part of the universe that is listing for your pursuers shitty aim.

“C’mon, keep the fuck up.” Nam-Gyu shouts back to you, his voice laced with an anger he truly had no reason to harbor, “they’ve fucking leveled business for less than a shitty drug deal, we’ve got to fucking go!”

“Motherfucker! I’m trying! It’s not my fault you’re 80% legs. I’m well aware that if we stop running we’re going to get shot!” You yell back, way too sarcastic given your situation. If this wasn’t life or death, Nam-Gyu was sure that he would have laughed at your insult.

You’re so lucky he is guiding you, the more you turn down identical hallways, the more you’re not sure where you even are. You’re about to ask if he has any sort of plan when you feel a burning sensation blooming across your shoulder, “Shit-!”

Trying the best you can, you turn to look, blood has started to stain your skin but you can tell it’s not deep, a graze at best- but too close for your liking. “Nam-Gyu! You gotta plan?! They’re fuckin’ gaining on us here…and oh my fucking god!! Are those fucking attack dogs?!”

Your words turn into a desperate tone when you turn back to see some of the men on your trail stop and begin to mess with large collars on three large dogs. The canines were growling and snarling, foaming at the mouth and already jumping at the chance to chase you two like prey.

“Fuckfuckfuck!” Nam-Gyu mutters to himself, this really couldn’t get any worse. They’ve nearly almost hit you, he knows he’s been grazed by the hot metal of a bullet too, and now the fucking dogs- he’s not even sure if you two could make it.

He’s quickly shaking his head of the thought, “Just keep fucking running!”

And you do.

After what seems like too long you and Nam-Gyu practically barrel onto the dance floor of the club. Almost immediately as your feet hit the floor of the main area, the gunfire in your direction ceases. With you two no longer in line of sight and meddling in a sea of club goers, your pursuers also don’t release the attack dogs. There’s no way you’re out of the clear though, they still had bouncers on your ass. You don’t falter, Nam-gyu keeps pulling you through the sea of people.

Nam-Gyu practically shoulder checks the front door open, hand still gripped tight around your wrist and pulling you along with him.

When the night breeze hits you, you’re taking the biggest breath in possible. You want to stop running, your feet are so sore and your body is so tired. Without the threat of being shot, you’re realizing just how bad you got injured within the fight in the room the deal was in. Your head is spinning and your vision is starting to get blurry the longer you keep running.

He doesn’t know why he does it, he should just leave you there on the sidewalk, but he can’t. Something in him is screaming at him to protect you, to take care of you. It’s a split second decision, one that would definitely help both of you in the clear- he yanks you by the wrist closer to him and hauls your tired form onto his back.

You have no energy to protest, the second your feet leave the concrete and you’re weightless, your head is dropping to his shoulder and your eyes are squeezing shut to try and fight off the migraine that’s beginning to form.

You’re woken up from a micro-sleep that you didn’t even realize you had taken when you’re placed down into the seat of a car. You’re jolting awake instantly, not even realizing where you were or who you were with before you fell asleep. You’re waking up about to fight whoever it was that had you in their car.

“Hey, easy! Just trying to get you buckled in…”

Nam-Gyu’s voice makes you settle, your head turning to look outside the door to the individual who was now leaning over and buckling you in the car. Your throat is far too dry to speak, you’re blinking at him like a deer caught in headlights. It’s cute he thinks. He wants to admire you for a moment but he soon hears the back door of the club slam open.

Not taking any chances, he slams the passenger door and is hopping into the drivers seat in under 10 seconds. A shrill screech comes from the tires as you two peel out of the parking lot.

The ride home is silent, yet you could cut the tension with a knife. It’s so tangible you’re afraid it might suffocate you. You try your best not to look over into the drivers seat where you know Nam-Gyu was seated, probably white-knuckling the steering wheel. Your throat is dry, your body is sore, and you’re positive you can taste blood.

The drive back to your shared apartment was horrible, your anxiety stayed through the roof and neither of you spoke a single word. The only sound that resounded throughout the car was the dull hum of the AC and Nam-Gyu gritting his teeth.

He practically spins out when he pulls into the driveway; wheels skidding on the concrete of the driveway in a shrill screech. You want to at least thank him for giving you a ride back (even if he or the situation yall were in didn’t give you much of an option), but Nam-gyu is shifting the car into park and exiting the vehicle quickly. You jump when he slams the door, walking up to the front door without so much as looking back at you.

You scramble to follow him, barely catching the front door with your palm as he walks inside. Quickly, you close and lock the door behind you- dead bolting all the locks and checking them over and over- out of habit or anxiety about one of the people you two just beat and robbed blind coming after you- you weren’t sure. Swallowing thickly, back against the front door as if it was about to be kicked in, you open your mouth to speak. “Look I didn’t mean-“

“Shut up. Just sit down.”

You shut your mouth and glare at Nam-Gyu’s back as he walks to a cabinet in your kitchen, where the first aid kit was. “We need to talk-“

“Not right now we don’t. Sit the fuck down.” Nam-gyu whips his head back to face you, leaning over the counter with a disheveled look across his bruised face. “You’re fucking bleeding.”

Nam-gyu simply states, walking back over to where you stood speechless. He harshly shoves your shoulder, snapping you out of your stupefied trance and pushing you down to a seating position onto the couch behind you.

He doesn’t give you a moment to protest or even a moment to breathe, he’s hovering over you and grabbing your chin in his hand. Tilting your face every which way possible, he examines the extent of your injuries with a dejected look.

“You don’t look any better.”

He can’t help it, your statement makes him let out a dry laugh, it’s quiet and quick, but a laugh not the less. “You don’t know when to stop talking.” Nam-gyu says gruffly as he begins to clean up your wounds.

“I didn’t need your help I had it covered…I’ve done shit like this before you know.” Nam-gyu pauses, looking at you like you have three heads and just told him the sky was green- you have done something like that before?!

It made sense now that he thought about it, you wouldn’t have even been the one to come on behalf of the drug seller if you didn’t have some sort of credibility. The longer he thinks about it, the more he’s pissed. How did he miss this seemingly huge thing about you?! You, out of all people, a fucking drug dealer?! You willingly got into the business when you could have had other options (you didn’t) and put yourself into this danger.

He didn’t know why but the thought made him physically ill- and in change it made him even madder. Why the fuck did he even care?!? He shouldn’t care, you were just his pretty roommate he used to get a break on the rent. You were the prissy girl who would come home and glare at him for smoking in the apartment (you were never glaring, you were just coming home high yourself).

Yet, here he was, just fucking lost his job to save you like some story book hero and now patching you up. This wasn’t like him and that alone made him uneasy. But each time his hand brushed the cool rag against your split lip with you looking up at him with a cute little glare, his heart felt like it was going to explode.

He scoffs, a pathetic attempt of a response as he breaks himself out of the haze he was in. His fingers work quickly, as if touching you was physically burning him. Nam-gyu throws the cool rag down and reaches to the first aid kit, fishing out a few bandages.

When his fingers graze against your scalp, where you know you’re bleeding from, you suck in a sharp breath. Yes, it stings, but it’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. It’s his closeness.

Nam-Gyu is leaned over you, one hand holding the top of your head- keeping you still- fingers threaded into your hair to part it away from the wound. The other hand dances along the gash and works diligently to clean you up. It’s the softness of his touches, the way he’s so careful with you.

And when you look up finally, catching the way he looks- you’re a goner. He looks at the wound like it’s all his fault, like he had some obligation to protect you and he failed. It was odd, you never had someone dote on you like this, it made it all the more weird to have Nam-Gyu out of all people show you this kindness.

Feeling your intense stare on him, Nam-gyu looks down. When he sees you looking up at him, he begins to over heat. Was it this hot when you two first got back?! Fuck, you do look so pretty like this..

You watch as he bites the corner of his bottom lip, ripping his dark eyes away from you and hurriedly finishes his work on your injury. Soon, he’s closing the lid on the first aid kit and pulling away from you.

“Don’t do anything stupid, you’ll open it up and you’ll really have to get stitches.” Nam-gyu scolds in a low, monotone voice. He’s throwing away the wrappers and bloody gauze and coming right back to the couch, sitting next to you.

You want to say something, thank him maybe, but you can’t form any words. From fumbling the deal, nearly getting killed, having Nam-Gyu save you and patch you up like a knight in shining armor- it was all so much. Your mind was spinning and the tension within the room grew thicker the longer you two sat in silence.

“You really didn’t have to-“ your pathetic attempt at breaking the silence is cut off by Nam-Gyu. “I didn’t have to but I did. Enough about it.” His voice is rough, cracking with his terse words. “I could have taken care of it myself, ive been doing this for-“

“Shut the fuck up and quit whining about it. It happened it’s over with” Again, he’s cutting you off, “I don’t give a fuck how long you’ve been ‘in the business’ I wasn’t going to let you get your ass beat over some drugs.” When he says it, he feels like he’s dreaming. There was no way you were drug dealing this whole time. Your pretty little office-working self getting involved in one of the most fucked up and dangerous side gigs possible?! It made him sick.

He was never a good roommate. Hell, he was not even a good person to you most the time- but the idea of you having been so down bad on your luck, so beaten down by life and forced into the line of work solely to make sure you survived- it made him want to throw up. Nam-gyu didn’t find himself around great company either but that was normal for him. He was antisocial and a jackass, working at a sleazy club, doing sleazy shit for a quick buck; it was normal for someone like him. It shouldn’t have been normal for someone like you.

Nam-gyu runs his hands through his hair, drained and exhausted from the altercation, the silence fills the living room awkwardly yet again. His dark eyes flick over to the side of the couch you sat in, your mouth closing as if you decided against saying anything else. You look like a kicked puppy, shrinking into the couch as if you’re being scolded. Bruises are blooming over your face, a horrid reminder that Nam-Gyu didn’t make it out of the VIP room with you quick enough.

The last thing you need is for him to be mad at you. Your life was dangled in front of your eyes like some sick prize to be won at a fair- an occasion that had happened to you one too many times while you worked dealing. He knows that this wasn’t something new to you, you weren’t some soft sheltered girl that needed to be scolded for getting involved with the big bad boys.

“I’m…” Nam-gyu breaks the silence, sighing deeply as he tries to find the words he wants to say. He wasn’t good at this. Comforting was never a word that could be used to describe him. “I know you could have handled yourself.”

His words make you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You try to relax, try to relax your shoulders and straighten your back, to sit like an adult and not a child who was in trouble. “But I wasn’t going to sit there and just let you get your ass killed.”

“You’re stupid as shit for getting involved in the line of work and you’re dumb as fuck for even thinking I wouldn’t help you.” Nam-gyu seethes, he can’t even make eye contact with you. He’s leaned forward on his knees, eyes trained on the carpet, legs bouncing anxiously. You can even see, damn near hear, the gritting of his teeth as he clenches his jaw.

He hates this. Part of him wished he didn’t jump in and pull you out of there. It would mean he didn’t have to confront the feelings he’s been ignoring.

Nam-Gyu was for one, not a great person. He usually didn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself. That’s how the world worked! If he wasn’t number one in his world he wouldn’t be here. Everything he did was only to benefit himself. Putting up the ad for a roommate that you answered to? Yeah, he only did that so he could have a bit of extra cash to spend on drugs….that was another fault of his- he could be strapped for cash and barely make rent but he always made sure he had his fix of whatever substance he could find and here he was bitching you out for dealing the drugs he did on a regular. How hypocritical.

He was painfully aware of how hypocritical he was. You would have made this so much easier if you were the pretty little office girl he thought you were this whole time. But you weren’t, you were some badass drug dealer who could throw a punch. Who knows how many drug houses you’ve been to, how many fights you’ve been in or how many times you almost lost your life. He almost hates you for deceiving him in such a way….almost.

You cringe at his words, they make your gut ache and heart drop. You felt stupid for arguing with him, you know if you were in his situation- you would have done the same thing. It’s human nature. “Yeah but your job….” You say in a soft sigh, settling back into the old couch you two sat in. “There’s no way they’re going to let you back…I made you lose your job.”

“You didn’t make me do anything. I did the shit on my own.” He grumbles, his leg bouncing anxiously. He looks forward, at the ground, staring at seemingly nothing as he tries everything in his ability to not look at you. “Okay, smartass.” You respond, rubbing a hand against your forehead. “What I’m trying to say is because you fought your own fucking boss for my sake you lost your job and now don’t have anyway to make rent.”

It pissed him off how you were right, how did you know how much money he did or didn’t have?! Was he really that much of an open book.

“It’s fine. I nearly killed your boss. We’re even.” He grumbles, you can only sigh in response. In the fight you both had somehow attacked the other’s boss. Nam-gyu did throw the first punch, that was a fact. He effectively ended the deal before it even started. “So now I’m assuming you don’t have rent either right?” He adds.

“Nope. Broke as fuck since I didn’t finish the deal.”

After your response you sit in silence, it’s awkward but something seems to stir in both of you. Both of you are oddly calm for just admitting to not having any rent money for the month and effectively becoming black listed from the club / drug scene. Neither of you had a good source of income now.

After what felt like ages, you both speak at the same time.

“I robbed your boss at the club”

“I stole the drugs you were supposed to sell.”

Both of you turn, looking at each other incredulously.

“You lying fuck! Oh my god I thought I was going to be the reason you were evicted.” You say looking at the mass amounts of the drugs that you were supposed to sell. “Yeah…figured we could flip it…make rent and then some, y’know.” Nam-gyu says sheepishly.

“Wait.. you robbed my fucking boss!?” Nam-gyu immediately shouts looking at you like you have grown a second head. The man he has hated for years- the one who paid him below minimum wage just so he could pocket the money- you robbed him?! Nam-Gyu has wanted to rob that fucker blind for years! But with all the security and his need for a job, he never tried it.

“Well yeah…” you shrug, hand rubbing the back of your neck. “It was easy really…he had the cash laid out in gaudy fucking stacks on the table and he broke his ring when he hit me sooo…” you laugh awkwardly, “when shit hit the fan and they were distracted…” You turn and grab your bag you had been carrying, dumping it out onto the couch.

Wads of cash tumble out the bag, some falling to the couch cushions, some bouncing off the plush seat to settle on the floor. After what was too many bundles of cash and crumpled single bills fall out of your bag, a broken, diamond incrusted falls out like a perfect cherry on top.

“…I took what I could get when you grabbed me.” You finish, smiling proudly at him.

Nam-Gyu looks at you bewildered, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. It’s like his whole idea he had of you in his head had been shattered- it had.

He moves before he can even realize what he’s doing, he’s launching over the couch and grabbing your face in his hands, cupping both of your cheeks.

A wide, proud, almost grateful smile stretches across his lips, “You have no fucking idea how amazing you are- oh my fucking god- so fucking smart! So perfect!”

Your eyes widen when he speaks, each word that you hear makes your heart hammer into your chest more and more, you’re not even sure what to respond. He’s so close you’re breathing in each other’s air.

“I-“ your words pathetically fall into a cracked sound that is somewhat of a squeak. You can’t even form a response, you were certain praise like that would never have fallen from Nam-gyu’s mouth, let alone be directed at you.

Your surprise makes him realize exactly what he said. His eyes dart around nervously, trying to think of anything he could say to act nonchalant- there literally is nothing. Not with what he said, not with the position you two were in.

A moment of silence washes over you both, the air thick with a tension neither of you had noticed until now. You’re not sure who moved first but after a long moment, you two are leaning in and closing the distance.

Your lips mold with his, admittedly it’s a bit tense and awkward at first, both of you unsure and nervous. It takes a few seconds but both of you ease into it, lips moving slowly and meticulously against one another, melting into the feeling. It was so gentle, tender even. Something neither of you had experienced.

You raise a shaky hand, placing it on his cheek and pulling him closer, feeling an innate need to deepen the kiss. He seems to reciprocate, his shaky hands hovering over your waist- unsure and scared- before he’s gripping at you and pulling you closer to him on the couch.

Months and months of pent up feelings of anger, desperation, and pure need are translated through the kiss. He can’t get over how you taste, so sweet, your lips are so soft. Nam-gyu has never felt anything like this, it’s a kiss that makes him feel like it’s his first one ever. It’s not, far from it but this isn’t a lustful kiss that is spur of the moment while he fucks you- it’s a slow, strategic kiss that molds your lips so perfectly with his like both of you are trying to memorize the individual lines on the others lips. He was never one for romantic shit, he always said he didn’t do relationships. You were different though.

Nam-gyu could slap himself, really, he feels so cheesy to even think something like that. You made him feel things he would never even dream of, you made him feel vulnerable in the best way.

He kisses you as if you’re the oxygen he needs to breathe, hands gripping at your waist and pulling you onto his lap. The movement makes you let out a surprised gasp, Nam-gyu swallows it down effortlessly, settling you onto his lap with ease like you’ve been there before.

When you pull back for air, he’s chasing your lips like this would be the only time he will ever get to kiss you. With a smile on your lips, you’re kissing him once again, hands threading themselves into the dark hair at the back of his neck. Nam-gyu’s hands hastily shove up the shirt you had on. He’s placing his palms on your ribcage, thumbs just under your breasts, and pulling you into him.

When he needs air, despite depriving himself of it for far too long, he’s slumping into the couch bonelessly, eyes fluttering open to look at you sat so prettily on his lap. Despite being bruised and still covered in dried blood, he thinks you’re the most picturesque thing to have graced his field of view.

“I’m sorry I was….am…such a dick..” Nam-Gyu mumbles, eyes trailing over your body trying to memorize every intricacy. “You don’t deserve it..I was a horrible roommate, I was-“

“Annndd~ I literally was literally dealing drugs and tried to kill your boss in front of you- I’m not a saint either.” You say, one of your hands releasing his hair to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over the skin.

Nam-Gyu, much to your surprise, doesn’t shy away from your touch, he’s turning his face into your hand and nuzzling your palm. “Still…” he huffs, lips brushing against your palm. He pouts like a dejected kid, mind racing through every single time he had argued with you or was more than an unsavory roommate.

You let out a yelp when he nips at your skin, “What the fuck was that for?!”

“That’s for not fucking telling me you were some badass drug dealer, here I was thinking you were some prissy office siren who never did drugs- you gave me more than one glare when I was railing lines off the coffee table.” Nam-gyu chuckles, dark eyes roaming your face.

“I was fucked up high!” You laugh, pushing at his chest, “I wasn’t glaring, I can’t judge you for doing that shit, you’re a grown man- I was so fucking high my eyes were about to shut on their own while I was standing.”

Both of you begin to laugh, short chuckles and soft giggles turning into full on, boisterous laughter. It was so cheesy, both of you too caught up in your own emotions and insecurities that neither of you thought of what could be if you both just sat down and talked like adults.

“Well then, now that I know you are down for some substances~” He says, catching his breath.

“Ew, don’t say it like that”

Nam-Gyu laughs once more, shifting slightly to reach into his back pocket. He pulls out a small ziplock bag, brightly colored with a trippy design, immediately you can smell the dank aroma of weed, “Why don’t you let me roll for you, and tomorrow I can take you out properly.”

You smile, nodding, taking the bag from his hand to inspect the green flower, “you wanna take me out while I look like this?” You say lifting your free hand to point at your bruised and cut face.

“Oh hell yeah, you look tough as shit.” Nam-Gyu nods, hand dropping from your waist to tap playfully on your ass a couple times. “If you wanna heal and settle before I take you out, by all means….but I’m taking you out as soon as the bruise is gone.”

When he finishes his sentence Nam-Gyu leans in, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your bruised flesh. “I’m done being stupid, bein’ a dick…” His words trail off as he repeats every time he was an ass to you over and over in his head.

When he would turn on the washer to make she shower go cold- it wasn’t to piss you off, it was really so he could hear the cute squeal you let out and hear how you sounded yelling his name. He learned quickly he liked the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth.

When he would banish you from the kitchen while he was cooking, it wasn’t because he found you annoying. It was because he was distracted by your perfume. The second you walked into the kitchen, or even the living room, he could smell you. It was a scent that comforted him in the strangest way- that unfamiliarity scared him.

Nam-Gyu was a loner through and through, he loved his alone time. Hell, he hated the club scene- he’s not even sure how he does the job, it’s like the second he’s clocked in a switch is flipped and he’s on autopilot until he clocks out. All that to say, that is why he lived alone.

But, with rent too high, he needed a roommate despite how much he did not want one. And as much as he’s lied to himself, saying you were possibly the worst roommate to have- he found himself enjoying coming home to evidence of you being there. Your hair ties left on the ground, lipgloss near the front door, the various pairs of shoes that overcrowd his singular pair in the entryway- he loved it.

“You are fucking terrifying.”

“I’m sorry?!” You say with a laugh, looking down at him with your eyebrows furrowed. Your hands fall to his shoulders, pushing yourself back the slightest bit to look at him better.

He shakes his head violently, “no! Not like a bad thing…” he mumbles sheepishly, looking at you through thick lashes, “you just…make me feel things, things I don’t know if I want to feel.”

“Is that a good thing…?” You ask, uneasy, feeling like maybe the kiss you two shared was too much.

“I think.” Nam-Gyu says, his hands grip your waist harder, anchoring you to him as if he was scared he fucked this all up and you’d leave. “The more I’m around you the weirder I feel but I crave more of it…”

You laugh softly, reaching a hand up to caress his cheek, thumb brushing over the bruised skin gently. “Well then, I’d like to help you explore those weird feelings, give you what you crave..”

Nam-Gyu’s heart feels like it skips a beat, his breath is caught in his throat but he’s grinning up at you like the biggest idiot. Leaning into your touch, nuzzling his cheek into your palm, he nods.

“Good.” He responds, his arms wrapping around your back and pulling you into him. Chest to chest he buries his head in the crook of your neck, nose running along your pulse point. “You can start by sleeping in my bed with me tonight.”

He’s up off the couch, carrying you down the hallway before you can even protest. In a fit of giggles you cling to him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. When he feels you tighten around him, his whole body feels warm- he could never get enough of it. And now that he has it, he’s positive that he could never be without it.

[aklaustaleteller]

The Sweetest Heart

When Klaus ruins a good chat with a very sincere girl he's been obsessing over for some time now, he has some making up to do.

Warnings - slightly yandere!Klaus, if you squint, and a good ol' make-out session, which does lead tos omething more (no p in v!).

Word Count - 4.2k

Masterlist | Please reblog the work to share!

Long time no see, besties? I hope you didn't forget me!! I've been trying to get back into writing after a full month of practicals and exams, so this is indeed a word-vomit kind of fic (it is very fast paced!), hahah. I hope you'll be entertained regardless! <3

Klaus had had a long day. He felt like bashing his head against a wall or shoving his fist through someone's chest. But he did neither of those painful deeds and instead found himself headed to the Mystic Grill.

He decided to walk there at a rather slow pace, wanting to clear his head so that he'll be able to fully enjoy his drinks there.

The air was bitingly cold against wherever his skin was exposed, and it was so strong that it managed to sneak into and engulf him even inside his coat. But he didn't shiver, or even flinch – instead, he shut his eyes for a second or two, and tried to focus on what he could smell and feel.

Before he knew it, he could hear the low buzz of his destination – the frequent sounds of beer bottles clinking together, people talking each other's ears off after finally getting together after a while, and students trying to get a group project discussion done without having to repeat themselves five times because of the loud chatter.

He felt that he was smiling by the time he could smell the scent of ...well, alcohol and a variety of colognes. Some fried food and a lot of blood.

But when he walked through the door, and saw the true reason for his smile, he felt conscious enough to hide it or else seeming totally weird and out of it.

He bit his lip and walked over to the bar, mumbling his usual order to the tender before he sat on one of the stools. Slowly, he turned his neck to look behind him, and a gleaming smile found its way on his mouth when he realised that she had already been looking at him.

She'd been nodding to something her friend was saying, while looking at him. Klaus nodded lightly and slowly turned back around when she smiled back right away and turned away a little shyly.

Klaus' mind was usually always busy building strategies, making back up plans, being paranoid and trying to figure out who was betraying him. But for the past few weeks, she had taken up more than half of the space in his brain, and his heart had begun beating at a slightly faster rate – perhaps by a point five.

He had seen her hanging with Caroline and Bonnie, and quite often with Alaric Saltzman and Logan Fell. And each time that he'd approach any of her mates, she'd quickly back out and leave the space. Almost as if she didn't want to even be breathing the same air as him.

But all of the times that she was unaware of his looming presence, it was like she was the sweetest heart to be walking the earth.

So, perhaps she was afraid of him, Klaus had thought trying to come to a conclusion, remembering the sound of her escalated heart beats whenever he was around. But that wouldn't make sense as she had no reason to fear him, since as far as he knew, she didn't know anything about the inner-goings of her distant friend group.

Distant because he saw her with others more than he saw her with any of the Scooby-gang's members.

She'd be walking along with Caroline and Bonnie, and the moment she would see him around the corner, she would essentially scutter off. When he would interrupt her sessions with Alaric, she would scatter to gather her stuff and scurry off while making sure that she didn't brush against him as she passed him in the doorway.

And when he would crash her conversations with Logan at the bar, she would look quite pissed off, but still, she would be gone with the next gust of wind.

Sometimes Klaus’ wandering eyes would fixate on Y/n for a little too long and he would occasionally catch a boy gazing at her, or another one looking at her for a brief second before he would mutter something in his friend’s ear, something along the lines of, “she just needs to look at me once with a smile, and I’ll literally take her back to my house.”

He wasn’t sure then why his teeth would grit till he was pulled out of his rage by a hand on his shoulder, often of someone equally infuriating such as Damon or Alaric. 

He would just be quite outraged that the one girl he had his eyes on, he had to share with a couple others. And it didn’t even make sense, because no one even knew that he was even aware of her presence, let alone the fact that he would often be searching for her in places he knew she must be present. 

But maybe, it was her behaviour that had his interest piqued. He wanted to know many things about her, such as: why she avoided him, and why did he catch her hanging with the two older men so often. Maybe it was because he wanted her to be hanging out with him instead, maybe it was because he was curious and that was the most he had seen of her till date.

Since then, he had his eyes on her whenever she was around. And so far he had noticed a few other things such as, she only wore her prescribed glasses when she was alone, or attending a lecture, she had a sensitive skin that turned red if she rubbed it too harshly, and that she often read more than just one book at a time. 

A couple days prior, three to be exact, he was disappointedly walking out of Alaric's class. He had been hoping to crash one of her sessions again. But she hadn't been there – Klaus had even made sure to check if it was the usual time that she was there. The colour pink had washed over his cheeks in embarrassment, and he'd turned into the hallway that led to the library, giving himself another chance and hoping he'd catch her there.

He opened the gate just slightly ajar, enough for him to peak his head through. And just as he had hoped, she was standing right there, looking like a deer caught in headlights with her big eyes in the dim lighting of the library.

Biting back a smile, he walked inside, closing the door behind him.

"Hi," he mumbled, walking forward with his hands in his coat's pockets.

She looked around her to ensure that he was asking her. Still, she pointed at herself and whispered, "me?"

Klaus chuckled, then nodded.

She waved back at him then, and, "hi," she smiled.

"Uh, I've seen you around a couple times actually, but never caught your name," he whispered, sticking his hand out.

"Y/n," she nodded with a small laugh before wrapping her hand around his' easily, and Klaus couldn't ignore just how soft and warm it was. Or maybe he'd felt that about her laughter, he wasn't sure.

"I'm Klaus, it's nice to finally meet you," he smiled. "It wouldn't have taken this long if you hadn't been avoiding me," he shrugged.

She looked at the ground, embarrassed. "I wasn't avoiding you," she mumbled, turning to put a book back on the shelf. "I'm sorry that that's what it looked like."

The smile was still playing around on her mouth, but this one was covered in hues of truth that she was holding back.

"Oh? My eyes must have been deceiving me every time you ran off when I came around," he pointed out, amused.

"Well, I don't know," she exclaimed, "you just make me nervous!"

Klaus looked at her incredulously. "You didn't even know my name until a few minutes ago, and you say that I made you nervous? That doesn't make any sense, now does it?"

"I know! But --" she hesitated, "I don't know," she deflated like a balloon.

Klaus sighed, shrugging. "I -- are you nervous right now?" He could hear very well that she was, but he still wanted to hear what she had to say.

"I mean, kind of?" She trailed off. "But not as much as you usually do!"

"Alright, baby steps, perhaps." He laughed, and then harder when she doubled over and put her hand on his arm for support.

"Wait, am I holding you back?" He quickly asked.

"I mean, yes you are, but it's fine," she shrugged. "I don't want to go to class anyways," she said, grinning.

"I didn't take you for a bad student," he feigned being shocked.

"I'm not! It's just, I've already covered what he's going to teach in class today," she smiled, embarrassed again.

"Is that why I see you around Alaric so often?" Klaus gasped. "Are you trying to leave you batchmates behind?"

Y/n laughed as if he was talking crap after taking five shots.

"Well, I'd rather put it as, I want to learn everything in my lifetime, and right now, it means I know what's written in most textbooks, more well than my peers do," she shrugged.

Klaus nodded, as if saying, 'sure, why not!'. "And what about Logan?"

"You have quite a wandering eye, don't you?" She teased him first, but when Klaus gave her a look, she sighed.

"Well, I've been wanting to know more about Journalism, especially the things that people don't really tell you at face value, you know? I'm just taking advantage of my situation and running after Logan after any new thing I learn."

Klaus could already tell that this was a busy girl, who liked to make each second of her day count. And suddenly, he felt bad for chatting to her without any preset intentions.

And then, Y/n checked her wristwatch.

"I ...have to go," she said, as if it was the most embarrassing thing she'd ever had to say in her entire life.

"Oh, okay, yeah, of course!" Klaus face palmed himself in his mind for stumbling over his words so hard.

She lingered, and then passed him a quick smile. And she'd just reached the door's handle when he cleared his throat instantly.

"Y/n!" She turned, and saw that one of his hands was in the air, almost as if reaching out to her.

"I was thinking maybe we could get some coffee? Or whatever you like to drink, and you know... I'd like to get to know you," he finished off quite shyly, and pinched himself for it from inside his coat's pocket.

"I'd love to," she replied loudly. She knew that there was no one other than them in the room right now. "Find me when you get the chance," she said before leaving.

And it had been a full week since their first and last true encounter – and Klaus was just now seeing her again.

He felt bad, realising that she might have felt as if he'd somehow played her. But he'd had to go back to New Orleans to solve a matter suddenly, and the moment he'd stepped foot back in Mystic Falls, he'd walked straight to the Grill.

Even when he was away, he'd felt the urge to look at her, at the very least. And that had been when he'd truly known that he needed to just make her his’.

"Don’t you think our drinks might have gone bad by now?" Klaus heard her say before he saw her, sliding onto the seat right beside him.

"Oh, I had to leave town for a little bit," Klaus immediately answered, brushing his nose. "Spontaneously too," he added, then gulped dryly. 

She only nodded, before taking a sip of her coffee. The maroon colour on her lips was faint, like she had rubbed it to look more like a gradient, and he suddenly felt thirsty.

"Seems like you missed me," he shrugged with a smirk, looking at her from the corner of his eye as he took a gulp of his own drink.

She gasped, looking at him accusingly.

"No, I didn't!" She exclaimed, eyes wide.

"And who are you lying to, yourself or me?" Klaus raised a brow, placing his elbow on the bar and leaning his temple on his palm, looking at her with his full attention.

She had left the top two buttons of the cropped shirt open, and only because of the pendant that was leading his gaze further down, Klaus noticed the lace of her black bra peeking through. He was relieved to see that she didn’t notice, busy tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I- I'm not lying," she answered, caught a little off-guard. “I don’t care enough to lie,” she said, but without looking him in the eyes.

"Whatever you say," Klaus feigned nonchalance, and checked his wrist watch, hoping she'd say something that he could then tease her about.

But instead, he saw her sigh in his periphery.

"Okay," she mumbled, placing her empty glass on the bar and slid off the seat. Fixing the hem of her shirt, she walked back to her table, chewing the inside of her cheek.

Oh god, Klaus shouldn't have been so mean. He had forgotten just how gentle and sensitive her nature was. He face-palmed internally, mad that he had ruined such a good meeting.

Looking behind him with a deep frown, he was panicking how he could save the situation when he saw her hug all of her friends to her side, while fixing her tote on her other shoulder.

Her hair was tied in a neat bun, but wisps had still managed to escape. Gold hoops dangled from her ears, and his eyes travelled down the expanse of her neck.

Klaus blinked, and focused.

"I mean I do have to submit an essay tonight, and get some readings done before midnight," she spoke guiltily, curling in on herself under the upset gaze of the friends.

"I'm sorry, I'll make up soon," she pouted, letting a girl press a kiss on her cheek before she was rushing out of the bar, leaving behind a chatter and before Klaus could bury his face deep in his palms, the girls' eyes flashed to him for a brief second.

To be real, they weren't even close. Barely acquaintances, but for some reason, Klaus felt as though he was on the very edge of losing something ...exceptional. So he needed to do something, and do it quickly.

He had to reach her before she slammed the door on him. Finishing the last bit of his drink, he rushed back home, to ensure nothing would come up to interrupt him later in the night.

Klaus was well aware that Y/n lived with her parents, who truly loved her dearly. She was the only one so far who he had seen with a usual pair of parents, let alone with a close relationship with them as well. And he also knew that they would never expect their golden daughter to even be holding hands with a boy let alone being alone with a man in her room.

So he knew that he could shoot his shot tonight, and the both of them would come out the other side, uncaught. 

When the crickets had begun chirping, and the moon was the only source of light, Klaus made his way to her house. From outside he saw that her room was still lit up, albeit a little dimly. 

He climbed right up to her window, and was amazed to find her window open ajar, and the curtains that were usually covering it, were drawn just a little to the side – enough for him to peek inside. As the curtains bellowed because of the strong wind, Klaus felt as though he heard cello begin playing inside of his heart the moment he caught a glimpse of her. 

But then he waited, and realised that the music was coming from her laptop instead. Leaning in a little bit more, he saw that she was sitting on the floor, swamped amongst papers with the end of a pen caught between her teeth. 

As she was studying from a paper in front of her, and then shifting her attention back on her laptop to type something, Klaus felt the urge to free her bottom lip from where it was held by her canines. 

Unable to control himself any longer, but still having the mind to not startle her, Klaus knocked on the window. 

She looked up, still a little distracted because of her papers, but when she saw him sitting on her window sill, her eyes blew wide.

Her mouth dropped open but before she could’ve yelped, Klaus had his hand cupped in front of her mouth. “It’s me!” He whispered, his heart thudding as her round eyes stared back into his’. 

Her breathing calmed, and she let her figure slump back down. 

“Dear god, you scared the shit out of me,” she shook her head, eyes closed and her hand placed over her heart. 

“Don’t use bad words,” he teased, finally sitting down on the floor with her. 

He rested his back against the foot of her bed, and spread his legs in front of him, locking them at the ankles. 

“Wh- what the hell are you even doing here? Isn’t this trespassing?” She asked, and then squinted her eyes. “Should I scream right now?”

Laughter escaped him before he could control it. “Why are you so sweet, my love?” He asked her, simply smiling now.

She looked a little offended. 

“You can call it a trespass or a break in, if you want to. I think I’d call this apologising,” he shrugged.

A little puzzled, Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Apologising? …For?”

“For the way I spoke to you earlier,” he said, rolling his lips in. He needed to tread carefully here. 

Realisation seemed to dawn upon her then, and she skipped the ad that had interrupted the cello music to buy herself some time. “Yeah about that, um,” she swallowed, embarrassment creeping in. “You don’t need to apologise for that, um, I think I overreacted a little.”

This answer gave him the confidence that it would be way easier to make her his’, than he had originally thought. 

“No, I should’ve talked to you sweetly, that is what you deserve,” he started. “I was a twit for behaving like that, and I’m very sorry.”

At this point, her ears were burning red and she was chewing on the inside of her cheek again. “It’s okay, Klaus. I forgive you, really,” she smiled.

Silence overtook them for a while, and Klaus could sense her attention slipping back onto her papers. So he leaned in, and moved all of the papers aside. 

Y/n gasped, beginning to protest when Klaus shushed her with his finger on her lips. 

“I’d put them in an order,” she pouted, a small frown in between her brows. God she got upset and embarrassed way too easily, and each time Klaus felt like his heart was alive again.

Klaus trailed his finger down her chin, and then brought it back into his lap. “I don’t think I can hide this any longer, I uh,” he licked his lips, and took a small breath. “I really like you, Y/n.”

Her eyes widened, and gradually, a smile pulled the corners of her mouth upwards. “You do?” She asked while grinning, her excitement seeping into Klaus. 

He began smiling too. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I really fucking do.”

Y/n buried her face into her hands. “Oh god, I cannot believe this.”

Klaus was grinning now, and he shifted close enough to take hold of her wrists to pull them away. “Look at me, love,” he said softly. 

And Y/n did, her eyes shining like he had put stars in them and her face was so red he could feel warmth just by hovering his hands over her cheeks. 

“Do you feel the same?” He asked, looking into her eyes, and when she nodded furiously, Klaus bit his lip.

“I really really like you as well, Klaus,” she giggled, and Klaus went back to lean against the bed. 

He watched her for a few seconds, and she looked back into his eyes, her smile stretched from ear to ear. 

“Come closer now, would you?” He said with a teasing lilt in his voice, and he grabbed her hand when she got up on her knees to move towards him. 

And when she was sitting beside him, Klaus brushed the back of his hand against her cheek before cupping it in one hand. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, his voice raspier and quieter now that she was so close he could smell the cologne she had put on earlier in the evening.

Y/n nodded, eyes fluttering. “Please,” she told him softly, her breath just a little exhilarated

And overwhelmed by her answer, Klaus drew her in and smashed his mouth onto her. His entire body felt like it was on fire, and a rasp escaped his throat when Y/n placed a hand on his chest. 

“God, you taste so good,” he muttered against her mouth to let her take a couple of breaths before he was kissing her again, his fingers entangled in her hair with his palm placed on the edge of her jaw.  

Her hand travelled upwards, leaving goosebumps behind and travelled behind his neck to curl her fingers around the baby hairs on the nape of his neck. 

He bit down on her bottom lip before pushing his tongue into her mouth, and a whimper escaped her mouth. She let him take control, and Klaus began exploring her mouth. 

She backed away to catch her breath, but Klaus was quick to latch onto her neck. He left a trail of saliva along her jaw before marking spots on the span of her neck. She moaned, her breaths heavy and laced with want as Klaus sucked right above her collarbone. 

“Straddle me, sweetheart,” Klaus grunted against her skin, a particular type of high coursing through his body as he pressed his nose further into her skin.

She did just as he said and the moment he felt her heat radiate onto his boner, he knew he was gone for the night. 

“Klaus?” She called his name gently, and he looked up into her eyes right away. 

“I- I’m a virgin,” she told him, her breath shaky. 

“It’s okay sweetheart, we can go further another day, yes? Whenever you want to?” He told her, and she nodded so sweetly Klaus had to take a deep breath to ground himself. 

“But can I just kiss you a little longer, my love?” He asked, eyes then trailing over the hickeys he had given her. He would really need to jerk himself off the moment he reached his home.

“Uh huh,” she mumbled, her voice cracking. “Please.”

“God, you love to beg, don’t you?” He chuckled, tracing her jaw. “I’ll give you what you want, sweet girl. Whatever you want,” he whispered, and this time Y/n was the one to start the kiss. 

Their heads bobbed as they pressed themselves further into each other and it was only in a few seconds that Klaus felt movement against his crotch. 

He stopped to look down, and saw Y/n’s hips falter to a stop. “Did I do something wrong?” She asked him worriedly.

“Were you grinding on me, sweetheart?” 

“Y-yeah, I think so,” she muttered, hands beginning to fiddle. 

“You’ll be the death of me,” Klaus grunted before he drew her into a kiss again. And this time, one his hands remained tangled in her hair while the other one began to travel down her waist and on her hips.

Then he began to grind her onto him, and pushed himself up towards her clothed cunt. Slowly, he created a pace and it wasn’t long before she was increasing the pace herself. 

Small whimpers and moans began to escape her as Klaus continued kissing her. He himself felt getting closer and he had just been thinking of holding himself back when he heard her say his name. 

“Please, Klaus,” she whimpered again, and Klaus moved to press kisses and bites across her chest instead. 

“Yes, my love?” He asked her, still drawing her stuttering hips into a pace. 

“I think, I think I’m going to come,” she mumbled, and Klaus knew there was no stopping himself now. 

“Yeah, sweet girl? Come for me then, make me happy,” he rasped before nipping above her other collarbone. 

And right then, Y/n bit down on her bottom lip as her body began to shake. Stuttering against Klaus’ unforgiving pace, she fell into shambles on top of him. A lone tear slid out of one of her eyes, and Klaus eyes were glinting at this sight of her. 

He freed her bottom lip, and kissed her harshly one last time before he felt the knot in his belly break loose. God, he had made a mess of himself in front of this angel girl, and still he kept moving her hips until the both of them had ridden their highs. 

She pressed her face in his neck then, and wrapped her arms around his torso, still sitting on top of him. 

“God, I really fucking like you,” she said meekly, clutching him a little tighter. 

“I know my love,” Klaus smiled, brushing his hands through her hair, and inhaling the faint smell of vanilla. “I really like you as well, my love,” he said in a deep voice, and pressed a small kiss on her ear.

[joonieskinks]

I just read your blurb where reader wakes up and she’s married to Sergeant Soap and not Captain Soap but I feel like what if it’s reversed. What if she’s this young bonnie thing with a young husband and then she wakes up to be married to older, slightly more mature, Captain MacTavish.

uh- HELLO?? I love it. Sorry it took so long but here you go, hope I did it justice xx

warning: age gap so shoo if ur not into it

You sat up slowly in the bed, stilling orientating yourself and emerging from sleep. You had thought the sheets felt a little different, but assumed that maybe you were still dreaming. It was only when your eyes opened did you realize you weren’t at home anymore.

You were on base in the early morning, in a room that looked an awful like your husband’s when you would come to see him and stay with him for a couple nights. Well, that was what you did until his passing.

Johnny and you were a young love. He got down on one knee before he was even 23, and got to the altar before 24. You only got a couple months with him as husband and wife- a young widow they now called you. Everyday is hard, but that horrible day you received the news plays over and over in your mind all the time like a nightmare you just can’t shake.

John, Simon and Kyle all came to your door to tell you personally. They cried with you and stayed with you, they promised they would help take care of you, always. It’s what Johnny would have wanted.

The panic finally began to sink in as you could not remember how you got here. Everything was different but also incredibly familiar. This was the base alright, but the layout seemed altered, the paint a different colour. Looking around, you turned on the nightstand light, eyes briefly glancing at the framed photo beside.

It was like your blood turned cold.

There was your Johnny.

That’s your Johnny with his boys, with John, Simon, Kyle. But older, so much older. But he was alive, he was smiling, he’s so handsome and he’s there-

You shot out of bed, running into the hallway, searching for anyone, any familiar face. For your husband. Is he your husband? If he’s older? But how is he alive? Is he still alive?

The questions running around your head, threatening to ignite tears from your eyes. You turn a sharp corner, bumping straight into a hefty figure.

“Sorry” you stumbled out, trying to regain your balance.

“‘S alright.” The man started, looking down at the small, young girl who’s a frantic mess before him.

“Hey, hold on,” he starts again, and you glance up. Coming face to face with John Price. Much older, a thicker beard adorning his face, but that same damn hat. It was him.

“Slow down there a sec and-“

“John?”

The recognition in your voice stops him in his tracks, he looks you over for a couple seconds and shakes his head.

“Think you might be mistaken, love.” He smiles gently, trying to be as polite as possible.

“Johnathon Price- Captain. You, Kyle, Simon and my Johnny were all on Taskforce 141 when we met. You even came to our wedding, you were one of the groomsmen for crying out loud. I-“

“Stop right there.” John orders, his hands coming to grip your shoulders. “How could you possibly know about all that?”

“John, I know you. Now, what’s going on? How did I get here and why’re you older?” You asked, utterly confused and exhausted, you needed answers and you needed them now.

He glanced around the room before making his decision.

“Alright, come with me. We’ve gotta talk.”

-

John sat you down in a private room with a two-way mirror where you told him all about himself, how you woke up here and your marriage. Your Johnny MacTavish, your young husband who went by Soap. Everything, you laid it all on the table, the task force, the mission, the death. Everything.

And John believed you, as crazy as it sounded, from wherever you came from and however you got here- because how else could you know all this?

As he listened, he kept looking to your ring finger, the gold band adorning that you refused to ever take off. He admired your devotion.

John sat, silent when you finished, glancing towards the mirror every now again. Thinking and planning his next move.

“Wait here.” He stood up from his chair and left out the door, leaving you with your own thoughts. But only the same questions were on repeat.

Where am I? What was that photo? Why is he older? Is he still alive? Does he know who I am? Would he think I’m crazy? What now?

You almost didn’t register the sound of Price opening the door again until his figure reappeared. He could only stare at you, empathy in his eyes. Although this was a weird situation, he could tell you were genuine and wanted to help, so he trusted you. Anything for his boys, Johnny included.

“He’s been listening.” John starts and you draw in a breath, you didn’t even know you were holding it.

He? As in your Johnny?

“He would like to meet you, if you’d like to see him-“

“Yes.” You reply without thinking.

Eager for anything, anything at all that could bring you a glimpse Johnny. The love of your life taken so young, life was so cruel and unfair. Taking him just as you were happiest. He was alive but was this still your Johnny? From the photo he was older, he’s different. He probably doesn’t even know who you are, for all you know he could be married, have his own kids. Who the hell are you to interrupt all of that?

“Then I’ll take my leave.” John huffs, interrupting your thoughts. He eyes you up and down one last time before exiting once again.

You sit up from your chair instinctively, playing with your ring. It’s only now that the doubt hits you like a truck.

Would he believe you? Would he laugh you off? Would he even like what he sees?

The thoughts raced until he opened up the door, revealing himself to you. You could only stare in shock.

That was your Johnny.

Older, yes. But that was him. Banged up with more scars, he looks tired yet wears his age well, you just wish you could’ve seen him grow older alongside you… But that’s your Johnny alright.

His eyes drag from the floor to meet yours and he offers you a small, nervous smile. It’s enough to shoot the air back into your lungs and for your heart to beat again. The tears start to leave your eyes and your hands move to wipe them away.

Johnny takes a good look at you and particularly that golden wedding band that he supposedly gave you. It’s still always been his dream to marry a pretty girl like you, in some odd way he feels proud that in another life he got you. A gorgeous, caring and devoted wife that he could love up and spoil. Johnny knows himself and in any life, he would do the same: wife up a woman like you. Looks like he did. Looks like he still could.

“I ‘eard what ye said.” He softly speaks. You close your eyes at the sound. It feels so good to hear him again. A little different, but it’s still him.

“Bonnie, ye don’t have to cry.”

He steps forward to cup your face, wiping your tears away with his fingers. You place your own hands over his, keeping him there. Having him touch you again, it’s better than anything you could have ever prayed for. This is all you think about and to finally have it all come true. Even if it’s just for a second, you’d trade it all away.

“My wife, eh?” Johnny jokes to try and lighten the mood. You look up into his eyes and laugh with a smile despite the tears still leaking. He doesn’t mind, he wipes them still anyway.

“It’s so good to see you again.” You confess, a hand leaving his to touch his scarred face. From his cheeks, a thumb over his chin and his lips. He’s so hard to look away from, how handsome he grew up to be. His gaze and attention makes you bite your lip out of habit. A blush flooding your cheeks- he still has the same effect on you. Damn.

The feeling goes straight to your core, and you react before you can think and bring your face to his. Foreheads resting against each others while your hands explore his back and shoulders, his neck and through his hair. Something he used to love, and it makes you whine a little when he moans at the feeling. He loves your touch just as much.

“Lass, yer doin’ somethin’ wild to me.” Johnny stumbles out, his hands coming to rest on your waist, pulling you in until you’re flush with his body. He feels so good, so toned under his clothes and solid. You didn’t want him to stop, your mind starting to spin.

He runs his hands up your sides, gliding your shirt up to touch the bare skin underneath. The slightest touch has you moaning his name out and he can’t help but swell with pride as he sees this gorgeous, young girl before him come apart, desperate for more of him. His ego has never felt so big until this moment.

“Johnny…”

“What do y’a need?” He mumbles out against your lips, brushing them with just enough touch to set your skin on fire, begging for more.

“Kiss me.” You lean further into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. It’s all too much, and yet you want more. God, you knew that if he were to take you right here in this room, you’d come undone within a minute. Easily. Happily.

“Please.”

“Well- what the wife wants, the wife gets.” He chuckles as he clashes his lips to yours, his large frame utterly engulfing your small one. The way he uses your title so easily, wife- you can’t help but need more of him everywhere, all over like a wife deserves from her husband. Your own hands itching for more of him to touch, your mouths moving together, tongues finding each other as he hums against you.

Johnny guides you and gently backs you up against the wall, a hand protecting your head as your body meets it. You try to pull him even closer to you, grabbing at his clothes when you realize you need him completely bare. It’s been so long since you’ve felt good, only ever wanting your husband. And now here he is just for you. You wonder if he’s even better now with his age... Hard to tell without a test drive.

But it’s only when you need to part for air that some of reality comes back to you.

Guilt.

“Wait, Johnny.” The alarm bells go off in his head and he looks at you worriedly.

“What’s wrong?” Seeing his eyebrows crease you immediately try to calm him. Another kiss to his lips and he eases up a bit. Just like he used to.

“I need to know. Do you- do you already have someone? A wife?”

Your nerves hit once more. He could still have someone in this universe or wherever you are. And even like this, you couldn’t be that woman that ruins a marriage. Even if he does feel rightfully yours.

Johnny smiles a bit at the question before glancing downward, almost as if he’s shy or embarrassed.

“Nay, never did.” He starts before taking your cheeks back into his hands, looking into your eyes.

“Just you.”

The biggest smile breaks out on your face, your hands tugging at his shirt to bring his lips back down to yours. He feels good, warm, right. Yours. Still yours. Always yours.

“I know I’m a little young, but that doesn’t bother you, does it?” You ask with a slight smirk against his lips.

Johnny just laughs, his hands working their way down your body to cup your ass almost possessively.

“Certainly not.” His eyes looking all over your face, taking you all in. Gods, you’re gorgeous and all his? He could still hardly believe it, but he’ll be damned if he didn’t at least get to know you and try to make it all work with you. He owes that much to himself.

“Does it bother you?”

“Hmm? You being older?” You ask innocently.

Johnny only nods, still admiring your beautiful face, his girl.

You shake your head no, not daring to look away from his gaze.

“I think it’s sexy, Sergeant John MacTavish.” You quip teasingly.

A groan escapes his lips, his pants straining against him almost painfully at this point. He needed you now or he might combust.

“This room or mine?” Johnny whispers, bringing his knee in between your legs and his mouth to your ear.

“And it’s Captain now, bonnie. Make a decision quick or I’ll make one for ya. Put on a show.” He glances to the two-way mirror and a nervous giggle leaves your lips.

Your husband most certainly would do such a thing.

-

Johnny was sure to make you use his proper title as he properly had you in bed, as well as used yours.

And with your volume and his reach, everyone on the base now knew he had a wife.

Things were complicated, sure, but you two would figure it out. He knew you both wanted to give it a try and were both willing despite it all.

And after a few weeks, he decides that all there’s left to do is buy a ring of his own that’ll match yours.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Hello love reading your mikaelson fics especially the yandere ones

If u want how bout Yandere sugar daddies klaus and Elijah sharing sugar baby reader wants to become exclusive(to be lovers) but reader is not sure if she wants too. She’s scared to take the next level. Pls smut if u can

She had become their Sugar Baby when they overheard her conversation with Elena, Bonnie and Caroline about her current Sugar Daddy being a piece of shit who just wants to fuck her and drop her, no more taking care of her.

Klaus and Elijah had never had that kind of relationship before so it was definitely different, but of course they could afford to give her everything.

Y/n had stayed at the bar after her friends left and Elijah approached her, buying her another drink and asking her to join them. She was cautious but they could see she was also intrigued.

Elijah had been obsessed with her since he first came to Mystic Falls, and while he had had several relationships over his lifetime, none of them had made him feel like Y/n did. He had watched over her the whole time he was in town, until of course his brother daggered him. Klaus had become interested in her upon returning to the town with Stefan to fix his Hybrid problem. He’d sent her a drink before having to leave again and promising to make her his upon his return to the town. They had started talking the night before when everyone had been in un-daggered and upon realizing they were obsessed with the same girl, they decided to have her together, they had done it once as humans with Tatia, why not now when they were far more well off and able to give her everything she wants?

They bought her a few drinks and just talked, asking what it was she needed from a Sugar Daddy, explaining what they wanted from her and it all seemed rather perfect. They invited her to be their date to their families Ball the next night and promised her the perfect outfit, and the brothers were thrilled when she agreed.

She had allowed them to drive her home and while she didn’t invite them in, at least they know where she lives now and they Hate that it’s an apartment on the edge of the town. Klaus went home and found the perfect dress for her to wear to the Ball and Elijah picked out some jewelry for her to wear with it. There’s no way their girl wouldn’t be the most perfect Princess at the Ball.

That was how it all started. They paid her bills for her and she spent nearly all day every day with them unless they had a supernatural problem to deal with. Elijah loved taking her shopping, she would go with him to help him decide what suits looked the best on him, he loves having her opinion and hearing her tell him how handsome he looks. Klaus enjoyed spoiling her in other ways, whisking her away for an overnight trip to Paris on a jet (Klaus for the food and Elijah for the shopping), A quick stop in Italy when he insisted she needed to know what ‘real’ pasta was like, and even a stop over in New Orleans for the ‘Worlds Best Beignets’. Y/n both loved and hated the fact that Klaus enjoyed feeding her, he watched her eat like it was the most fascinating, beautiful thing in the world and he was definitely turned on by it.

It was a month into the relationship that Y/n began noticing them behaving a little more…personal? They became far more touchy with her, which was nice but she began to realize it felt different. The way they looked at her was as if staring into her soul, and while most Sugar Daddies enjoy people looking at their babies, wanting to show them off to the world as if to say “Look at what I have, you could never afford her”, Klaus and Elijah were jealous, possessive even.

Once Klaus had nearly beaten a man on the street into a coma for looking at her too long she knew she needed to say something.

‘We need to talk.’ She spoke as they sat down in Y/n’s room in their home that they had gifted her, now full of all of her many, many, many clothes. Both men looked shocked but waited patiently for what she needed to say. ‘This isn’t normal, and I’m not sure what to do with that. I’ve been a sugar baby since I was 16, I love it, I enjoy being taken care of and shown off like I’m special.’

‘You are special.’ Klaus responded, taking her hand and kissing her palm, pressing her soft hand to his face but for the first time she pulled away from his touch and he instantly didn’t like that.

‘But it feels like you don’t want to show me off, you don’t want other men looking at me like every other man ever! What guy doesn’t want others to look at their girl? That’s always been half the point for the men I spend time with, you almost killed that man the other day Klaus! And you! You growled at a man checking me out at the register 2 days ago! What is wrong with you guys?!’ They could see she was frustrated and they wanted to make her feel better.

‘We love you Princess. We love you so much and we want you to be ours.’ Elijah admitted and her eyes widened in shock.

‘What? No, no, no…that’s not what this is guys, this isn’t a real relationship, why would…why would you want a girl to treat you like a living bank account? I don’t-‘

‘You love us just as much as we love you and you know it, you just try to hide it, we refuse to do so.’ The suited man responded and she didn’t seem to know what to say.

‘Admit it, you don’t treat us like every other guy you were with, you care for us, and we like buying our girl nice things if you haven’t noticed, love. We enjoy spoiling you and showering you in clothes and nice food, everything you want, however we do not enjoy other men thinking they have the right to stare at what is ours. You are gorgeous, Bunny, every inch of you…and every inch of you is ours.’ Klaus growled from deep in his chest and Y/n hated how much she loved the sound.

‘I’ve never had a real relationship and I don’t want one! Men know what they’re getting into with me, there’s no hidden agenda or misunderstandings. There’s no pain when you cheat or leave and I don’t want that! I can’t-I’m sorry. I can’t.’ She stood up, walking to the door and grabbing her bag when suddenly the door was slammed shut, Klaus cutting her exit off.

‘Where are you going? You live here now my love.’ She took a step back, she had never been afraid of Klaus and unlike everyone else in the world she knew he would never hurt her, but she also didn’t know what lengths he would go to to keep her.

‘My apartment, I need to think, I want to be alone right now.’

‘Apartment? We had you moved out of there weeks ago Princess, you’re ours now.’ Her eyes widened and she took several steps back before hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor. ‘We know you love us, and we understand that you’re afraid of being hurt but that’s not an option with us Y/n, we will never leave you, you’ll never lose us, we’ll never die. We’re immortal-‘

‘But I’m Not!’ She shouted and the brothers looked at each other for a moment before Klaus kneeled down beside her, kissing her palm once again and holding it to his face.

‘We can fix that problem right now.’ Y/n sucked in a breath, looking from Klaus back to Elijah in shock but he just tilted his head as if waiting for an answer.

‘Have you been planning this?’

‘We’ve been hoping for you to agree to be ours since before we had drinks…we love you Princess and we don’t plan on letting you go. We know you love us too…please just let us have you?’ As Elijah spoke, Klaus kissed his way up her arm and tilted her head to bare her throat, kissing and sucking his way up to her jaw before down to her chest.

‘Why me? After 1000 years, why me? How do I know you won’t get bored and leave?’ She hated how vulnerable and weak she sounded but they already knew how lonely and scared she was, keeping herself unavailable to keep from getting hurt.

‘We both fell in love with you a long time ago Princess, you’ve been mine since the day I came to Mystic Falls.’

‘And mine since I sent you that first drink.’ Klaus mumbled against her chest where he continued sucking love bites onto her perfect flesh.

‘You’re already ours Y/n…all that’s left is for you to admit it.’ Elijah tucked her hair behind her ear before leaning closer, kissing along her jawline and she knew she was done for. No women can have 2 Mikaelson’s sucking on their neck and chest and then reject them, physically impossible!

Her fingers tucked into both of their hair and held onto them desperately. ‘Please?’ That was all she said, but it was all she needed to say before Klaus’ hands grabbed ahold of her thighs and lifted her up effortlessly, dropping her onto the bed the next second and tearing her dress right down the front. ‘Hey! Not the dress!’

‘Bunny, I’ll buy you 100 more dresses tomorrow if that’s what you want but anything that obstructs my view of your perfect body deserves to be torn to shreds.’ Her bra was torn off next and Klaus finally got his lips around her breasts like he had clearly wanted, or so she thought. Elijah’s lips claimed hers roughly as Klaus kissed and nipped his way down her stomach and hips, pulling down her panties and revealing her pussy to him. ‘My God, you are a dripping mess, aren’t you? Did we do this?’ The hybrid questioned just as she was unbuttoning Elijah’s shirt and shoving it off of his shoulders.

‘Answer him Princess.’ Elijah teased, biting her lip between his teeth harshly and making her whine.

‘Obviously you did! Now fix it!’ Her voice demanded and pulled Elijah by the tie that was still around his neck despite his upper body being naked before she suddenly cried out. Elijah pulled back, looking down to see Klaus with his fangs buried into her thigh, tasting her as her thighs sat on his shoulders and his fingers rubbed at her clit slowly and teasingly.

‘How is she?’ He asked his younger brother who just groaned in response, but it was all he needed. Despite their girl having known they were vampires, they had yet to taste her, wanting to save it for just this occasion. Elijah leaned back down to his Princess, baring her neck for him and licking her throat teasingly before biting into her lovely flesh, her blood filling his mouth with what was possibly the best taste he had ever experienced. His hand cupped her breast, squeezing roughly and listening to her heart beat speed up as her hips ground against Klaus’ hand, her overwhelmed senses unable to take the stimulation before she came, crying out as they both pulled back, cleaning her blood from their bite marks.

‘T-too much…’ she whined, nuzzling into Elijah’s neck and holding onto him tightly.

‘Too much? Too Much?’ Klaus asked, teasingly as he crawled back up her body, kissing over her shoulders. ‘Well if that’s too much, you’re about to be in trouble Bunny.’ Suddenly her body was completely turned around, Klaus now pressing his lips to hers as Elijah sat her up and held her back to his chest. Elijah used her slick from her previous orgasm to spread over his cock as Klaus lined his cock up with her pussy and thrust his hips up, bottoming out immediately making her cry out, arms wrapping around his neck tightly as she trembled.

‘Gentle Niklaus, our Princess is giving herself to us, the least we can do is handle her with care.’ He half teased and half scolded.

‘My Bunny is loving every second of my cock in her tight little cunt, aren’t you Bunny?’ Y/n whined before nodding her head into his neck where she held him tightly.

‘Please move?’ She begged but Klaus just shook his head.

‘Not yet love, we need to give Elijah a chance to join in.’ Her eyes flew open as she seemed to suddenly understand what he means and she began pulling back, making Klaus hold her to his chest tightly.

‘Come now Princess, we know you’ve done this before-‘

‘With One Guy! Not This! I don’t-‘ Klaus cut her off with his lips against hers roughly , thrusting up into her and silencing her complaints.

‘If you can tell me you don’t want this, and be convincing, then we will stop right now.’ Elijah promised and she just whined, knowing she had dreamed of exactly this position one too many times, he often enjoyed watching her dreams and they were almost always wet dreams about the both of them.

‘Hurry up brother, I will not wait forever.’ Klaus growled, pulling her as close as he could and pressing his lips to hers again which she tried to focus on as she was so over stimulated already upon feeling Elijah’s cock pressing against her hole. He pushed his hips forward and stretched her out slowly, pausing as she whined before continuing, pressing his lips to the back of her neck to comfort her.

‘Just let me in Princess, you know you want to.’ He teased, rolling his hips as he felt her try and relax her body again, shoving the last 2 inches into her tight hole and hearing her squeal. ‘Are you alright?’ She nodded into Klaus’ chest just before the Hybrid thrust his hips up, causing her to move on Elijah’s cock as well which made her cry out quite loudly.

‘There’s our girl, scream for us Bunny!’ She cried out again into his neck and they both loved her loud reactions. Elijah was pushing into her hard now, already fucking her ass harder than the only other guy that ever did it.

‘Fuck Elijah!’

‘That’s right Princess, squeezing my cock so Goddamn tight! I knew you would love this, your ass is so perfect, how could she not love my cock?’ Elijah was practically needy to know that he makes her feel better than that idiot that fucked her before.

‘Fuck! Please-Ah!’

‘That’s a good girl. Cum for us Bunny, I know you want to. Want us to fill your tight little holes more than they ever have been before. Cum!’ Klaus growled into her throat and just as their girl wailed, they buried their fangs into her flesh once again, the both of them cumming hard into her sore holes. Something about knowing that their girl was more fucked out and full than she had ever been before was almost enough to make them cum again.

As her breathing and heart rate began to slow they both pulled back, Elijah biting into Klaus’ neck roughly to start the blood flow before pressing Y/n’s lips against the bloody bite mark. ‘That’s a good girl, drink for us Princess, drink nice and deep.’

‘Fuck Bunny! Already such sharp teeth!’ Klaus grunted, feeling her bite her dull teeth against the open wound to keep it from closing quickly. ‘Such a good girl.’ He moaned, loving the feeling of her biting into him, desperate for more of his blood.

‘We love you Princess, and when you wake up you’ll be all ours…for the rest of eternity.’ Elijah spoke, Y/n finally pulling away and allowing them to see her, Klaus’ blood dripping down her chin.

‘Going to make such a gorgeous vampire, aren’t you precious?’ She nodded, holding onto Klaus and pressing her lips to his just as Elijah took her neck in his hands and twisted as gently as he could.

They quickly cleaned her and themselves up, Klaus dressing her while Elijah went and fetched a few blood bags, laying beside their girl as they waited for her to wake up into their eternity together.

Elijah Mikaelson Masterlist

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist