#there are a thousand bars in his impression

[hydrobunny]

i knew you'd come back to me

tags: getting back together, vague allusions to angst, timeskip reunion, ambiguous? ending 880 words

a/n: hope u enjoy anon. based on cardigan

it’s been six years since you last saw rin itoshi.

six years since the day he turned his back on you without looking back, leaving behind the remains of your fragile relationship.

but now that you’ve grown - and gotten through life just fine on your own- you’re not sure what that long-gone relationship really had been. if it ever affected him the way it affected you.

and yet, at a small shitty parisian bar several thousand miles aways from home, you see rin itoshi again, and everything changes.

for you could recognize the shape and angles of his face from oceans away, and he knows the same. shocked recognition flares through rin’s eyes (still beautiful, still so intense).

the two of you are young again, and it used to be-

sneaking out of school early so he could practice drills while you did homework on the bleachers-

his hands interlaced with yours, form trembling as the both of you agreed that an era in the itoshi household had ended forever-

your hand on his wrist, his feet dragging in the wet sand while he half heartedly argued against entering the cold waters-

him opening your christmas gift, a luxury cologne that had taken you two months to save up for-

you and him in your living room, horror movie blaring on the screen while he pretended to be annoyed at your screaming-

him packing a duffel bag with his best worn football cleats and a mysterious invitation while you mulled over the best way to say a temporary goodbye-

you cheering his name in a stadium crowded with his brother’s legacy, unaware as something in his heart broke and was reforged anew-

the two of you were sixteen, and rin itoshi was telling you to not wait for him again.

with an ice cold voice, he had left the dregs of your relationship behind.

but six years is a long time to hold a grudge- so you don’t. you were both young, with nothing but the cruelty and arrogance that came with being young.

you aren't sixteen years old anymore.

so you don’t blame rin itoshi for breaking your heart. instead, you meet his eyes head-on and smile, hoping he can taste your forgiveness.

you think he might. for rin almost flinches away, his eyes still flashing over you like he can’t believe you’re really there.

“hey, rin.” and you let him back in.

“y/n,” he says slowly. “you’re here. in paris.”

the barkeeper slides you a drink wordlessly. you tilt your head. a small part of you marvels inwardly at how tall he is. “so are you. small world, isn't it?”

rin blinks, gaze flickering once to the small glass, and you’ve known the confusion in his voice since years ago. “i live here.”

you don’t know that one. “oh,” you manage, too awkwardly. the bass of the music almost drowns out your words. “paris? i wouldn't have taken you for the type.”

his confusion turns into straight disbelief, face furrowing. “what? no, not like-” he clears his throat. “for the football team. pxg? i’m the starting striker.”

“that does seem more fitting,” you pick up your glass. “so you did it? blue lock worked out?”

rin doesn’t respond immediately, searching your face carefully. in the tense pause, you throw back at least half of your cup. “you really don’t know?”

“well, it wasn't like i wanted to subscribe to that show,” his face stiffens at your words. “if im being honest, the only thing i even know about japanese football now is that we think isagi’s the great hope of us all.”

rin’s face shifts immediately to a display of impressive annoyance. “don't believe that crap.”

you bite down on your laughter. “i don't feel that strongly about it.”

your phone buzzes in your pocket. his eyes trace your movements as you pull it out, skimming the notification.

“i should go.”

“already?” he blurts out, grimacing immediately after.

you raise an eyebrow. “i've been here. you just haven't seen me.”

“shitty place to spend your time.”

your heart twangs with the familiarity of his casual brashness. “sure. i’m glad to know you’re doing well, rin. see you in another six years?”

he doesn't respond. with a sigh, you leave .

there’s no point in looking back. you push past sweaty bodies, an emotion you can't quite place roaring in your ears.

it was over. it had been over. you had already long accepted it to be over, so why did it still burn to turn away?

a hand wraps around your wrist, firm.

you whirl around-

rin’s eyes meet yours with a breath-stopping intensity, desperately searching for something. “i’m sorry.”

the music is too loud. you blink rapidly. “what?”

he leans in closer to you, and you realize he still wears the same cologne. “you were too good for me. and i’m sorry for what i did to you.”

you step backward, heart thudding with the rhythm of a song years paused. “i don't- rin?”

his hand is still on your wrist. “it’s always been you, y/n, and i don't know why it took so long to realize. but i was a fucking idiot.”

you swallow.

rin itoshi meets your gaze. “one more try.”

the lights flash a dozen different colors, and you hear yourself answer.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: A thing of beauty

“I now announce that the grand temple of Zavana open!”

The priest nodded to the team of lay brothers behind him and forty Zuthiliuns pushed the massive temple doors open. A joyous chorus of gasps of awe arouse from the gathered followers as they finally laid eyes on the inside of the grand temple for the first time.

Three miles in length with a height of ten stories, the Grand Temple of Nazareim was unlike anything the world had ever seen. Every square inch was a dedication to the story of Nazareim from the holy book from young up bringing to his triumphant slaying of the dark pantheon of old. Row upon row of pews and prayer rugs lined the walkways while intersections were dotted with fountains of holy waters to be anointment in. Yet most impressive of all however was what lay at the center of the temple.

Nestled in the heart of the vast open space was a tree of truly breath taking size. It’s trunk extended high above and it looked as if the branches were holding the roof up through sheer force of will while a the holy tomb of Nazareim themselves lay at the base.

At the sight of such grandeur many of the followers and pilgrims fell to the ground and began praying; the depths of such beauty and majesty overwhelming them that their limbs had been sapped of all their strength.  

“Go,” the priest echoed loudly as he stepped aside, ���enter your holy ground and walk amongst its splendor.”

Without needing further invitation the thousands of Zuthiliuns began milling into the grand temple. Families and friends of those who had collapsed gently picked them up and carried them inside as they continued to weep tears of joy.

The priest smiled and nodded as the followers passed by. They’d offer a blessing or word of encouragement but did not join the masses as they filed in. Their eyes remained on a lone figure in the crowd who had not joined the flow of followers flocking inside.

Like a stone in a rushing river the lone figure stood stoic before the doors. Their gaze passed along the gathered masses before gazing up at the massive doors as they finally swung fully open. They watched for a long time before dropping their gaze once more to the masses.

For a moment the lone figure’s eyes and the priest’s locked.

The priest’s expression hardened and they tilted their head towards the back of the crowd. Saying nothing, the figure took one last look at the temple before turning back and making their way through the crowds. -------------------

It was many hours later and after several dozen sermons from within the grand temple that the priest found himself wandering the darkened streets of the nearby town at the base of the mountain. Unlike the holiness of the mountain or the temple at its peak, the stench of living sin was palpable here. It was enough to make the priest hack and cough as they made their way through the streets to an otherwise indistinctive bar.

Pushing open the door the priest made their way towards the back of the bar where a lone figure was sitting alone nursing a half-finished drink as they watched the news.

“Busy day?” the figure remarked as the priest sat next to them.

The priest said nothing in reply. Removing a satchel from their back they tossed it to the table with a heavy thud. A portion of the top opened and several silver credit chips fell out and slid across the table to the figure.

“Your payment,” the priest spoke harshly, “and for your silence.”

The figure turned their attention away from the news and picked up one of the spilled credit chips. With a flick of his fingers the coin flipped itself between his knuckles one at a time before spinning out back into the bag.

“As we agreed upon.” The figure replied.

Without saying another word the priest turned to leave but was stopped by the figure as they began collecting the spilled credit chips.

“Tell me priest,” the figure spoke, “does it bother you?”

The priest and turned back to the figure.

“Does what bother me?” they asked as the figure removed their hood to reveal a frail human.

“That for all your pontificating you men of faith turned to a nonbeliever to forge your house of worship?”

The human figure saw the priest’s hands clench into fists in frustration before relaxing.

“You are but an instrument for our lord to speak to us, nothing more.”

The human laughed. “I am that.” The human agreed, much to the priest’s surprise. “But I should warn you that I heard no voice of the supposed divine as I drew my plans; and if I did the bastard should learn to speak louder.”

The table shook as the priest spun around and brought their hands down hard against the table.

“Do not dare to mock our lord!” the priest demanded. “You were of use and I tolerated your blatant blasphemies, but now that use has come to an end.”

“I bet it burns you.” The human countered unmoved by the priest’s threat. “That for all your prayer and claims of being the voice of a god you could not think of anything as grand for a place of worship than a box with a door.”

The priest let out a hearty laugh. ‘Is that not what you have done?” To his surprise the human’s grin grew wider.

“I never cared for your god. I only took this job so that my name and legacy will live on long after I am gone. People will travel from across the quadrant to look upon my works and weep from its beauty, while my name becomes renowned.” They leaned in close to the priest and whispered “Can you claim the same after your followers leave you?”

[embrosegraves]

𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕚𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕊𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘

Just a lil something I thought of and couldn't get out of my head :P I hope you enjoy <3

Max Verstappen x Reader  “If you can justify the purchase, then you can buy it for me.” Sugar Daddy x Slightly Reluctant! Sugar Baby

very brief google translated dutch (it's like 2 thing near the end)

You weren’t sure how you managed to get to this point in your life. One night you were working at your local club, trying to make ends meet with three jobs. You needed to pay for rent and utilities and food and the ever looming University degree you had begun studying for. You never thought you’d ever get to a point of financial comfortability, because the situation definitely wasn’t the most stable but it was comfortable. 

At first you thought he was just another rich snob who wanted to impress his mates with the amount of money he could spend on a single night. And to be fair he kinda was. He just also happened to be the one that sat with you while you worked the bar, listening to your woes of being a uni student who needed to work more than one job throughout the day on top of going to class.  

Now though, almost exactly 3 years after first meeting him, you couldn’t believe what you were looking at. 

“I’m not letting you buy that for me, Max.”

“Why not?” He was almost (definitely) pouting. 

“Because I can buy my own laptop? And besides, my final year is almost over, I can get it after.” 

Max looked at you unimpressed. “The one you have now is falling apart. You need a new one.”

You grabbed his hand and slowly led him to a bench that was outside the store you were just standing in. “My love, I adore that you want to get me a new laptop for school, but you cannot justify spending three and a half million dollars on a laptop for me. I don’t care if it’s Swarovski, I don’t care if it’s the best laptop in the world. I don’t need it.”

It was always like this between you and Max. He wanted to buy you the most insanely expensive things just because he could, but you always told him not to. Looking at him in front of you, his face sporting an almost unnoticeable frown, you sighed. Keeping hold of his hand in yours, you moved your free hand to cradle his face. 

“I will let you buy me a laptop-” His face lit up, “on the condition that it cost no more than eight thousand. I know I cannot get you to spend like a regular person, so that will be the cap on how much you spend on my laptop.”

“You never let me do anything fun.” Max was pouting again, but you could see his eyes were happy. 

“Well, that’s tough Schat. If it makes you feel better, after you get the laptop because I’m not budging on that, you can buy me whatever you want-” You held your hand in front of him before Max could interrupt and start celebrating, “but you have to be able to properly justify the purchase. Which means no more mindless spending on things, okay?” 

He pulled you in and wrapped his arms around you tightly. “As long as I still get to spoil you, like you deserve, then I will agree to your conditions.” 

You felt as he placed a kiss on your head before you moved back. You gave him a kiss on his lips and smiled at him. 

“Go. I can tell you’re just wanting to find a laptop to get me.”

He laughed and kissed you again before grabbing your hands and leading to a different tech store for your new laptop. “Let’s go then, Mijn Liefje!”

Translations (Provided by Google Translate) Schat = Darling Mijn Liefje = My Love

[her-power]

beg (joseph quinn x fem! reader)18+

warnings: language, strong sexual content, lots and lots of making out, bathroom fool around. It’s not that explicit (edit: it’s horny, whoops lol, there’s an unexpected belt restraining 😵‍💫) it’s playful, funny, but minors, stay the eff away.

summary: you run into JQ at a karaoke bar (I know, there’s a theme with these 😂) and drunkenly tell him that you wrote smut about him. he begs you to show him and he’s very…interested.

word count: idk, lots of words 🫠

You were drunk.

You didn’t mean to get this drunk, but there was something about the energy of a karaoke bar that made you want to get loaded. You had just finished singing Bohemian Rhapsody, and had received a roar from the crowd of people who sang along with you, and lots of clapping. Your friends wanted you to sing more, but you needed a break. And some water. You saunter over to the bar, asking for a glass of water which you chug down. Probably not the best idea, but you were thirsty, and it felt like it was thousands of degrees in the building. You took three ice cubes out of the glass and pop them in your mouth, cooling yourself down.

“Your Freddie Mercury dance moves was quite impressive.” A soft, English accented voice reaches your ears and you glance up at the man standing next to you. You gasp, an ice cube sliding down your throat causing you to choke a little. His eyes are wide and he’s almost laughing. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to make you choke.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You manage to breathe out.

Joseph fucking Quinn was standing next to you.

“I’m sorry, that was rude, hi…you are…wow. I must be really drunk cause there is no way you’re standing next to me.” You suppress a giggle and he chuckles.

“Nope, I am a real.” He leans against the bar, twirling his beer bottle. “You good? No more choking?”

“Uh…” you laugh, blindly searching for the bar stool which he scoots behind you and you sit. “Need to sit down for this, why are you in the most rural part of town at a hole in the wall karaoke bar?”

He laughs. “Been filming a movie the next town over, got some nice beaches down this way. This seemed like a good place to be unrecognizable.”

He meets your eyes.

Gods, he was beautiful.

You blush and look away. “Came to the right spot, it’s dim, dreary, smells like piss and shame. I don’t think my friends know where I went.” You glance around the bar, spotting your friends sitting at the table in the corner, drunkenly crying. Yeah, sitting right here feels much better than that, you think.

“My favorite kind of place.” He giggles. “What are you drinking?”

“You…NOPE…wow. Intrusive thoughts won, I’m so sorry.” You put your palms over your face and he laughs loudly. “Ughhhh, this is not happening. I’m making a fool out of myself in front of such a beautiful man. I used to be so good at this.”

“I think you’re being pretty adorable.” He says close to your ear and you almost yelp. He giggles at your behavior and you tell him you’ve been drinking bourbon all night. He orders you a drink and your hand shakes as you bring the rim to your lips.

“Easy, love. You don’t need to be nervous around me.” He nudges you with his shoulder and you relax a little.

“How do I know you’re not like Ted Bundy? Hmm?” You smile at him, taking a sip of his drink.

“Do I look like a serial killer?”

“Ted Bundy didn’t.” You counter and he smiles.

“Touché, but no, I’m not here to kill you.”

“Oh yeah? What are you here to do to me?”

Foot. In. Mouth. You’re gonna make him leave, you’re gonna make him go away by just being a fucking creep.

“What do you want me to do to you?” His voice is low, and your heart beats rapidly as you stare at him with your mouth hanging open. He smirks at you, gently taking his finger and lifting your chin to close your mouth, and winks.

“Oooookay…we’re flirting. This is…okay. Why do I feel like I’m in a setting of one of my stories?”

“Stories?”

Fuck me.

You groan. You need to learn to stop talking to yourself in public, because shit like this happens and you spill secrets you’re not supposed to spill. “Huh? What? No…I mean…nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Friends don’t lie.”

“Oh we’re friends? You don’t even know my name.”

“So tell me.” He turns towards you, your elbows are touching and his eyes are staring deep into yours, they subtly glance down your form and then meet your eyes again. You bite your bottom lip, smiling and tell him your name. “Okay, now we’re friends.”

“I’m not telling you what I said.” You laugh, sipping your drink. He looks at you shocked and the way he moved his head back was comical, you choke on your drink again.

“That is very rude and not fair.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, I wrote a story about you awhile back.”

He points to himself and smiles. “What kind of story?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Oh but I do.” He slides your bar stool closer to him. “Whisper it.”

He’s so close to you, you can smell his cologne and the subtle aroma of beer on his breath. You just stare at him, not answering him. “It’s naughty isn’t it?”

You look away from him, and blush. He gasps excitedly. “Show me!”

Your eyes widen. “What?! No way! It’s embarrassing and it’s horny.”

“Even better.”

“No.” You lean into him and smile. He groans, draping his arm over the back of your chair.

“What do I have to do to get you to show me?” His mouth is so close to yours. You wondered what his lips felt like. You had imagined it, clearly.

“Beg for it.” You smile and he laughs.

“Is that what I do in your story? Beg?”

A tingle forms in your belly at the way he said that and you blush. “I’m just kidding.”

“What if I’m not?”

“Okay, you need to settle down.” You laugh, playfully pushing him away and he giggles. “Can’t believe I’m flirting with you right now, this is insane. I have to pee…watch my drink.”

He smirks, sliding your drink next to his and placing his jacket over the back of your seat. Your legs immediately start shaking as you make your way to the bathroom, your friend Stacey is coming out of the bathroom as you open the door.

“Hey! We’re going, do you need a ride?” She asks you.

You glance back at the bar. “No, I’m okay. I can take an Uber home.”

“By yourself? I don’t know if I feel right about that.”

You gently pat her face. “I’ll be fine. I don’t really wanna share a ride with you all crying about what happened on Love Island.”

She laughs. “Shut up, I know. I hate myself too. Okay, please text me when you get home. Don’t go home with any strangers.” She kisses your cheek.

“Yes, mom.”

Ha, if only she knew.

Although, was he a stranger?

Yes, dumbass.

But, a highly known stranger.

Not in the middle of nowhere USA.

You push open the stall door, quickly do your business and wash your hands. There was no one else in there with you, and you took a minute to look over yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed from the embarrassment of telling him you wrote a sex story about him, and also the fact that he was so…flirtatious and sexy. You adjust your high waisted jeans and pull your black cropped tank down. As of lately; you have grown to love your body and its shape, but you were suddenly feeling self conscious sitting next to a celebrity.

The door to the bathroom opens and you glance up in the mirror.

There he was. Smiling. Comedically tip toeing into the bathroom, locking the door while you stand there stunned.

“What are you-“ His hands are on your waist in a flash, and his soft lips press against yours, sweetly, gently. His hands go into your hair and a sigh escapes you, you almost fall backwards but he wraps his arms around your waist tighter, holding you to him. Your hands go to his chest, and you gently push him back, your lips falling away from each other with a smack. Your eyes dart back and forth from his eyes to his lips and he’s grinning at you.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t wait any longer.” He tells you and you still cannot find words.

He was a good kisser.

Maybe you could show him your story, but that could wait. You wanted to kiss him again, so you did. His tongue glides into your mouth and you groan, pushing your body against his, bumping into the wall, almost falling over the trash can. His hands find your thigh and squeeze gently, lifting you up delicately and your head slams against the automatic paper towel dispenser.

“Ow!” You laugh loudly as the paper towels come out behind you, vroooooom.

“Oh shit I’m sorry!” He pulls away from your lips quickly and holds your head. You laugh, holding his face and kissing him again. He smiles against your lips, his hand grips your waist and you sigh, moving your hands over his back, down past his ass and you pull his waist flush against you. He groans against your mouth, and lifts you on the bathroom counter. You didn’t care how gross this counter probably was, you just wanted to be close to him. He pushes himself between your legs and you could feel his hardness through his jeans. His lips find your throat and you gasp when he gently bites on your sensitive skin. His hand glides up your soft skin, over your bra and your nipple hardens as his palm grazes over your breast.

“Mmm…we should…stop…” You whisper against his neck.

“Do you want me to stop?” He whispers, his tongue flicks out over the vein at your throat and you moan, clawing at his back.

“No…but…not here…somewhere else.” You gasp.

He pulls away from you and smiles sweetly, kissing you again and helps you down from the counter. You unlock the door, surprised to see that no one was waiting to kick you guys out and as you exit the bathroom he takes your arm and pulls you to him, kissing you deeply. Your back hits the wall and you smile against his lips, his hands fisting through your hair.

“Yeah, get it girl!” A woman says as she makes her way to the bathroom and the two of you pull away laughing. You take his hand and take him to the outside patio, you patted yourself down to make sure your phone and wallet was still in your jeans. You find a vacant picnic table and sit on top of it, shaking the nerves out of your hands as you stare up at him. He smiles, his dimples showing and you blush.

His hand cups your face and you lean into it, he kisses your lips softly and sits down on the bench beneath you. You smile, opening your phone and go to your word document app. He lights up a cigarette and you cringe, holding the phone towards him.

His eyes light up. “Is this it?” And you nod. He giggles, his eyes scanning the first few paragraphs. “Wow, you’re a really good writer…oh…” he meets your eyes, his wide and playful. You blush looking away from him and he laughs, his hand gently squeezes your knee. “This is…horny.” His hand squeezes your thigh and you have to suppress a moan that is about to escape.

“He puts his mouth on your…whoa…whoaaaaa…” he meets your eyes again, his face is flushed. “It’s hot, is it hot? I’m sweating. If I read anymore I’m gonna take you on this table.” He hands the phone back to you and you giggle, covering your face with his hands. He stands over you, the cigarette dangling from his lips. You take it from him, inhale on it, and pull his face towards yours.

“Breathe in.” You tell him, as you exhale and the smoke comes out, your lips barely graze and he inhales, stepping back a little letting the smoke glide out of his lungs.

He blushes and smirks at you. “That was in there wasn’t it?”

You nod, biting your lip, handing him the cigarette. He smiles large, snuffing the cigarette out in the ashtray. He moves towards you, curling a piece of hair behind your ear. “You wanna get out of here?”

You stare into his eyes and nod. He grins, and as you’re about to open your Uber app he puts his hand over yours. “No need, I have a driver.” He nods to the back parking lot and you see a black livery car with a driver in the front seat. “Just tell me where to go.”

So, you tell him the direction to your house. You had snuggled up against his chest on the car ride, his hand softly rubs your shoulder and you pull up in front of your apartment building. He tells the driver to head back to the hotel and will call when he needs to get picked up. He follows you up the stairs to the second floor and you turn on your lights. You shut and lock the door, blushing again.

“Why do you keep blushing?” He teases, gently cupping your cheek.

“Because you’re in my apartment and have been kissing me all night.” You sigh. “And I’m confused on why out of all the beautiful women in the bar, you sought me out.”

“Well, none of those other beautiful women could sing Bohemian Rhapsody like you did.”

You roll your eyes. “If you were ten minutes earlier you would’ve seen my rendition of You Oughta Know.”

He laughs. “Now that would’ve made me beg for you.”

You’re not even all the way into your apartment before he’s kissing you. He practically drags you blindly into the living room and into the wall. He pushes his body against yours, kissing you deeply, his hands going over your belly and up your shirt. You gasp, gripping onto his forearms as he kisses down your chest, pulling your shirt over your head. His lips glide down your stomach until his on his knees, licking just above the button of your jeans and he pops the button. He gazes up at you, and your head falls back against the wall as he pulls your jeans down, and you step out of them. He grips your thighs, kissing them softly and his hands caress your backside. He pulls down your underwear and your entire body trembles, and you groan as his mouth goes on you like he was starving. You grip at his hair as he feasts on you, still pinching yourself because there was no way this was real and that he was doing this to you in your apartment.

His fingers glide inside you as he continues his feast, and you moan loudly, your body almost sliding down the wall but he holds you up with his free hand. He tells you to come in his mouth and your entire body reacts to his voice and how he curls his fingers deeper inside you. You tense up and you scream in pleasure loudly, holding onto the wall for support as you clench around his fingers and he moans against you. He pulls his fingers out of you and glides back up your body, kissing you passionately. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he lifts you, you direct him to your bedroom and pushes open the door with his foot and he falls backwards on the bed, taking you with him. His hands move up your back as he kisses you and unhooks your bra, it falls down your arms and you toss it to the ground, straddling him and he bites back a moan as you scoot yourself back, pulling off his jeans. He sits up quickly, pulling his shirt over his head and you run your hand over his slightly toned tummy, crashing your lips against his. You couldn’t wait any longer for this, you end up pulling him out of the hole from his boxer briefs and you immediately lower yourself down on him.

A broken moan escapes you as he fills you up and his head falls back against the pillows. You rock your hips against him, your body trembles as his lips catch your nipple in his mouth and he gently bites down, you gasp loudly.

“Do you want me to beg?” He groans and you whimper as you rock your hips faster. You moan, a soft laugh escaping you and you nod. You move off of him, moving up his body like a snake and you kiss him deeply. You take his hands, holding both of them above his head, reaching down to take the belt you had on your jeans. His eyes light up and he giggles.

“Oh, we’re doing this.” He says with a chuckle, biting his lower lip.

“You’re an actor.” You smirk, wrapping the belt around his wrists and attached it to the bars on your headboard. “Act.”

“What if I’m not acting?” He clasps his hands together in the restraint.

You smirk, gazing down at him. “Even better.” You meet his soft lips, straddling him, and you could already tell he was getting frustrated because he couldn’t touch you. Your hand glides down his abdomen, over his hips and over his length. His lips buck and his eyes flutter close, a soft sigh escaping him.

You kiss his chest gently, running your tongue over his nipple and he groans. You meet his lips again, grinding your hips against his and reach down to touch him, you grip him hard and then stop.

“Please.” He whispers, almost whining.

“Please what?” You ask, smiling against his cheek, taking his jaw in your hand, turning his head to look at you and a seductive laugh comes out of his mouth with your forcefulness.

“Keep touching me.” He says, moving his face to kiss your lips. “I’m begging you.”

You grin, wrapping your hand around his length and fist him slowly. You lean down to kiss his neck and he moans as your hand picks up speed and his body is arching. “Let me fuck you.” He groans, struggling again. You meet his eyes, gently kissing him as your other hand reaches up to untie the belt from the headboard. His hands come down so fast, the belt goes flying and he’s taking your face in his hands, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he forces himself on top of you. He hooks your leg around his waist and pushing himself inside you hard. You moan loudly as he rolls his hips, the sensation of his speed and his pelvis grinding against you was causing you to feel so many different things at once. His noises were loud and so were yours, beautiful harmonies of two feral beings just needing to feel something.

Your orgasm was approaching fast and he could feel it too, so he slows down. Rocking into you slowly, gently, his lips soft against yours. His hands gently go through your hair and you didn’t know what was hotter: him taking his time with you or how animalistic he was moments ago. A whimper escapes you as you feel your orgasm approach, his breath was hot against your lips as your head falls back, and you’re holding onto his back as you come, this orgasm so much more powerful than the last one and he comes soon after you. His sounds deep, raspy, beautiful.

He lays with his head on your chest, catching his breath and you run your fingers over his hair. He looks up at you, cheekily grinning. “Now, that was a smut story.” He laughs loudly as you giggle, pushing him off of you and he falls to the floor with a thud. His head pops up as he looks at you, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Now it’s your turn to beg.”

the end

[kaciidubs]

#LALALALA_Challenge

❣ Summary: Minho really wanted to see stays do the LALALALA challenge, so you decided to take a shot at it too. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 748 ❣ Warnings: Fluff, humor, reader can't dance, supportive bf! Minho, appearance of SoonieDoongieDori ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Lee Know is referred to as Minho, Min, and Lee Minho, reader is referred to as kitten and darling, barely edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

"Cross, down, cross, down... right- no, left? Left, right, left- up?!"

Groaning softly, you snatched your phone from it's propped position on the TV stand and swiped your thumb across the progress bar, watching the video rewind to the beginning of the tutorial yet again.

Was this your personal hell? Yes.

Were you determined to get this choreography down to impress your dancer boyfriend? Also yes.

You knew the exact moment your fate was sealed for the evening; stumbling across a clip of your boyfriend encouraging thousands of stays to learn the dance and participate in their comeback challenge - and who were you to shy away?

You were a stay, too, which meant you had all the right to attempt the challenge!

Now, if only you didn't have two left feet and the memory of a hamster, then maybe this challenge wouldn't have been so... challenging.

Listening to the extremely familiar song play through your phone again, you watched as the Instagram reel of Minho go on, eyes locked onto every calculated, practiced movement his body made to the rhythm of the song and the mental count of each step.

"Right, left, up-right, left, swing arms down..." A soft meow sounded behind you, the brief interruptions keeping you sane for the past 10 minutes of practicing. "Soonie, you'd think that dating him would give me some magical dance ability, right?"

Another meow, one that sounded oddly sassy, practically telling you that 'We both know that's not how it works'.

"You could've just humored me like Doongie, you know." You mumbled, watching as the clip continued onto the slowed down version of the tutorial, "Okay, let's do this!"

Propping your phone up again, you followed along with his mirrored arm movements, simulating the steps with your upper body as best as you could - you already foolishly attempted the full body test three times, and after nearly twisting your ankle, you decided half your body would suffice.

"Left arm block, chest explode- la, la, la, head nod- la, la, la, la-"

The chorus played out and you sighed heavily, arms sore and your once comfortable t-shirt feeling all too heavy - it had to have been attempt number four, maybe five, and you were finally getting familiar with the normal speed.

"Kitten."

"AH!"

Nearly jumping out of your skin, you spun around to see none other than the same person you were painstakingly following on your phone, watching you with amused eyes and a familiar brown cat nuzzled in his arms.

"Minho?! How long were you watching me?!"

"Long enough to see you miscount the same move three times and counting." He smirked, humor sparkling in his eyes, "You're close though, I'm proud."

Huffing, your crossed your arms over your chest, wincing at the slight strain in your right bicep, "You didn't think to, oh, I don't know, tell me you're home? Maybe even correct me?!"

He gave a few scratches to Dori's head before setting him down on the couch cushion, "I texted you that I was on my way home, you were the one who didn't respond! Plus, you were doing so well, I didn't want to ruin your focus!"

"In other words, you liked watching me mess up."

"It's like watching a child learn that they can move parts of their body in different directions at the same time."

You rolled your eyes, pouting as he pushed himself up from the couch and stride over to you; his hands winding your hips and holding you close.

"I meant it when I said I was proud of you, darling," he cooed, pressing a feather light kiss to your pout, watching your lips turn up slightly. "It doesn't matter if you were the worlds best dancer, or the ace of one step out of the whole song - I saw the effort you were putting into learning it and that's more than enough. I said I wanted to see stays learn and try it, I never said that it had to be perfect."

His soft words melted your heart, your body relaxing in his hold with a soft breath as you blinked up at him with soft eyes. "Can you help me fix where I keep messing up?"

Laughing gently, he nodded, "Of course - next, I'll help you put it together with the steps."

"You have way too much faith in me, Min."

"Or, maybe I want to see you look like a baby deer."

"I love you too, Lee Minho."

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @instabull

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[leeluvsyoongi]

Kiss Me Purple and Blue hcs — { jazz artist! taehyung x fem! reader }

Synopsis: Sfw & Nsfw headcanons about 30s jazz! artist taehyung who gives the impression that his job is far more valuable than you.

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 | warning(s)— smoking, rough sex, fingering, somewhat-toxic dynamic, abandonment, tooth-rotting fluff, potential impregnation.

all nsfw is under the divider and is marked.

⋆.˚ | author's note: Initially, I was going to make this a series of hurt no comfort headcannons (if ya’ll like this I might make a part two just for that) but I got too soft, so now we have a happy ending. (i stayed up till 4 writing this because my writer’s block decided to vanish and my capability to put words together randomly came back. 🫶🏾

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 | word count: 4.5k

✧˖° Freak- lana del ray

SFW

jazz artist! taehyung who's world is drenched in late-night symphonies, dimly lit bars, and a haze of forgotten dreams. His honeyed eyes lay low, as sun-kissed porcelain fingers glide between the keys of his saxophone, pouring his essence into every rich note.

jazz artist! taehyung eyes are heavy-lidded with weights you would never understand. A thousand silent words were sealed inside his soul. Offstage, your bright smile and praise do little to amuse him, your presence once a steamed mug of tea on a chill winter's eve grows bitter and oversweetened, just as everything he treaded near.

jazz artist! taehyung tilts his head just enough to summon shadows along the sharp planes of his face. A slow deliberate blink of his sepia hues sent shivers down your spine, prickling silver thorns over your skin. "You were saying?" He hums in a slow baritone, polishing the gilded edges of the instrument, touching it with more reverence than he had ever offered you.

You submit a small smile, rubbing a palm over your skin. "I was wondering if you had time, tonight," A slow lump dissolves down your throat. "Would you like to come over for dinner, I-I bought a new radio..." Your eyes hesitantly flicker up to his own, the mere act intimidating you.

jazz artist! taehyung shrugs, before tucking away the precious instrument, and lifting the heavy black case effortlessly. His gaze was languid, almost lazy, beckoning you into a world where you weren't quite sure you'd survive, "Lead the way." You tenderly smile, your heart rate easing at the unanticipated lack of rejection. "I made your favorite pasta..." Your fingers thread in nervous knots, and your bottom lip catches beneath your teeth.

jazz artist! taehyung thumb grazes the plush flesh of your bottom lip, gently yielding, "You'll hurt yourself that way," A small smile curves at his lips, before disappearing. "Pasta sounds good." His hand gently lowers to your own, curling around your wrist, a calloused thumb gently tracing the subtle ridge of veins on your inner wrist; memorizing the faint sinuous lines.

jazz artist! taehyung notices the way your eyes widen, taken aback by his intimate touches. He knows he hadn't touched or pleasured you in over a month, hardly writing you the tender heartfelt letters you had yearned for. He knew how terribly you missed the perfect sweeps of his cursive script, dancing along the folded edges of the parchments you had collected over the months of your relationship.

He knew he didn't deserve you, yet he selfishly held on, afraid of another man giving you what he failed to offer time and time again.

jazz artist! taehyung Wanted to love you like you deserved, he wished he could deliver more than he had. He hated you for being so accepting of how little he had to give, of holding onto every small worthless sentiment as though it had meant heaven and all its glories to you.

He wanted you to yell and confront him, to tell him you had grown fed up with his love for music outweighing the love he had for you.

jazz artist! taehyung his eyes flicker down to your own, his thoughts scattered by the soft quell of your voice, "TeTe...we're here..." Your hand gives his own a small squeeze, before unlocking the door of your home. You had been so happy about covering the mortgage of your childhood home after your parents had passed, making you the owner of the house. He slid off his shoes, setting down his prized saxophone. He was all too familiar with the warm brown carpeted floors and comfortable waft of vanilla. Your hands tenderly unbutton his tailored coat, skimming over the silver buttons before hanging the expensive fabric over the rack. "Thank you," He traces your silhouette, his palms pressed firm to the soft curves of your waist, the pronounced slope of his nose pressed against the warmth of your neck. "Taehyung...we should eat," You pull away, setting a distance between the two of you.

He knew deep down you were deeply hurt, yet you still held onto him.

jazz artist! taehyung nods, before tucking his fingers into his dark vest, withdrawing a small box of matches, and another of Montecristo. His low-hooded gaze drags up to your own, after igniting a flame at the butt of his cigar. "Anything for you darling," He flicks a finger over the stick, tapping down the tobacco roll.

jazz artist! taehyung Knows you're holding onto the frayed ends of the relationship you had honed for months. You always sent him letters despite his lack of response, you called him on the telephone every night before bed and always attended every performance he had.

You were the perfect girlfriend he did not deserve.

jazz artist! taehyung who sat across from you, his long fingers curling around the stem of his wine glass, though he hadn’t taken a sip in minutes. The low-hanging light of the dining table caught on the edge of his jawline, sharp and distant like the rest of him. His eyes lift to you, before dropping back to the tablecloth, tracing invisible lines over the linen, "I missed you." Your voice cut through the uncomfortable silence. He watched your fingers gracefully cut through a boiled carrot, before lifting the fork to your lips. "Yeah?" He hums, lifting his cigar from the ashtray she had arranged for him and inhaling the thick smoke. "Yeah...I did." He notices the small quiver in your voice, before hearing the small tink of cutlery set against porcalaine.

jazz artist! taehyung releases a slow sigh, before running a hand through his parted brown hair. "Yeah, I missed you too baby," His voice smooth and unconsolidated. "D-Did you really?" His eyes screwed shut, he hated the small tremor between your words, the tangible doubt. He didn't want to see the way your bottom lip trembled or the way your eyes pleadingly sought his own.

"I did, I've just been busy..." He rests his forehead against his palms, and you notice the stressed curve of his shoulders.

He didn't even touch his plate, the pasta you spent hours perfecting just for him.

jazz artist! taehyung lifts his head, before burning out the cigar. He notices the way your eyes flicker between the untouched plate and his frame, before taking a few bites just to subdue that miserable look in your eyes. "This is really good," He murmurs, before downing the food with a heavy swing of wine. He prays to whatever watchful god that you smile, that eyes brighten just a little more, that the dullness he cast upon you drifts.

jazz artist! taehyung watches the way you silently nod your head, before lifting your half-eaten plate and empty wine glass and disappearing to the kitchen. He releases a heavy sigh, before scuffing down the rest of the meal and carrying the remaining cutlery to the kitchen.

jazz artist! taehyung spots your hunched frame resting over your arms. His heart aches at the muffled sobs that escape your lips. He hates himself even more for every pained quiver of your shoulders. Your soft cries reminded him of everything he couldn't fix, of every single-handed attempt you made at fixing the shattered porcelain fragments of your relationship. "Baby..." His hand cautiously drifted over your shoulder, before slowly making contact. He couldn't bear every slight tremor that raked over your frame. He exhaled a shaky breath, his fingers sliding down to the curve of your neck, offering the only kind of touch he knew how to give—soft, uncertain, like an incomplete song.

jazz artist! taehyung feels your red-rimmed scleras scalding through him, he can feel the shift of your weight as you reach for a tissue to blow your nose. "I'm sorry...I-I did everything I could..I really did Tae." Your voice is hardly a whisper, as you shift your weight against your feet.

jazz artist! taehyung bends down to your level, he's on his knees before you, his hands firm against your arms, watching your downward gaze seep with unushered tears. It wasn’t the kind of action he usually took, wasn’t the comfort he had been taught to offer. "[_____], look at me sweetheart." His fingers gently swept your hair away from your face, his thumbs tenderly brushing away every slow tear. His stomach sunk under the prospect of the many nights you cried alone in the vast empty cavern of your home with no comfort. The thought sickened him.

jazz artist! taehyung feels something small and vulnerable stir beneath the layers of indifference he had worn for so long. His touch soothes every hurt that spills from your beautiful eyes. "Shhh, I'm here baby, I'm right here," His voice thick with a tenderness he wasn’t sure how to handle. "I know you've been trying so hard, so hard," He begins, unbeknownst to what his sentence would trail on. "You've been so good to me Jagiya," There it is, that word he had reserved only for you. "I'm a terrible person for leaving you alone for so long, for always doing the bare minimum and letting you do all the hard work in our relationship," He instinctively pulled you close, his arms wrapping around your frame.

jazz artist! taehyung felt your face buried into his shoulder, your sobs muffled against his shirt, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to feel the weight of your sorrow. His palm gently patted your back, rubbing soothing circles to ease the tension that built a home in your bones.

NSFW

jazz artist! taehyung will gently cups your face between his palms, before slotting his lips against your own, the electricity between you both surges, and before either of you can think about it too long, the distance is gone. He can feel the way your fingers tug at the fabric of his overcoat, nimble fingers unbuttoning the material between breathless open-mouthed kisses. "Tae..." Your voice is a haze, between the frantic shuffle of cloth. He's drunken on the hitch of your voice when his heart-shaped lips press deliberate kisses down your throat. His roughened fingers slide down the straps of your dress as if he’s reclaiming something lost. You know the weight of his silence—months of distance have made it heavier, shattered with the jagged breath of desire he can’t seem to tame.

jazz artist! taehyung moves with impatience, pulling at the fabric of your dress as though it’s been a barrier too long. He doesn’t speak; he doesn't need to. There’s nothing gentle about the way he touches you—no softness or hesitation—only the kind of urgency that comes from months of absence, of waiting for something to break between you. His lips press against your skin, each kiss a mark of both frustration and longing, almost as if the tenderness of what’s been lost would be swallowed up by the ferocity of this moment.

jazz artist! taehyung lifts your body, your back bracing against the tiled wall. You feel the contrast in his touch: the hardness of his hands, the feverish press of his chest bare against your own, and yet, buried beneath it all, a faint tremor. A soft break in his detached exterior, "Taehyung..." You begin, fisting your fingers into his soft tresses. The heat of his mouth against your sternum produces a desperate whimper from you. Taehyung's eyes are half-lowered, lips curving in the ghost of a smirk at the sound he pulled from you. "Hm?"

His body moves with the kind of desperation that has built up over months of emotional distance. “Tell me, baby what is it?” He muses, the low timber of his words ghost over the soft flesh of your breast before his lips press against the supple skin. “Tell me what you need angel,” His hand delicately cups the curve of the other mound, soulful whiskey eyes locking you in place. The other had secured firmly beneath the curve of your ass keeping you in place. “Oh–” Your eyes widen at the audacious skim of his thumb over your nipple, drawing feather-light traces over the erect skin.

His sultry gaze takes in the slow rise and fall of your chest, feeling your heart thrash beneath his lips.”You’re my girl,” His voice is low, his eyes holding a weight that pressed down against your ribcage, threatening to snap the brittle bones. “Understand?” You swallow thickly, nodding at the command. “Only I can touch you like this,” 

His lips trace a blazing trail down the slope of your breast, the straight line of his nose pressed against the plush flesh with an agonizing kiss. “I’m so sorry baby,” The low velvet of his voice tremors ever so slightly, “For everything.” His lips skim up your chest, pressing against your neck,“I swear, I’m gonna spend every day,” The soft curve of his lips graze the skin behind your ear, the warmth of his palm gently squeezing your breast, “Loving you so good.” 

And who are you to reject the tender promises he repeated time and time again like a broken record? To reject the deliberate bliss he finally granted you after months of abandonment.

jazz artist! taehyung sinks your frame into the soft material of your mattress; leaving both your clothes a puddle of cloth at the foot of the bed. His hands smooth down the curves of your silhouette. Once again, you’re at his mercy, at the mercy of his empty promises and the touches you craved from the man who tore parts of you and left you hollow. 

I hate you. You think, watching the deep hue of his irises swim beneath the yellow lamp at your bedside table. Admiring the god-like symmetry of his features, and the delicate furrow of his brows when his nose gently bumps against your own. His soft breath caresses your skin, “I love you,” He exhales, his hands gently raised to your cheek, and you’re lost once again in the small smile that lifts his face, and the rosy hue of his bled cheeks. 

You don’t. You fight back the words, replacing them with a small smile. I hate you Kim Taehyung. You want to sputter the blatant lies in his face, watch his tender boxy smile turn forlorn, watch the warmth of his irises grow distant and detached as they had always been when you felt your cheeks warm at his presence when butterflies spun restlessly in your gut. Instead, you smile, your nose brushing against his own, as your thumb greets the mole beneath his left eye. “I love you too,” You whisper.

jazz artist! taehyung feels the hesitation of your words, senses the unforetold words caught in your throat, and watches you swallow them down and replace the syllables with a smile. He can taste the bitter lack of trust when he kisses your lips and can feel the fear of abandonment on your tongue. He swallows it down, tasting the sweetness of your mouth, intoxicating himself with your untold secrets. He wanted you to talk to him, to bend and break him with the weight of grief you’ve been keeping to yourself for all these months because of him. The thought of your sweet smile and all the small things you remembered about him being ripped away was terrifying.

 You were the only person who truly loved him

jazz artist! taehyung touches the soft dips of your hip, taking in every inch of you. Every scar you complained about, every childhood scab. He memorized them all and kissed every one of them like constellations in the night. He leaned forward, his mouth brushing against your own. You felt the warmth of his throat spilling into your own, your lips feverishly trailed down his neck, the broad span of his chest, tasting the sweet pulse of his beating heart, and the alkaline sheen that coated his honeyed skin. “I need you TeTe,” The familiar nickname rests on your tongue, your fingers teasing the dips and curves of his abdomen. He released a ragged breath, one held for too long. Your fingers continued their path, tracing every chiseled line, down to the the fine line of hair. You felt the tremor in his gut, every heave of his breath. Your hands dared to skim over the swelling curve of his length, expelling a breathy groan from his lips. His quick hands wrap around the plush of your thighs, drawing them apart.

jazz artist! taehyung your own breath tremored when his hand slid down your navel; between your legs. “Taehyung–” Your voice faltered in a sigh, feeling beads of arousal spill from your weeping cunt. A slight chuckle escapes him, before a pair dipped low gathered the wetness, and massaged the warmth over your throbbing nub, the gesture lessure and sensual. You knew the feeling outmatched your own fingers on the desperate nights you failed to reach anything near pleasure, the fruitless attempts of your fingers curled deep inside of you whispering his name like an unkempt prayer, only to fall on your back hopless and humiliated. 

jazz artist! taehyung

wraps the digits around his lips, humming at the taste, his tongue lathers over them, before slowly releasing. He watches your face, carefully memorizing the soft crease of your brows as you bite down on your lip, the quiver of your gut, and the breathy sigh when his fingers slip in with ease. The drunken haze of your eyes, as your lips part in shallow pants. He’s amused by the way your walls flutter around his fingers, every clench eliciting a soft moan.

 “I know it’s been so long, I’m sorry,” He whispers, his words failing to coat the slight amusement of watching your needy hole suck in his digits. Too blissed out to acknowledge the croon of his voice, and too relived at the stretch of his tanned slender fingers. He slowly works you open, skillful fingers curling and bending as though adjusting the keys of his instrument, drawing breathless melodies from your lips. You squirm and gasp, as he holds you in place, his hand flattening over your midsection as his fingers scissor your hole.

“M-m’ g-gonna—” Your voice is urgent, hands fitting the pillow beneath your head. “I know.” His eyes pin you in place, his fingers carefully pumping in and out of you before picking up his pace. “T-Tae-hyung!” His name hurls past your lips, as you burrow your face into the soft cotton. Your knees trembling with the force of your impending release. It’s almost shameful how every thrust of his fingers draws out a wet squelch; the sounds melding with his heavy breathing and your own. 

jazz artist! taehyung  presses a kiss to your knee when you finally release coating his fingers in your pleasure. “Better?” A small smile tugs at his lips, before brushing his strands away from his sight. “Hm..” You nod, your joints sore from being spread open for so long. His thumbs gently kneed at the sore muscles of your inner thighs and lower pelvis. He presses another kiss to your knee, before carefully resting them over his shoulders; adjusting his body over your own. Your eyes flicker down between your bodies, watching the way his hand smoothed over himself, gathering a hoarse moan from the base of his throat. His eyelids fell shut, and the soft flesh of his lip caught between his teeth. You moaned from the mere sight alone, before sighing at the spurt of warmth that dripped over your sensitive flesh. A hand holds your leg in place, the other slowly guiding the flushed head of his cock into your entrance. 

jazz artist! taehyung  feels the tension in your joints melt away once he’s fully pressed. His lips find your own in a daze, crushing his mouth against your own, before setting a pace. He swallows every desperate cry, groaning at the way your fingers dig into his biceps, this only spurs him on. His hips curve into your own, ignorant to the sobs that begin to rip from your throat, drinking in every plea to slow down his pace. His grip on your leg grows firmer, fucking himself into you at a restless pace. He’s lost far beneath the fabric of tender affection and vows. Every snap of his hips punctuates the deep-rooted frustration, balled up deep inside of him. His hand rests over the headboard; before lowering your other leg against the curve of his lip. You’re sobbing, broken cries heaving through your chest, “T-Tae–” Your voice breaks off in a wail.

His breathing is ragged against your neck, bruising your cervix with every push, “You can take it,” He grits, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh. You shake your head with half a consciousness, choking on your drool, “C-Cant–” Your hand weakly pushes at his chest, whining in frustration, “T-Tae it hurts,” You know deep you don’t want it to stop, the saccharine burn of pain and pleasure numbing your senses. “Fuck, I know baby just hold on a little more,” He mumbles, burrowing the shared aches of your fraying relationship deep inside of you, “Fuck, fuck—” He groans against the damp skin of your neck, pumping deep inside of you. Your cry out, as he wrings out a second orgasm from your fucked out cunt. 

jazz artist! taehyung realizes the weight of his actions after the haze clears his mind. He acknowledges the possibility of impregnating you hangs looms over your heads. He lays breathless by your side, before gathering you in his arms. “Hey,” His lips press against your temple, rubbing your back in tender circles. Your eyes flicker up to his own before your entire frame grows tense realizing what the two of you had done. The panic in your eyes is palatable, he can sense the endless possibilities trampling through your mind.

“[____], I can hear you thinking,” He cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to your own. “Stop, okay.” You shake your head, pushing away from him. “What the fuck did we just do?” You sit up, your head falling against your palms. Taehyung sits up, confusion drawn on his face, “What do you mean? We made love.” He chuckles dryly, and his smile drops when he realizes how upset you are. “No Taehyung, you fucked me, and now you’re going to gather your things and walk out the door like you always do,” You pointed an accusing finger at him, gathering the sheets over your frame protectively. You watch as his brows furrow in hurt, “No…no–I’m not [_____],” His voice falls to a whisper, “God no,” He runs a stressed hand through his hair, exhaling. “I wouldn’t okay?”

jazz artist! taehyung feels his heart crack at every accusation you throw at him. “I love you,”  He swallows thickly, assuring you, “I love you, okay?” His hand reaches out to touch you, to gently usher you back into his embrace. You roughly slap his hand away, rejecting every offer of comfort. “And if I find out I’m pregnant? What the hell are you gonna do? You’re going to leave and never show your face again,” You seeth, your eyes sharp. He’s taken aback when you finally confront him when you spill every bit of resentment tucked in the depth of your soul. You have every right to think he would, to assume he would walk out the door and never show his face. “I’m not,” He doesn’t hesitate to deny your claims, to shut down every possibility you throw at his face.

His voice is calm, his eyes brimming with ingenuity. “I won’t, not ever. I swear on my life.” He moves closer, gently lowering his hands to your shoulders, turning you to face him, “I promise Jagiya,” His eyes flicker over your face, wide with anxiety. He watches your shoulders slump in defeat, as you finally give in, “I’m serious Taehyung,” Your breath, wavering with the threat of unushered tears. “So am I,” He exhales, pulling you close against his chest, before whispering sweet nothings against your hair, “I deserve every little thing you said, I know I do, and I’m glad you let it out of your chest,” His hand rubs over your arm, slanting your face to his own before kissing away your tears. “I’m so sorry baby,” His lips press against your nose, to your forehead, and down to your mouth. “I love you too,” You respond to his prior confession, wrapping your arms around his neck, “And I forgive you Tae,” You murmer the words burrowing your face into the warmth of his chest. “Thank you,” He sighs, pressing a chaste kiss to your hairline before unraveling his limbs from you.

jazz artist! taehyung returns with a washcloth and a small bucket of warm water. He takes his time cleaning up the space between your legs, his fingers brushing over the bruises on your thighs, before cleaning himself up and returning to the warmth of your embrace. “I was too rough, are you okay?” He whispers. “I’m okay,” You whisper, pressing a kiss against his chest. He’s contempt just being with you like this; months of unsolved tensions subdued. For the first time in weeks, he was able to ease his mind. Not even the possibility of a child could draw him away, because deep down, Taehyung knew he would do anything and everything to keep you close.

The prospect of you with anyone else, or suffering alone made him nauseous, “Are you asleep?” He whispers, drawing soft shapes over your back, “Kind of,” You whisper, “Why?” He presses his chin against your head, securing his arms tighter around your waist, “I don’t know, I just…” He sighs, shaking his head, “A baby is kind of cute, don’t you think?” A smile creeps over his lip at your scoff, “I’m praying hard that I don’t get pregnant, I don’t think I’m ready,” Taehyung hums, “You’ll be a great mom though,” His hand gently caresses the curve of your ass, his thumb brushing over your hip. “I guess.” You sleepily murmer, snuggling yourself further into the warmth of his skin. “Do you wanna mess around with the new radio tomorrow?” Your fingers gently comb through his brown strands, your eyes darting up to his own, “I think I’d much rather mess around with you,” A small smile curls at his lips, before breaking into a pained laugh at the smack you delivered to his chest. “Fuck, sorry.”

[hyukalyptus]

a coincidence — rockstar!yeonjun x fem!reader

cw. rockstar!yeonjun x audiencemember!reader, chubby!reader implied, fem!reader, mentions of alcohol, oral (m. receiving), sex (condoms mentioned <3), roleplaying(?), orgasm denial, lmk if there's more. notes. this is part of @napofamoon's growing pain rock band!au collaboration :D thank you @nightlyawnzz for being a beta reader :3 and thank you angie for that one line of dialogue (didn't know if you wanted to like not be tagged lol), not super well edited, smut under cut <3 wc. 2.8K

Who is that? Yeonjun’s seen hundreds—thousands—of pretty girls at his concerts. But no one’s ever truly made an impression. Every once in a while, there’d be one that barely stuck out from the crowd, but nothing ever stuck. After a while, the crowds started getting blurry. Has performing become a bit boring for him? Maybe. There wasn’t a spark anymore. No reason to perform. 

But you…you immediately caught his eye. A bright star in a sea of dull strangers—smiling, drinking, dancing to the music, having a blast. You looked fun, exciting, flirty. And he wanted—needed—to get to know you. But first, he needed to get your attention. 

He’s cool, casual with his bass; he’s a natural. The way he moves with the music, pouty lips singing under his breath along with the frontman, the stage lights sparkling in his eyes—it didn’t take much focus for him to nail every song. 

So he decided to have a bit of fun tonight. Moving a bit more, putting on a bit more of a show than usual, getting closer to the edge of the stage without being too obvious. All to get your attention. So why won’t you look at him? Just a bit closer and maybe…

Bingo. 

You’ve locked eyes and there’s that something he’s been looking for. Something he’s been looking for for a while. That spark. That reason to put on a bit of a show. 

And you could tell. You were just as into it as he was. 

Watching his every move—flirting without crossing a line, giving him seductive looks, dancing in his direction. It was fun. It was thrilling. That unspoken desire between two strangers—and one of them admires the other before they’ve even met? How scandalous, hm? The tension grew and grew until—

“Thank you everyone; good night!”

But…what do you do now? How could he find you later? Oh, why didn’t he slip the security guard his number to give to you? Where are you? No, no, no, don’t leave. 

There was nothing he could do; the lights were dim, the curtain was drawn, the crowd was spilling out the front door. You never left his mind, though. Not when he put his bass in its case, not when he zipped his hoodie up to leave, not when he plopped down on his hotel bed, never. 

Desperately trying to get you off his mind, he heads down to the hotel bar. Oh, how pathetic is this? A world-famous rock star sitting alone at a hotel’s bar sipping a whiskey feeling sorry for himself? Over what? Some girl? 

Please don’t sit there…he begs silently watching a strange figure take the seat in the bar stool next to him. Despite the need for alone time, he couldn’t help but glance over at the sound of your—

“Just a vodka soda, please.” 

Oh, shit. It’s you. What does he do? Why are his hands so sweaty? When did he turn into such a loser? Getting this worked up over a girl. He needs to get your attention again, but he doesn't want to come off too pushy. You’re here alone too and maybe you wanna keep it that way. 

Fuck it. 

He clears his throat, cooly-maybe-not-so-cooly saying, “I saw you in the audience.” Just as you planned. Well, sort of. You didn’t mean to run into him. Glancing across the room at the hotel you were staying in to see that hot bassist sitting alone at the bar was pure luck. 

But you need to keep it cool. Don’t be too…weird. Just a simple glance and gentle nod is enough. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” He asks, knowing your answer. He could see your desire just as much as you could see his, but you weren’t gonna give in just yet. You nod again, adding a quiet hum. “Are you from around here or…?” Should he move a bit closer? Sure. Should he brush your knee with his fingertips? Why not? Oh, they give you goosebumps. You don’t pull away or even flinch. You’re welcoming this. 

“No, I’m here on business. That’s why I’m, you know, at a hotel right now.”

“Right.” He pauses, like he has to think of the next thing to say, “I’m Yeonjun, by the way. But you already knew that.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“No reason,” he snarks. “Just that you bought a ticket to my show.”

“As if,” you roll your eyes. “I was bored and the show was right down the street.” Lie. All of this was lies. Of course you were a fan. Both of you knew that. 

“So you got front-row seats from a scalper then?”

Now it’s time for some fun. Turning toward him, you introduce yourself, face inching closer and closer, his hand sneaking up higher on your thigh, your heartbeat getting faster with each millimeter. You maintain your confidence best you know how, but you must admit, he’s intimidating. Is it that way he unapologetically stares at your body? The way he’s flirting with a fan after a show? The way his lips look like they’d perfectly wrap around your—

“Do you always find fans to flirt with after the show?” 

“No. Never,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “But you’re so…” he tucks some fallen hair behind your ear, eyes roaming your face, “gorgeous. I haven’t stopped thinking about you in the audience. Then boom, here you are at my hotel’s bar. Must be fate.”

“Or a coincidence.” 

Both resorting to a shrug, there’s tension in the air like you’ve never felt. It’s excruciating. He’s leaning closer to you, oh, what was he about to say?

“I saw you watching me,” he whispers right against your ear—close enough to feel his breath. Fuck, he’s good. This is gonna be fun. And you’re gonna be a brat. At least for a little. 

“I was watching all five of you,” you say, adding an annoying eye roll for good measure. 

“Nope,” he says, sitting back and smiling like he knows a secret of yours. Which he may. “Only me.” 

“So what if I was?” You narrow your eyes at him. You weren’t gonna break eye contact now. You can’t. But he doesn’t expect you to keep it. He expects you to cower and blush like everyone always does. But you don’t. And he likes that. “I’m waiting.”

“Makes me wonder what else you wanna watch me do is all.”

“Like what?” 

“I dunno,” he chuckles. “You tell me. You were the one that couldn’t stop staring at me.”

That jerk. That stupid fucking jerk. Looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes, you glance down at his lips—side note: jesus fucking christ they look delicious but that’s beside the point right now—and lean in as close as you can without touching him. Parting his own lips, he tilts his head just barely and closes his eyes. 

“Aw, you’re so cute.” You giggle. “You thought I was gonna kiss you?”

While you’re watching him retreat, defeated at his own game, he runs his fingers through his messy black hair. 

“So you think I’m cute?” 

Let’s give in now. “No.” You stand, taking a deep breath and walk behind him, sliding your hands down his chest, bending to meet his ear to whisper, “I think you’re fucking sexy.” 

Goosebumps—but this time, they’re on him. Has anyone ever done this to him before? Let’s take it one step further. You bite his ear lobe gently and he sighs, your name falling out of his lips breathlessly. 

“Hm?”

“Come upstairs with me,” he whispers. 

Another step further. Sliding your hand up the back of his neck, you grip some of his hair, tugging it harshly, his eyes widening as he hisses. 

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Will you come upstairs with me? Please.”

Turning him around in his barstool, you stand between his legs, his eyes roaming up and down your body. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

It was all a blur as he took you upstairs—heading straight for the elevator, pushing you against the wall to finally crash his lips into yours, hands roaming your body trying to decide what part of it to grab onto. The ding of the elevator snaps you out of it before stumbling down the hallway to his room. 

When he finally gets the door open and the door slams behind you, he’s gentler, like he wants to take his time with you. But you don’t. You drag him toward the bed and push him to the mattress to straddle his hips. Wrapping his hands around your waist, his hands slip under the skirt of your dress to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze. 

Lifting off him, you lift your dress over your head as he eyes your pretty white lace lingerie while he smirks to himself. Fuck, he looks hot when he bites his lip like that. And, god, you need his shirt off. Tugging at it, you rock your hips back and forth to shimmy it off while he stays laying down. Hands on bodies, breath heavy, lips on each other’s…god, this was fun. 

He flips you to your back, pressing his lips to your chest, trailing kisses over your collarbone. Pushing your face to the side to access your neck, he covers it in sloppy, wet kisses. 

Since when was your bra so uncomfortable? And since when was it such a cock blocker? With that out of the way, his lips find your nipples, sucking harshly, but licking them to soothe the stings. Tugging at the waistband of his joggers, you can’t stop begging him to fuck you. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he says, mimicking your tone from earlier.

“Please, Yeonjun—” you gasp at the feeling of his finger gliding over your clit slowly—slower than anyone’s ever touched you before. But it’s amazing. “Will you please fuck me?” 

“Not yet,” he whispers. Standing to pull his pants and boxers down in one motion, he looks over your body. Oh, what was he gonna do with you and everything your body has to offer? Put you on your knees so he can cum all over your full tits? Fuck you from behind so he can see your ass jiggle? Fuck you in missionary so he can see your tits and tummy jiggle while he squeezes your thighs? There’s too many options to pick from.

But before he can make the decision, you crawl over to the foot of the bed, making a big show of it before reaching for his hips. Wrapping your hands around his hips to squeeze his ass, you pull him closer, kissing the tip of his cock. You were going to be the death of him. But you haven’t even tasted him yet. Glancing up at him through your eyelashes, you finally sink down on him completely. 

And fuck do you feel good. 

Fingers fumbling through your hair as he tries to steady himself, his head falls back to let out the most beautiful moan you’ve ever heard from a man. He whispers your name. 

“What?” You look at him, your lips forming a pout while you wait for an answer. He responds with a simple eyebrow raise. “You said my name,” you say matter-of-factly. “What is it?”

“Don’t tease me.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” 

Hooking his hands behind your knees, he pulls to flip you on your back while you let out a yelp. He boxes you in with his elbows, dragging his teeth over one of your nipples while you grip his hair, back arching to meet his mouth. He covers you in kisses. You don’t think anyone’s ever kissed you this much. Nothing will ever be enough after this. 

As he makes his way down, your legs fall over his shoulders, showering your thick thighs with kisses. Using his mouth to put the smallest amount of pressure on your clit over your thong, he makes you whine and involuntarily grind against his chin, trying to relieve any tension. But he’s not giving in either. Backing away, he chuckles at you. That jerk. Why does he have to be such a jerk?

“Don’t do that to me,” you say. Eyes dark, he takes the waistband of your thong between his teeth, pulling them down slowly, letting them drag over your skin. Kneeling between your thighs, he keeps that spine-tingling eye contact as he rubs his tip over your center. That sends a jolt through your body, letting your brain finally catch up with your body. 

“Will you wear a condom?”

Nodding, he quickly rustles through his suitcase messily splayed across the floor. Ripping the condom open with his teeth, he starts to roll it down himself, which is a glorious sight. And he can tell the effect it has on you. You smirk, glancing up at his eyes—eyes that are sparkling back at you. 

“Eyes on my cock, baby.”

Fine by you. Sliding it down so slowly, you’re entranced. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

One hand pressing on your hip, the other lining himself up with your pussy, he pushes himself inside you, your eyes rolling back and he groans in your ear. Short shallow breaths grace your skin as he thrusts fast and hard, just like you wanted. 

Bodies rocking together, he stares at your tits bouncing with his movements. Your nails start dragging down his back, but he quickly pulls out to turn you over, lifting you by your hips to bring you on all fours, your ass on full display. He spanks you, hard enough that your cheek will be pink tomorrow morning. 

Pressing on your lower back to deepen the arch, he thrusts into you again. With your face squished against the mattress, his hands dig into the fat of your hips to hold you in place. The fire in your stomach roars, legs trembling, muscles weak. He yanks you up by your hair—you were hoping he’d do that—to press your back to his chest, letting you feel how heavy he's breathing. 

“Don’t cum yet,” he says.

“Who said I was close?”

That evil laugh makes your eyes roll. “I can feel it.” Well, you can’t really argue with that. He was right. “Don’t.”

“You really like telling me what to do, huh?”

He snakes his hand in front of you to circle your clit, turning your whines to whimpers, desperately fighting the urge to let yourself go. What would happen if you did let yourself cum, though? It might be exciting to find out, hm? But being told what to do and when is just as exciting.

Grabbing his arm, your nails dig into his skin. He releases your hair, pushing you to the mattress roughly, face pressed against the mattress. Fists full of bed sheets, his hands spread across your ass, skin spilling through his fingers. 

It’s getting increasingly difficult to hold it together—the only thing letting you is knowing how good you must be making him feel if he’s making noises like that. 

“Yeonjun,” you gasp, his speed increasing. “Please.” The way he grunts tells you he’s close too, but he doesn’t plan on holding back. Pull my hair again, pull my hair again, pull my hair again, you keep thinking to yourself. And, oh, did you say that out loud? Because he pulls your hair again, finding an even deeper spot inside if you, the feeling spreading to your toes. 

“Please, Yeonjun—” you yelp. “Please let me cum.”

He groans again, your name falling out of his lips before adding, “Cum for me.”

Your loud whimpers are muffled by the pillow you’ve shoved your face into, the fire in your stomach roaring louder and louder until—

Fuck…

God, this is good. Your orgasm explodes inside you, fireworks going off in all directions, filling every nook and cranny of your body. Praising you through your orgasm, he encourages you to cum hard around him, reminding you of how good your pussy feels around his cock. 

Your body relaxes, but his doesn’t. He thrusts deeper inside of you, desperate to reach his own climax.

“Fuck—” he grunts, spanking you again. He loves seeing you jiggle like that. Reaching in front of you, he massages your tits, squeezing to get a firm grip. 

His breath hitches, his thrusts getting sloppy as he twitches inside you, groaning through his climax.

Collapsing on top of you, he catches his breath, chest rushing and falling against your back. Rolling off you to plop onto the mattress, he turns to look at your face while there’s a stillness in the air. 

“...so you’re a fan now?” 

“Haven’t I always been?”

Chuckling, his face turns to the ceiling, running his fingers through his hair, resting his arms above his head. As you make eye contact, both of you burst out laughing—

“I didn’t think you’d like the roleplaying thing as much as you did,” you giggle.

“Well, what can I say? It was hot,” he says. “Great idea, baby.” Tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, he smiles at you, kissing your forehead. “I love bringing you on tour with us.”

“I love it too.”

[enemiestolovershoe]

Hiii glad youre feeling better. I would love an angsty enemies to lovers with Noah Sebastian!

Maybe they finally confess their love accidentally during an argument after one too many drinks while on tour.

Unintentional Rivalry

Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

Enemies to Lovers / Band AU

Summary: Y/N has worked with Bad Omens for three years, never getting along with Noah. But one reckless, alcohol-fueled night changes everything.

Words: 5,6k

Warnings: Use of y/n, not proofread, alcohol, shouting and fighting, crying, making out, the other band members watch everything, lmk if i forgot something.

3 years ago

You hadn’t always been a die-hard Bad Omens fan. In fact, your journey to working for the band was purely by chance, the kind of thing that made you believe in fate—or sheer dumb luck. Three years ago, you were just another person looking for a way into the music industry, taking odd jobs here and there. Your friend had been a tour manager for another band when she called you up in a frenzy one day.

"Hey, you’re good with merch stuff, right? Like, sales and all that?"

You’d laughed because you were good—numbers, organization, talking to fans, you nailed it every time. That day, your friend explained how Bad Omens was looking for someone reliable to run their merch stand for the remainder of their tour, and they were desperate. You said yes because why not? A job’s a job.

You showed up the next day, met the crew, and got right to work. It didn’t take long for you to impress Nick Folio, Nicholas Ruffilo, and Jolly. They liked you right off the bat. Folio, always the outgoing one, made a point of befriending you first.

“Hey, merch girl!” he’d shouted from across the venue that first week, a big grin plastered on his face. “You’re killing it over there—fans are going nuts. You’re like the merch stand whisperer.”

You’d snorted at the nickname but accepted the praise. Folio was easy to talk to, always joking around and offering snacks between sets. Ruffilo, on the other hand, was the chill one, the guy who offered you tips on how to organize displays better, like he genuinely cared. And then there was Jolly—quiet but warm, the kind of guy who didn’t talk much but could communicate a thousand words with just a look.

Before long, you weren’t just a “random hire.” You were part of the family.

Everyone… except Noah Sebastian.

From the first day you met him, there had been tension. He’d given you a once-over when you’d arrived, dark eyes full of skepticism, and muttered something like, “Hope you can keep up.”

You were nothing if not stubborn, so you’d bitten back: “Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

That exchange had set the tone for your relationship. Noah always seemed cold, distant, like you’d somehow offended him by existing. You, in turn, found yourself getting increasingly defensive whenever he was around, snapping at his sarcastic comments or rolling your eyes whenever he brushed past you like you were in his way.

But it didn’t matter. You weren’t there to win Noah over; you were there to do your job. And you were good at it.

Present Day

The night after a packed show in some city you’d already forgotten the name of, Folio approached you as you packed up the merch stand.

“You done?” he asked, leaning against the wall with an easy grin, his arms crossed.

“Almost,” you replied, folding up the last few shirts and tossing them into a bin. “Why? Need something?”

“Yeah, you to stop being a hermit,” Folio joked. “We’re hitting up a bar. You should come.”

You glanced at him skeptically. “A bar? After that show? Don’t you guys want to sleep for a week?”

“Nah, it’s not that serious. Just some drinks, some billiards, maybe a little karaoke if I can convince Ruffilo,” Folio said, nudging you with his elbow. “Come on. You work your ass off—come have fun for once.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but smiled. It was hard to say no to Folio, especially when he pulled the whole “you deserve it” card.

“Fine,” you relented, pointing a finger at him. “But if you get me drunk, you’re carrying me back to the bus.”

Folio laughed. “Deal. I’ll even princess-carry you if you want.”

When you walked into the bar with the guys, the atmosphere was lively but not overwhelming. Music played softly in the background, and groups of people were scattered across booths and tables. Folio immediately headed toward the bar, dragging you with him to order drinks, while Jolly and Nicholas found a pool table in the corner.

You settled on a simple drink and found yourself relaxing as you took it all in. It was nice to unwind after weeks of nonstop travel and work.

“Hey, you’re smiling,” Folio teased, nudging your shoulder. “I knew you’d have fun.”

“Calm down. I’ve been here for five minutes,” you shot back, but you were grinning.

A voice cut through your small exchange like a blade: “I’m shocked she even agreed to come out.”

You didn’t have to turn to know who it was. Noah.

You spun on your heel, drink in hand, and fixed him with a glare. He stood a few feet away, dressed in black like always, his dark hair messy and falling into his face. He had that same unreadable look in his eyes, the one that always seemed to irritate you.

“Why wouldn’t I come out?” you challenged, raising a brow. “It’s not like I’m the one who locks himself in the bus after every show.”

Noah smirked, a slow, lazy curve of his lips that only made you want to throw your drink at him. “Yeah? Didn’t think you could stand to be around me that long.”

You scoffed. “Trust me, you’re not that special.”

Folio groaned, stepping between you both with his hands up like a referee. “Okay, okay, can you two not start?” he sighed. “We’re here to have fun, remember?”

You crossed your arms but stayed quiet, shooting Noah one last glare before turning back to the bar.

Noah, however, didn’t walk away. He ordered a drink for himself and leaned against the bar a few feet away from you, like he was challenging you with his very presence.

You ignored him, choosing instead to focus on Folio’s rambling story about something dumb Nicholas had done earlier that day. You tried to act like Noah wasn’t there, but you could feel him. It was like the air shifted whenever he was close—tense, electric, and utterly irritating.

What the hell was his problem with you anyway?

And why did it bother you so much?

The night wore on, and despite Noah’s presence, you found yourself enjoying the evening. Jolly destroyed Nicholas at pool while Folio attempted (and failed) to get someone to join him for karaoke. You stayed near the bar, chatting with Nicholas when he wandered over, the two of you laughing over a drink.

It wasn’t until you turned to grab your jacket that you noticed Noah watching you from across the room. His gaze was unreadable, intense in a way that made you pause for half a second. But before you could react, he looked away, like nothing had happened.

You shook it off.

Noah Sebastian was the last person you needed to worry about.

Or so you told yourself.

You didn’t mean to overdo it. You weren’t even a heavy drinker most of the time. But something about tonight made you want to let loose, to forget about the stress of work, the tension with Noah, and the constant grind of being on the road. Folio was laughing at your flushed cheeks as you waved down the bartender for a another round.

“Whoa there, champ,” Folio teased, nudging you. “Didn’t you say I’d have to carry you back if you got drunk?”

“Still applies,” you shot back with a grin, your words already a little looser than usual. “Better start working out, Folio.”

Nicholas laughed from across the booth, raising his drink in mock salute. “She’s gonna drink us under the table, man. Watch out.”

“I can handle it,” you declared, taking another sip, the alcohol warming your veins. For once, you felt light, unbothered. The tension you usually carried in your shoulders started to melt away.

Even Noah’s occasional glances from the other end of the VIP booth didn’t bother you—at first.

But as the drinks kept coming, and the conversations around the table grew louder, you found yourself growing more aware of him. Every time he said something, you heard it. Every time he shifted in his seat, you noticed. And every time his low laugh rumbled through the air, you hated the way it tugged at your attention.

Why did he always have to be there?

“Alright,” Folio announced, clapping his hands together. “I’m getting another drink. Who’s in?”

“Pass,” Jolly said, leaning back in the booth with a small smile. “I’m too old for this.”

“Ruffilo?”

“Already got one.” Nicholas raised his glass, grinning.

Folio turned to you expectantly. “What about you, heavyweight?”

“Let’s do it,” you said, standing with a little more enthusiasm than necessary.

You followed Folio to the bar, and while you waited for the bartender, you felt a presence beside you.

Of course.

Noah leaned casually against the bar, his dark eyes flicking to you as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “Didn’t think you were the type to cut loose,” he remarked, his tone dripping with that familiar sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes, already feeling your patience thinning. “Didn’t think you were the type to talk to me unless you had to.”

Noah smirked. “Just making an observation.”

“Don’t,” you shot back, turning your attention to the bartender.

But Noah didn’t leave. He stayed there, sipping his drink and watching you with that infuriating, unreadable expression.

“You sure you can handle all those drinks?” he asked after a moment.

You turned to him, your irritation bubbling to the surface. “What is your problem, Noah? Seriously. Do you get some kind of thrill out of bothering me?”

“My problem?” he repeated, his smirk fading. “You think I’m the problem here?”

“Yes, I do,” you snapped. “From day one, you’ve been cold, rude, and completely insufferable. I don’t know what your issue is with me, but I’m done pretending it doesn’t bother me.”

Noah’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “You think I’m rude? You waltzed in here three years ago like you owned the place, acting like you knew everything, like you deserved to be here.”

“Because I worked my ass off to be here,” you countered, your voice rising. “Unlike you, I wasn’t handed everything on a silver platter.”

Noah’s face twisted, and for a moment, you thought he might actually yell at you. But instead, he leaned in closer, his voice low and cutting. “You don’t know a damn thing about me. And trust me, if anyone didn’t deserve to be here, it’s you.”

Your stomach dropped, the weight of his words hitting harder than you expected. But instead of backing down, you laughed bitterly, the alcohol fueling your courage.

“Wow. You’re such an asshole, Noah,” you said, shaking your head. “I don’t know what I ever did to you, but—”

“Maybe it’s not what you did,” Noah interrupted, his voice sharper now. “Maybe it’s what you are. A fake. A wannabe. Someone who only got this job because their friend pulled strings.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, the noise of the bar seemed to fade.

“What did you just say?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“You heard me,” Noah said, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve been riding everyone else’s coattails since the day you got here. You don’t belong in this world, and you never will.”

“That’s enough,” Folio cut in, stepping between you two with a frown. “What the hell is going on?”

But you barely heard him.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you said, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to hold it together.

“Don’t I?” Noah shot back. “I know enough. I know about your little reputation before you got here. How you burned through jobs like they were nothing. How you—”

“Shut up,” you snapped, your vision blurring as tears threatened to fall. “You don’t know what I went through. You don’t know why—”

“Hey!” Nicholas’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding. “That’s enough, both of you.”

But it was too late. The damage was done.

You couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over as you turned away, shoving past Noah and the others to get out of the booth. You didn’t care where you went—you just needed to get away.

“Shit,” Folio muttered, standing up to follow you. But Nicholas stopped him, shaking his head.

“Let her go,” Nicholas said quietly. Then he turned to Noah, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

Noah didn’t answer. He just stood there, staring after you, his glass forgotten on the table.

The cold air slapped you in the face as you shoved the bar door open, your breath hitching with sobs you couldn’t hold back. Tears streamed down your face, hot against the chill of the night. You stumbled toward the lot, the alcohol finally taking hold and making your vision blur.

But none of that compared to the embarrassment. The anger. The pain.

You knew they’d heard it. You’d seen their faces when you glanced back—Nick’s brow furrowed, Folio looking ready to intervene, Jolly frozen in disbelief. And Noah? He just kept throwing verbal jabs like they weren’t all sitting right there in the booth, listening.

Your chest tightened as you stumbled to the far edge of the lot, far enough away that you couldn’t hear the muffled music leaking out of the bar anymore. You sank onto the cold pavement, wrapping your arms around yourself as the tears came harder, shaking your entire body.

“You don’t belong here. You never will.”

His words echoed in your mind, sharper than any blade. You’d worked so hard to earn your place, and yet, in one drunken argument, Noah had reduced you to nothing. And the rest of the band had heard every. Single. Word.

Your stomach twisted painfully. They probably agreed with him. Maybe they’d always thought you didn’t belong and just never said it out loud.

You pressed your palms to your eyes, trying to stop the onslaught of thoughts, but it was no use. You were too far gone—hurt, humiliated, and drowning in the aftermath of the fight.

The bar door opened again, spilling voices into the quiet night.

“She came this way,” Folio’s voice was loud, clear.

“Do you think she’s okay?” Nicholas‘ tone was softer but laced with concern.

“She’s not okay, Nick,” Jolly said simply. “How could she be after that?”

You bit your lip hard, willing yourself to stay silent as their voices grew closer.

And then, “There she is!”

Folio was the first to reach you, crouching in front of you with a mix of relief and worry on his face. “Hey, Y/N. What are you doing out here? You’re freezing.”

You looked away, trying to wipe at your face. “Go back inside,” you muttered, your voice hoarse. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he said firmly, his brows drawing together. “What the hell happened back there?”

“I think we all know what happened,” Nick cut in as he and Jolly caught up, standing a few feet away. “The real question is, why the hell did Noah go that far?”

At the sound of Noah’s name, your chest tightened all over again, and fresh tears welled up in your eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Y/N,” Folio said softly, “you don’t have to protect him. We heard everything.”

Your breath hitched, and you turned your face away. “Exactly,” you said bitterly, your voice breaking. “You heard it. All of it. So just… save the lecture. I know what you’re going to say.”

Nick frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“That I don’t belong here,” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “That he’s right. That I shouldn’t have been here in the first place—”

“Whoa, whoa, stop,” Folio interrupted, his voice sharp. “You seriously think we feel that way?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” you shot back, your voice cracking. “He clearly does. And maybe he’s right! Maybe I’m just some fraud who got lucky. Maybe—”

“Y/N, stop,” Jolly said, his calm voice cutting through your spiral. “You’re not a fraud. And Noah’s wrong—completely, absolutely wrong.”

You blinked up at him, your vision blurred with tears. “Then why does he hate me so much?”

Folio ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Honestly? I don’t think he hates you. I think he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to handle his feelings.”

“Feelings?” you repeated bitterly, shaking your head. “What feelings? He’s made it perfectly clear that he wants nothing to do with me.”

Nick crouched beside Folio, his expression softening. “Noah’s not as tough as he pretends to be. That doesn’t excuse what he said, but… he’s a mess. Always has been.”

Before you could respond, the bar door opened again, and you froze.

Noah.

He walked out slowly, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his shoulders tense. He glanced toward the group, his dark eyes locking with yours for a moment before flicking away.

“Oh, look,” Folio muttered, his tone sharp. “The man of the hour.”

Noah hesitated, his mouth opening like he wanted to say something, but Nick beat him to it.

“Do you even realize what you just did?” Nick snapped, standing and crossing his arms.

“I—”

“No, let me finish,” Nick interrupted, his voice growing louder. “She’s been nothing but good to us—good to you—and you sit there and tear her apart in front of everyone? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Noah’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

Jolly shook his head. “We all heard it, Noah. Every word. And you’re lucky she hasn’t told you to fuck off for good.”

“I didn’t mean…” Noah started, but the words faltered. He glanced at you again, his gaze softening. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.”

You scoffed, standing up on shaky legs. “Well, congratulations, because you did. And I’m done.”

“Y/N, wait—”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice trembling but steady. “I’m done trying to prove myself to you. If you hate me so much, fine. But don’t pretend you’re sorry now, because I don’t buy it.“ Your legs wouldn’t move, and honestly, you didn’t want them to. Instead, you stood rooted to the spot, staring at the cracked pavement beneath your boots. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you fought to control the tears that kept coming, your breath shuddering in the cold.

The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating. No one spoke, and no one moved, though you could feel their eyes on you—Folio’s concerned, Nick’s fuming, Jolly’s quietly calculating. And then there was Noah.

You didn’t have to look to know he was still standing there, just a few feet away. You could feel his presence, the weight of his gaze pressing against you. But you didn’t dare lift your head, didn’t dare let him see how broken you felt.

For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of music coming from the bar, and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

And then, softly, there was the sound of footsteps.

You tensed as they got closer, the familiar weight of a jacket settling on your shoulders. You looked up, startled, as Noah stood in front of you, his face unreadable in the dim light.

“Here,” he said quietly. “You’re freezing.”

You stared at him, confused. His tone wasn’t harsh or dismissive like it had been earlier. If anything, he sounded… apologetic.

“Why do you care?” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Noah didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed the gap between you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest.

Your breath caught in your throat.

The world seemed to still as he held you, his warmth cutting through the cold that had seeped into your bones. His touch was firm yet careful, as if he was afraid you’d push him away.

The rest of the band froze, their expressions ranging from shock to confusion.

“Uh…” Folio broke the silence, his voice trailing off as he exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Nick.

But no one said anything else. Not yet.

“I’m sorry,” Noah murmured against your hair, his voice so low that only you could hear it. “I didn’t mean what I said. I was drunk and stupid, and I—” He stopped, exhaling shakily. “I fucked up.”

You blinked, your tears still falling but slower now. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process this sudden shift in him.

“You… you can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be fine,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“I know,” he said quickly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His hands rested lightly on your arms, his dark gaze softer than you’d ever seen it. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just—I needed you to know that I didn’t mean it. Any of it.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was regret.

“Why?” you asked finally, your voice trembling. “Why did you say it?”

Noah swallowed hard, his eyes flicking away for a moment before returning to yours. “Because I’m an idiot,” he admitted. “Because I don’t know how to deal with… with you. You make me feel things I don’t know how to handle, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart pounding in your chest. “Noah…”

“I’m not saying it’s an excuse,” he added quickly. “Because it’s not. I was wrong, and I hurt you, and I hate that I hurt you. But I’m trying to fix it. Please… let me try.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken emotions.

Behind you, Nick cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Uh, not to interrupt or anything, but… what the hell is going on right now?”

Folio elbowed him hard, muttering, “Shut up, dude.”

Jolly just raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable as he watched the scene unfold.

You glanced over your shoulder at the band, feeling their eyes on you, and suddenly the weight of the moment hit you all over again. “I… I don’t know if I can do this right now,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at Noah.

For a moment, his face fell, but he nodded, taking a step back. “That’s okay,” he said softly, his voice laced with a quiet resignation. “I get it. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry. Really, really sorry.”

You stood there, frozen, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t know what to say, what to think. But when he stepped back, the warmth of his presence suddenly fading, something inside you snapped.

Before you could stop yourself, you surged forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him. Your head buried into his chest as you held on, your fingers clutching at his jacket like it was the only thing grounding you.

Noah stiffened for half a second before his arms came around you again, even tighter this time. He cradled you against him, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he held you.

“I don’t understand you,” you whispered into his chest, your words muffled but raw. “One second you hate me, the next… this. I don’t know what to do.”

Noah pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at you, his hands still resting on your back. His gaze was soft now, all the sharp edges gone, replaced with something warm and vulnerable. “I’ve never hated you,” he said quietly. “Not for a second.”

You looked up at him, your brows furrowing. “That’s not what it felt like.”

“I know,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret. “And that’s on me. I… I didn’t know how to deal with how I felt about you, so I pushed you away. I thought if I kept my distance, if I made it seem like I didn’t care, it would go away. But it didn’t. It never did.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t just care about you,” Noah said, his voice soft but steady. “I—God, this is so fucking hard to say.” He let out a shaky laugh, his hands tightening slightly on your back. “I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been for a long time.”

The world seemed to stop at his words, your breath catching in your throat.

“When you joined the tour, I told myself it was just a crush. That it’d go away,” he continued, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. “But it didn’t. Every time I saw you laughing with Nick, or working your ass off at the merch stand, or just… being you, it only got worse. And it scared the hell out of me.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “So you… what? Decided to treat me like shit instead?”

Noah winced, his face crumpling. “I know. I’m an idiot. A coward. I thought it’d be easier to push you away than to risk feeling something I couldn’t control. But I was wrong. So fucking wrong.”

The vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion in his eyes—it broke down the walls you’d built to protect yourself.

“Noah,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Why didn’t you just… tell me?”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Because I thought you hated me. I mean, I gave you every reason to. Hell, I deserved it. But I couldn’t stop myself. I kept thinking if I just pushed hard enough, I’d convince myself that I didn’t care. That it didn’t matter.”

“But it did,” you whispered, the weight of his confession settling over you.

“It always mattered,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “And I know I’ve ruined this, that you probably don’t feel the same way, but I had to tell you. I had to try. Because the thought of losing you for good? It’s worse than anything else I’ve ever felt.”

Your chest tightened as his words sank in, every bit of anger and confusion dissolving under the weight of his sincerity.

“I thought you hated me,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “This whole time, I thought you hated me.”

Noah’s face crumpled further, his eyes glistening. “I could never hate you, Y/N. Not even if I tried. And believe me, I tried.”

A watery laugh escaped you, and you shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks again. “You’re so fucking stupid,” you said, but there was no venom in your voice—only a soft disbelief.

“I know,” he said, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “The stupidest.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the world around you fading away. And then, slowly, you reached up, your hands resting on his chest. “You’re an idiot,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “But… I think I’m in love with you, too.”

Noah’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he searched your face for any hint of doubt. “You… you mean that?”

You nodded, your heart pounding. “I mean it. And I hate how long it took for us to get here, but… yeah. I love you, Noah.”

He let out a shaky laugh, his forehead dropping to yours. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“Well, now you know,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the tears still lingering in your eyes.

Noah smiled, too, his hands cradling your face gently. “I’m going to make it up to you,” he said firmly. “For all of it. For everything I said, everything I did. I’m going to make sure you never feel like you don’t belong again. You belong, Y/N. With the band. With me. Always.”

Your chest swelled at his words, and for the first time that night, the cold didn’t feel so overwhelming.

“Don’t screw it up,” you whispered, your lips twitching into a teasing smile.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice soft but steady. “Not ever again.” The world narrowed to just the two of you. The warmth of Noah’s hands cupping your face, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch—it was like nothing else mattered. But as you stood there, the quiet around you began to sink in.

You weren’t alone.

Slowly, you glanced over Noah’s shoulder, and sure enough, the band was still there. Nick stood with his arms crossed, one eyebrow arched in confusion. Folio had a barely-contained grin stretching across his face, while Jolly’s stoic expression betrayed just the slightest hint of amusement.

“Well, this is… unexpected,” Nick said, breaking the silence with his usual dry humor. “Do you guys need a private moment, or should we start charging admission for this?”

“Shut up, Nick,” Noah shot back, though his tone lacked its usual bite. His hands dropped from your face, but he didn’t move away, his body still angled protectively toward you.

“I mean, don’t stop on our account,” Folio chimed in, a wide grin plastered across his face. “This is better than any soap opera I’ve ever seen.”

Your cheeks burned, and you ducked your head, biting back an embarrassed laugh. But before you could say anything, Noah’s hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours with a firmness that made your heart skip.

“Alright, enough,” Noah said, his voice firm but not harsh. “This is between me and Y/N.”

“Sure it is,” Nick said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment. “But in case you forgot, we’ve been standing here for, oh, I don’t know, the entire time.”

Jolly finally spoke up, his voice calm but tinged with humor. “So… does this mean the rivalry is officially over?”

You laughed despite yourself, the sound breaking some of the tension. “I guess you could say that,” you said, glancing up at Noah.

“Yeah,” Noah agreed, his eyes soft as they met yours. “No more rivalry.”

Nick groaned, throwing his hands up. “Great. Just great. Now what am I supposed to make fun of during the tour?”

“Don’t worry, Nick,” Folio said with a laugh. “I’m sure they’ll give us plenty of new material.”

Before you could respond, Noah leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gesture so tender it made your heart ache.

“I mean it,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “I’m going to make this work. You and me. No more bullshit.”

You nodded, your chest tightening. “Me too,” you whispered.

Noah smiled, the kind of smile that made your knees feel weak, and then, without any warning, he leaned in and kissed you.

At first, it was soft, sweet, and tentative, as if he was still testing the waters. But the moment your hands found their way to his jacket, tugging him closer, it deepened. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him as the kiss grew more intense, more urgent.

The world faded again, the sounds of the bar and the cold night air melting into the background. All you could feel was him—his warmth, his strength, the way his lips moved against yours like he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

“Okay, seriously, what the hell is happening right now?” Nick’s voice cut through the haze, dragging you both back to reality.

You pulled away, breathless, your face flushing as you turned to see the band staring at you like they’d just witnessed something out of a rom-com.

“This is happening,” Noah said firmly, his arm still around you as he shot Nick a look. “So get used to it.”

Folio laughed, clapping his hands together. “I can’t believe this. I mean, I can, but still. This is wild.”

Jolly just nodded, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “About time,” he said simply.

Nick groaned again, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. I’m going to need a minute to process this.”

“You’ll live,” Noah said, rolling his eyes before looking back down at you. His expression softened instantly, the intensity from before replaced with a quiet, almost shy tenderness. “You okay?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Good,” he said, his voice low. “Because I’m not letting this go. Not now, not ever.”

Folio pretended to gag, earning a glare from Noah and a laugh from you.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Nick said, already heading toward the bus. “Let’s get out of here before someone calls the cops on us for public indecency.”

As the band started to walk off, Noah turned back to you, his hand still intertwined with yours. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice soft but serious.

You squeezed his hand, meeting his gaze with a newfound confidence. “I’m sure,” you said. “No more running. No more pretending.”

Noah’s smile was radiant, and for the first time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Together.

[wing-ed-thing]

Life of the Party (Niji Vinsmoke x Reader)

Synopsis: An infamous flirt who throws the best parties in town, your charm utterly captivated your favorite guest, Niji Vinsmoke. But at your latest rager, Niji finds that your attention and favoritism aren't exclusive to him.

Word Count: 5k

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Modern AU, Petnames (baby, sweetheart, hotstuff, babe), Reader Flirts with Everyone, Slight!Zoro x Reader, Pretentious Rich (Adult) Kids, Everyone is Shallow and Selfish and Kinda Sucks, Name Calling, Language, Verbal Fights, Alcohol, Suggestive Language

Notes: Maybe I went a little beyond the prompt, but Niji and this MC were such a blast to write I love this setting

The Vinsmoke boys were hardly strangers to a good rager, and when it came to ones that Ichiji would readily, intentionally drag himself out to, your parties were almost always guaranteed his presence. He’d even go as far as to put it in his calendar, for fuck’s sake, and it wasn’t just for the free booze. 

As you perked up from the other side of the pool, Ichiji was reminded why he had gone through the trouble of dragging his brothers out in the first place. You made a show of standing up on a sturdy, expensive-looking pool chair as you waved, and to a lack of surprise, you were wearing something that left little to the imagination. 

The booze was bottomless, the guest list was always impressive, and all the decor was as high-end as money could buy. Extra, as Yonji had once described it, or perhaps he was describing you. It all accented the modern pool in the center of your yard that easily cost tens of thousands of dollars in and of itself, yet all of it paled compared to the actual reason Ichiji always showed up.

By the time you dismounted and began to run toward them— with little regard for how the colorful drink in your hand was spilling over the edges— Niji had stopped mid-sentence to take his sunglasses off to reveal shining, blue, captivated eyes. 

You were the one person who could make Niji shut the fuck up.

“Ichiji, baby.” He leaned to accept the two kisses you placed on his cheeks. He wouldn’t do the same for anyone else, and both of you knew it. You spared a glance just behind the eldest Vinsmoke son before returning your self-satisfied gaze to Ichiji. “Need a babysitter that bad?”

Ichiji let out a reluctant sigh. You could always clock him faster than he expected. He should have known as much; it happened every single time. 

“Please just take him.” 

“There’s already a drink for you at the bar.” With a wink, you swatted him away with the back of your hand, and it didn’t take much more convincing for Ichiji to wander off. 

Niji had been particularly insufferable for the past week, which was saying something considering that regularly insufferable seemed to be Niji’s default state. 

When you turned your attention to Yonji, you noticed that he had already taken his shirt off, grabbing it from the back collar to heave over his head and throw somewhere onto the lawn. He donned lime green swim trunks, and his brown sandals were also lost somewhere in the grass. You’d surely find them tomorrow morning and add them to the growing stock of clothes Yonji had already left at your place. He certainly passed out in the guest room enough times.

Yonji barely greeted you with a simple “Hey hot stuff,” leaning down to just brush his lips across your cheek as he bounded toward the pool. You caught something about an inflatable crocodile before you heard a loud splash behind you. 

Niji was left grinning from ear to ear as you sauntered toward him, grabbing him by the loose tie he wore and pulling it tight around his throat. You tugged him toward you to plant a kiss on the corner of his lips.

”Hi, Niji.” 

Niji was your favorite, and that was something he reveled in every blessed day he had on earth. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” 

You pulled back, still keeping a grip on Niji’s tie. Your bottom thumb swiped along the opposite corner of his mouth to clear away a bit of drool. You had him wrapped all the way around your finger, and if his reactions were any more cartoonishly apparent, you might have seen tiny little hearts in his pretty blue eyes. 

His finger hooked around the band of your swimsuit.

“I like this.” 

“I thought you might. It’s new; I got it this weekend—”

Niji’s touch recoiled as you led him to the other side of the pool where you had been before, pulling him by his tie. The thin, patterned tie that complimented his casual, sleeveless, black button-down draped nicely over the back of your shoulder, and you continued to play with it as you sat and leaned your side against his chest.

You sat on the cushion of the deep poolside lounge between Niji’s spread thighs with one arm draped over his shoulder. Your legs curled over his left leg. The hand over his shoulder played with his undercut, causing a shiver to go down his back. 

“There was this new cafe that opened in Cocoyashi that I was dying to go to, and so, of course, I had to call up Nami because she’s from there, you know. Did you know that Nami grew up in Cocoyashi?” you babbled. Niji nodded along, a scotch neat somehow having found itself in his hand.

“That’s crazy,” Niji hummed, taking a sip. 

“And so she’s showing me all these boutiques. Oh! The cafe had this blueberry danish that made me think of you. You have to go and try it…” 

You usually rambled on like this, draping yourself over Niji’s arm or placing yourself in his lap to tell him all about the frivolous little treats you had bought yourself since the last time you’d seen each other. You dropped names in every other sentence, many of which Niji didn’t know nor care. 

If he was being frank, when it came to your babbling, Niji couldn’t’ve given less of a shit, and if you were anyone else, he would’ve already pushed you off his lap. But you kept a few fingers running through his hair and a drink in his hand, and so, the more Niji drank, the less he cared how chatty you were.

“Niji, have you been working out?” You splayed a hand over his chest, tossing his tie over his shoulder. You knew when you were losing him as well as you knew how to rein him back.

Niji grinned widely, slouching a bit more into the couch with one arm slung over the back cushions and the other around your waist. 

“Yeah,” he bragged, a light red tinge on his cheeks. “I’ve been on a cut.”

Niji had the textbook definition of a swimmer’s body. Tall, with a lean, muscular build and broad shoulders, his figure was toned and objectively attractive. A cut, he said with his second glass in his hand. You must’ve been exceptional.

“Wow, really?” you asked, letting your eyes wander as Niji began some tangent about red meat or protein something. 

Suddenly, you shot up, nearly causing Niji to jump with you as you let out a boisterous scream before shooting off toward the other end of the lawn. New guests typically parked out front in your massive, circular driveway and let themselves in the main entrance and out the back door to the pool area. You bounded toward the door, just about throwing yourself at the man who had just arrived before he could even step fully onto the lawn.

Yonji resurfaced from under the water, raising his arms to hold the ledge near where Niji had been left. Niji sat at the edge of the couch cushion, elbows over his knees as his leg bounced.

“The hell is that all about?” Yonji asked, not about to see from the pool. 

Niji grumbled, pursing his lips inward as he glanced toward you and then back to Yonji with a rude, pointing gesture of his thumb.

“Did you know Roronoa was gonna be here?” 

Yonji turned, keeping a hand on the ledge of the pool.

“Oh, shit.” 

Niji huffed again. Yonji’s reaction hadn’t exactly been helpful. Niji looked away for a second, and by the time he looked back, the group at the entrance of the yard had multiplied. Niji stood up, storming over to the other side the moment he laid eyes on a familiar cut of blond hair. 

“A 2015 Château Margaux, an elegant wine for an elegant host.” 

“Aw, Sanji, you shouldn’t have! You’re so sweet.”

Sanji was more than eager to receive the two kisses you offered his cheeks. 

Niji passed the one guy who competed in the professional shooting competitions, who was making his way to the pool before nearly colliding with the bigger guy who always hosted barbecues at the beach that Niji never went to. Jesus, the entire crew was here.

Niji glared holes in the back of Sanji’s head, grabbing him by the back collar of his Hawaiian shirt before yanking him back. He disappeared from the group quietly enough, with everyone’s attention captivated by you while you were captivated by everyone else. The life of a host never had its breaks, Niji supposed.

“The hell you think you’re doing here?” It wasn’t the smartest question, but it was the one that left Niji’s lips.

Sanji ripped himself away from his brother’s grasp to face him defensively. Sanji had gone to live with their mother almost ten years ago, and despite Sora’s attempts to build close bonds amongst her children, Sanji hardly spoke to any of his brothers after he turned sixteen. Niji suspected he kept in contact with Reiju, but she’d never tell him and Niji certainly didn’t care. Now, in adulthood, while the Vinsmoke siblings would see each other on occasion, it was almost never purposeful. 

“We were invited, dumbass.”

You knew everyone; by extension, everyone was invited to your extravagant parties. Sanji had been to them before, as had other friends you and Sanji shared mutually. They, however, were an uncoordinated bunch and rarely showed up together. Zoro was a rare sighting in and of himself. 

“God damn, Zoro, where’d you get these?”

You stood in front of him, weight shifted to your hip. You held the bottle of wine from Sanji cradled in your left elbow while your right hand wrapped around Zoro’s exposed bicep. He wore a sleeveless workout hoodie and dark green basketball shorts. Your hand barely wrapped around half his muscle. 

“I dunno. They’re the same size as last time.”

“No way. They’re definitely bigger. Are you gonna get in the pool?”

“Ha! Not with that bar over there, are you kiddin’ me?”

Niji came up behind you, snaking an arm gingerly around your lower back as he leaned in, trying to catch your attention from your peripheral. He made eye contact with Zoro, who immediately frowned at his presence.

The begrudgingly mutual tolerance Zoro appeared to have with Sanji didn’t appear to extend to any of the other Vinsmoke brothers. Yonji occasionally worked out with him, but they were hardly close enough to hang out outside the gym. Zoro glanced Niji up and down before crossing his arms. 

Niji’s reputation proceeded him. 

“Vinsmoke.”

“Roronoa.”

“Niji, come check out Zoro’s arms. Aren’t they crazy?” You were oblivious to the silent round of ocular fisticuffs that occurred out of your range of sight. Zoro stared Niji straight on, an acutely smug smirk twitching the corner of his mouth. “You must have a killer routine.”

“Kenpō,” Zoro said, popping the “p” sound. 

Niji tore his eyes away from Zoro and tugged at the band of your swimsuit.

“C’mon, baby, weren’t we talkin’ about something?” he tried to laugh, trying to fight off the way he was burning up inside. Niji’s barely restrained temper usually got him kicked out of events like these, but he wasn’t about to break one of the only rules you had.

One, don’t break shit. Two, don’t steal shit. Three, no fights.

“Not really.” You shrugged off his touch, much to Niji��s dismay. 

He immediately scowled. You didn’t notice, or at least pretended not to. Zoro, on the other hand…

“Hey, man, you got a problem or something?”  

Zoro’s arm extended in front of you, making you step back as he pivoted to stand partially between you and Niji. Niji was forced to step back, and for once, he took a second to think carefully as a deep scowl contorted his lips. Well, he thought as carefully as Niji could think. 

The usual slouch of his back disappeared as he rose to his full height, squaring his shoulders back. He had a few inches on Zoro in height, even as Zoro stood with his chest puffed out and his arms crossed over his chest. They squared each other up, moving in close before you injected yourself between them. You planted a firm palm in the middle of Zoro’s chest and then Niji’s, having to put a bit of effort into pushing them apart. 

“Alright, boys, tone it down with the testosterone. If you’re gonna fight, you’re not doing it here.” You frowned, trying to shoo both of them in different directions. “Grab a drink or something.”

They held heated glares even despite your protests. 

“I’m not the one who has the problem here.”

“You white-knighting, Roronoa?”

“God, just kiss already or shut the fuck up!” You snipped at the two of them, turning to scold one away before turning around to dismiss the other. You snapped your fingers before grabbing the bottle of wine you had shoved into Sanji’s arms. “C’mon,” you said to him with a huff. “I wanna open this.”

Sanji gladly followed you inside. Zoro rolled his eyes and made for the bar, and Niji, not one to give up so easily, chased after you, calling your name. 

You barely reached the doorway to your house when you stopped, letting your shoulders fall with a dramatic sigh. Sanji was a few steps ahead of you. His mouth opened as Niji continued to pester you, stepping forward to get involved. But you stopped him, once again passing the bottle of wine off to Sanji as you started to get annoyed.

“Sanji, love, be a dear and open this please. I’ll be right over.” You accented your words with a pointed glance Niji’s way. 

Sanji was reluctant to back off, glancing between you and his brother before slowly entering the kitchen. The modern, open kitchen was just inside the back door. Nami and Robin were already seated at the island, chatting amongst themselves as they snacked on the ridiculously large charcuterie spread. 

You pulled Niji aside. 

“What?” you snipped. Niji shifted his weight to his back leg and shoved a hand casually into the pocket of his shorts with a wide grin. He trailed the back of his knuckles along your cheek. 

“You know I love it when you get all fiery, baby, but c’mon now—” He glanced toward where Sanji was pouring wine. — “The hell are you hanging out with my loser brother for when we were having such a great time?”

You rolled your eyes. Niji scowled as you pushed his hand away.

“Because you’re being annoying, Niji,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest with an upturned nose. Niji visibly darkened, shoving his other hand into his empty pocket as he hunched over you. “Maybe don’t act like a freak when I’m just trying to say hi to my friends.” 

“Oh, is that what you’re calling feeling up Roronoa?” His voice dropped in tone, but didn’t lose the arrogant attitude. Niji cocked his head to the side, his face growing closer to yours. You blinked in astonishment, lip curling as you recoiled. 

“The fuck?” you spat. “Have you seen the way I talk to you and your brothers? With literally everyone here? Or is it because it’s Zoro?” Niji’s expression visibly twitched at the mention of Zoro’s name. His back straightened the slightest bit before he leaned back toward you, arms crossed tightly over his arms. 

“It’s different.” 

“Literally, how?” You glanced around the corridor you stood in. You weren’t very secluded, but no one appeared to have followed the two of you to check out the commotion. You’d prefer to keep it that way. “Because you don’t have to like everyone I’m friends with. I haven’t seen him in a long time, Niji, so why don’t you shut the fuck up.“

“Hey, watch it,” Niji gritted. He grew closer, and you glanced him up and down with disgust. 

“Or what? Are you gonna fuck me up, Niji?” You pushed him back. Niji’s arms unfurled as he almost slammed his back into an adjacent wall. “Are you gonna beat me unconscious because I’ve pissed you off?” 

You were getting in his face, and Niji pulled back, pivoting around on his heel with a series of head shakes as he ran a hand over his face. He pointed a finger at you.

“That’s a low fucking blow; that happened when I was a kid, and I never would have told you that if I knew you were going to lord it over my fucking head—”

— “Seventeen is barely a kid!” —

“You’re the one who fucked off to feel up another guy’s tits.” Niji pointed aggressively in the direction of the backward. “So check your bitchy fuckin’ attitude ‘cause I’ve done jack shit.”

“Yonji’s tits are in my hands like every time he’s here, and you’ve never said shit about that, now have you, Niji?” You were screaming at this point, and you wouldn’t have been surprised if you turned a few heads of guests who were enjoying your indoor amenities. You were heated, bursting at the seams with little regard for how ridiculously your fight was devolving.

Niji rolled his pretty blue eyes. They were still pretty, no matter how pissed off you were at him. Maybe you found them pretty because he was your favorite, or perhaps he was your favorite because you found them so pretty. 

“That’s because Yonji’s Yonji.”

“He’s got his own fucking drawer here, and you’re getting pressed over nothing! You can’t come here, acting like my boyfriend and starting shit when you don’t do relationships.” You weren’t expecting your words to ring out over the room like they did.

Suddenly, the energy in the atmosphere took a deep plummet, leaving you and Niji face to face. Both your eyes were wide as they stared into each other. You watched as his electric blue irises darted around your face, all the annoyance and rage he wore on his face melting into something resembling shock.

“Neither do you, so what’s your problem?” he asked lowly. 

Another beat of silence overtook the space around you as you stepped back. You averted your gaze to somewhere else in the room. Niji continued to study you. You could feel his gaze.

“You know better than to pick fights here, Niji.” You shook your head, running a hand over your hair. But what seemed to mimic resignation didn’t last long as you whipped toward him to raise your voice again. “Now you’ve got me pissed when I thought tonight was going to be fun!”

“I wasn’t the one picking a fight, so you can take that to your boy toy,” Niji’s tone was simmering, deep, and level. His hands were shoved back into his pockets, and his shoulders appeared somewhat relaxed as he assumed his usual posture. A deep scowl was still present on his lips.

You huffed, backing off yourself.

“I’m done talking to you, Niji. Get out.” You turned on your heel and stormed back out into the backyard.

It was the worst fight you had ever gotten into. Hell, it might’ve been the only fight you and Niji had ever gotten into. After all, there had never been much to fight about before. The both of you tended to keep things light. He got to ramble about his petty and frivolous things, and you got to babble about yours. You hadn’t needed to go much deeper. 

You were sexy and had more charisma in your pinky than anyone else Niji knew. You kept a drink in his hand. You knew the right spots on his undercut that he liked scratched, and it was something about getting attention from you that had him over the moon. 

“How’s it feel being the favorite?” Yonji once asked him.

On the other hand, Niji wasn’t entirely sure why you had picked him out of everyone you knew, and you certainly knew everyone. You spent so much time and money throwing these parties— which you held regularly— yet you always carved out time to pay him some special attention. You always greeted him, gave him all the amenities he could ask for, and sat with him for the better part of the night just talking. 

Niji knew of his more infamous reputation. He was nowhere as well-liked as you, and when it came to getting into trouble, Niji had paid his way out of sticky situations more times than he’d counted. He was satisfied with any excuse to throw a punch because when it came to people who mattered, who should he give a shit about anyone but his two brothers and his sister?

And then you came along. You came along with your talk— Niji made it abundantly clear the first night you met that the last thing he was interested in was talk (not when you looked like that, HELLO)— and now, for the first time, Niji worried. 

“If you’re gonna be angsty and shit, can you do it somewhere else?” 

Niji didn’t realize how far he had sunk into his couch cushion until Ichiji spoke. The ice in Niji’s glass had already melted. 

Ichiji turned to him, one leg crossed over the other and a whisky in his hand. A neutral frown plastered across Ichiji’s lips. 

“Weren’t you leaving?” he asked. 

The couch Niji had found Ichiji sitting on was tucked away on the other side of the yard. A dormant firepit sat in the middle of the semi-circle seating, and the grill wasn’t too far away as a team of professional chefs made food. Seeing this seating area from the pool was difficult, but Niji could see you talking to Zoro again from where he sat. 

Ichiji shifted, leaning a bit to the side as he regarded Niji. 

“Why don’t you just apologize?"

“Because I didn’t do shit,” Niji snapped. But at the view of the dismayed and stern expression on Ichiji’s face, Nijij immediately simmered. “We got into a fight…” 

Ichiji sighed, leaning back against the couch cushion behind him. Despite an equally close relationship with Yonji, at the end of the day, Niji was Ichiji’s ride-or-die. Ichiji wouldn’t hesitate for a second to kill for his brother if it ever came to it, and if there were ever a day Niji showed up at his door with a trash bag and a shovel, Ichiji wouldn’t waste a second grabbing something to dig with from the garage. 

However, this didn’t make Niji any less annoying. If there was anything Ichiji found more irritating than Niji yapping dreamily about you, it was undoubtedly him silently pining over you. Niji looked like a kicked puppy, for fuck’s sake. It was unbecoming.

“I’m sure it’ll all blow over by tomorrow morning,” Ichiji said, returning to his whisky. “Go home, shower, order some flowers to be delivered, and make a reservation somewhere nice for tomorrow night. You’ll be fine.”

Niji immediately stood, and it was with a suddenness that communicated to Ichiji that Niji hadn’t absorbed a single thing he’d said. Ichiji’s back straightened as he sat at the edge of the couch cushion. 

“Hey, what are you—”

Niji was already making his way over to you. You stood at the side of the pool, standing in a circle with Sanji, Zoro, and some other vaguely familiar faces that generally hung out with that crew. Zoro stood at your side, and Sanji at your other. The pool was directly behind you.

Niji stormed across the yard with purpose and confidence, and the group hardly had time to react to his presence as he cut right through the circle to get to you. It all happened so quickly that the words, “What the fuck, Niji?” didn’t even make it out of your mouth before Niji took your drink from your hand and shoved it at Zoro before hoisting you up to throw you into the pool. 

Splash!

The shocked expressions didn’t melt into action fast enough as Niji turned, throwing up both middle fingers before smirking widely.

“Get fucked, Roronoa!” Niji proclaimed before falling backward into the pool where you were just beginning to resurface and gather yourself. The splash he made sent a wave over your head, further drenching your face and hair. 

“Niji, you asshole!”

Even fully clothed, Niji made swimming the deep end of the pool look easy, quickly gathering you in his arms before paddling to the opposite side of the pool. The pool was as large as it was expensive, but Niji made short work of the distance, placing you on the ledge of seating that ran across the perimeter. The water lapped at the middle of your ribcage. Niji remained suspended in the deep end, folding his arms over your lap as he gazed up at you. 

You raised your hand to slap him, but Niji caught your wrist, pinning it down to your lap as he crossed his arms again. 

“Niji!”

“Tell me about shopping with Nami in Cocoyashi,” he hummed, a smug little smile on his lips. You hit the water with your other hand, splashing Niji across the face as he laughed. The stern frown on your lips didn’t falter.

“I thought I told you to get out.” Niji gathered both your hands in his, crossing them over each other to pin them down by his wrists on your lap. 

“Well, I decided on more important things,” he said, cocking his head. You rolled your eyes, trying to move your hands. His grip on you was too firm but not enough to hurt. You continued to glare down at him.

“Oh yeah, like pissing me off—”

“I’ve decided that you’re no longer single.”

A solid pang reverberated in your chest. Your lips parted, agape in shock as Niji continued to smirk up at you. He released one of your hands, resting his cheek on his palm. The fingers of his opposite hand were still intertwined with yours. 

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” you spat, narrowing your eyes. The feeling of his thumb swiping over the back of your hand wasn’t lost on you as a warm heat rose under your skin. “Something tells me that that’s something I need to consulted about, genius.” 

“Hear me out,” Niji didn’t give you time to respond. You crossed your arms over your chest. “We see each other every weekend, drink, and chit chat… But what if I want to see you more than just every weekend?”

Niji stared up at you with a self-satisfied grin as you waited for him to elaborate.

“That’s it?” you asked. Niji nodded with a victorious hum. “That’s the speech you’re giving to win me over?”

“If you need it in more elementary terms, I like you, and you like me, so let’s do something about it.” He rotated his wrist to intertwine his fingers in yours fully. He continued to snicker, something about his own audacity amusing. You stared him straight on.

“You just wanna smash.”

“Oh, absolutely.” You noted his three-point glance as he looked you over before his gaze drifted to your fingers. He moved your hand as he talked, bringing it behind his head to his undercut. “But I’m not opposed to spoiling you a few times a week either just to call dibs. Buy all the blueberry pastries you want. Little numbers like this’ll be on me, and there’s more where that came from—” He tugged at your swimsuit. — “And I don’t know jack shit about wine, but I can probably pick out a nice one… or pay someone to do it for me.”

Niji was already beginning to run your nails through his hair before you pulled your hand away.

“I’ve got my own money.” 

“I know you do, but I also know you’d do something nice with your hair if I gave you a couple hundred for it.” Niji’s grin only grew wider. “Or get yourself dinner somewhere expensive, designer clothes, whatever the fuck you wanna do.”

“And I’m not going to stop hanging out with Zoro either or Sanji just because… I don’t even know what’s going on there.” You scrunched your brow.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Like I said, I’m perfectly fine calling dibs… at least for now.”

Niji left the spot between your knees to swim to the ledge beside you. He pulled himself up to sit, leaving the water in his wake feeling cold. You turned to him, water still dripping down strands of your hair.

“You can’t just throw me in a pool and expect to buy me, Niji. I’m still pissed at you.”

“Yeah, but now you have an excuse to change into whatever evening outfit you had planned.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but for what felt like the umpteenth time that night, you found your voice stalled in your throat as Niji laughed. You did have a nice outfit planned. You always did. You pouted as Niji rose from the pool, dribbling water from his soaked clothes. He offered you a hand, which you reluctantly took. 

“You’re gonna have to work hard as hell to make it up to me. I haven’t agreed to any relationship nonsense!”

Niji heaved you up with more force than necessary, catching you as you stumbled over the ledge and onto dry land. Your momentum worked against you, and in what seemed like an instant, Niji planted a kiss right on your lips. He held you for a moment, just long enough for the shock to sink in, before he pulled away with a grin.

Your mind went blank; the apparent look on your face made Niji laugh again.

“C’mon, baby, let’s get changed.” Niji’s arm snaked around you as he guided you back to the house. “Call it a trial run.”

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[seancekitsch]

How about Lucifer and one of Angel or Cherri's wild party friends?

If it blows up in your face, you can always say it was a dare.

Cherri’s words ricochet in your head like a pinball as you look down at the hand next to yours. The gloved hand so close that if you were to twitch, you’d touch fingers. Normally by this time of night you’d be at the club, or at some party, but instead here you were behind the bar at the Hazbin Hotel; a structure dedicated to a redemption you weren’t sure you believed in. And here you are, full of nerves, teaching the King of Hell himself how to make a cocktail. He’s done pretty good at it, which is expected, because you’re pretty sure he’s lied about not knowing how to make an Appletini. He’s like ten thousand fucking years old, of course he knows how to make an Appletini; he probably invented them.

But now that there’s drinks in front of the two of you, and Husk away from his normal post to have a night with Angel, the two of you take up the space to people watch. Its impressive, really, how much Charlie’s gotten-

A gloved finger curling over your pinky stops any thought, and you look down to where Lucifer has just made a move. Well, a move way subtler than you’re used to.

“Sorry if this is ah- a slow night for you,” Lucifer sounds a little guilty as he turns his face towards yours, his eyes following a couple that had recently checking into the hotel instead of meeting yours though.

“Oh! no,” you chuckle as you nudge your joined fingers, “slow is okay, really.”

“Well, I- I just figure you’re used to something more fun than this,” he tilts his head down, averting your attention now fully on him, “Like I know you turned down Cherri’s invitation tonight to hang out with me, and I really appreciate that, but I know-“

“Lucifer,” you interrupt, “Do you want to go to a club or something?”

You chuckle at the confusion on his face.

“You know, if you’re so worried about tonight being slow.”

You should have quit while you were ahead, you think as you lead a disguised Lucifer by the hand through a club in the Vee’s turf. He looks so wildly out of place trailing behind you. You’re lucky enough that you have a standing reservation for a couch at this particular club, and you quickly gesture to Lucifer to sit once you’ve reached it. A waitress appears immediately and brings two glasses with ice and a bottle of Velvette’s custom vanilla vodka as you usually get.

“Is it normally-“ Lucifer shouts over the music, “always this loud?”

You nod enthusiastically as you pour up for both of you, eyes surveying the crowd. No one has seemed to notice you or your guest, which is ideal right now. A scandal for Lucifer would absolutely ruin anything between the two of you.

You lean in, flirtatiously close until your lips almost touch the shell of his ear.

“This is my booth,” you explain, “Nobody can sit unless I let them, so we can people watch uninterrupted.”

He seems to relax at your words, and clinks his glass against yours before taking a big swig.

Lucifer almost immediately sputters, coughing most of the vodka back into the glass.

“Oh wow! That is! Oh!” he exclaims, not even hiding his disgust as you laugh sympathetically.

“Not a fan?” you joke, before reassuring him, “Don’t worry, me neither.”

“Why do you drink it then?” he asks, gesturing at how easily you’re sipping at it.

“Comes with the booth,” you explain, taking his glass from him, pouring his contents into yours, spit and all.

He eyes you up at that move, not exactly hiding the fact that he’s taking in the sight of your body. You practically shiver under his gaze, feeling bashful now because of him. Butterflies swarm in your stomach, and maybe if he wasn’t the literal King of Hell you’d lean over and kiss him.

Instead you chicken out.

“Let me grab you something you will like,” you offer, gesturing to the bar at the wall to the left of the couch. You stand up before he can protest, taking a big sip of the glass now containing his drink and yours, and place it down on the little table in front of the couch before you head away.

Lucifer wishes he had played it cooler with the vodka. If he had, maybe you’d be on the couch right now, your hip oh so close to his, and his nerves dissolving enough to maybe try to grab your hand again. Or ask you to get on the dance floor. Or fuck it, kiss you. He stares fixated at the drink, trying and failing to not read too much into it. You’d drank from it even after you’d watched him make an ass of himself and spit into it. You willingly drank his spit, and, was that flirting? It was weird to him, thats for sure. But you’re one of Cherri and Angel’s friends, wild and barely tamed by his daughter’s redemption program, and maybe this is modern flirting in hell. Lilith never did anything like that, but then again, she took off without a word a decade ago. Maybe thats what flirting looks like these days; maybe Lilith does this now too. Maybe he should stop thinking of his ex-wife when the curve of your ass and the promise of your attention has him glued to his seat and waiting for your return. Why had he even suggested this club? He wonders, and then remembers the brittle coldness of insecurity that crept up on him in the lobby, seeing such a carefree woman like yourself cooped up with him on a night he knows you cancelled plans for. He thinks back to the drink, and counts it as a bizarre, one way, first kiss, and lets himself feel the rhythm of the music bumping around him, one song bleeding into the next, until a familiar raised voice breaks the thrum of noise.

You tap your card on the bar absentmindedly as you wait for the bottle of wine you ordered for Lucifer, something you’ve known he drinks and that the bar cannot screw up. This bartender was from Sloth, so of course you expected slow service, but this was something else. Why had you even offered to leave instead of waving over a waitress? You were finally getting somewhere with Lucifer before the vodka incident, and maybe you’d be dancing or making out or even just having a very good conversation while sat in his lap.

An arm around your waist shakes you from your thoughts, and you turn, ready to excitedly greet the man and explain the hold up, but that doesn’t happen. A bull like sinner has decided to grab you, something that maybe a few years ago might flatter you, but the thought churns your stomach now to be touched by anyone but Lucifer like this. Damn, you’ve really gone soft for him, huh?

You shake the man off, glaring as you make your disinterest known, but he just puts his hand back, now on your hip. Bold! You tap your card harder, hoping if you get this wine you can scurry back to the table quickly and this will be over.

“Put that card away,” the sinner says, “I’ve got something for you.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, drugged no doubt,” you sneer, and the sheepish look on his face tells you that your assumption was correct. Bold and disgusting!

“Listen I’ll-“

“I’m with someone!” you practically shout, but that doesn’t make the sinner back off.

“Well I don’t see-“

You spin on your heels, pulling yourself from his grasp.

“I do not care who you are, I do not want whatever you have, I do not want whatever you want from me!” you are shouting now, not caring about a scene because finally the fucking wine is being placed on the bar so you can get out of this area. Lucifer can get his own drinks for the rest of the night, or better yet, you can go back to the hotel.

The sinner bares his teeth, and you’re certain he’s growling under the throbbing beat of the music. You back up, grabbing the wine with you and ready to run until you back into another person. You sigh, not really ready for an ambush and not really wanting to break this bottle over someone’s head without letting Lucifer drink at least a little bit of it. You turn, ready to fight, but you’re greeted by Lucifer’s disguise. Immediately you calm down. Lucifer won’t let anything bad happen to you.

“The lady said she’s with someone,” he explains, voice even and deadly, before he leads you away quicker than the other sinner can really retaliate.

Lucifer guides you back to the couch, but you walk straight past it, heading for the door. He follows quickly, grabbing your hand not unlike before. You walk until you reach the heavy steel door, pushing it open with your shoulder and letting the cool air of the alley hit you in the face.

“What about your section?” Lucifer asks, genuine concern in his voice. You motion at your other hand, the one not interlaced in his at the full bottle of wine you held onto as you walked out.

“Fuck the section, I wanna go back to the hotel,” you say, trying not to look as embarrassed as you felt. Why did that have to happen? The night was nice, albeit awkward, and that guy had to go and ruin it, and Lucifer had to get involved. You can handle yourself, and Lucifer doesn’t get out much, and that place must have seemed so… so.

You hold out the wine for him, and he takes it and sips from it, wine spilling out onto his lips. Fucking hot, even in disguise.

“I was enjoying our quiet night, I’m sorry if it seemed like I wasn’t,” you admit, inspecting your boots now as if they were immensely interesting.

“No! I just didn’t want to— to bore you,” Lucifer steps into your space, the toes of his shoes resting barely an inch from yours, and then a portal opens and his disguise fades, familiar red and gold on the other side.

You both step through, and find yourselves in the hallway that leads to his observatory.

Lucifer’s hand doesn’t leave yours though, not until you’re in the window covered room and staring out at all of Pentagram city. It’s almost beautiful from up here.

“I guess this was kind of a disaster, huh?” Lucifer tries to joke, but he cannot hide the way he winces at his own words.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you reply, but yes you fucking could. It was awkward and uncomfortable and neither of you had fun. But still…

“I got to spend time with you, I accidentally stole that bottle of wine so I saved money, and I got to hold your hand,” you listed out all the good things, all the things that made you want the night to last eternally.

“And we’re still hanging out!” Lucifer points out, and you cannot help but gravitate towards him again. He holds up the bottle to you, and you drink from it. The bottle his lips were just on. If you try hard enough, you could probably make out his taste from it.

He smiles brightly at you, and you cannot chicken out this time.

“Can I hold your hand again?” you ask, and his hand eagerly reaches for yours.

“Is that all you want to do?” he asks, leaning into you.

“Oh, I wanna do a lot to you,” you admit, smile growing as a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“But I wanna take it slow tonight.”

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Head Over Heels - Pete Mitchell x Reader

A/N: I've watched the OG so many times over the last month I felt inspired to write a little 1980s set piece for baby Mav. It's roughly set in 1983 (obvs. I wasn't born yet so I'm going purely off my obsession with 80s shit bare with me ok).

pairing: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x reader

warnings/content: fluff, set in the 1980s, Maverick hits on you in a bar while you're working, brief mention of Goose & Carole if you squint.

word count: 2.2k

“You're a rich girl, and you've gone too far, ‘cause you know it don't matter anyway…”

The sounds of Hall and Oates’ Rich Girl rang out from the jukebox that sat opposite from the bar, a few off-key voices attempting to sing the words in slurred tones, incoherent to anyone other than themselves. It was a typical Friday night, with a few people seated on the red vinyl booths that encircled the bar counter, empty beer glasses in front of them as they waited anxiously for a top up. 

You didn’t love your job here - you only did it to put yourself through school, and even then, it wasn’t as though you needed to - your parents had offered you financial assistance on more than one occasion, almost scandalized at the thought of their precious daughter working in a dive bar on weekends to put herself through college, but you were determined. You wanted to earn this degree on your own merit, without your parents holding the loan of a few thousand dollars over your head and without the feeling that you were some spoiled little rich kid that others should despise or envy. 

As you wiped a table clean in the far corner of the bar, you took note of two young men in bomber jackets coming through the entrance. The shorter of the two, a dark-haired man with intriguing eyes - were they hazel, blue or green? It was nearly impossible to tell. - laughed as he looked back to his friend, a tall blonde haired man with a mustache, who looked incredibly unimpressed about the choice of bar that his buddy had. You couldn’t say you blamed him - the food was decent, but that was about it. You weren’t exactly known for being the Ritz Carlton of dive bars. 

The two men sidled up to a booth, and you sighed to yourself, knowing that it meant they’d become your responsibility, whether they were aware of that fact or not. You finished cleaning the table off and retreated behind the bar to find two menus - not that they seemed like the type who were here for food - you knew the younger men that came in usually only came for one thing, cheap beer. You approached their table, plastering your customer service smile on your face as you sauntered over. You handed them each a menu and greeted them with your normally joyful voice, and you couldn’t help but feel like you came off as someone deranged for being so cheerful. 

“Hi! What can I get you both?”

“I’ll have whatever’s on tap, thanks,” the blonde replied with a polite head nod towards you. 

The brunette started eyeing you up, a grin plastered on his face as he took in the sight of you. Your outfit was hardly anything worth looking at, you thought to yourself. Fitted high-waisted jeans and a t-shirt with the restaurant’s logo emblazoned on the back, the baggier fitting shirt tucked into your jeans to accentuate the fact that, despite how the t-shirt might come off, you did in fact have hips. His grin was playful - not the kind you were used to from men who saw you at work. He didn’t give you the impression he was only interested in taking you to bed with him, although you weren’t entirely convinced that wasn’t his motive. His hazel eyes lit up as he looked at you, his thousand-watt grin almost distracting.

“What do you recommend? I’ve never been here before.” He charmed, still smiling up at you.

“Well, our wings are pretty popular, I personally like them dressed in Kansas City sauce, it’s a bit spicier but it’s not too overpowering, and for a drink, I usually go for a rye and coke, but if you’re more of a beer guy, I recommend pairing it with a Budweiser. You can never go wrong there.”

“Perfect, I’ll have that, please. With a side of coleslaw.”

“Alright, two beers, an order of KC wings and a side of coleslaw? You got it.”

You disappeared behind the counter with their order and returned a few moments later with their drinks in hand. The brunette was leaning in towards his friend, whispering in a hushed tone that you could barely make out, but it was evident that your presence wasn’t known. You set the drinks down on the table and both men sat straighter in their seats. The blonde one looked at you with a charming smile, the kind you’d give a teacher who’d walked in on you doing something you weren’t supposed to at school. He cleared his throat and laughed slightly as he took a sip of his drink before setting the glass down on the cardboard coaster you’d brought over. 

“I’m so sorry, but my friend here, he’s a little shy. He thinks you’re really pretty though. Not that I don’t, I’m just engaged.” The blonde babbled, seemingly nervous, as if he was afraid you’d throw his drink over him. 

“Does he? Why doesn’t he tell me so himself?” You teased, looking over to the brunette, who was now blushing and grinning like an absolute idiot - the most attractive idiot you’d ever seen.

“He is afraid of women. Sort of, anyways. I never say the right thing.” He explained matter of factly. 

His eyes squinted to read the name tag on your shirt, saying it slowly to make sure he was pronouncing it correctly before giving you another smile. “Beautiful name,” he added. 

“Well, now this seems unfair - you know my name but I don’t know yours.”

“Right! Right. I’m Maverick. This here’s my buddy, Goose.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, Navy callsigns. I’m Pete. He’s Nick.”

“Goose is fine,” the blonde interjected, shaking his head as he held up a hand to stop Pete from talking further, “Only my mom calls me Nick. And usually it’s if I’m in shit for something.”

“Nice to meet you, Pete. Goose.” 

You politely excused yourself from the table with a laugh before continuing with your other duties that night - waiting the few surrounding tables with  patrons, cleaning and restocking napkins and cutlery around the bar. You noticed at one point that Pete had approached the jukebox. He flipped through the available songs, selecting one seemingly at random, bringing Vacation by The Go-Gos to an abrupt end as his choice of song began playing. The opening bars of Making Love Out of Nothing At All by Air Supply began to fill the room, and Pete gave you a beaming grin as he retreated back to his seat. He began singing along to song with Goose, the two carrying on in an off-key harmonic ensemble that, admittedly, had you fighting the urge to sing along. 

As you approached the table once more, a playful smirk gracing your lips at Pete's rendition of the song, you couldn't deny the infectious energy he exuded. His performance, though not flawless, carried a certain charm that captivated your attention. As you deftly cleared away their empty dishes, Pete's gaze met yours once again, but this time with a smile that held a hint of mischief, a smile that could easily disarm even the most composed.

"Are you finishing up soon?" His voice was casual, but there was an underlying eagerness in his tone. Checking his watch briefly before locking eyes with you again, he continued, "I don’t have to be back on base until tomorrow morning. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to do something after work."

You couldn't help but grin at his forwardness, though you made a show of feigning reluctance. "I don’t accept dates from guys who ask me out at my workplace," you teased, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

Pete's response was quick, his charm effortlessly slipping through the cracks of your defenses. "Ok, that’s understandable. What time are you off work?"

"In ten minutes," you replied, a mixture of amusement and surprise coloring your tone as you realized the clever loophole he had found in your earlier rejection.

"Perfect. I’ll meet you outside in ten."

True to his word, ten minutes later found you standing outside, Goose offering a polite wave as he departed. Pete's smile was infectious as he approached you, his demeanor exuding a newfound confidence. He gestured towards you, his grin widening as he spoke.

"You said no because I asked you out inside, but now?"

A playful glint danced in your eyes as you played along. "Now, I suppose I can say yes. You’re no longer a creepy guy asking me out at work."

"Exactly, now I’m a creepy guy asking you out outside of your work. Much better," he quipped, a chuckle escaping him as he extended his arm towards you.

You couldn't help but laugh at his remark, the tension between you dissipating as you fell into an easy banter. As he introduced himself, the warmth in his voice was palpable, and you found yourself drawn in despite your initial reservations.

Pete shook his head, a self-amused chuckle escaping him before he gallantly extended his arm towards you. His cheeks took on a charming shade of pink, adding a subtle glow to his already handsome features. It was then that the disparity in height between the two of you became apparent, your gaze meeting his from a slightly elevated position. A grin played at his lips as he ran a hand through his dark locks, his eyes squinting ever so slightly as he regarded you with a mix of earnestness and intrigue.

"Sorry, I’m relatively new to this," he confessed with a sheepish grin. "My success rate’s not the highest unless I’m in uniform, and even then."

"Uniform?" you echoed, curiosity lacing your tone.

Straightening up, Pete cleared his throat before executing a mock salute with a touch of playful flair. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Peter Mitchell, United States Naval Air Force, currently stationed over at North Island, just across the bay," he announced with a subtle gesture toward the distant island.

"Peter, huh?"

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Did you think my parents just put Pete on the birth certificate and called it a day?"

"Actually," you quipped back, "earlier before you clarified, I thought they put Maverick on there and called it a day - Pete didn’t seem like too far of a stretch."

"I suppose you’re right," he conceded with a grin. "I don’t think I’ve been called by my full name since school, and even then, it was back when Peter from The Brady Bunch was still cool. I liked it then, all the girls liked him anyways."

"I was more of a Greg girl, actually," you teased, raising an eyebrow in playful defiance as you pretended to inspect your manicure.

"Of course you were," he chuckled, his tone teasing yet affectionate. "You’re one of the first girls I’ve met to not care about the military thing. Most girls are all over that."

"It’s impressive, don’t get me wrong," you interjected with a shrug. "I’ve just dated military guys before."

"Have you?" Pete's interest was piqued, his gaze locked onto yours with a newfound curiosity.

"Well, one," you admitted. "My first boyfriend when I moved down to San Diego from Oakland."

"You’re from Oakland?! I’m from San Francisco!"

"Small world, isn't it?" Pete's eyes lit up with a spark of excitement, a genuine smile gracing his lips as he realized the unexpected connection between your hometowns. "I guess that makes us Bay Area neighbors, in a sense."

You couldn't help but return his smile, feeling a sense of warmth in the shared familiarity of your origins. "Seems like it," you agreed, the playful banter easing any remaining tension between you.

As the conversation flowed effortlessly between you, a comfortable silence settled, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the bustling pier. In that moment, standing on the threshold of possibility, you couldn't ignore the magnetic pull drawing you closer to Pete.

"So," he began, breaking the silence with a gentle tone, "any chance I could persuade you to show a newcomer around San Diego? I'm afraid my knowledge of the city is limited to the base and a few local hotspots."

The invitation hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. With a playful glint in your eyes, you considered his request, allowing yourself to entertain the idea of exploring the city with him.

"I suppose I could be persuaded," you teased, a coy smile playing at the corners of your lips. "But only if you promise to keep up with this newfound charm of yours, Lieutenant Mitchell."

Pete's laughter echoed against the backdrop of the bay, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. "Consider it a deal, Miss Oakland," he replied, extending his arm once more in a silent invitation to embark on this newfound adventure together.

As you linked your arm with his, a sense of anticipation tingled in the air, the promise of new beginnings lingering on the horizon. With each step forward, you couldn't help but wonder where this unexpected encounter would lead, but one thing was certain: with Pete by your side, the journey promised to be anything but ordinary.

[wholoveseggs]

Huhu, me again :) As I am re-reading your stories while stuck at home with the flu, I was thinking of another possible story: Reader is Rebecca's friend and a high-end prostitute. She has seen and experienced some rough things and is not trusting around men at all. Elijah is in love with her, but she will only accept him as a client (just sex for money, no kissing, no tenderness). He does everything in his power to change her mind.

Thanks, ❤️. Hope you have a lovely weekend!

Safe

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

In a world where trust is hard to come by, you've learned to keep your guard up, especially around men. But when Elijah enters your life, he's determined to break through your defenses, venturing into a realm of passion, pain, and the search for something real.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @originals23 I always adore your requests! Hope you are feeling better ♡♡

8.2k words - Warnings: smut, oral sex, white knight Elijah, lots of fluff and affection, Rebekah being badass...

PLEASE NOTE: this has descriptions of sexual assault, trauma & violence... don't read if these things trigger you ♡♡♡

Elijah considered himself a man of experience. He had seen and done everything in his many centuries. He was no stranger to the ways of the world, to the ways of power, to the ways of pleasure.

He watched society evolve and change in many ways, but some things always stayed the same, even after one thousand years.

Elijah knew what he was to women, the way they would fawn over him, the way they would throw themselves at him. It had never bothered him, he used this privilege to disarm potential threats, to protect those he loves.

Never in his long years had he considered paying for sex, he was not the kind of man that needed to pay for a woman's affections. He was a gentleman, he treated women with respect, courted them, loved them.

But then, there was you.

He would meet you in hotels, only the most luxurious, expensive, exclusive ones, where no questions were asked, and privacy was guaranteed.

You were always punctual and dressed to the nines, always with the most stunning outfits, the finest dresses, the highest heels. Your hair was always perfectly styled, your makeup expertly done. 

You were far more put together than he could ever be. It made him want to believe that it was all just for him, but he knew better than that. You looked expensive because you were expensive.

The first time was a complete whim, a moment of weakness. He met you through his sister, at an event she was hosting. He tried to get you in his bed the old fashioned way, with his charm, and it almost worked. He was not used to rejection. But, he got the impression that it was not personal, for you it was just business.

So, he took a chance and hired you for the night. You were not expecting it, he could tell, but you quickly hid it behind a mask of professionalism.

The sex was... Immaculate. He would be a fool to say anything else. In his many centuries of living, he had experienced his fair share of pleasures. He was an excellent lover, he knew it, he prided himself in being one, but you were the first woman he had been with, where he felt like the student.

He would never forget the image of you on your knees before him, with your red lips wrapped around his cock, the sight would stay burned into his retinas for eternity.

You were the perfect companion, always the right thing to say, the right thing to do. You would only give, and never take, leaving him wanting more.

After your first meeting, he became a regular, every Friday at 8pm at the Roosevelt Hotel.

It had become his routine, you would arrive dressed in something different each time, more breathtaking than the last. And each Friday, you would repeat the same motions; meet him at the bar, have a drink, make small talk, before inevitably returning to his hotel room.

You never looked him in the eyes when you rode him, head thrown back in ecstasy, legs trembling and breasts bouncing, the very vision of sin.

You were all fire and passion, never letting your heart get involved, as was your work's rule. Always just fucking, no kissing, no affection, never sharing anything that had the smallest ounce of intimacy.

There was only once where he would have thought he saw an ounce of vulnerability in your eyes.

On that particular Friday, Elijah had arranged for the room to have flowers and champagne and a wonderful spread for dinner. When you arrived, he greeted you the same way he always did, taking you in his arms, feeling the weight of you pressed against him. When he released you from the embrace, he turned to lead you to the couch, but found your cheeks tinged with pink and tears running down your face.

That was new.

You composed yourself almost immediately, a smile returning to your beautiful face. The moment passed. You apologized, saying the roses were so lovely, you felt a bit sentimental for a moment.

He wanted to call it out, but he was not a fool; you were crying because you were moved. He wondered if anyone had treated you with sincerity before. But he held his tongue, only responding that he was glad you liked them.

You drew him in like a moth to a flame. Your beauty, your intelligence, your wit, it all appealed to him, but there was something else, something he couldn't put his finger on.

He wasn't sure what it was, why you affected him so. Perhaps it was the mystery, the fact that he could never really get close to you, not like he wanted.

You were the perfect escort, always attentive, always beautiful, always ready to please. But you were also distant, aloof. You didn't want any affection from him, or to speak of romance, of love.

Your emotional unavailability felt like a mirror, reflecting his own loneliness, his own fear of intimacy.

He wondered how somebody so young, with so little years behind them, could harbor such pain behind their eyes.

Perhaps that is what drew him to you, the possibility that you could understand him, the darkness that lived inside him, the burden of immortality, the isolation that came with it.

He wanted to know you, not just the performance you put on for him, but what lies underneath the façade.

But you didn't allow him to. You kept him at arm's length, never letting him get too close.

He tried to be respectful, he tried not to push you, but he found himself wanting more, wanting things he shouldn't.

You were a good girl, you gave him what he paid for, nothing more. But he wanted more, he wanted you. He wanted to take you out on a date, to spoil you, to make you feel loved, to show you the world.

But he knew that would never happen. You were a professional, and he was just another client. Still, he couldn't help but wonder, couldn't help but hope.

He would keep coming back, and maybe one day, you would let him in. Maybe one day, he would finally get to show you the truth of his feelings.

Maybe one day, you would fall in love with him, too.

You were on another date with a new client, you always met them in public first, making sure they were who they claimed to be before you headed to the hotel.

You were always cautious, using protection, staying safe, trusting your instincts.

You tried your best not to judge your clients, you didn't know why they sought you out instead of dating. For some, it was simply convenience, for others, it was something more sinister. You worked hard to keep the latter far away from you.

This client was a bit shy, he wouldn't meet your gaze or answer any of your questions. It was like pulling teeth. But he didn't have that "off" vibe. Maybe he was just uncomfortable around women and that's why he sought you out.

He seemed to loosen up after a few drinks, his smile becoming more confident, his laugh deepening. His hands would occasionally drift toward your thigh as he leaned in close to talk.

"I rented the penthouse for tonight, it comes with a hot tub," he said awkwardly.

"Oh, that's nice," you tried to sound interested, taking a fake sip of your drink. You never drank or consumed anything while working. You had a fear of being drugged, you prioritized staying alert when with new clients.

"Would you care to see it?" his tone was low and raspy, and his gaze darkened with arousal.

"Of course," you smirked, taking his hand as he led you out of the bar.

Your phone buzzed, it was a text from Rebekah; she always made sure to check in when you were meeting new clients. You smiled, knowing she was looking out for you. The two of you had an emergency plan, if you ever felt unsafe, all you had to do was text her the word 'trouble' and she would come running, and wouldn't hesitate to defend you.

This was another reason you loved being friends with Rebekah, despite the vampire thing, her overprotectiveness of the people she cared for, she was so fierce. It felt good to have someone watch your back in a business such as this. That hasn't always been the case for you.

You texted her your hotel and room number as usual, trying not to let your mind wander to her brother. It was unprofessional to be thinking about him while you were with another client, but you couldn't help it.

It had been nearly three months since you began your arrangement with Elijah, and yet he was always the one that occupied your thoughts, plaguing your dreams, controlling your waking thoughts, your fantasies.

Never had a client affected you in such a way. Sure, you had attractive and charming men seeking your company, ones that smelled nice and tipped well. But Elijah was something else entirely. He made you feel things you didn't want to feel, you had rules, boundaries, reasons to keep a safe distance. Yet with every encounter, you were drawn deeper and deeper.

You pushed the image of him out of your mind, focusing on your present client. In the elevator, his hands were all over you, pawing at you like a horny teen. Clearly, he was very excited about what was going to happen when you got to the penthouse.

"Baby, slow down, we've got all night," you reminded him, hoping he would calm down.

He ignored you and leaned in to kiss you, he was new, so you politely pushed on his chest and let him know what your rules were.

"Hold on baby, there are rules, remember?" you said, pushing his hands away.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I thought that was just a scam, you know, a way to drive up the price," he said, his hand going to his pocket, pulling out his wallet. "How much extra are we talking?"

You could see his wallet was thick with cash and you felt sick, but you played it cool. "Those are my boundaries, honey. No kissing, protection mandatory, no touching unless I say so. That's just how I do business," you said, flashing him a bright smile.

He looked disappointed, but he didn't push. "Fine," he said, putting his wallet away.

You reached the top floor and he led you to the penthouse suite, opening the door and stepping aside. "After you," he said, his voice filled with barely contained desire.

The suite was luxurious, but not the best you've seen. There was a hot tub in the corner and a huge king sized bed. The bathroom was stocked with expensive toiletries and there was a large TV.

"Take your clothes off," he demanded, taking a seat on the bed.

He was far more assertive now that you were alone with him, more controlling. This wasn't too bad, you could work with that. He was older, his hair was a dirty blonde, starting to recede, he was kind of handsome if you squinted.

You began to strip, revealing your black lace lingerie. Your red dress fell to the floor in a puddle of fabric and you heard him growl with excitement.

He eyed you hungrily, licking his lips. "How many hours did I pay for again?" he asked, his voice dripping with lust.

"Five, and I've already started the clock," you said, giving him a coy smile.

"Good," he said, pulling out his wallet and tossing it on the bed. "Come here."

You walked over, stopping in front of him. He reached up, grabbing your breast roughly. "You have great tits," he said, squeezing.

You smiled at him, pretending to enjoy it. You knew he was paying for this, for the fantasy. You pride yourself on your performance, making sure your clients are happy, but you could already tell this was going to be a long couple of hours.

He seemed impatient, rough and demanding. Not exactly your favorite, but this was part of the job. Besides, you had been through worse.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"Yes, sir," you replied, playing the part.

He grabbed your face roughly, making you look into his eyes, then everything became strange, fuzzy, distorted.

Your body felt numb, like you were floating, the room was spinning, and you had the strange sensation of being both in your body and outside it.

You were riding him, you didn't remember how you got there, or when he took his clothes off, but there he was, his cock filling you.

He was groaning and moaning beneath you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Your neck hurt, your breasts hurt, your thighs hurt, you looked down to see deep bite marks all over you, blood running down your skin.

You blinked, and suddenly you were on your back, the bedspread covered in blood, your blood. You looked up at the man above you, his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk, his eyes completely black.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Not enjoying yourself?" he sneered, his hand going to your throat. He squeezed, cutting off your air supply.

You gasped, struggling to breathe. Your lungs burned, your eyes filled with tears.

"What did you do to me?" You said, your voice sounding like it was coming from far away. He couldn't have drugged you, you didn't consume anything with him, you were always so careful.

He bit into your neck, his fangs sinking into your skin, holding you down with incredible strength. Cold fear ran through your veins, he was like Rebekah, like Elijah, he was a vampire.

You struggled, trying to fight him off, but you couldn't move, his strength was overwhelming. You felt him drinking your blood, his teeth tearing through your skin.

He pulled back, rolling off of you, lying beside you. "Don't worry, sweetheart, it'll only hurt for a minute," he said, his voice full of malicious glee. "Go wash up for round two," he demanded.

You sat up, trying to gather yourself. You needed to get out of there, and fast. You were bleeding heavily, and the world was still spinning.

He got off the bed and headed to the kitchenette, the sounds of glasses clinking and liquid pouring into a glass filled the air. He must've been getting a drink.

You were lightheaded from the blood loss, your legs shaky. You searched for your purse on the floor, the room looked different, distorted, and you couldn't find the damn thing anywhere. You were losing precious seconds looking for it, your adrenaline keeping the panic at bay.

You caught sight of it, it was beside the night table. You snatched it up and grabbed your phone, typing out the word 'trouble' to send it to Rebekah, hoping the word was enough for her to get the message.

You felt his hands on you again, a hard tug against your hair.

"Back on the bed like a good little whore," he hissed, throwing you on the bed. "I wasn't done with you."

He flipped you onto your stomach, hiking one leg up and exposing you to him. The edges of your vision grew dark, and you could hear your heartbeat growing slower, weaker. You tried to scream, but no sound came out.

You were going to die. He was going to kill you, and no one would know. Rebekah wouldn't come. You would be gone, and no one would ever find you.

Then, as your vision faded to black, all you could think of was how this was the end, how you didn't want to die this way. You had fought so hard to escape this fate, to be someone; something better than this, and yet, here you were, being raped and killed by a monster.

In the darkness you heard a bang, the cracking of wood. Someone was yelling, there was a struggle.

Then, a hand on your face, warm, soft. You heard a familiar voice, a voice that made your heart skip a beat.

"Elijah," you whispered, barely audible.

"I'm here, I'm here," he said, his voice full of panic.

You felt him press his wrist to your lips, his own blood filling your mouth. "Drink," he said softly, and you obeyed.

His blood sent a wave of heat through your body, the pain receding. You drank deeply, the world growing clearer.

You opened your eyes, his worried face above yours. He immediately pulled off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your naked form, scooping you up and cradling you in his arms.

You clung to him, feeling the last vestiges of the monster's compulsion fade. You could see Rebekah standing over the man, whose spine was in her hand, her eyes dark with rage.

You were suddenly aware of the gravity of the situation, and tears began to stream down your face. You sobbed, the trauma, the horror of what had almost happened hitting you full force. You thought you had escaped this life, that it was all in your past, but it was there, fresh and ugly, rearing its head like a hydra, reminding you it would always be a part of you.

Elijah held you tightly, whispering soothing words as Rebekah inspected the body. He was solid, strong, his arms encircling you, holding you together.

"Who is he? One of Marcel's?" Elijah asked, his voice low and angry.

"He better not be," she said, taking a picture of the vampire's face and sending it to someone.

She stood up, wiping her hands on her pants, the blood from the dead vampire staining the fabric. "I'll take care of it," she said, her voice hard and cold. "Get her home," she said, gesturing to you.

Elijah nodded, carrying you out of the room. You clung to him, trying not to fall apart, not to let the pain overwhelm you. He helped you get dressed, you felt like you were outside of your body, watching the events unfold from somewhere above, somewhere safe.

It was the same place you went before. When you were younger, when you were forced into this life, it was a coping mechanism, a way to protect yourself from the horror of it all. It was a way to survive, and it was serving you now, letting you function as your body went through the motions.

You found yourself in Elijah's car, his smell surrounding you. You buried your face in his suit jacket, inhaling his scent, letting it ground you.

He was quiet, his face grim, his jaw clenched. He drove quickly, his hands gripping the steering wheel. You expected a lecture about your lifestyle, perhaps a few well-meaning but patronizing comments about how you should change, should find a new line of work.

But he said nothing. He didn't judge, didn't make you feel small, or dirty. He simply drove, his presence a balm on your battered soul.

You arrived at your building, standing at your doorway, trying to find your keys. Your hands were shaking, and he gently took them from you, unlocking the door.

You stepped inside, feeling a sense of relief. You were safe now, he had saved you, and you were home. You turned to see him still waiting in the doorway, his eyes full of concern.

"You don't have to invite me in," he said softly. "I'll wait out here until I know you're safe."

Your heart melted a little, his kindness catching you off guard. He was a gentleman, and his chivalry touched something deep inside you.

You could feel yourself being pulled toward him, and it took all of your resolve to pull back, to remind yourself of the lines, the rules, and boundaries.

"It's okay, you can come in," you said.

He nodded, stepping into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He stood there awkwardly, it was breaking all the rules, being at your home, and he was unsure of the boundaries.

He could see you, the real you, in every facet of your home. From the paintings to the books, the carefully curated pieces of your life. It felt so personal, to be standing in this space, and he could see the pain and vulnerability, the fight in you. The beautiful complexity. It was so... human, to see your life displayed so honestly, no veneer, no illusion, no façade.

"I'm going to take a shower, make yourself at home," you said, gesturing towards the living room.

He nodded, moving towards the couch, taking a seat.

You disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He was angry, furious. Marcel better have answers as to why some random vampire was in the quarter attacking people, because if he didn't, there would be hell to pay.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his rage. He could hear the water running, and he tried not to think about you, what you just went through, what could have happened.

It all happened so fast, one moment he's in the compound, the next he's following Rebekah into a hotel room, watching her rip the spine from that vile beast.

Seeing you there, pale and lifeless, made him snap. He felt something shift inside him, his mind clouded by anger. In the years he lived, Elijah prided himself on being a rational man. He didn't lose control often, or ever, really, but at that moment, seeing you there, he was lost.

Rebekah killed him too quickly, he deserved a more painful death. He would have drawn it out, tortured him slowly, watching the light go out in his eyes. He hated vampires like that. Abusing humans in that way, playing with one's food was so very undignified.

He was so lost in thought, he didn't notice you walking out of the bathroom, wearing a large t-shirt that went past your knees.

You felt a bit more like yourself, the shower having washed away some of the pain and horror. You still felt shaken, and a little dazed, but you were starting to come back to yourself.

"I'm sorry, I think your jacket is ruined," you said, sitting down next to him.

He smiled sadly, glancing at the bloodied garment in his hands. "It's just a suit jacket. I can get another one," he replied.

A silence fell over you, a little uncomfortable, full of the emotions the night had stirred up. You felt raw, vulnerable. Like he could see right through you. Like everything was different, had changed, somehow. You weren't sure why. Maybe it was because he saved you.

You watched as he seemed to have a mental war with himself, his mind far away. You wondered what was going on in that ancient mind of his, what demons he was wrestling with, or what judgments he was passing.

Finally he looked at you, his expression soft, understanding. "I'm sorry about what happened. To you," he said gently.

The sincerity of his words took you by surprise, and tears sprang into your eyes. You blinked them back, not wanting to fall apart.

"It's my own fault, I'm used to this sort of thing," you replied, waving it off. "I knew better."

"You are used to this," he said, his tone careful. "You shouldn't be used to this," he explained.

Your eyes snapped to him, searching for the meaning behind his words.

"No one should ever have to endure that. No one," he said firmly.

He didn't say you should leave the business, act like some sort of savior, telling you what you should and shouldn't do. He didn't take it upon himself to make a proclamation about your lifestyle. Instead he met the facts with pure empathy and honesty.

It felt... genuine. It was a first. And somehow, coming from him, it meant something more. His kindness was a floodgate that allowed emotions, memories and old pain to come rushing forward.

"I ran away from home when I was just fourteen, my mom's boyfriend was... He would beat me, touch me," you said, tears stinging your eyes.

You hadn't talked about this in a long time, you had spent years trying to forget it ever happened, burying it under layers of denial, and in that moment, it all came flooding back.

"I met a woman on the street that offered me shelter for a night, and it snowballed into her making me turn tricks to repay her," you explained, looking anywhere but at his face.

It felt good to talk about it, to get the weight off of your chest. You had kept it all bottled up for so long, and the night had triggered those old memories, so it seemed right to finally share your story. His presence was warm, safe, comforting, and something told you, you could be vulnerable with him, and not be judged for it.

"When the women offered to take me in, it seemed like a blessing. Like she was saving me, offering to feed and clothe me," you sighed, shaking your head, lost in the memories of your youth.

"But she wasn't saving me, she was buying me. Buying my misery, my pain. My innocence, my body, my trust. And then, one day, I was beaten bloody, the guy she sold me to for the night refused to give her a cent and she put her cigarette out on my neck." You looked down at your lap, remembering the smell of your flesh burning, the pain radiating through your skin.

"I wasn't useful to her any longer, so she dumped me like a bag of trash." You spat the words out, trying to stay objective. Distant. You felt his eyes on you.

"And what did you do?" He asked, his voice so low and gentle. So inviting.

"I slept in a dumpster, stole clothes off of someone's line, begged on the corner, just to get by, to eat. A lady took pity on me and gave me enough money for a bus ticket," you continued, wiping a single tear away.

"The first bus I saw took me to New Orleans, and I've been here ever since," you concluded, a cold sense of finality settling over you. You didn't realize how heavy the memory had weighed on you, it had sat in the back of your mind, never giving you a moment of peace, haunting you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to unload on you like that," you said, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"Never apologize for what's happened to you, or how you've reacted to it," he replied. "I know this won't be much help, but you're a survivor. And you did what you had to, and still managed to end up here."

The simplicity of the statement hit you deeply. He understood. He understood what you went through, where you were coming from. He reached out and wiped away another one of your tears. You leaned into his touch, craving the comfort of his warmth.

You didn't understand how, or why, but somehow he had made it into your fortress, your walled off heart. A place no man had reached, touched or explored. Yet there he was. His thumb still swiped gently across your cheek, his dark eyes staring into your own.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. He was firm and solid, his shoulder the perfect spot to nestle in. This gesture, the simple embrace was overwhelming and your emotions spilling over. You cried, really cried, for the first time in many years. Not just tears streaming from your eyes, or silent drops, you sobbed. Your body racking with each painful outburst, a river of tears flowing over his crisp dress shirt. He held you the entire time, rubbing his hand in small circles across your back, whispering words of comfort, and strength.

Somehow, the mere knowledge of him understanding you, listening to you, opened the dam, releasing all of the pain you had repressed and carried around like an overloaded suitcase.

You cried until you exhausted yourself, and he picked you up, effortlessly and set you in his lap, your arms around his neck, your body folded into his. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, soothing, grounding. You could stay like that forever, cocooned in his strength, feeling truly safe for the first time.

You let your eyes droop, knowing that nothing could hurt you while he was there, and you succumbed to sleep, his hand combing gently through your hair, humming a soft melody murmured in a long forgotten tongue.

You woke up with a start, the morning sun streaming in through the window. You were alone, Elijah's suit jacket draped over you.

You frowned, wondering if perhaps it all had been a dream. If the monster, if the comfort of a stranger had never happened, just a horrible, awful, vivid nightmare. You glanced down and saw the dry bloodstains covering the jacket and realized it hadn't been.

Elijah wasn't a stranger. Not anymore. Something had changed between you, in a matter of hours. He saw all of your exposed, bloody, emotional, broken places, and you showed him a tiny piece of your soul, told him of your past.

You could smell his cologne, his smell lingering in the air, a faint scent left on the jacket. You took a deep breath and slipped the garment back on, smiling sadly.

You were a sucker for a nice suit.

The other smell in the air was coffee and you followed the scent into the kitchen. Rebekah was there, sitting at the table, two cups in front of her.

"Hope you like it strong," she said as you entered, gesturing to a cup of coffee in front of her.

You grabbed it, taking a sip, appreciating the kick of flavor.

"Sleep well?" she asked, glancing at you over the cup of her own.

"Honestly? It's the best night sleep I've had in ages," you admitted, taking a seat, pulling his jacket a little tighter, it felt comforting to have it on, like a security blanket.

She laughed, studying you carefully, her eyes settling on the jacket.

You wondered if she knew, if she was able to tell you had developed a very powerful crush on her brother.

Rebekah didn't know that Elijah was one of your clients, and it felt like a big secret to keep. She never judged you for your job, but she certainly judged those who sought your services.

You felt guilty for not telling her, but it was all so complicated. Your feelings for him were evolving, and you weren't quite sure what they were, or what they meant. She was your only friend and you wanted to confide in her, but you didn't know how.

"Beks, I... I have to tell you something," you said, feeling a bit nervous.

"What is it?" She asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Eli- Elijah has been my client since you introduced me to him," you blurted out.

She sat there, shocked, not saying anything for a moment.

"Elijah. Like my brother... Elijah? The one who was with us last night, and spent the night here? That Elijah?" She said, the look of shock on her face almost comical.

"Yes, that Elijah," you said, a blush creeping across your cheeks.

"My noble brother, who is too honorable and dignified to wear the same tie twice... Has been paying you for sex?" she said slowly, seeming to process the information, before a smirk formed on her lips. "What a delicious twist. I always thought Klaus was the manwhore brother," she added with a cackle.

You blinked, your jaw hanging open, before laughing. The tension easing, knowing she didn't hate you.

You took a deep drink of your coffee, relaxing, laughing. "I'll have you know Elijah is a great client. He's an excellent tipper, not an unkind word to say, and no requests are too kinky or strange," you said with a smile.

Rebekah raised her mug towards you in a cheers motion, clearly amused, but her expression fell a bit when she took you in a little more. "You like him," she stated, her blue eyes studying your face.

"He's my client," you answered defensively.

"Yes, I am aware of the rules you play by, but you like him." She repeated her observation, this time more sure of herself.

"Yeah," you sighed. "Maybe it's wrong to, you know, develop feelings for a client. But something's different, I don't know how to explain it," you finished.

"Well, this explains why he insisted on coming with me to save you last night. And why he's gone all avenging angel this morning. I've never seen him so protective over someone who isn't family," she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Avenging angel? It must have shown on your face because Rebekah launched into the tale of her brother's crusade this morning.

Apparently, he decided to eliminate everyone who associated with your attacker. Including the vampire who sired him and several others. He was methodical, brutal and utterly relentless in his vengeance. Tying them up and letting them burn in the rising sun.

"That's..." You couldn't find the words. It was insane, and it was for you. He was doing this because of you, and it made your heart swell with emotion.

"You're important to him," Rebekah said, her voice soft. "He doesn't do murder sprees for just anyone."

You sat there, processing the information, your mind a whirlwind. You weren't sure what to think, or how to feel, the fluttering in your stomach now a hurricane.

You had never been important to anyone, not like this. Men had always seen you as an object, a means to an end, but never someone who cared about your safety and well-being.

You loved him, even though it broke all your rules, all the careful walls you had built around yourself. He somehow managed to slip past your defenses, stealing his way into your heart and planting seeds for a future.

It had been a few weeks since the attack, and you were finally starting to feel normal again. You went back to work, seeing your regular clients. 

Rebekah had personally vetted and compelled every single one, and you felt safe and protected. None of them could possibly harm you, not with her looking over you.

The only thing that hadn't returned to normal was your regular once-a-week meetings with Elijah. He never called, or showed up, and it ate away at you.

Were you different to him now? After he learned about your past? Maybe he saw you as damaged goods, no longer a fantasy he could indulge in.

You weren't going to reach out, not after what had happened. He had been so kind and compassionate, but you weren't certain if it had really been genuine, or the situation making him act that way.

It hurt. As much as you tried to push it aside, and pretend it wasn't important to you, it was. Not just the money, but his presence, his kind eyes, the gentle way he cared for you. You missed him, and it broke your heart.

You needed something familiar, something safe. You had worn his jacket to bed every night since the attack, it was comforting, it made you feel safe. But not having him, being uncertain of what was going on, it was frustrating, and painful.

So, when you opened the door and saw him standing there, you were surprised. He had a bag of groceries in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other, an apologetic look on his face.

"Hi," he said, a shy smile on his face. "I'm sorry, for being away for so long."

You opened the door wider, gesturing for him to come inside. He walked past you, a nervous energy radiating off of him.

"It's okay, I figured you found another girl to play with," you replied off-handedly, a small part of you hoping to get a reaction.

He placed the bag on the table and spun around. "I assure you, no other woman holds a candle to your charms."

You laughed, liking his response, so typically him.

"I bought some groceries, and some wine," he said, gesturing to the bag and the bouquet. "Is there anything you would like me to make you for dinner?"

You smiled at him, his thoughtfulness making you blush. "Anything would be fine," you said, watching as he moved around your small kitchen. "You didn't have to do all this," you added, still a little taken aback by his gesture.

"I want to," he said, his brown eyes meeting yours. "I have some things I'd like to say, and I think a nice dinner might help."

You nodded, a nervous energy filling the room. He poured some wine, handing you a glass. You hesitated for a moment, fear creeping in, a million thoughts of how this could go wrong flooding your mind.

He noticed the hesitation and gently took your hand, giving it a kiss.

"If you don't want to drink, that is okay," he whispered, his voice full of understanding.

"No, it's okay," you said, smiling shyly.

You sat at the island, watching him as he worked. He was so at ease, so confident. He chopped and stirred, and the aroma of delicious food filled the air.  You never experienced this sort of thing growing up, the peaceful domesticity. It was strange, sitting there with Elijah, it felt so foreign, yet so normal. So perfect. He moved about the kitchen with a practiced ease, humming softly.

You sipped the wine, the sweet taste filling your mouth. You couldn't remember the last time you had drunk a whole glass, let alone several.

After a while, he put the food on the plates, and handed one to you. It smelled delicious, and looked even better. You took a bite, the flavors exploding in your mouth.

"Wow, this is incredible," you exclaimed, taking another bite.

He chuckled, sitting down next to you on the counter, it was so casual, so relaxed, almost intimate.

"How did you learn how to cook?" You asked, curious.

"I've lived for a thousand years, I think it would be pretty embarrassing if I didn't know how to make a proper meal," he replied, his voice laced with amusement.

"I always forget just how old you are," you said, smirking.

"Does it bother you?" He asked, his voice hesitant.

"No," you said, smiling reassuringly.

You finished eating, the two of you chatting about mundane things, no talk of work or pasts, just simple conversation. It was refreshing, being able to just be, no pressure or expectations.

After you were done, he took your plate and started washing the dishes. You couldn't help but laugh, and he turned around, a look of confusion on his face.

"What's so funny?" He asked, drying his hands.

"You just... cooking, cleaning," you said, trying to compose yourself. "I've never seen anything like it,"

"Is that a bad thing?" He asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"No," you said, grinning, "it's actually really nice,"

"Good," he said, chuckling, then he splashed some soap bubbles at you.

You gasped and glared at him, wiping the suds off your top.

"Oh, you did not just do that," you said, a wicked smile on your lips.

You grabbed the sponge and squirted him, laughing as the soap hit his face. He shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes.

"That's how you want to play it, hmm?" He asked, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

He grabbed the faucet and turned it on, spraying you with water. You squealed and tried to dodge, but he was too fast, your feet slipping on the now wet kitchen floor. You went sliding, and Elijah caught you in his arms, laughing.

Your heart was racing, and you were sure he could hear it, beating furiously in your chest. His warm arms were wrapped around you, and your face was inches from his. He was so close, so solid, so real. The world around you disappeared, all that mattered was him. You wanted to give in, to let yourself feel, but fear crept in.

The past flashed through your mind, the memories, the pain, the shame. You pulled away, your heart aching.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your eyes full of tears.

He took a step back, his face full of understanding.

"It's okay," he said softly, his hand reaching out and stroking your cheek.

"What did you want to talk to me about? Why are you really here?" You asked, afraid of the answer.

"I..." He paused, his eyes searching yours. "I am no longer in need of your services,"

Your heart sank, your body suddenly feeling cold. It was the answer you were expecting, but it still hurt. After what he saw in that penthouse, after all of his concern and comfort, he was done with you. Your fears were coming true.

You nodded, forcing a weak smile.

"I just..." he trailed off, his eyes still searching yours, his hand still on your cheek. "I love you, and I've been using you," he said, his eyes full of sadness. "That's why I stopped coming, it was... too much. It felt like I was taking advantage of you."

You stared at him, shock washing over you. It felt like the world had stopped moving. Love? A word you never thought would apply to you, yet here was a man, looking at you with such tenderness, such compassion, such pure undiluted love. It wasn't something you could process, love wasn't a feeling you felt worthy of, it wasn't something you believed you deserved. 

"Elijah..." You whispered, your voice barely audible. "You don't love me, you love the escort, the persona,"

"No, I love you, all of you," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "The good, the bad, the messy, all of it. That's why I can't use you anymore, because I want to love you, not just fuck you,"

You stood there, your emotions warring within you. Part of you was overjoyed, the other part was terrified.

You had never been loved before, and the thought of it was both exhilarating and terrifying. But you couldn't deny the pull between the two of you, the chemistry that was always there.

And it wasn't just physical, there was something deeper, something more. Something that was worth taking a chance on.

You reached out, your hand touching his face. You could feel his breath on your skin, his warmth radiating through you. Your heart was beating so fast, your hands trembling, but you pulled him closer, your lips ghosting across his.

He inhaled sharply, his eyes searching yours, his hand gently touching your face. You closed your eyes, his scent filling your nose. You didn't care that he was your client, that you swore this would never happen, or any of the reasons you always believed it would be better to stay distant.

He was the first one to move, kissing you softly, you could feel the love, the passion, the desire. His hands tangled in your hair, the kiss growing deeper, more intense.

You clung to him, your body pressed against his, the world around you fading away. It was perfect, the moment you had been waiting for. The first time you felt like someone actually wanted you, and it was better than anything you had ever imagined.

His hand slid down your body, his fingers brushing against your skin. You could feel the heat rising within you, the need for him growing stronger. He picked you up, his lips never leaving yours, and carried you into the bedroom.

He laid you on the bed, his body hovering over you. He kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands caressing your skin.

You moaned, your body arching into him. You wanted him, all of him. You tugged at his shirt, pulling it off. He helped you, then pulled your top over your head.

He trailed kisses down your neck, to your chest, his tongue flicking over your nipples. You let out a soft moan, your hands tangled in his hair.

He continued his exploration, his lips trailing lower, down your stomach, and stopped at the waistband of your skirt. He hooked his thumbs under it, and slowly pulled it down, his mouth kissing your hips.

He kneeled between your legs, kissing the soft skin of your thighs, waiting for your permission to break the rules.

This wasn't work, or something you were forced to do. This was something new, something special.

You spread your legs further, your arousal glistening in the dim light. He moved up your body, kissing your neck as he peeled off his remaining clothes. You reached up, tracing his jaw, and then cupping his face. He looked up at you, his eyes full of love, lust, and worry.

You nodded your head, giving him the permission he needed. His hands gripped your panties, slowly sliding them down. Your heart pounded in your chest, anticipation building.

He kissed your clit, his tongue exploring the sensitive spot. You let out a soft moan, your body shaking.

He took his time, wanting to taste you, wanting to give you pleasure. You deserved to feel good, to forget the pain, if even just for a moment.

He kept teasing you, his tongue circling your clit, then dancing around it. You were aching for him, the tension inside you building.

You gripped the sheets, your body writhing beneath him. You felt the pressure release, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

You floated on a cloud of bliss, your body tingling with aftershocks. He kissed his way back up to you, his lips finding yours.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, cupping his face, pulling him close and kissing him. You had heard that from countless men over the years, but this was the first time you believed it, believed him.

You felt the length of him rubbing against your thigh. You reached down, stroking him, letting him know how much you wanted him.

He was so close, the scent of him filling your senses. He pressed himself against you, his erection teasing you, the ache between your thighs growing.

He wanted to make love to you, to show you what it meant to be with someone who cared about you, who loved you.

He slowly parted your legs, his gaze locked on yours, waiting for the final bit of permission.

You couldn't form the words, so instead you nodded, a shy smile on your lips. He understood, and slowly pushed into you.

You closed your eyes, the feeling of him filling you, stretching you, overwhelming you. It had been so long since anyone touched you like this, and he was doing it so perfectly.

But sudden fear coursed through you, everything replaying in your mind. All the men who had used you, forced you, made you perform. The vampire who dragged you back into your trauma, took away your control.

Elijah could see the distance in your eyes, the disconnect, and he pulled away, slightly, a concerned look on his face.

"It's okay," he said, his voice soft, "we can stop if you want to,"

You blinked, the memory fading, the realization setting in. Elijah wasn't like those men, he was different, caring, gentle. He made you feel safe in a way that no one else ever had.

You smiled at him, your heart swelling with love and affection. You reached up and cupped his face, gently pulling him towards you, your lips meeting his.

You poured your heart into the kiss, your emotions overwhelming you. He rolled the both of you on your sides, his arms wrapping around you. You clung to him, his name a whisper on your lips.

You felt a tingling building, but this wasn't pleasure, it was something else. A sense of euphoria washed over you, and for a brief moment, your whole being was at peace. You felt safe, loved, treasured. Your heart was whole, the pain and darkness gone, replaced by pure happiness and bliss.

You broke the kiss, your eyes wide as you looked at him, your heart pounding. You had never felt anything like it, never thought it was possible. You had experienced great pleasure, had orgasms that left you breathless, but this was something different, something deeper, something beyond description.

You blinked, reality settling in, your thoughts a tangled mess. You had broken your rules, given yourself to him completely, allowed him to touch the most broken and vulnerable part of you.

Your heart.

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[bloodyinkandquill]

Ban Hammer and cursed prisoner Reader

ok lemme brain storm this for a minute, hmmmmmm, ok i got it! let’s begin this, i’ll probably get this done by at most the end of this class, oh and this is platonic for anyone who didn’t see the request

- It wasn’t your fault, you argued for yourself heavily but the court system wouldn’t have it, you were sentenced to the Banlands, a place where many entered but few ever made it out, the only person to leave easily was the warden himself, someone every demon knew, you would be an idiot to not recognize the almost 7 foot demigod that created the prison you were sent to

- The first time you came face to face with the notorious Ban Hammer was when you first arrived, you were terrified, he smiling giant you were face to face with was looming over you wielding his enormous hammer that gave him his name, you tried one last time to proclaim it wasn’t your fault but he just grumbled that he heard it a thousand times as you were ushered to your cell

- Days continued, though it was hard to tell the time with the environment the Banlands were built in, one day as you mindlessly stared at one of the cells of your wall you heard snarls and growls approaching, snapping out of your daydream you approached the bars of your cell and saw saw what looked like a demon, black and pink with shackles around its wrists, connected to a chain that was being held by the warden

- He attached the chain to some pillar and then stepped back and just watched as the strange demon ran around snarling and gurgling, mustering up enough confidence you asked what he was doing and who the demon was, he looked a bit surprised by your question before answering it

- He explained that Void Star spawned with a cursed gear, she’s non sentient, basically a wild animal, so shes locked up here for the protection of herself and for others, and he just lets her run around and release energy every few days since it makes her more mellow the rest of the time, you sighed out that you were in a similar situation, he quirked an eyebrow in questioning so you explained that your gear was also cursed, not as badly as hers but anyone who wields it it controls them and forces them to hurt someone, when you first spawned the spawn attendant that picked it up was the first to discover the effects when they used it on you, from there you never summoned it terrified of hurting others, but when someone attempted to mug you you in a panic summoned it but before you could do anything it was too late, the curse made you slit the other demons throat, you pleaded you were innocent, you couldn’t control it, but it didn’t matter you were sentenced to the Banlands

- He had a look you couldn’t quite place but it seemed almost sympathetic, he then said he had to return Void Star to her cell and so you bid him farewell, if at dinner than night you noticed your bread was far fresher than usual, you didn’t say anything

- A few days after that you awoke from a nap to an odd thwacking sound, once again going to the bars you saw nearby Ban Hammer playing golf, you didn’t take him as a golf guy but it was entertaining, especially when he’d make sorta cheesy dedications for his mom before putting the ball, at one impressive swing you gave a small cheer and a few claps, he perked up at the praise and turned and looked a bit surprised to see it was you again

- From there you two began talking, you praising his golf skills turning to random chatter, eventually he left again but soon enough maybe a day or two later he came back to just chat with you, the cycle continued of you two just chatting when he had some free time, you wished he would let you free but you understood why he didn’t, after a few weeks he did make you promise not to run before letting you go on a walk with him around the Banlands

- One of the times you were chatting you mentioned you enjoyed music, specifically creating music, he boasted about his skills on the electric guitar before the conversation shifted to something else, however when you woke up the next morning you found that a acoustic guitar had been put in your cell, you smiled at the thoughtfulness and from then on in late hours of the night soft melodies could be heard echoing around the prison

- One day, a few months after you arrived a random guard appeared at your cell, you looked at them inquisitively and they said that your case had been reassessed and you were free to go, you were so happy, you never thought you’d be free again, but it didn’t make sense, the judges didn’t seem like they would have changed their minds, even with how much you pleaded, the guard must have noticed your confused face because they spoke up, saying that you owe a lot to the warden

- You felt a smile appear on your face as you walked with the guard, taking the guitar with you, thanks to Ban Hammer you got your freedom back, if a few nights later he received a letter inviting him to hang out, well, no one needed to know that

this was definitely more story then it was head canons so hopefully the requester likes it! i thought it was a cool idea but im also tired as shit so i’m going to nap now lmao

[ladyveronikawrites]

AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A GOOD TIME

Lady Midnight's Kinktober in the Concrete Jungle 2024

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x Jolly Karlsson x OC x Noah Sebastian

Cw- masked men, roleplaying, sensory deprivation: blindfolds, scarf as bondage, unprotected vaginal sex, mean ex boyfriend, double penetration, oral sex (male and female receiving), mild thigh slapping, spitting, vaginal fingering,  jerking off, facial, cum eating,  revenge kink if you squint, getting caught, voyeurism, THICK DICK NICK, one hot foursome, If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: a little self-indulgent fic, Star Wars characters ahead - Nick as Kylo Ren makes me feral lol - pärla means 'gem' in Swedish

AO3 || Wattpad || Word Count: 3k || masterlist || Taglist sign up

dividers by saradika-graphics

Ruby swipes on her signature red lip as she looks over her outfit in the full-length mirror by the front door. She adjusts her boring brown Jedi robes Nathan insisted she wear to juxtapose his Darth Maul. She scoffs to herself knowing damn well he has no idea who Darth Maul is and probably found the costume at Spirit Halloween. Reluctantly she sighs, the distant dream of her Sabine Wren cosplay lying buried under clothes in her closet never to see the light of day.

Her phone chimes, ripping her from her brief moment of sadness. 

She frantically types ‘OMW’ as she slides into the Uber.

Nathan <Ru, I have been waiting for over an hour.>

She can hear Nathan’s anger through the screen, silently sending a prayer for the driver to go faster. Ruby and Nathan were high school sweethearts that turned into an on-and-off-and-on-again situationship while they were away in college, but when Ruby dropped out of college to pursue music full-time as an indie artist - things went sour really fast. He never understood her passion for music, too self-absorbed in his reputation at the Ivy League university he got into thanks to his wealthy parents. 

Her fingers freeze over the screen as her heart shatters into a thousand pieces. 

Nathan <You know what, since it seems like you don’t care about MY time, we are done. For real this time. Don’t even bother coming.>

Tears stream down her face as she powers down her phone and shoves it into her purse. He can go fuck himself, Ruby thinks to herself - and she gets an even better idea. 

“S-sorry but can you take me downtown instead?” she asks, her voice wavering slightly as the realization sinks in. She takes a deep breath, drying her tear-stained cheeks as the driver pulls up to Nathan’s most hated bar- which happens to be her favorite, Third Base. 

The bar is bustling as she walks in. It’s been updated since she had been there, all those months ago when Nathan was doing a semester abroad in Rome. Ruby instantly fell in love with the quaint charm of the dive bar. It didn’t help that the bar owner was ruggedly handsome, the kind of personality that was homegrown from a small town. She ached for the slow stroll of home instead of the hustle and bustle of city life. Festive Halloween touches add to the ambiance and that’s when she realizes other patrons are also adorned in costume.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” his familiar twang wraps around her like a warm blanket. She should probably be sobbing into her wine glass in a rose-scented bubble bath in the comfort of her home instead she replies with “Whiskey neat, double.” She notices he’s the only one not dressed up, even his bartender is sporting a risque outfit. 

Ruby is about to mention the lack of costume when he asks “That kinda night?” Ruby downs the drink without a word, slides off the metal bar stool, and makes her way to the old jukebox in the corner of the bar. She scrolls through the CDs not really impressed with the selection. 

“Not finding what you’re looking for?” A distorted voice has Ruby turning. She opens her mouth to grumble about the lackluster music selection, but her brain turns to static. She’s met face-to-face with Kylo Ren. 

“I-” 

“Here, you might like this.” Another man dressed up as a Mandalorian pushes between them. Ruby stands in awe as the two men fight over a CD. Her awe turns into appreciation as she notices the small details in the homemade costume. Whoever’s in the suit spent hours making it.

“Can I buy you another drink?”  A deep voice comes from the bar.

She turns and freezes. “N-nathan? How’d yo-” She is silenced by a red-painted finger as the man towers over her. Realization strikes her that this man is too tall to be Nathan. 

“Nathan isn’t here Jedi.” Boldly, the stranger spits in her face - playing into the villainous role - yet Ruby can’t help but be even more aroused. 

Ruby finds herself being shoved into the back seat of an SUV. Not in a kidnappy way but in a rushed I-want-to-devour-you-way. The look Darth Maul is giving her has her pussy throbbing. She slides her way in as Kylo and Mando hop in the front. Warm lips pressed against her and; at this moment, she couldn't care less if she was covered in red and black body paint by the end of this. She pulls him in closer as his gloved hand teases the waistband of her leggings. Her head thuds against the window when he slips his fingers inside her as his tongue explores her mouth. Suddenly, his long finger slams into the sweet spot and she bites down on his bottom lip, hard. 

He groans, “You gonna surrender, Jedi?” 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” she whines as he finger fucks her all the way to her apartment. By the time they get to her apartment, his gloves are drenched and the back seat is damp where she was sitting, but Ruby could give a single fuck as in the span of 30 minutes she had already had more satisfying orgasms than Nathan could ever give her. Maybe it’s the adrenaline or the thrill? Probably both. If one of them can satisfy her alone with his fingers imagine all three of them.

“You wanna do this Jedi?” Kylo Ren asks once in Ruby’s apartment.

“It’s not every night you get three masked men in your apartment,” she smirks her hands roaming over his black robes. 

“You’ll have to wear this,” the foreign Mandalorian slides a blindfold over her eyes. 

“That’s fine,” her breath catches as her hands drift up to grip Ren’s mask. “Can I take this off?” 

Abruptly, she finds herself pressed against a solid chest behind her and warm lips devour her own. She tangles her fingers into long hair and he groans when she yanks. 

“I was not expecting long hair, but it’s so soft.” Ruby twirls a strand around her finger. Her hand cups his cheek and pulls him into another kiss.

“Ren’s not the only one here Jedi.” Her heartbeat skyrockets at the memory of Darth Maul in the backseat of the car. The way he towered over her, his eyes dark with lust, and his voice made her pussy flutter.

 The mattress groans with the added weight and Ruby’s mind begins to spiral. She yelps with teeth and stubble brush against the skin on her inner thigh. Fuck, Mando has facial hair that's fucking hot. Ruby giggles as he inches closer to her core and at the same time remembers how Nathan can only grow a pathetic and patchy beard. She squirms, aching for roughness against her pussy..

“Oh you’re a feisty one,” Maul whispers in her ear as he settles down beside her. Suddenly, her hands are bound loosely with something smooth and soft. Her brain rationalizes one of her summer scarves that hangs from the hooks over the door. A part of her hopes it’s her favorite one, the black one with skulls. 

“Our red hot Ruby.” he nips at her ear and at the same time one of them pinches her nipple. Ruby yelps at the sudden pain, endorphins surging through her body. “You like a little pain with your pleasure, hm?” 

Smack

A large hand makes contact with her inner thigh. “Fuck! Yes,” Ruby yelps. “Yes, I like pain ‘n pleasure!”

Lips brush against her cheek. “Our little pain slut.”

“Our little pain slut,” Mando mumbles against her throbbing clit as he sinks two thick fingers inside her. 

“Fuck,” she groans as her pussy walls stretch from the invasion. 

“God Ruby… have you ever- “ he trails off, lost in thought. He sucks her clit between his lips and thrusts his fingers into the spongy sweet spot. Ruby writhes as the coil winds tighter in her core. Large hands clamp down on her shoulders to keep her steady as her body starts to tremble. In a silent scream, the dam breaks, and euphoria floods through her body as she releases herself onto Mando’s face. She writhes oversensitive and overwhelmed as he laps up everything she gives him. 

“Little, pärla” Mando pants, “You are divine.” 

Ruby finds herself being pulled gently to sit upright. “Here’s some water,” Ren says softly, handing her a glass of water.

“Thank you.” Her cheeks warm to the kind gesture. “Nathan never took care of me like this.” Her lips press into a thin line and her shoulders slump forward as her mind flashes each disappointing experience. 

A warm hand settles on the small of her back, gently rubbing up and down. “Ain’t nothin’ but a good time, hm?” Mando whispers seductively, his breath is hot against the shell of her ear.  

Ruby briefly wonders if that would have been the track he chose at the bar. Her heart flutters at the parallels and she enthusiastically adds, “Hell yeah!” 

She squeals at first when hands grip her hips and hoist her onto his lap. His hard cock

“You ready for a good time, sweetheart?” Ren asks before pulling her into a heated kiss. His free hand roams over her tits as another set of hands rubs up and down her thighs. Sandwiched between the two men her heart races with anticipation. 

“Got any lube, darling?” Mando asks as Ren pulls her up onto her knees. 

“In… the… drawer…”  she replies between kisses. Her heart leaps into her throat when a cold and wet finger circles the tense muscle of her asshole.

“Can Mando fill you up back there while Ren plays with your pretty pussy?” Maul’s baritone makes her spine tingle. Mando’s finger stills at her back entrance and Ren nips at her other ear. 

“Can I watch?” Maul asks, pulling the blindfold off and Ruby’s eyes widen, taking in the sight before her. Ren’s stormy blue-gray eyes captivate her first, then his soft smile and tint of pink on his cheeks. She can’t resist carding her hand through his hair, so smooth. He leans into her touch, entranced by the gentleness. The world around them darkness slightly and she briefly forgets about the other two. She could stay here, locked in his gentle gaze but her eyes begin to wonder. Her other hand traces the tattoos on his shoulder to his wrist where in the corner of her vision she spies his large thick cock. 

Suddenly, a gloved hand grips her wrist and twists her sideways. His fingers entwine with hers as the other grips her chin. “Don’t forget about us, Jedi.” His deep brown eyes are piercing and she notices that his face is the only exposed skin free of paint. His abdominal muscles flex as her gaze lowers, she huffs disappointed that he is clothed from the waist down.

Her eyes widen at the sound of a deep moan. Maul tilts her head back so she can see the man behind her. His grasp loosens completely and she twists her body more to see Mando better. 

“Hello, pärla,” he moans her nickname, his eyelids flutter closed as he strokes himself. 

“Looks like Mando’s ready. Are you?” Maul asks. 

Ruby remains fixed on watching Mando touch himself. She mutters a breathless, “Yeah.” 

“Come back to your supreme leader.” A tinge of pain pricks at Ruby’s scalp when Ren fists her hair and tugs. She moans as the pain melts into pleasure. 

“Finally showing me your dark side, Ren,” Ruby smirks. “I like it.” 

“Good.” Ren crowds into Ruby’s space, thrusting his hand around her throat. He squeezes slightly then releases pressure completely. “Lean back.”

Ruby adjusts her stance to straddle Mando’s hips. Together, Mando and Ren guide her to lower herself onto him. Maul groans beside them.  The stretch takes her breath away, if only for a moment as the hand tightens around her neck and lips crash onto hers. Ruby succumbs to the sensations letting Mando set the pace while she battles for breath with the fallen Jedi. Ren shoves her back against Mando’s chest by the throat. She sucks in the air when he releases his hand, chest heaving with every inhalation. 

“My turn,” Ren growls, nipping at her earlobe. He squeezes the soft tissue of her breasts as his mouth trails kisses down her torso. Grinning he spreads her legs apart wider and his lips gently kiss her tummy before descending through her silken folds. Mando thrusts into her as Ren teases her other hole with his tongue and then sucks at her clit. She’s teetering on the edge of bliss when it is abruptly ripped away.

“No cumming yet darling.” Mando stills inside her just as Ren flattens his tongue licking one final time before pulling away. 

“Do you want a taste?” Ren asks, his lips ghosting over hers. Her mouth drops open to respond but without warning, fingers slide their way in. Disappointment sours her stomach when Ren leans over and kisses Mando. Greedily, she flicks her tongue around Ren’s fingers in hopes of vying for his attention. 

“Is our Ruby a little jealous she is getting attention?” Maul laughs. In the heat of the moment, Ruby had forgotten all about him. “No… you aren’t jealous, but your needy little cunt is.” Desperation flashes through her as she bites down on Ren’s fingers. Ren huffs a laugh against Mando’s lips, 

“I heard that cunt is still needy, hm?” Ren tilts his head, his gaze scanning over her body. A small whine leaks out of her mouth. He slides his fingers out of her mouth and onto her throat. His lips curl into a devilish smirk, “You want more?” 

“Yes, yes, yes, please!” Ruby’s lashes flutter when Ren sinks into her dripping pussy. 

“So tight-” Ren groans.

“Dude, I can feel you,” Mando gasps when Ren bottoms out.

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Maul muses.

Ren holds her steady as Mando slowly thrusts in and out of her. 

“Feeling good?” Maul whispers lowly in her ear.

“S-so good, so full.. he's so big” Her words melt into nothingness when Ren flexes inside her.

“Fuck fuck fuck, I’m gonna come… don’t-” Ruby whines as Mando and Ren alternate thrusting into her ass and cunt.

“Ru, you home? I saw your car out front.” Her ex’s voice booms through the apartment, his words slur together in one long word. But she can’t be bothered as pressure builds in her core. 

“Shhh,” Mando shushes her with a hand to her mouth

“Maybe,” Maul leans over and whispers turning Ruby slightly towards him. Grinning he offers his eager cock to her and she eagerly nods. Ren smacks Maul in the arms when he moans as Ruby takes him into her mouth. 

The bedroom door swings open and Maul’s cock throbs between her lips. Ren and Mando are too far gone to care when -

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

Ruby sighs against Maul’s softening cock slipping it from her mouth while she is still being pounded between two beautiful men. It takes all of her strength not to come when she leans around Ren to stare Nathan dead in the eyes. 

“Fuck! You!” she groans as she comes, flipping Nathan one and then sucking on each of her middle fingers. Her eyes roll back as she catches a glimpse of him stalking out the door. When the door slams shut she sinks into Mando as euphoria floods her body.

“Damn, that was hot!” Maul says impressed. Ruby peers up through her lashes at Maul who’s stoking his now hard cock. 

“Yeah?” Ruby cocks an eyebrow. Without hesitation, she pulls his free hand and sucks on his middle finger. 

Maul sucks in a curse. “Damn girl, fuck.” Ruby bites down at Maul’s finger, not painfully hard, but enough when her hair is yanked back and she is pulled off. 

“Wh-”

“Open up,” Mando commands as he grips her jaw forcing her mouth open. Ruby opens her mouth wide and sticks her tongue out with anticipation. Mando lowers his hands to rest around her throat squeezing gently. Ren tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear before leaning down to suck on her nipple. She jolts when he bites down, her pussy walls clenching around his semi-hard cock. Mando slides his hand down her middle to circle her clit as Ren plays with her tits. 

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Maul curses as he splatters his cum all over Ruby’s face. Small whimpers come from her open mouth as another orgasm wrecks through her. She swallows then licks her lips and smiles up at Maul before pulling him closer to lick and suck at his softening cock. She hisses when Ren pulls off her tit with an audible pop. 

Ruby hums satisfiedly, leaning back against Mando, as Ren slides out of her. Before he can say another word, she mumbles, “Baby wipes in the bathroom down the hall.” 

She doesn’t open her eyes but sinks further into bliss as Mando rubs his hands up and down her arms. “You did so well for us Pärla,” he whispers in her ear. All she can muster is a hummed agreement. 

“Let me clean you up,” Maul offers when Ren returns. She blinks to find soft brown eyes and a dazzling smile to greet her. “Thank you,” she whispers. “All of you,” she adds when Ren takes Maul’s place in front of her to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. As Ren and Maul redress, Mando steals more kisses as he helps Ruby up to dress her. 

“Here,” Maul hands Ruby her glass of water. “You can call me Noah.” 

“Hi, Noah.” she flashes him a dazzling smile in the afterglow.

“Food?” Ren asks before adding,” The name’s Nick and he’s Jolly.” 

“No please- you guys can go, I’ll be alright.” Ruby dismisses, gesturing to the door.  

“Please?” Jolly wraps her up in his arms. “Dinner and a movie and we will leave after that.”

“We just don’t want you to be alone,” Nick adds. 

“Fine.” Ruby relents as her stomach rumbles. “Thai food and the new Deadpool movie.” 

The four of them settle on blankets and pillows in the living room with Ruby in the middle. She finds herself leaning against Jolly’s shoulder and for the first time in a long time has finally felt at peace.

👑Royal Readers👑

@deathblacksmoke @mysticdoodlez @sitkowski @snarkysolaris @collapsedglasshouses @shilohrosechicken

@cookiesupplier @iknownothingpeople @dominuslunae @agravemisstake @the-ancient-fae

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@omensbrainrot @99png @awkwardalex @fadingangelwisp @theanarchymuse95 @lobolocaamo

[lemon-boy-stan]

JEALOUSY - DILUC RAGNVINDR

Summary: Everyone knows the reader is Diluc's wife. Everyone except Kaeya, of course, who still thinks he has a shot at sleeping with her. After a long day of battle, Diluc teaches Kaeya his lesson. Pairing: Diluc x fem!reader (Lumine based) Genre: smut. Warnings: swearing, voyeruism, orgasm control, dom!jealous!Diluc, pervert!Kaeya, male masturbation, breeding, Diluc being a dick :D A/N: this is my first Genshin fic! I've been in love with Diluc ever since I started playing last month. Hope you like it, hopefully it's not too bad! Here's the inspiration for YN's nightie.

As much as Diluc Ragnvindr despised the Knights of the Favonius, he still kept tabs on where they were, what they were doing and if they needed help. The reason? His wife was one of them ever since she came to Mondstadt as a traveller.

Diluc had had his eyes on her ever since they had first met, but he knew there was competition. Everyone knew he was going to marry you one day, he'd made it clear to the entire village. Well. Everyone except Kaeya, who still liked to ignore the fact that you were Diluc's wife, not his.

Kaeya was always flirting with Diluc's wife, always asking her if and when she wanted to meet up with him, complementing her fighting skills, looking at her when he thought no one was (except Diluc, of course), always trying to get close to her.

Of course, Kaeya always had this flair to impress people, especially girls, especially pretty girls, which Diluc's wife was, with her pretty blonde hair and blue eyes that always glistened with happiness and love. But what Kaeya didn't know was that Diluc knew everything going on in his brother's head; because it was going through his too. Too slow, Kaeya. She was Diluc's first.

Diluc always hated when you went off on one of your quests. He had it in his right mind to revoke you from being a Knight of the Favonius if you weren't one of their best soldiers. Nevertheless, it was midday when you bid him goodbye, kissing him on the cheek before standing in between Amber, Lisa and a very smug looking Kaeya. Diluc tried his best not to grit his teeth, smiling and waving at you as you stepped towards the Teleport Waypoint.

Once you were gone, Diluc kicked the door of the Dawn Winery. Patton and other villages looked at him strange, but he couldn't care less. He slammed the door shut, overturning the closed sign on the front door, yelling at customers inside to get out before sighing and sitting behind the bar.

Hours and hours past until late evening, and they still weren't back yet. He grunted loudly before getting up, slamming the door of the Winery once more, making his own way to the Teleport Waypoint.

Sure enough, there they all were, getting constantly defeated by a ruin guard. Diluc scanned the area, smiling at the sight of how pretty his wife was, even in battle.

She fired all her elemental power at the guard before tripping and turning her back. Diluc's heart was beating a thousand miles now as he watched in anticipation from the steps of the ruin as the guard fired explosives at his wife. The two girls shrieked loudly, running to YN's side. Kaeya froze the guard and Diluc roared, jumping up from a pillar, thrusting his sword into the guard's head.

Paimon hovered above YN, barking orders at Amber and Lisa, her high pitched voice making Diluc's teeth grind. All Diluc saw was red as he made his way over.

"Kaeya," sniffled Lisa, "we need your help." Diluc's head snapped up, "what could this pervert possibly be helpful for?" Kaeya stuttered loudly, "pervert?!" And Diluc growled, "I SAW YOU looking up my wife's skirt!" Kaeya glared at Diluc, "I remember no such thing. You're just delusional because you think everyone wants to bang-" BANG. Kaeya fell to the side, stumbling from Diluc's punch.

The girls shrieked again. Diluc smirked, "what is it? Cat got your tongue?"

"Master Diluc!" Pamion snapped. Kaeya got up, hissing at his older brother, wiping the blood from his lips. "Do you see these burns on her?" Pamion gently lifted YN's shirt. Diluc gritted his teeth. "Only Kaeya can heal them, and we don't have any other options. If we are to be back in Mondstat before tomorrow and she is to be in your arms safe in the Winery, please co-operate!"

Diluc hissed, "and have this pervert touch her? Absolutely not." Pamion hissed back at him before disappearing. "Master Diluc!" Shouted both girls angrily. "Why would anyone look at your wife? We all know how much-"

"Diluc," said a softer, timid voice, calming him instantly, making him worry more than be jealous. "My love?" He kissed your forehead. You coughed, "it hurts." He bit his lip and sighed, nodding. "Alright, honey. It'll be okay. Kaeya, please help her."

Kaeya hissed, "that's what I was trying to do." Diluc merely rolled his eyes, waving off the younger's words.

Kaeya placed his hands on YN's chest (so, so punchable), cooling the burns with his elemental power. Instantly, your face regained its colour. You sat up, smiling, "thank you." Kaeya grunted, rolling his eyes.

All Diluc did was glare at his brother before kissing your lips softly, helping you up. Amber and Lisa shared looks with each other, making their way back to the Teleport Waypoint.

Back in Mondstadt, Diluc let you rest during and a little after dinner with the team in the tavern where you regained your strength. Kaeya, the prick he was, was staying in one of the Dawn Winery's rooms for the night.

It was around midnight when the group finally departed to their respected quarters. Kaeya wove goodbye to you, and Diluc smiled, an idea forming in his head, finally putting the jealousy to rest. He took your hand in his, leading you you to the master bedroom. Diluc was planning on buying a mansion soon with the money from the winery, but for now this was your residence.

"You're not still mad about Kaeya, are you, my love?" you looked back at him, taking off your armour in the mirror. Diluc grunted, "a little, but I'll be fine." taking off his gloves, putting his hands in his pockets and and walking over.

Diluc kissed the left side of your neck softly and your eyes fluttered closed as you giggled quietly, "mm, you're adorable." if anyone else called him that, Diluc might just shred them to bits. But he gave his wife a proper, genuine smile. "Am I?" and you nodded, "the cutest."

Diluc kissed you on your lips deeply and pressing you against the mirror. "Oh," you mumbled softly, "what's gotten into you, Master Diluc?" and he grunted again, "don't call me that, my love. You know what it does to me," his eyes turning a darker shade of red.

Diluc made sure to frown, "I can't remember if Charles locked up. I'll be back in a moment, stay there, yes?" And he kissed your cheek, putting his pointer finger in the slit of your silver nightie, pulling the silk down so that he could see your breasts. He smirked and you sighed dreamily at him, "yes, Master Diluc." He smiled, "good girl."

Diluc put his gloves back on before shutting the door. Kaeya was in one of the smaller rooms as he he often travelled alone. Diluc didn't care if his brother was sleeping or not, and rapped loudly on the door. "Okay, okay!" Kaeya shouted from inside.

The door opened and Diluc smirked again. Kaeya sighed in annoyance. "What is it, you inssuferable-" but Diluc wove his hand, cutting him off. "YN wants you." and Kaeya frowned suspiciously. "What exactly does your beloved wife need me for?" Diluc rolled his eyes, drawling his words. "Don't you know to be respectful to your host?" and Kaeya snarled, "why, you little-" the younger reached to punch the older, but Diluc saw it a mile away, and instead grabbed his brother's wrist.

"Don't you enjoy helping my wife?" Diluc hissed. "Come."

It had been ten minutes and you were starting to get antsy when Diluc flung the door open, pulling a a very very angry blue-headed man behind him. "Kaeya?!" You startled up, making sure the nightie covered your breasts. Kaeya couldn't help but stare and get hard. You shrieked loudly and ran to find the nearest item of clothing, one of Diluc's soft velvet cloaks.

Diluc rolled his eyes, hand gripping his brother's wrist. "I thought I told you to stay put?" He drawled, flinging his brother into the maroon arm chair next to the master bed. Kaeya made for the door, but Diluc hissed, kicking it shut with his boot.

"Master Diluc!" You stuttered, backing up against the wall, "what are you doing, my love?" And Diluc smiled innocently, "teaching my dear brother a lesson. Look, he's already hard. Didn't I tell you he was a pervert?" Fuck. If your husband wasn't the hottest man in the world, no one was.

"Pervert?!" spat Kaeya, "you're the one fucking her infront of me!" and Diluc laughed one of the Loudest laughs you'd ever heard him laugh in your life. "You were the one looking up her skirt," Diluc snarled, "after I had just bred her the night thereof? Did my seed on her skin make you that horny?"

Kaeya coughed, "I have no idea what you're talking about." he gripped the arms of the chair. Diluc smirked, "well, my wife and I are trying to concieve child, and the day after, you look up her skirt. Don't you know who she belongs to, brother?" and he grabbed grabbed your waist, flinging you onto the bed, making you shriek loudly.

There was none of the usual teasing teasing and foreplay involved. Not even any preparation, as if you still needed some. Diluc unzipped his pants and lifted your nightie over your head before leaning down and thrusting inside you, all of his anger finally released.

"Diluc!" you screamed his name, each syllable of his name lined with both pain and pleasure. You would never get used to the size of his cock. You had slept with a multitude of men Mondstat before bedding Diluc, and nothing compared to him. Diluc grunted softly, kissing your neck. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he hit your spot with one thrust.

"Fuck," he grunted, "you're still so fucking tight. Does this audience turn you on, my love?" you mewled under him, blushing. He cackled loudly, the sound booming. "Feel free to touch yourself," he shot at Kaeya, "but never look at my wife unless I allow you."

Yes, Kaeya knew she and Diluc were trying for a child. Everyone in Mondstat did. Not just because of Diluc boasting about it every five seconds, but also because everyone could hear what was happening in the winery every day since late April. It was July now and no one had the guts to bring it up.

Kaeya moaned loudly at the sight of tiny YN underneath Diluc, unbuckling his pants and stroking his member, wishing it was him fucking the swet, innocent girl she protrayed herself as. When she first came to Mondstadt, Kaeya had wanted to fuck her guts out immediately because of her innocent stature. Fuck you, Diluc.

Diluc's hips snapped as he he thrust into your dripping cunt, pale skin shining under the candlelight. Diluc moaned loudly, "fuck, you feel so so fucking good. You're so fucking perfect, look how well you take my cock." he slowed down, kissing your breasts. "I'm gonna breed you now, love." and you nodded, barely processing anything except for how good that huge cock of his felt.

"Fuck," Diluc moaned lewdley, releasing the first load into into you, pulling out his cock and lining it with his cum before pushing it back in you, "you're so fucking good for me, don't waste a single drop." you nodded hazily, "yes, Master Diluc." he whimpered at the name, cumming an even bigger load.

"Gonna cum!" You moaned. Diluc slapped across your face, "not yet, slut. Tell me, who do you belong to?" You sobbed loudly, unable to comprehend anything happening right now, but Diluc was impatient. "Who do you belong to?!" He didn't care that he was shouting. You moaned, body stuttering under him.

"You," your mouth dropping open into an 'O' shape. Clearly, this didn't satisfy him. Diluc pulled out, thrusting two fingers inside instead. "Who do you belong to?!" And you screamed, "M-Master Diluc! I belong to Master Diluc!" And he smiled, satisfied, taking his fingers out and shoving his cock back in, dick twitching to the feeling of your cunt, "cum."

You nodded, finally releasing your orgasm around his cock, signing lewdly.

Diluc finally pulled out, making sure to push his cum into you as he cleaned up your skin. He caressed your inner thighs softly, crawling up to kiss your lips, "you were perfect, my love." pulling the silk doona over the both of you, putting his right arm around you and burying his head in your neck. You giggled softly, "I love you, you idiot." He smiled into your skin, "I love you too, princess."

There was a loud, indignant cough from Diluc's side of the room. Diluc brought his head up, looking to where the sound had come from. Ah. He smiled to himself. It was a very pale Kaeya. Diluc smirked, "clean yourself up and you're free to go. I do hope I've made myself clear? What's mine is mine."

Kaeya scowled, "you do realise that the entire kingdom can hear you two whores?" Diluc roared, leaping up in bed, "what did you just call my-" but you shrieked, pulling him down, grabbing his shoulder.

Kaeya shrugged, "I'm just saying. Why do you think all the men stare at her her and all the women envy her?" Diluc shrugged too, "because she's good-looking." and Kaeya snorted, "I guess so, but it's been the talk of the town. If you treasure the innocence of your beloved wife so much, maybe you should try and keep it down."

If Kaeya hadn't bounded towards the door slammed it shut, you were almost sure Diluc would finally learn what happened if he tried to murder a Knight of the Favonius.

NAVIGATION

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

[raineandsky]

#101

It’s six in the evening. The villain knows this from the telltale sound of plastic scraping against the wooden floor. The sound is accompanied by the undeniably incredible smell of food.

They don’t bother turning their gaze from the window—they can see the hero in the reflection anyway. They nudge the tray into the room as far as they dare, lingering awkwardly on the threshold for a moment.

“Finding everything okay?” they ask after an unbearably thick silence.

“Found everything but my morality,” the villain retorts flatly. “Keeping me in here won’t make me a goody two-shoes like you, y’know.”

The villain had expected worse; concrete floors, metal bars. But here they are, in a plush bed, looking out to the beautiful scenery beyond, a goddamn lasagne sitting on a plate for them. 

“Was compassion not a good enough reason to have you in here the first three times?” the hero asks, their voice halfway between confused and joking. “I get the impression you like it though, seeing as you haven’t… left this room.”

The villain scoffs. “Escaped, you mean.”

“Left,” the hero corrects. “You’re not… locked in here, you know.”

The villain finally snaps their gaze from the window. The hero flinches slightly at the speed of it. “What?”

“You’re not locked in here.” The hero shifts on their feet restlessly. “Did you never even try the door?”

It’s too embarrassing to admit that it was too nice here to bother trying to leave. “I like to get my escapes right first time. I won’t try it until I need to.”

“Right.” The hero shuffles again. “Well, there’s a lot of villains who know you’re here and have been wondering where you are.”

“Villains like who?”

The hero smiles, like they’ve fallen into a trap. “Come outside and find out.”

The villain scowls at that. The hero raises their eyebrows expectantly. “Eat your food,” they say casually. “Then come say hi, okay?”

“No.”

The hero sighs, like this is a conversation they’ve had a thousand times. “The door’s always open,” they say gently. “Come see the others when you feel up to it.”

They linger in the doorway for a moment but the villain offers no response, so they simply sigh defeatedly and carefully shut the door. 

Tsch. Does the hero think they’re stupid? They’d open that door and heroes would descend on them.

The day they leave this room, it’ll be as part of their greatest escape yet.