#they need to be head over heels for each other and yet it's performative at the same time do you see the vision tell me you see the vision

[the-way-astray]

i must be the only (kind of) unironic aldella shipper in this entire fandom . . .

[strawberrymochin]

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ☀︎

Rockstar!gojo x art student!femreader

synopsis- satoru gojo fell in love with you when he was 17. He tried everything to gain your attention—joining the student council, participating in every extracurriculars, performing well in academics yet nothing worked. That was until high school. In college, having been forced into a band, he needed to find a new artist for their posters which he requested shoko to take care of. What he didn't expect was shoko to bring you as a volunteer—

warnings- college!au, satoru being heads over heels for you, he’s so damn in LOVE save my boy, friends to lovers, misunderstanding, SEMI PUBLIC SMUT, fingering, oral fem receiving, PUSSY DRUNK GOJO, dirty talk, creampie, BALL OF FLUFF, ANGST, mentions of smoking and alcoholism, super cute ending

w.c- 8.2k (have faith)

a/n's note- i'd poured out my heart in this (especially the smut). i hope you all do like this. your comments and reblogs are highly appreciated as it helps motivating me for writing long ass fics. taglist is open you can ask me to join. love ya' all!!

When satoru met you for the first time, he was 11 years old. 

You were the daughter of his mother’s friend whom he heard of so many times. Though the accidental reunion in the mall while grocery shopping was the first time satoru ever had the opportunity to meet you face to face. 

It was a totally random encounter, coincidental even, you can say when your mother recognised satoru’s mom and both squealed like teenagers. They'd a lot to catch up with, thus having their kids entertain each other in the play section was convincing enough for them to chit chat in a cafe.

And this is how satoru ended up being stuffed, hand in hand with you, to go enjoy in the play section as his mother patted his back, asking him to be good to you. 

“Don't leave her hand, okay toru?! Make sure you both stay together.” His mom said before scooting herself with your mom. 

Satoru looked at you, his hand locked in yours as you made eye contact with him before shying away, looking in the other direction. He stood confused before pulling you to the gaming section, without any word. 

He scanned amongst the box of video games, before pulling out one which caught his eyes with his unoccupied hand. He gave a side look to you, reluctantly asking “you want to play this?” 

You gaze down at the video game he held in his hands, eyes sparkling a bit, if satoru wasn't seeing things, then raise your head to look at him again. “It has vibrant colours.” 

Satoru nodded, feeling a little giddy that you liked his preference. “It's called mario kart.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widened as he revealed the name. 

“Do you know how to play it?” You shake your head at his question. “Then I can teach you!” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, let's go and install it on the playstation.” 

By the time satoru’s mother returns with your mum, they find satoru giggling along with you, hands still locked with each other, as he points to various stacked video games. 

That day slowly came to an end and satoru didn't get to see you for the next two years till your giggles became a distant echo and your face a blur. 

By the time he was 14, he almost forgot you. 

Until that one day when he noticed you, sitting alone with your lunch staring at the sky at the campus of his high school. 

You were biting on your chopsticks with dreamy eyes as recognition drew in satoru's mind. 

Y/n— he thought. His brows frowned, thoughts slowly going in a muddle. How are you here? eating lunch in his high school campus unless— you're a student over here too! Satoru felt foolish, his lips slowly curving in a smile lifting one hand, abandoning the basketball in the other to greet you. 

However, before he can get his words voiced out to you, gaining your attention, a brown haired girl comes up to you dragging you along with her in a hurry. 

Satoru's hand froze in mid air, awkwardly stretching it above his head before bringing it down and turning towards his friends. He sprinted back to his group resuming the game, yet his mind stayed with you and your dreamy eyes. 

He wanted to say ‘hi’ and watch your eyes grow wide before nodding your head just like you did back then. He wanted to show you the basketball he was holding and maybe teach you how to play ball just like he did back then. 

“Oi satoru! Why are you missing the catch?!” one of his friends shouted, breaking him free of his daze. “sorry…taking a break!” He said, excusing himself, before going and plopping himself down on a nearby bench. 

He recognised the brown haired girl—Yura. She often came to him asking for little favours. Did she know you? A friend? You studied in the same school and yet he only saw you today. Where were you all this time? Satoru was the same age as you. So you were bound to be in the same class, maybe different sections but he knew students from the other sections too. How come he didn't notice you yet?

The recess was over soon and he ran back to his class. Before entering the class, he noticed you again, hurrying to the class next to him. 

Class 1-2.

Satoru felt silly as he read the classroom name in his mind. 

As the final semester rolled on and a new semester started, satoru found out class 1-2 changed to class 2-2 and this year he was in the same section as yours. 

He was excited to finally be able to talk to you without any awkwardness. After all, you were in the same classroom now— which means you will know him when he introduces himself on the first day of class. You will see him, introducing himself aloud and clear and recognition will draw on your face as you remember him. 

That's what he initially thought the night before the first class. Until satoru felt the urge to perfect his speech and kept on practicing it, holding the crumpled sheet in his clammy hands, past midnight. 

As a result he woke up late and by the time he hurried himself to school, the self introduction was half-over. He mumbled his apologies to his homeroom teacher, before hastily introducing himself and going to his assigned seat. 

With that his perfect speech plan of gaining your attention bombed miserably. He raised his head in the direction of your seat—first row second desk, way far than his— fourth row last desk. 

That's when he decided with the determination inclining in his heart to get your attention and make you remember that it's him. 

The plan was simple. He just have to wait till recess and watch his chances closely. Once you're free and alone he will go make a move saying ‘hello’! Maybe even ask for your number. 

Recess hour came by and his plan chose to bite the dust with girls and boys swarming around him to get his number and be friends with him. The group kept him occupied for the entirety of the recess and by the time he was done you were no where to be found in class. 

Similar things happened the next day and the next day and the next day, never ceasing to leave him alone. 

Satoru eventually came up with another plan— excelling in academics. The more he's good in academics, the more are the chances for you to come up to him wanting his help to understand a problem. And the plan worked exceptionally well with girls frequenting him with a doubt in their lesson— except for you. 

This time satoru came up with his active participation in extracurriculars and sports. The more he active he is the more is the chance of you joining the same activity or maybe seek his assistance for the upcoming sports day.

This plan too, was indeed prodigious and did attracted a lot of attention except yours. 

His last option was of joining the student council. As the spirited member of the top student council, you might come up to him with a problem you're facing or anything you want to change. 

So, without thinking much he did joined the student council, hoping to finally gain your attention. However the following week, concerns and requests for changes decreased promptly. The other council members sighed, few scrutinizing satoru. After all no one in the entire school would want their so very handsome, energetic and popular Satoru Gojo to have a heavy work load after school. 

“Since we don't have any work to do now, thanks to gojo-kun, I'd gladly like you all to only maintain the regular class desk arrangement.” the student council president announced before leaving the council room. 

Satoru sighed, this isn't what he thought. He just wanted your attention not the entire school’s. Everyone looked at him, when he walked, when he sat, when he ate, people always turned around to take a second look. Yet you never laid your eyes on him. Even being in the same class you never came up to him to chat. 

Back slouched, with his tie undone, he slammed the door open of his classroom to pick up his bag. 

You flinched. 

Hand covering your mouth, a dust wiper on the other, you looked at him as he froze. 

One entire year, was how satoru spent to gain your attention, to get you look at him, and when it finally happened the time seemed to halt. The sun rays pooled into the room with slow breezes messing up your bangs and satoru couldn't mutter a word but stare.

Conscious about him gaping, he tore his gaze away from you before shutting the door, this time gently. 

The council president asked them to take care of class desk arrangements. However, the desks in his classroom have always been arranged, even before he joined the student council.

“you…um arrange the desks everyday?” He said fixing his tie, slowly walking up to his desk, wiped clean by you. “Yes.” 

Satoru accompanies you cleaning and arranging for the rest of the time in complete silence. Soon you take your leave, and so does satoru but this was the time he was happy like really really happy. 

He didn't exchange any words of recognition with you, from the day at the mall. He didn't talk. Yet he was beaming radiant, for just being with you, momentarily alone, in peace. 

That day soon came to an end and another year passed by. Satoru did nothing but admire you from afar. This was the only way he felt the closest to you. He saw how you wiped and arranged the desks everyday; help people without even letting them notice; lend the only pencil you have without a word; and care for the garden whose garish flowers were disregarded by others. 

The more he saw, the more he knew you. And the more he felt his heart slipping away. 

You were kind, gentle and soft. You noticed people behind their masks. You regarded the smallest of the things with such care. And your delicate hands, often smeared with paint, held the responsibility of others without complaining. 

He often saw yura asking favours from you, shoving her cleaning duties to you, sending you to get her lunch from the 7-eleven nearby and never once you said 'no'. You were so so precious. 

He knew he’d to stop; the way you engrossed him, linger on his mind all day to the point that he was unable to think of anything but you was straight up creepy but his eyes never stopped searching for you.

Even in the midst of the crowds on a random road his eyes would unconsciously seek for you. 

And by the time he was 17, satoru was hopelessly, absurdly and miserably in love with you.

Another year passed by and he could do nothing but stare. And the fact that you often looked at him too made things even worse. 

He was so down bad for you that he couldn't keep on going like this anymore. He was so sure he'd confess to you on the day of graduating the high school, not caring about rejection. 

Satoru stayed up an entire night, perfecting his confession. But by the time the graduation ceremony ended and he went to look out for you, you were nowhere to be found. 

He asked yura about you, to which she replied that you went back home early and satoru had his heart broken at 18. 

He couldn't move on easily but giving you up was the only option left. Unwillingly, satoru made his devastating decision of giving you up. He never thought he would see you again until a few years later in college, shoko brought you right in front of him. 

“We need a new artist to cover up for this concert.” said geto suguru, stuffing his phone back in his pockets. “Why? What happened to ren?” 

“Got himself into an accident and fractured his right arm.” Geto plops himself back down on the couch beside satoru, before pulling on the fretboard of his bass. 

“Should visit him then.” 

“Forget it.” 

“Why?” frowned satoru, geto suguru—his best friend, the one he went to middle and high school with, was not the type to feign indifference. His behavior indeed had satoru confused. 

“Nanami informed he got drunk at the last concert before getting himself into the accident. Drunk driving it is.” 

“Did yaga find out about this?” 

“Fortunately, he didn't. Nanami covered the case before him finding out,” geto brought his hand, swiping back his string of bangs, “if it reaches yaga, he will ban us from using the campus stadium.”

“lucky I'd say…so what now?” The next concert is in 3 days and the band poster is still incomplete. 

Shortly after satoru joined his college, suguru started a band along with two other guys. The band was doing well but due to a disagreement they decided to split up. Suguru then suggested satoru join the band and the following year they gained another member named nanami kento. 

They used to hold performances at random pubs but as its popularity increased, the college decided to give them the campus stadium to hold their concerts. Something they did extra was hiring an artist to do their band poster— hand-drawn. It'd become a little tradition— a lucky charm says suguru, and now that their artist had broken his hand right at the eleventh hour before the concert they will have to— 

“Find a new one.” 

“nana—” geto shuts him before he could finish his sentence. “Nanami is trying his best, so am I. So, you try finding one too.”

“How am I supposed to?” 

“Well I'm sure if you go with a face like this to the art department, people would volunteer in a line.” 

“Same goes with you, why don't you go and ask. I'm sure if you could wear your shirt a little loose you can surely get your clingy ex find a good one." Gojo says in a mocking tone, grabbing his guitar and looping it around his back before leaving the club.

He was sure annoyed, but he will have to find one, geto wasn't in a mood to joke earlier either. Rather than going by himself, he decided to ask shoko get it done for him; he was sure she'd agree for a few packs of cigarettes. 

Walking on his way to the parking lot he texted shoko to meet at their regular cafe. 

“Sup!” 

Satoru smiled knowing shoko could never fail him, even if she didn't agree right away a little guilt trip will do. 

“All good?” 

“Yeah, what do you need?” 

“Just a little favour.” 

“And what that might be?” 

“Get an appropriate artist from the art department. Ren broke his arm and suguru's so down about going himself, ya’ know about his ex,” shoko started grabbing her cup of iced coffee to retreat when gojo slammed two packets of cigarettes on the table. “I've two more packs to offer.” 

Shoko returns to her seat, a big smile on her face. “Okay! Since I'm your empathetic, gracious and compassionate friend, I will try and see what I can get done.” 

“Yes please…” 

“I'm not doing it for cigarettes ya’ know.” 

“Mhmmm” satoru nods his face dramatically.

“Get the other two packets out.” 

“Sure.” 

Satoru knew four packets would get the job done as he parted away from shoko, driving his way back home. 

And the next day when shoko texted him that she got a volunteer and is bringing her to the club, he didn't expected it to be you.

Shoko looped a hand around your shoulders “so this is the club,” chewing a gum, “and this is satoru gojo.” 

“Hi…” you said looking at him, before taking a look at those instruments laying behind. 

It’s you. It's really you. He couldn't believe his eyes yet stood unblinking as if you were some mirage and will fade away once he closes his eyelids.

“Gojo?” Shoko waved a hand infront of his face and realizing he didn't respond to you, he bent his torso bowing to you. 

“Woah,” shoko’s face scrunched up, cringing at his behavior, “when did you start being all formal?” 

You giggled at her comment while satoru hushed her with a series of ‘shut ups’. 

“I'm—” 

“Y/n.” satoru whispered almost as if reminding himself the way your name sounded in his lips. “Y/n, i know.” 

You chuckle at his words, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You know her?” shoko tilted her head at him, not expecting you to be acquainted with him. 

“We went to the same high school.” You say when satoru does nothing but gape at you with dreamy eyes. 

His heart did a whole somersault at your sentence. You remembered him; you remembered his name; you remembered he was in the same high school as you. The fact that you regarded him made him so giddy that he was practically ready to throw his hands up in the air or kiss the floor on which you walk.

“Kay’ I'll leave you guys to talk then.” She smirked before raising a cocky eyebrow at satoru, excusing herself from the club. 

“So…you're the only one?” 

“Huh?”

“In the band— i mean…”

“Oh no” he dragged, “there are two more members along with the back musicians…” 

You humm, taking a proper look at the club. 

“You like it?” 

“It has vibrant colours.” 

Your words echoed in his ears, the same which you said to him at the mall. Oh how bad had he wanted to hear those.

“The jazzies,” you read the name of their band aloud, “why jazzies? You only play jazz?” 

“No…we play all sorts of music…it's just a name suguru chose for the band.” 

“you do originals?” 

“Both originals and covers. Anything suguru comes up with.” 

Your mouth forms a little ‘o’ as satoru explains to you. 

“geto seems to be doing all the stuff, what do you do?” 

“You know him?” satoru’s brows furrowed. “Whom?” you ask.

“geto…geto suguru.” 

“Ofc, he was in the same class as us.” 

“Oh.” 

Ofcourse. Both he and geto were in the same class as you. It was no big deal for you to remember both of them. However, accepting that he wasn't any special was bitter. 

Satoru’s eyes followed your figure as you went out to reach for his guitar, mindlessly drawing your finger on its printed patterns.

“You didn't answer my question…”

“I guess I found you for our band.” 

When none of you says anything, satoru breaks the ice, clearing his throat.

“You know how to play?” 

“Err…no.” 

“I can teach you.” 

He slided his index among the few string instruments before pulling out an acoustic one, bringing it to you. 

“Hold the fretboard with your left hand,” satoru pulled the strap over your shoulders, “and bring your right hand over the body, fingers near the sound hole— yep that's right,” he turned your back to him, gently holding the back of your palms. 

“Now, pluck the chords for me,” his chest was against your back as he guided you through the strings. 

“Like this?” you ask him.

“Yes, you're doing very well.” 

The guitar in your hands, played smoothly as satoru guided you through it. 

Just like when he taught you how to play mario kart. 

Satoru looks down at you smiling in excitement. Oh how cute you looked like that. He could admire you twenty-four seven, never wanting to tear his gaze away, for you're that ineffably eesome in his eyes. 

Time almost ceased when you looked up at him, eyes crinkling with a smile that soon died as red creeps up your cheeks. 

Satoru’s face was mere inches away from you, his eyes wavering down to your lips. 

“SATO—RU— oh,” geto bursted in along with nanami causing you both to flinch. 

He quickly leaves your hand. 

“Y/n??” Geto dragged out your name, looking at you with his eyebrows knitting and lips forming a silly smile. 

“Hi,” you pull the strap over your shoulders abandoning the instrument on the nearby couch. “I'm here to volunteer.” 

“You do?” 

“Yeah…” 

“That's great! I can't believe satoru even managed to talk—” satoru smacked him mid sentence. 

Nanami, for some reason, found the ceilings very interesting today, totally ignoring his two seniors.

Geto explained to you about their little tradition of hand drawn posters and showed you the posters they used for the last concerts. You, then, asked them to send them a group picture of the three and their preferences for colours and themes. 

“For that I might need your number—” 

“I- i can send it to her…” Geto passed a suggestive smile at satoru, which he ignored and awkwardly forwarded his phone to you. 

“Yeah that sounds fine. Here's my number, save it and text me later.” 

“Kky!” 

You pull the sling of your tote bag up to your arm, giving them a little nod, before turning your back to leave. 

“Wait!—” satoru held your arms frantically pulling you back. He hurried to the back near the couch you plopped the guitar and shoved it to you. “T-take it.” 

“Ah— no I can't do that.”

“Take it. You can learn how to play and I- I can teach you.” he tried not to stutter yet failed miserably. 

“No i rea—”

“consider it as a gift— from me.” 

You frowned a bit but agreed anyway. 

“That's really sweet of you satoru! I will wait for your text! Bye!!” 

He waved back to you. 

“What was that?” Geto implies in the direction of the exit door through which you just left. 

“nothing.” 

Later, You sent the photo of the finished banner to satoru. It took you 42 hours to finish it. 

Satoru on the other hand was practicing really hard, totally different from his half hearted performances from the previous ones which wasn't unnoticed by the other members. 

He has to be the best. After all, this concert will be different from the previous ones. This time you will be there to see him, cheer for him, and notice him. 

You soon bring the banner rolled up to the club. “Woah! You really did a great job.” 

“This is much better than ren’s.” says nanami before going back to his drum set, giving you a thumbs up.

“Satoru?” 

“Y-yes.” 

“You liked it?” 

“I loved it. It has vibrant colours.” You giggled at his answer, shifting your direction to his gaze. His fingers seemed to flake off any dust on the surface of your work, handling it so gently. 

It wasn't his fault he felt so overwhelmed. All these years he'd yearned for one kind word from your lips yet he was left starving. 

And now you'd drawn him with such precision, that it was as if you were accustomed to drawing him for the hundredth time. 

His heart fluttered at the thought. 

“I will be there at your concert,” you say, turning your back to him. “All the best!” 

The campus stadium was full with a bunch of students and hippies, it was really hard for satoru to try locating you amongst the sea of crowds. 

The music rang loud, brisking fiery cheers from the crowd, full of vim and vigor. The spotlight shone on the three— geto with his vocals and string of bass; satoru with his acoustic guitar; and nanami with his drum set. 

The crowd roared in excitement as music coursed through their veins. 

Will you be cheering too? 

Satoru raised his head from the guitar, plucking chords effortlessly, to his audience. 

And as if it was fate that drew both of you together, his eyes found yours. You were there in the vip section, along with shoko and another girl. You were moving with beats, swaying your arms in rhythm to their music. 

His eyes locked in yours as you waved a hand at him. Oh how, how pretty you looked. Everything except you was a blur to him. 

The crowd goes even more wild, seeing satoru blush, not sensing it was you who caused it. 

The concert continued till past midnight as the vibrations thrumming around the air slowed and wrapped up with their ending song: “Where Our Blue Is.”

As the applause slowly start to dissipate, satoru pulled off his instrument, running to the edge of the stage, and hopped down the raised platform. 

The college girls shrieked baffled, some even reached out, grabbing on his wrists and clothes. He politely got out of their grip making his way to the vip section, geto and nanami following him. 

The still air felt electric as he approached you. 

“you liked the show?” 

“Ofc it was amazing!!” The girl beside you answers in your stead, whom he now recognised as yura.

“It was really good.” you say swallowing a laugh bubbling up your throat at his huffed out appearance. 

“Thanks to your banner, it even attracted more audience.” geto remarked, placing his arm around satoru’s shoulders.

“Thank you.” 

“You should thank me for bringing her in.” Shoko reclaims, looping her hand around your arm, “let's go steal some shots.” 

“Oh no i can't— i don't drink. And I need to hurry back home it's late.” 

“Kyaahh— you've let me down y/nniee. Only two packets of cigarettes can get my mood uplifte—” 

“I will bring it tomorrow.” You say shutting up her whines. 

“kk bye and text me when you get home the rest are joining me right ?”

“Count me out. I'll be driving her home tonight.” Satoru says sheepishly, ignoring the smirks and exchanged looks of his bandmates, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks.

“No but I was about to go home with her —” yura interrupts.

“Satoru’s fine. You're coming with us.” Shoko dragged her along with geto and nanami, which satoru was glad of. 

Finally he'd be alone with you.

He guided you to the parking lot from the back of the stage, before getting his car keys out. 

It's metallic jingle echoing softly as he presses the button on his key fob. The car responds with a soft beep unlocking as satoru opens the passenger door, holding it open for you. 

“Here,” he gestures with his other hand, “get in.” 

“Sure.” You say gulping thickly.

The thick smell of your cologne mingling with the leather scent of the car.

He closes the door before sprinting to the other side, getting himself in. “Don't— ” he stops you when you reach out for your seat belt. “Allow me the honor” his finger brushes against your skin as he reaches out for the seat belt. 

Your heart practically jolts at his action. 

The click of the seat belt buckle echoes softly in the quiet car, as he straightens back to his former position. 

“Where do you live?” He clears his throat, starting the car engine and flicking on the headlights before pulling out the car into the driveway. 

“In the downtown.” 

“That's quite far from the campus, how bout I drive you everyday back home?” His eyes suggestive, making you chuckle.

“I can't let you do that.”

“Why?” 

“Since it's far from the campus and you won't be visiting often.” 

“Who knows, I might be visiting your place often.” 

You turn your face from the window to look at him. 

“What?” 

“I will have to— to teach you guitar.” 

You crack up at his silliness, finding yourself melting again.

“Okay fine. But that still doesn't counts.” 

“Why not!” 

Since that day, satoru did visited you often, sometimes barging in with shoko and sometimes alone teaching you how to play guitar, plucking on chords and notes. 

And you attended all of his concerts. Their previous artist has recovered now and has resumed his work, so you no longer work with them. However they insist you tag along each time and it's not like you complain. 

You liked satoru’s company. He was handsome, charismatic and popular. You'd watched him your entire high school. He was the one of most popular students, good in a millions of things, starting from academics to being athletic. He'd win every sports competition and even participate in all the extracurriculars. You'd admired him for he could do the things which you didn't had the courage for. 

You liked how he didn't judge people, helped them in their need, and even took care of those garish flowers nobody seemed to double take.

You'd previously met him before high school, though he never brought that up. You wondered if he even remembers the day at the mall. You wanted to ask him so bad, however—

Your world was only limited to papers and paints.

So you painted. 

You painted him so many times that you'd have more than five sketchbooks with paintings full of him.

You wanted to be friends, maybe even more than friends.

But that didn't matter now. He was near you and you would do anything to keep your thumping heart in control and not have satoru cut you out of his life. 

But how can you?

How can you control it when satoru so gently, so lovingly, takes your hand in his. When he smiles so sweetly at you. When he teaches you how to pull chords and other instruments. When he drops you home from college almost everyday. When he hugs you and tells you to take care. 

How are you supposed to be just friends when he's so overly affectionate to you?

Or maybe it's just your overthinking.

Satoru was always polite and sweet, he'd always been sweet to others and you were no special. 

“What are you thinking baby?”

You come out of your daze, rolling your eyes at the nickname.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that…” 

“Not my fault you aren't paying attention to me…” he pulls you closer to him, resting his face on your shoulder. 

“Have you always been this hungry for attention?” you ask, getting yourself comfortable abandoning the guitar beside you on the couch— of the club.

“I've been starving.” 

You cringe at his words. Satoru has another concert today and they just finished practicing an hour ago and now they are taking a break. 

Geto and nanami and other back artists wanted to get some fresh air so they left you and satoru alone to entertain each other. 

“Are you really skipping on me?” He looked at you with puppy eyes. 

“I've a gallery exhibition tomorrow.” You need to scoot back home to get ready for it. It's a big event for you to showcase your arts. 

Satoru hummed, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck, “I'll be there. You're going to do great.” 

An uncertain lump forms in your throat, hard to swallow, you say nothing. Your heart was in a conflict again, no matter what you can absolutely not—

“I will be going then. All the best for your concert.” 

You push satoru away, reaching for your tote bag from the side of a random arm chair. “Wait I will drop—” 

“Who's leaving?” shoko barges in with yura and others. 

Satoru points at you. 

“I just got here. You can't leave already.”

“Yup! Yup! Please stay a little longer, baby. I'll drop you back home, no worries.” 

Shoko exchanges suggestive glances with geto and they somehow persuade you to stay a little longer.

They start practicing for another round when shoko pulls your head closer, “what do you think about gojo?” 

“Huh?!” You shout over the music, unable to hear her. 

She grabbed your hand and pulled you outside, with Yura following closely behind you both.

“What— “ 

“What do you think of gojo?” 

A burning sensation hits you slowly as shoko’s question registers in your mind.

You ears turn red. 

“Eh…um h-he’s a nice guy. A nice musician…and—”

“And?” Shoko wiggled her brows at you, a sly smile on her face. 

“A-a nice friend.” 

“Just a friend?” You nod at her, seemingly more embarrassed at her implications. 

Shoko's face literally radiated disappointment. It was as if someone told her that cigarettes are now banned in the country. “I think he's interested in you,” you choked on air at her remark. “No?” 

Yura shrugged. 

The music slowed down and then paused, bringing your conversation to a momentary halt. 

Satoru rushed outside, complaining about why you left in the middle of his practice.

“Bruh, chill, I'm not trying to steal her away from you. We're just talking!” Shoko jokes as you laugh all flustered. 

Just when you were about to leave one of his fangirls suddenly appeared from nowhere and threw herself into his arms, wrapping hers tightly around his neck. He stumbled back a step, surprised, before regaining his balance but he didn't put her down rather he spinned her around before setting her back down, with a polite smile on his face. 

The other members just saw the scene unfold with amusement. Nanami was surprised at the fan’s boldness and geto simply observed the scene as shoko rolled her eyes, finding it hysterical.

“What do you think of shoko’s remark?” said yura, looping her hand around your arm. 

“What?” You say suppressing the slow tinge of jealousy. 

“About gojo being interested in you…” 

“I-i don't think so.” 

You try to laugh it off.

“Yeah, he's just polite. To pretty much everyone.” 

Her words felt like a splinter to your heart. You shouldn't feel like this. It'd happened before— not now again. 

Yura’s right, satoru is just polite and will do the same for everyone what he does for you— because he's kind. And you're no special.

The entire ride was silent. Satoru kept asking you if anything was wrong but you just guised a smile at him, insisting it was nothing.

The next day at the gallery event, you behaved oddly. You smiled at him but  didn't reach your eyes, your answers to his question were of one word, even avoiding his touch. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked warily.

“No.” 

Days passed by and you distanced yourself more from him. 

Satoru, on the other hand, was almost losing his mind. His world turned upside down. You stopped coming to his concerts, ignored his texts and even refused to let him drop you back home. 

It was yesterday you’d allowed him to teach you the guitar yet today you behaved as if you'd long forgotten him. You were cold and distant, leaving him puzzled by his own thoughts upon your sudden change in demeanor. 

He couldn't help but wonder whether he'd done something that made you this upset? 

You'd said it was nothing.

Then why?

What the fuck did he messed up?

Satoru missed you terribly and violently.

He eyed you from the inside of his car parked a bit far from your department. Today was another day you refused his offer to drive you to class. ‘I'm kinda sick so I won't be going.’ This was what you'd texted him the morning and yet there you were getting off your uber. 

You lied to him. 

“Come with me to their concert today.” Shoko urged you, her lips pursed in a thin line. 

“I'm sorry—”

“No you're not so sorry. Tomorrow’s Saturday, come with me, gojo’s getting mad without you.”

You suck in a breath at the mention of his name.

“What's wrong?” shoko says sipping the last of her drink before plopping it on your tea table. 

“Nothing.” 

“Then come.”

You agreed eventually. Attending the concert won't be a big deal. 

And it wasn't, except for satoru’s piercing gaze burning holes in your back. You accompanied Shoko backstage and casually greeted everyone— including him. 

“God, haven't seen you in so long.” geto side hugged you as nanami gave you a nod of acknowledgement before running off to the stage for some last minute preparations. “Satoru missed you like crazy.” 

You attempt a weak smile in satoru's direction, darting a hesitant glance his way. His gaze was fixed on you, but his expression was unreadable, almost giving shivers down your spine. 

One of the other members suddenly hurried over to Geto, urgently speaking about some issue, he politely excused himself and exited the room, closely followed by Shoko. Now, you were left alone with Satoru, the only two remaining in the room. 

“I should go and check what's the proble—” you try sprinting your way out the door, “wait—” when satoru stops you. 

His hand on your arm, preventing you to go any further and when you struggle to get out of his grip, he tightens his grip even more slamming you to the wall,  pinning you caging your body. 

“What's wrong with you?” 

“Gojo you're hurting m—” 

“Gojo?” His voice cracked, grip losing before letting your arms go, “why? Why must you do this to me?” 

“Do what?” You drift your gaze away unable to look at satoru, who's this close tearing up.

“This— why must you do this? Why must you ignore me? Why must you be distant from me? Why must you lie to me so that I won't bother picking you up or dropping you home? Why must you reject my affection?” He sucks in a breath “You know I can't live like that—” 

“why?” 

“Don't pretend like you don't know…” 

“no no don't say it,” you throw your hands up in the air frantically, “don't— I can’t fall again…no— I know you're just being polite and you will do this for anyone, but I can’t help it if I don't—”

“I love you—” he whispers, bringing your hand up, placing the palm flat to his chest.

“No you don't.” 

“Yes I do— what do you mean you can't fall again,” he suppresses your struggles of wrenching free your hand from his grip. “You have no idea how crazy I'm for you. I love you and I've loved you since I was 17. I was about to confess to you on our graduation day but you just disappeared leaving me alone. And now that I have you I'm not letting you go— make no mistake baby, if there's anyone I’d ever kneel for— it'd be you.” 

Thick silence covered the entire room, except your heavy exhales. Satoru gojo was inches close to you, your hand still laid flat against his heaving chest. 

“B-but I wrote you a note confes—” 

“What note? I never….” confusion twisted on his face bitterly. 

“You threw it in the dustbin— the one I wrote to you the day before graduation.”

His face told the truth, as he shook his head denying it. He never received any note from you— nevertheless having the audacity to throw it in the trash when he'd been hopelessly in love with you all these years.

“Yura told me—” you shut your mouth as the realization hits you. The person whom you considered as a friend backstabbed you long ago. 

She lied about him discarding it while it was actually her who had stolen it off his desk before satoru even noticed.

Your head raised in embarrassment, ready to apologize for the misunderstanding when suddenly, Satoru's lips met yours in a tender kiss. The kiss was filled with such affection and tenderness that you felt as if you might melt in his embrace. His arms held you close, firmly yet gently, as he deepened the kiss. Your heart pounded in your chest as you responded to his kiss. All thoughts of the misunderstanding were forgotten in that moment of pure intimacy before satoru pulled away with frowned brows and a dazed smile. 

“Tell me, would I kiss anyone the same way I kiss you?” he pulled you again, smacking his lips on yours as he snaked a hand around your waist, the other, still firm, holding your palm. 

You could feel his heartbeat going rapid the more he deepens the kiss, sucking on your upper lip. 

He pulls away again.

“Tell me, would my heart beat the same way as it beats around yours?” He smacks his lips again, this time pinching your waist making you gasp as he slips his tongue in.

His hand fumbles with the hem of your dress, pulling away again, a string of drool connecting both of your lips. “Would I be breathless the same way as I'm now?” 

His hand travels up your inner thigh, till it reaches the wet blotch of drenched silk. You grasp his shoulders, when he starts drawing circles over the fabric, smirking before nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. 

“Satoru, what if someone walks in—” your body jolts, nails digging into his back as he pulls the fabric to the side, plunging a digit in without any warning. “Let them…” he goes back to sucking your skin while rubbing his thumb over your swollen clit. 

Your teeth sank on your bottom lips, his finger slowly plunging in and out of you. “Nngh ‘toru, you’re—” small trembles quivered through your body as he plunged with a faster rhythm. 

“Shh baby! Let me take you” he inserts another digit as your teeth dug even deeper into your lip, stretching you and filling you so well. 

He was stroking you, curling his fingers inside until hitting your most sensitive spot. Sweat beaded your forehead as your trembles gave way to full body shudders, shutting your mouth with your hand not wanting to be loud. 

Satoru drew himself back from your neck, satisfied marking and suckling, withdrawing his digits, slick from you as you wince at the loss of his fullness. 

He brings them up and sucks your essence off his fingers with a pop. “I want to eat you out.” 

Before even you can make out his words he kneels down bunching up the fabric to your hips pulling your panty down properly and latching onto your swollen clit. 

“Fuck ‘toru.” he lapped his tongue on your clit, drawing circles, tasting your sweet before drawing himself back, “I am fucking you baby.” He says, licking a fat stripe on your vulva, his rigid tongue swiping back and forth over your clit sending sensations that make your body jolt. “Here and raw” he hummed against your pussy, his breath warm and hot sending vibrations to your core, before vacuuming on your clit. 

Your hand grasping his hair, as he worked on your orgasm.

He plunged his digits again, rhythmatic with the little pants escaping your mouth, along with the slick sounds of your hips buckling down his fingers. 

He smirked internally at your enthusiasm.

“So fucking nasty for me huh?” He said against your pussy, licking and sucking till you were nothing but withering in mindless pleasure. You were taking it well, suppressing your moans into breathless pants until he sucked, fingers pressing the most sensitive spot inside you. 

A shriek fell past your lips, knees buckling, followed by a string of moans and whimpers. “Oh— fuck..” you try closing your thighs which he prevents with his iron grip of one hand, forcing it open till he has better access. “Don't even dare closing on me…” 

The wet sounds of his fingers, plunging in and out of your gummy walls, echoed throughout the empty room.

Something coiled hot and fuzzy in the lower pit of your stomach. You clenched hard around his finger, when the bass-heavy beats of the band's concert began, causing you to involuntarily shove satoru’s face deeper into your cunt as you heard voices from the stage outside. 

Geto's unmistakable voice rang out, accompanied by the heavy drumming of nanami. They had started performing without satoru. 

“Nn’toru they start—” your voice died down into a breathless gasp as you felt your pelvic muscles clench, tension looping around your entire body as fiery sensations erupted. You arch your back against the wall, unable to stop your toes curling at the intensity of his tongue lapping, finger fuckin' you, as your vision gets blurry. 

“Yeah…cum for me baby” his velvety murmurs were all it took for you to turn into a mess of sensations, your body erupting as your high came down bursting, dripping and spilling down your thighs, his chin and his neck. 

Satoru lapped up the drops carelessly strewn about your skin, his tongue tracing a path along the droplets splattered on your inner thighs as he savored everything with anticipation.

“Tell me, would I kneel infront of anyone and let them cum this hard on my fingers?” He straightened himself up, “and then drink it up like a pussy drunk male whore?” his gaze never left yours, wiping the leftover slick from his chin with the back of his hand before licking it clean.

The music from outside has now gained its intensity, thrumming even louder.

No— you mouthed. 

Satoru’s gaze was still fixed at you, when he unzipped his pants, his aching cock sprang out red, already leaking precum. 

You gape at his girth. 

It was big.

And fucking thick. 

Leaning in, Satoru brings his lips close to your ear, his voice clear over the blaring music from outside, “Like what you see—”

You didn't get to answer him before he slammed right in. 

A cry of pleasure tore from your throat, as you loop your hands around his neck, nails digging on his back.

He hissed out a breath, restraining himself from moving till you adjusted to his size. 

Only then did he slowly pull it out leaving only the tip inside. You grimace at the loss of fullness until he slams back in causing you to clench around him. 

He let out a low guttural moan which was almost inaudible to you over the roar of music if you weren't so close to each other, feeling the raw desire of his voice vibrating on your skin.

“Tell me— hahh- would I let anyone clench this hard on me if this weren't you?” 

You were at a loss for words. 

The kind, polite, sweet satoru you knew was gone. In his place was someone who fucked hard. 

When you don't answer he pulls out and slams right back in harsh, eyes gleaming with wicked intent. 

Satisfied, satoru guides his one hand to tapping on your thigh suggesting you wrap your legs up around him. 

He repositions his dick on your entrance, before supporting your weight with one hand, pinning your body completely to the wall, while the other hand grabs your neck, choking you before giving you a sloppy breathless kiss. 

“You like it don't ya’ hmm fuck— so tight—” 

Your cries came out choked as he pounded into you, in an insane manner, desperate and primal.

“Tell me—” 

Thrust 

“do you—” 

Thrust 

“still think I'm just being polite?”

Thrust.

The roar of geto's voice singing out aloud different notes masked out the filth of your moans. 

The sensation was in again, hot and uproar, coiling beneath the core of your consciousness. Satoru sensed you being close to your climax, continued to plow into your pussy, now supporting your weight with both hands against the wall. 

Your toes curled again, nails digging down his back almost scratching the fabric, “yes that's it love,” your eyes rolled back as you arch your neck unable to handle the pleasure, “cum for me…” 

Your mouth forming a little ‘o’, mind blank as your eyes saw stars. The only consciousness left in your body directed you to the burning of your heat, till it came crashing down.

You came hard letting your head fall on his shoulders too spent for anything.

Satoru too chased his high, thrusting into your swollen pussy, his cock twitching inside you, till you felt him getting sloppy and tense before cumming into you.

The music was still very loud, beats thrumming your flushed veins. 

None of you said anything, remaining in the same position. Satoru pulled himself out, his cum dripping out your vagina, before walking over and placing you on a nearby chair. 

He cleaned you up gently tugging your clothes back and fixes himself before cleaning the mess near the wall. 

“They— they started performing without you…” you huff out, drained still in the very euphoria of your pleasure satoru showed you. 

“I told them to do so…” he shouted over the noise. 

You remain stunned for a while, letting out a breath. “I'm sorry…I avoided you.” 

“Here I thought you were giving me a thousand kisses as an apology.” 

You chuckle at him, back to his normal self— your sweet, kind and maybe not so polite satoru…

He came over to you, lifting you effortlessly before plopping himself down on the chair with you on his lap. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” 

“No but I missed you like crazy…” he pouted. “y/n be my girlfriend…please.” 

Tears start forming in your eyes, overwhelmed, you never thought the satoru gojo you met at the mall, the satoru gojo you loved your entire high school would someday ask you to be his girlfriend.

To paint his heart with your love.

“I will.” 

“no wait— marry me instead!”

You dug your face deeper into his chest, laughing at his playfulness. And satoru just smiled.

Finally he would be yours. 

you and Satoru started dating since then and things couldn't have been any better for him. He practically announced to the world that you were his girlfriend, always picking you up and dropping you off from campus, and claiming a kiss as his reward. You’d also cut Yura off, not wanting any more negativity in your life. Satoru was yours, and you were his. And He couldn't be any happier.

Tags: @cccandynecklaces @secretfankoala

© strawberrymochin 24 | plagiarism won't be tolerated |

[tinysunshine]

[ Klaus Mikaelson x Stripper! Reader ]

18+ (Minors DNI)

*Female Reader, Inclusive Language

You’re a dancer at Klaus’ favorite strip club.  He’s one of your best customers, always slipping hundreds into the band of your panties or bra, although he hasn’t asked for a private room with you yet. Klaus Mikaelson is a king around this city - half vampire, half werewolf, the first of his kind. The entire city lives in fear of the big bad wolf.  But you can’t deny the curiosity you feel towards the man, the monster, that is Klaus Mikaelson. When he finally books a private room and asks specifically for you, your feelings for him change. Suddenly he doesn’t seem so bad, so scary - or maybe he still is, but every night you spend with him and with each dance, you realize you’re foolishly falling in love with a real-life monster.

*Warnings: violence, death, rough sex, mentions of past abuse

*Plot with porn, Alternate Universe, but don’t worry, Klaus is Klaus :)

Word Count: 12.9k

Kinks: unprotected sex, oral sex, face sitting, rough sex, spanking (just a little), dirty talk, dry humping, creampie, light Dom/sub, protective Klaus

___

The lights in the club are dim, and the bass from the music blasting makes it feel like the floor is vibrating, which makes it a little hard to stay steady on your feet. You’ve been working at the club for almost a year, but you’ve never quite gotten used to what it feels like to be on this stage.

All eyes on you, the heat from the lights above, music so loud that it literally hurts your ears, makes it hard to even hear the lyrics of the song playing, which can sometimes fuck up your dance cues.

On stage, you feel like you’re in a world of your own, and sometimes you don’t know if that’s good or bad. Dancing has always been your passion - although stripping was never your dream. From a young age, you were trained as a ballet dancer, with competitions and private training and practices every day after school; it was your whole life.

But things change and shit happens, and although you’re not where you want to be in life, you’re still doing what you love to do, which is dance, even if it’s not the way you imagined it.

That’s got to count for something, right?

On stage, it’s all about creating a fantasy for the people in the audience. Rich men, successful men, men with high status - they all frequent this club. It’s one of the nicest in the city, but you’ve heard from a few of the other dancers that the men here are no different than the men at the shitter, seedier clubs. It doesn’t matter what a man does for a living, you suppose, because if they’re throwing cash at a girl who’s half naked and desperate to pay her bills - it’s not like they’re a good person.

You’ve learned your lesson with men, and you learned it the hard way. Men will always be men - or whatever fucked up version of masculinity they follow that makes them believe they’re a man. Rude, crude, violent and mean.

But you’ve got bills to pay and money to make, so you do your best to give them a good show.

Especially because he’s in the audience.

Klaus.

At the thought of him, quite literally the man, the myth, the legend - a flurry of butterflies erupts in your stomach. It’s a sinking, almost nauseous feeling, but it’s definitely a feeling that’s a little more good than it is bad.

The thought scares you, that you feel this way about Klaus Mikaelson. That you could associate anything good with him. You’ve heard his name since you were a teenager, back when he first came to this city and, well…

Ruined everything.

You spin around the pole and do your regular routine, legs aching in the skyscraper heels you're wearing, tits almost spilling out of your tiny bra. Your head is pounding because the music is so loud, and by the time you’re on your knees collecting the bills thrown on stage like you’re some kind of performing animal in a zoo, you’re covered in sweat, feeling sticky and over-touched and very much like you need a drink.

You’re thinking about Klaus your entire break. It gets so fucking hot in the club, with all the people and the smoke and the movement you do. You chug some water, fix your makeup, stand in front of the fan in the back room to cool down as much as you can, but he never leaves your mind.

Because you know he’s waiting for you.

It’s been going on almost two months now, this thing you have with Klaus Mikaeslon. Although thing is a generous word for it. You work almost every night during the week, and Klaus visits the club almost every night. You’re not sure if it’s to see you in particular, but you’re fairly certain that no other dancer goes near him.

Because everybody hates him.

Klaus Mikaelson has the city in the palm of his hand. When he strolled into town years ago, what was once a bustling, wonderful place to live slowly turned sour until what was left of it was just plain rotten. Klaus brought violence, mayhem, and a harem of other dangerous supernatural creatures along with him when he moved into town, and destruction came along with them.

You’re not sure what brought him to this specific city, just that it changed life as you know it. Klaus brought death, destroyed lives, and while a lot of the things that happened didn’t come from his hand directly, he’s the cause of all of it.

Nobody wants to serve him a drink, let alone dance for him. It doesn’t matter how much he tips - the other girls want nothing to do with him. Everyone blames Klaus for all the problems in their life. Why they’re working a dead end exploitative job, why they can’t find a happy relationship, why they’re trapped in this town. It’s valid hatred, and you understand it, would be the first to preach about the way your life has changed since he moved into town.

But you think differently than the others. Because while they all see the bars of the cage the entire town is trapped in, in Klaus Mikaelson, you see your freedom. The tips he gives you, that you’ve been stashing away, are going to be your ticket out of this town. While the bartender and the bouncer need to be compelled to let him in and bring him drinks, you go to Klaus willingly.

Because even though Klaus carries violence everywhere he goes, even though he could crush this town and everyone in it with ease, even a monster like him isn’t desperate enough to compel every single person working at a strip club to give him a good time.

That’d be pathetic, and you don’t know a lot about Klaus, but you know that pathetic is the last thing you’d use to describe him.

This thing you have with him is nothing more than three dances whenever he’s at the bar. Three dances is as long as you’re allowed to dance for someone without them getting a private room - club rules. Klaus never asks for a private room, but that’s fine by you.

Usually, by the end of those three dances, you’re no less than eight hundred dollars cash richer.

It does something to you, knowing that this monster sits around the club waiting for you. Or, when your insecurity is talking, you think that maybe he just settles for you, not down quite bad enough to compel a girl to dance for him. Maybe you’re just the low hanging fruit who’s willing.

You push those thoughts away as you make your way through the haze of cigarette smoke and neon lights to the far end of the club. Klaus is at an open booth, tucked away from the others, and when you see him, you lose your breath. He’s got a calm demeanor that only someone truly powerful could have - leaning back, drink in hand, and when he sees you, his lips twitch into something between a smirk and a half-hearted smile.

“You’re late,” Klaus says, his voice low, teasing, because it’s not like you have a set time to see each other whenever you’re working, although it is a little later than you normally meet up.

But you blush, flattered by the teasing tone, but also a little scared. You might have this thing with Klaus, but he’s still an unpredictable supernatural being that can do more bad than good. You could really get hurt if he lost his temper around you.

And it’s not like anyone at the bar would be able to stop him.

It’s a terrifying thought, but you try to play it off. “My set ran late,” you explain, the stories you’ve heard about Klaus killing people for less than making him wait going through your mind.

But then he grins, and you know he’s just teasing, so you step between his open legs, place your hands on his shoulders. He’s handsome, annoyingly so, and you wonder how such an attractive man can be so dangerous. It just doesn’t seem right.

It’s hard to breathe around Klaus. Whether that’s from fear, or something else, you’re not sure. The air between you both has always been charged, thick with something unsaid. You’ve never felt anything like it before.

You’ve been trying to ignore this feeling for months, but you’re not stupid. You can see the way Klaus watches you, waits for you, the way he slips his cash into your thong or bra, with hands that are soft despite the violence they can hold, the way his gaze lingers just a moment too long even when the dance is done, or before it’s even started - like he wants to touch but doesn’t know how to do it without making a mistake. Without scaring you off.

It’s different from the way the other men at the club touch you. Different from the way they look at you, with lust in their eyes and their hands rough and selfish. There’s something soft about the way Klaus handles you, and maybe you’re just crazy for thinking so, and maybe it’s just a mask Klaus wears to hide his truly dark nature - but you’ve been dancing for him for months. Surely the mask would’ve slipped by now?

There’s something refreshing, you think, about the beast that is Klaus Mikaelson. He’s a bad person, and that’s all there is to it. There’s no faking, no lies. He is what he is.

“Don’t worry, love,” he says, reaching out and touching you. It took him three weeks to actually put his hands on you, and even then it was only for giving you your tip. He’s gotten more comfortable as time goes on, and right now he grips your hips, although gently.

You’ve gotten used to the feeling of random hands on your body, so much so that you don’t even notice when someone is touching you half the time, but you do notice when Klaus touches you. There’s no way you couldn’t. You feel it, deeper than just the touch it is, because his hands aren’t random, and the electricity that you try to ignore that he carries in each touch isn’t random either.

He moves his hands from your hips, slides them up to your waist, before letting go completely. He smirks. “I know you’re just giving me a chance to miss you,” he says, before reaching in his pocket for his wallet.

His touch leaves goosebumps, even when you’re burning hot.

“What did you think of my dance?” You ask, while Klaus grabs a chunky stack of cash out of his wallet. Unlike the other men at the club, who only hand you cash when they want something or want an excuse to touch you, who try to be graceful about it and look for the right moment, there’s something almost clumsy about the way Klaus handles the money. Practically throws it at you, before you’ve even done anything to earn it yet.

He stuffs them into the band of your panties on your hip, trails his hand up to your bra where he puts some more, and then looks up at you from his seat and motions for you to turn around.

“Spin around, sweetheart, let me see you from behind,” he orders, and you do as he says, ignoring the arousal you feel at his demand. You refuse to believe, refuse to even entertain, the idea that a man like Klaus Mikaelson could ever turn you on. “I thought you were brilliant, as always. You’re like a goddess up there,” he says as you turn around for him.

It’s a nice compliment, even if it does come from the terror of the town. Being on the stage, being a stripper - it feels demeaning a lot of times. Like you’re a piece of meat. But Klaus calling you a goddess, well, it makes you feel like you’re on a pedestal to be admired instead of owned.

And you needed to hear that tonight.

___

“I heard him call her by a nickname. I walked past them the other night, and he was smiling and laughing. They joke with each other. God, she makes me sick,” you hear as you get off the stage, walking into the back room to put your cash in your locker. You just had an amazing set, and your body is sore and you’re sweaty but you feel good.

Nights like these are rare. Feeling good is rare, to be honest. You were hoping to drag the feeling out a little longer, but no such luck.

Can’t say you’re surprised.

You’re trying not to let it bother you, that the girls you work with are so hard on you, seem to really dislike you, but you can’t really blame them. People caught on pretty quickly, that you’re the only dancer in the club willing to dance with Klaus, and since they hate him so much the hatred spills over onto you.

You think that some of their fear does too.

“I can hear you, you know,” you tell the girls, and they just shrug, one of them scurrying off because she’s too nervous to face you, the bolder one coming closer while you open your locker.

“I don’t care,” she says, although spits is a more accurate description. “How can you dance for him? He’s ruined our town. Our lives. Did you forget that, Y/N, or did he compel you? We’re all worried about you,” she says, as if she really gives a fuck about you or your safety.

You’d roll your eyes if you didn’t feel the same way, deep down. Because she’s right, and you know she is, but you can’t control the pull you have to this awful man.

Still, you’re defensive.

“I’ll do what I have to do to get the fuck out of this town,” you finally snap, not looking the other woman in the face. You’re mad, but you’re not brave, and confrontation has never been your thing. “I have a plan, unlike you, and if dancing for Klaus Mikaelson is going to get me there, I’ll do it. It sure beats being on his bad side,” you say, slamming your locker shut.

It’s impossible to leave town without money, but it’s also impossible to make money in a town like this. Under the thumb of someone like Klaus, controlled by his army of hybrids so nobody dares leave the borders of the city - it’s security so nobody gets out of town and spills the truth of what happens here. Klaus and his hybrids make it impossible to get ahead.

But you’re getting there. Slowly but surely. You really believe, or want to believe, that you’re going to be okay.

Because it’ll be hard to leave with money, but without it - it’ll be truly impossible.

“Whatever,” your fellow dancer says, acting as if you didn’t snap on her. “Just don’t forget why you’re dancing in Pleasers instead of ballet slippers. It’s because of him.”

You walk past her on your way out, funny enough, you think sarcastically, to go see Klaus. You always know when he arrives because the entire club is on edge, and the looks you get from the girls and the managers make it pretty obvious, what they think about you and what you’re doing with him.

When you get to Klaus, you’re upset, and you don’t waste time with pleasantries. You’re worried, that the little chats you two have, the humanity you’re starting to see in Klaus Mikaelson, is ruining your judgment of him. He’s killed half the town, has control of every aspect of this city, and you can’t forget that.

While you dance for him, on him, feel the touch of his hands and the drag of his cash against your skin, you keep reminding yourself of that. Like a mantra, on repeat. He’s a bad man, he’s a bad man, he’s a bad man. It gets worse when you grind against his lap and feel a rush of arousal, knowing that your nipples are hard against the fabric your bra and Klaus can most definitely see.

He's a bad man, he’s a bad man, he’s a bad man. But then it’s his last dance, and he’s just slipped a hundred dollar bill into the back of your thong, and his hands are running up and down the smooth skin of your thigh, and all you feel is pure, animalistic desire.

“Pretty little thing you are,” Klaus remarks, looking at you with an expression no murdering psychopathic werewolf vampire hybrid should be allowed to wear. “Absolutely gorgeous. Going to have to get one of my hybrids to rob another bank if you take any more cash from me,” he says, but you don’t laugh. You don’t know if he’s kidding or not.

Klaus hands you an extra tip when the dance is over, and he opens his mouth to say something when one of your managers walks over. Barry. Slimy and annoying and misogynistic and disgusting. You don’t see him a lot, since his business partner usually runs things, but when he is around you know it’s probably going to be a shitty shift.

“Y/N,” he says, and you freeze. What happened to using your stage name only? What happened to trying to keep a low profile, to not have any stalkers or the fucking villain of the city knowing your real name? Barry is such a fucking dumbass.

Still, you bite your tongue, ready to reply, when his hand lands on your shoulder. You’re still between Klaus’ legs, standing while he sits, and you can see the look on his face when Barry touches you. It’s strange, coming from the same guy that watches you dance for a hundred other men each night on stage, the same man that watches those men touch you and give you money just like he does.

But there’s fire in his eyes. Anger. And for the first time ever, you feel genuinely scared around Klaus.

You step towards Barry, and you know that move probably pisses Klaus off even more, even though you’re not really sure why he’s mad.

“Sorry, Mr. Mikaelson,” Barry says, totally unapologetic. Idiotic, that he doesn’t know he’s looking the grim reaper right in the face. “Someone’s requesting, Y/N. Private dance,” and Klaus just nods, but that look never leaves his eye.

You bid Klaus goodbye, thank him for his money, and follow Barry towards the private rooms. But you almost trip, only graceful on stage in these stupid fucking shoes, and Barry grabs your arm to steady you, drags you to the back rooms so fast it’s hard to even keep up.

…

A few days go by, and Barry doesn’t show up to his next shift.

Another few days go by, without anyone having heard from him.

The next day, there’s a news report for the neighboring town over, since this city doesn’t bother with its own news anymore. The body of a gentleman’s club owner was found in the lake. Body being the key word, because he was missing a head.

Barry.

You call in sick for work for the next three days, and you spend most of those days puking and shaking in your bed.

When you return to work, you’re given a locker far away from the others, and the other dancers, your manager and the bartenders all avoid you like you have the plague.

Just as well. You like your own space anyway.

___

“Why are you working here?” Klaus asks, his hand gripping your ass. You feel him slide his finger under the band of your thong, and then there’s the sharp feeling of cash poking into your skin that you know all too well.

You’re not sure how to answer that. You wonder if you should be honest, spit in his face (metaphorically, of course), tell him this job is your only chance at making enough money to escape from this hell hole of a city he created. That the other jobs you’re qualified for won’t pay enough to even make your rent.

But you know better, and most of all, you know men. Klaus thinks he’s complimenting you, by hinting that you’re too good for a place like this. Too good to shake your ass, to show off your breasts, to let some of the worst men in the city put their hands on you.

You’re also smart enough to know that even though it’s been three months since Klaus started coming in, since you started dancing for him - it doesn’t mean you’re friends. Doesn’t mean he won’t snap your neck if you look at him wrong, or have one of his hybrids follow you home if he can’t even be bothered to kill you himself.

Klaus doesn’t want anyone leaving the city, in fear that he’ll lose control, you suspect. Regardless of the special shared looks between you two, the electric feeling when you touch, you know he wouldn’t take kindly to you admitting you’re stripping to save up cash to find a way out of his dominion, because even if it’ll be hard to leave with money, the journey without it would be so much worse.

You wonder what to reply with, because you can tell he’s waiting for a response, even as you bend down and flick your hair, the smell of your perfume strong since you’re already breaking a sweat.

It’s a stripper trick, perfume under your hair, on your hairline. You notice that when you smell good, you get more tips.

Men are so easy.

You settle for something vague to answer Klaus, not wanting to divulge too much for your own safety.

“I like to dance,” you say, watching the way Klaus watches your movements. “I was a ballerina.” His eyes are on your waist, your lower back when you bend over, the way his gaze travels down your leg to your shoes. You prop your foot, in your ridiculous heels, onto the space next to him, and he runs his hand from your knee to your ankle.

It’s sensual, the feeling of his slightly rough fingers against your soft skin. Under the lights, the body glitter you’re wearing makes it look like your skin is made of sparkles, and the admiration in his gaze makes you weak in the knees. You’re literally shaking, but Klaus steadies you with a hand around your ankle, playing with the anklet you’ve got on. “Nice feet for a dancer,” he teases, catching a glimpse of the polish on your toes.

In a move more intimate than anything he’s done in the three months you’ve been dancing for him, he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, right by your knee, his eyes never leaving yours.

You’re not breathing. You’re not moving. The music is blasting and it’s actually one of your favorite songs to dance to, but all you can think about is the fact that this creature - the one that’s the cause of nightmares for the people of this town, the name you used to associate with panic and anxiety, just pressed a soft kiss to your leg.

Klaus lets go of your ankle, gently drops your foot to the floor, and leans back in his seat. Legs spread, even his sitting stance powerful, confident.

Sexy.

You don’t know what to do. Luckily for you, Klaus tells you.

“Show me your best, tiny dancer,” he says, tipping his chin towards you. It’s a cheesy nickname, funny coming from someone like him, but your body heats at his use of it anyway.

“Let me see you move.”

___

“Am I the reason those girls are giving you nasty looks?” Klaus asks, and you pause whatever shimmy move you were doing while straddling his lap. It takes a second for you to understand what he’s really asking.

You follow his gaze to the stage, where there’s three other dancers standing by the edge of it, looking at you like you’re the devil himself.

Or, you realize, there’s a better chance that they’re glaring at the devil whose lap you’re straddling.

You shrug.

Because Klaus is right - he is the reason those girls are giving you nasty looks. You didn’t think he could possibly ruin anything else, but when he started coming to the club, you realized that you were so, so wrong. Because by thinking that, that you were untouchable from the drama Klaus created, you created more.

He has to know that. Hasn’t lived a thousand years by being stupid. Klaus must realize that by engaging in whatever thing you two have going on, it’s making your life at work worse, but you doubt he’d care anyway. You know it’s just a dance to him, something to kill the time when he’s not out destroying anything, but deep down -

You know it’s more. More of what, you’re not sure, but there’s something there that goes beyond just dancing. You’ve spent time with Klaus almost every night for the past four months. Keeping a thousand year old hybrid’s attention for that long has got to count for something, so you decide, fuck it.

Klaus has killed for you, and the thought gives you shivers. You can be a big girl and put yourself out there, because the honest truth?

Life really couldn’t get any worse.

“You are,” you reply, hands gripping his shoulders. He doesn’t feel like you thought he would, being a vampire and all. You imagined a hard body, made of stone, cold to the touch. Klaus feels strong and solid but warm, like a real man. The thought turns you on more than it should. You shouldn’t be getting turned on by Klaus at all.

This is a job. But never claimed to be the smartest.

“Nobody likes you,” you admit, and it just kind of comes out.

Quickly, you try to recover. “I just mean that, you know, when you came into town,” where the fuck are you supposed to go from here to save face? The last thing you want to do is upset him, make life even worse for yourself, but it still comes out. “They don’t like me because of you.”

You hold your breath, ready for Klaus to throw you off his lap. Snap your neck. Bite you with one of those deadly werewolf bites people keep popping up with around the town. There’s a waiting list, of people begging for some of Klaus’ magic, all healing blood.

Maybe you’re next.

But nothing violent ever comes. Instead, Klaus laughs.

Throws his head back, like you just told the joke of the century. You don’t need to look around the packed club to know that everyone is looking at you now, and your body heats up in embarrassment. So long, shivers of arousal.

Klaus stops laughing and looks at you, intense, and you realize it’s one of the first times you’ve made eye contact with him. Serious eye contact, beyond just looking at each other when your tits are on his face or when you thank him for the cash.

You look away first.

“You’re not like them,” Klaus says, but he says it almost like a question. You know he’s talking about the other dancers, and you agree - you feel different from them, always have. Have never quite fit in with the crowd, especially with other girls your age. You’ve always been a little standoffish - awkward your mother used to say.

You imagine what she’d have to say about you right now.

“I know,” you say back, eyes focused on the necklaces around Klaus’ neck. You’re too frozen, too nervous, to say anything else. To meet his gaze again. Something about what’s happening feels crazy intimate, which sounds insane because you shake your ass in his face most nights, but this simple conversation is breaking down walls of emotions you haven’t addressed for years.

“You’re not scared of me,” he continues, and you shake your head because he’s wrong.

“I am,” you reply.

Klaus is silent for a moment, studying your face, looking around the room for reasons you don’t understand. Then he lifts your chin, forces you to meet his eyes.

“If I get a room,” he asks, and at that, you feel your heart beating faster. It only took four months. “Can we talk?”

That’s the scariest thing he’s asked for since you’ve known him. Talk. You’re not sure you’d be a good conversationalist.

But you nod anyway, secretly wonder if he compelled you because you agreed so easily, or maybe it’s just because you’re curious. Wonder what this man could possibly want with you, what he could possibly want to say to you or hear from you.

You lead him to the private room and hold out your hand for the payment. Klaus sits down on the couch when you close the door, and he looks at you with an expression like he can’t believe you don’t trust that he’ll pay after the dance.

You know he’s good for the money, but it’s just club protocol. But something about his face, offended, makes you want to giggle.

So the legend that is Klaus Mikaleson gets his feelings hurt. Good to know.

“Jen wants it in the box before we dance,” you explain, referring to your other manager. Klaus clicks his tongue and takes his wallet out, hands over a stack of cash that you don’t even bother counting. Your mind is too caught up on the fact that the news reported another bank robbery in the neighboring town, and you wonder if that’s where the cash in your hand is from.

Wonder if Klaus is expanding his territory.

But those thoughts are all wiped away when Klaus speaks as you turn your back to him, place the money in a little box with a digital code so your manager can grab it when you’re done in the room. There’s a switch, and you turn the light on, signaling that the room is in use.

“Jen. Seems like Barry is no longer working here?” Klaus asks, his voice is dripping with humor, and even though you dont give a fuck about Barry, like, at all - it just reminds you who you’re sharing a room with. Makes you a little sick to your stomach, and you grip the counter you’re standing at to gain your composure, to take a deep breath.

Then you turn to face Klaus.

It’s now or never. It’s time to talk to him, because that’s what he seems to want. As you get closer to him, as the electricity between you grows stronger with each step, the way he looks at you, with warm eyes that don’t belong to monsters, you have to remind yourself of your mantra. He’s a bad man, he's a bad man, he’s a bad man.

But you sit beside him on the sofa anyway.

“Why did you do it?” You ask, referring to Barry, but you both know that you already know the answer. Klaus reaches out, more confident in the private room away from the crowds, you realize. But most men are. You suppose that there’s more similarities between a monster like Klaus and the average man, and that’s a terrifying thought - but one you’re not very surprised by.

Klaus grips your thigh and moves you closer to him and your breath hitches. His touch does things to you. Makes the tiny hairs on your arm stand up, makes arousal pool deep in your belly in a way it doesn’t, hasn’t, when any other man touches you.

“He grabbed you,” Klaus says calmly, like he’s telling you about his day, and not the reasons he beheaded the manager at your job. “Frankly, he’s annoying. Thought that before I saw him with you, but then I watched the way he looked at you, treated you,” he pauses, hand creeping up your thigh.

You wonder how far Klaus is going to go. With what he’s revealing by what he’s saying, and because of how close his hand is to the inside of your thigh, going higher and higher to your pussy that’s only covered by a thin layer of lace.

“But most importantly,” Klaus says, with a little shrug of his shoulders like he’s embarrassed to admit this part and is trying to play it off. “He tried to interrupt my time with you.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you say nothing. You wish you cared more about Barry’s death, but you just don’t. It’s been a long time since you cared about anything, and maybe you’re just hardened from this fucked up world you’ve been living in, but it’s not like the world would miss someone like Barry.

“Why now?” You ask, wondering why now was finally the time Klaus pulled the trigger to get a room with you. “Why wait months to get a private room with me?” You really don’t want to sound insecure, but it’s been months of just wondering.

Wondering why Klaus comes to the club only to see you - wondering if you’re his first choice or just the only choice, wondering if he feels the chemistry between you two that’s so thick you could probably slice it with a knife.

Wonders if he thinks about you when he’s not around you - because you can’t stop thinking about him.

“I wanted you to be comfortable with me,” he answers honestly, and you actually laugh. It’s funny, that the terrifying force in this city wants you to be comfortable, but his plan worked. You are comfortable with him. Comfortable with someone who some people in this city view as the grim reaper himself.

“You caught my eye,” he continues, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. It’s a little ridiculous, that you’ve been almost naked in front of him every night, yet an arm around your shoulders makes you feel more vulnerable.

But maybe that’s because it’s also a step closer to snapping your neck.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a thousand years, and I wanted to get closer to you,” he admits.

Nothing could have prepared you for that.

Not for what that confession means, not for what the arm around your shoulders feels like after the words leave his mouth. There’s something safe about it, something warm - because if the boogeyman is on your side, there’s no possible way you could be hurt by him.

“There’s something different about you,” he says, just stroking over the skin of your leg. He’s so much bigger than you, and you’re against his side, and you’re feeling a lot like prey being hunted by a predator. Except this predator has already got you, and you’ve spent so much time hiding and running and just trying to survive that being able to admit defeat actually feels good.

This predator is the strongest thing on earth. He could kill you right now if he wanted to, but instead he’s complimenting you.

How can you even begin to wrap your head around that information?

“I sense it, Y/N. What a beautiful name, by the way. I guess we have Barry to thank for one thing, telling me who you really are,” as he talks, you swear you’re shaking. You don’t know how to react in this moment, have spent so much time not reacting to anything for fear of feeling anything negative, that you’re not even sure if this is a negative or positive situation.

“What do you want from me?” You ask, because that’s obviously what this is. Klaus wants something from you, because he’s a man, isn’t he? A hybrid but a man, and they never just give, whether it’s a compliment or a dollar, without wanting something in return.

But Klaus shakes his head.

“I think I’m in a better position to be asking that question, love. I have a lot to give. What do you want from me?”

___

Klaus pays for a private room three nights a week, but he stops his other visits, doesn’t watch you do your regular set anymore.

At first, you were worried, wondered where he was, because you’re beyond playing dumb now.

You like him.

Where is the line between good and evil? Klaus is bad, in every way, but he’s never been bad to you. In fact, he’s treated you better than anyone has treated you in a long time. Maybe ever. You’ve never known harm at his hands.

It’s been a month of late night meetings. An hour together in the private rooms, three times a week, where you just…talk, mostly.

Klaus asked what he could do for you, and you told him the truth.

You want out of this town. You want out of this job. You want out of this life, struggling to pay bills, scared to walk alone in the city at night for fear of one of his uncontrollable hybrids coming to kill you.

Slowly, Klaus begins to understand who you are. Where you’re coming from, even if he does tense up when you mention that your end goal is to leave what he believes to be his paradise.

You tell him that your only goal in life was to be a professional dancer. That before he came into town, you were accepted into a performing arts school for ballet. How you were so excited, ready to leave this town behind because even before Klaus came, you wanted out.

Never got along with your parents, had been hurt at the hands of men that you thought loved you. It was time for you to live your life - until the borders around the city were guarded by Klaus’ hybrids, and any chance of leaving slowly slipped through your fingers.

Dancing was your out back then, and it’s turning out to be your out now.

“Where are your parents?” Klaus asked, and you were silent for a moment, looking down at your lap. He waited, patiently, for you to answer.

“One of your hybrids killed them,” you admit, not wanting to get into details.

Klaus brushes some hair away from your face, and with no sympathy in his voice, he softly says, “I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything further.

You’re not sorry, but you’d never admit that to anyone. It’s hard to even admit it to yourself. They were horrible people, but they were still your parents. It’s better not to think about them at all.

You’ll never be able to forgive Klaus Mikaeslon for the horrors he’s created, the things he’s done, but you can’t deny the way you feel around him. Excited, whether that be from nerves or something better. It’s just nice to feel something at all.

So you talk during these private sessions, although he doesn’t share much. And when things get to be too much, too vulnerable and too open and too personal for the both of you, you turn on the music and dance for him.

Although, as the sessions go on, it’s not so much dancing as it is foreplay - or something like that.

You still haven’t kissed, but you’ve done almost everything else. Have rubbed yourself, to orgasm, against the roughness of his jeans. Practically humped his leg. Your panties are thin and it was easy to get there, especially with the way he gripped your hips, moved you back and forth like he was thrusting inside of you.

You still get shivers when you think about his voice while you got there, “That’s it,” he’d said, accent thick and voice so dominant it nearly snatched the whine right out of your mouth. “There you go. What a good girl. Make yourself cum like this. It’ll be the real thing before you know it, love.” Klaus has the filthiest mouth - what it can say, and what it can do.

You’re not even sure how it happens. Just that sex isn’t allowed in the back rooms so you do everything but. You don’t know how you go from talking to cumming on his leg, how you go from sharing mundane stuff about yourself to sitting on his face, but it just happens.

Like magnets. You can’t stay away.

He unclipped your bra once, while you were mid story, pulled you from the couch onto his lap and sucked your nipples into his mouth until you were begging him for something. More. Anything. Even if it was just to get him off, you needed to do it. Couldn’t just sit around desperate for him to touch you.

So he laid back on the couch, told you to climb up his body and settle on his face like the queen you were. “King of this city, you called me?” He teased, nuzzling the inside of your thigh with his face. The slight stubble on his skin rubbing against your innermost leg was delicious. “Guess my face is fit for a queen. Sit down, sweetheart. You deserve to feel good.”

He’s a thousand years old - how many women has he orally serviced? A lot, you imagine, because you’ve never felt anything quite like that. Nothing has ever felt so good, but he’s had a lot of practice.

The memory makes your pussy weep with want.

It’s still hard to wrap your head around the fact that someone who has the potential for so much hurt, touches you so softly. How someone who’s caused so much, can bring so much pleasure.

But it’s those extremes that make it so hot.

It’s so wrong, that you’re doing these things with Klaus Mikaelson. But it feels so right.

“What do you want from me?” You ask again tonight, sitting on his lap while he keeps your thighs open, plays with your pussy right there on his lap. It’s erotic almost, how gentle he’s being, like he’s just exploring you. There’s no build up, no ulterior notice as far as you know.

You’re just getting to know each other.

Klaus ignores your question completely, knuckle brushing over your clit, swollen with want. He ignores the gasp you let you.

“You know why we always meet here, don’t you?” He says instead of answering you. You furrow your brows, grip his shoulder, shake your head. Klaus answers.

“Because I don’t want anyone knowing who you are.” He means his hybrids. His army. His family.

His answer stings for a minute, for the rest of the night actually, even when Klaus makes you cum from his fingers and sucks them into his mouth to get the taste of you off of them. He tips you enough cash that your wallet literally can’t close.

But what did you expect? You’re a stripper, and he’s Klaus, and he probably does this with a bunch of girls, your insecure brain screams out.

Of course he wouldn’t introduce you to anyone important to him. What did you think this was?

He just enjoys your company because you let him touch you. That’s it.

But then you get home, to your shitty apartment, and you turn on the news. You count your cash on your bed, cold and hungry, too afraid to go out tonight and grab something to eat since you didn’t make it grocery shopping earlier these last few days.

But that’s when you realize what he meant.

Three men murdered, the news says, but you don’t hear the little details. You don’t really care, to be honest. All you hear is, Killed because of their involvement with Klaus Mikaelson, and now you get it. There’s been people rising up against him, wanting to take the city back. Which is a good thing, you know, but you’re stupidly happy about your realization.

Klaus was trying to keep you safe.

___

“No boyfriend tonight?”

A regular at the club, one whose name you don’t remember, grabs your arm as you get off the stage. Usually, there’s backup from the other girls or even a manager or security, but nobody likes you or trusts you enough to help you out.

Fuck them all.

You pull out of the man’s grasp and begin walking to the bar, hoping for a drink, but he won’t leave you alone. “I notice you’ve been hogging the private rooms. Nobody can get a dance from you,” he says, and once you’re at the bar, you sit at the barstool, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

Klaus won’t admit it if you ask, not that you would, but you know he’s the reason you always get a private room whenever you want. He compels the managers, or whoever he needs to.

You wish you had that talent.

“I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m just busy,” you tell the man, flagging the bartender down, who looks like he plans on ignoring you, just like the rest of the dancers and everyone else.

The man scoffs. You try to remember his name. Martin, maybe? You meet a lot of men. And it’s not like this one is anyone special.

“You think you’re too good for me now,” he says, which means you must’ve met him or danced privately for him before. The thought makes you disgusted with yourself.

“Ever since you became the whore of that creature, you’re suddenly too good for the rest of us. Sorry we don’t have buckets of money to hand you like he does. It’s only because he’s stolen from us and our families. Does he pay to fuck you too? I’m sure I can afford that. Ever since you got with him, you’ve even been a shitty dancer,” and he keeps ranting.

You’ve had enough.

A lot of what he said is true, But that creature comment, the dancing comment? The fact that he’d even think he ever has a chance of fucking you?

Fuck no. You just react, and before you realize what you’re doing, you toss a drink in his face.

Which is when shit hits the fan. He charges at you, throws you off the chair, is about to yank you up by the hair when he’s suddenly on the ground.

You’re scared to open your eyes.

“Up you get, love,” you hear, in a voice that’s familiar. You’d know that accent anywhere - it’s been in your ear almost every night for half a year.

Klaus.

A bar full of people claiming to be better than him, claiming to be worried about you - and not a single one of them tried to help you when you were almost attacked just now.

But the villain in their lives, the monster that has them all losing sleep - he came to your rescue.

What does that say about the character of everyone else?

You don’t care about playing cool anymore. Klaus bends at the knees, looks at you with a worried expression, and offers his hand. You take it, and once you’re standing you throw yourself into his arms.

What a fool you are, hugging this beast of a man, but you don’t care. You were scared just now. More scared than you’ve ever been around Klaus.

“Why are you here so early?” You ask, pulling away just slightly to look at Klaus’ face. Everyone at the club is cowering in the far corners of the building, and you know why.

The fuck that tried to attack you is dead. You heard the snap. Klaus snapped his neck and he kicks him aside so you have more room to stand, like he’s nothing more than a piece of dirt under his shoe.

There’s something symbolic about that, you think. You’ve never had someone stand up for you like Klaus, and you wonder what your life would be like if you had someone standing up for you like this in your past when you needed it.

Klaus doesn’t answer. He’s looking at your arm, where there will no doubt be a bruise from where Martin grabbed you. He’s red in the face, looks so mad you’re worried he’s going to burn down the bar, but the thought doesn’t scare you.

No, it brings you peace. You’re done with this place. This club. The people here.

Fuck. Them. All.

“You should go home,” Klaus says, and you nod your head, but then he pulls away from you. Walks around the club, threatening every single person in the room.

“If someone lays a hand on this woman again - if someone so much as looks at her wrong on her way out of here, I will kill you and every person you love. I’ll kill you and every person you’ve ever met,” his voice is cold, and you know he’s serious.

A good girl would feel bad, that violence is being threatened by the people here. But maybe you’re not good. Maybe it just took someone like Klaus to get you to see that. People can have all sorts of layers, all sorts of labels - but nobody is truly bad or good.

People are people, and they do bad things. Some do good things. But all that really matters, you think, is what they do to you.

And Klaus Mikaelson, hybrid savage, has been nothing but good to you.

He walks back to you and tells you to collect your things, that he’ll figure out a way to get you home. You’re not worried about anyone finding out you’re with him, what that could mean for you.

No, all you’re thinking about is how you can show Klaus just how grateful you are that he saved you.

In more ways than just the way he saved you tonight.

___

“I hope you’re not mad,” Klaus says, following you into the back room. It’s empty, because nobody with half a mind would follow Klaus after his threat. 

The peace is marvelous, even though you’re shaken up by what just happened. 

You open your locker, grab your bag out of it and make sure you still have your cash from your earlier set. When Martin pushed you, (rest in hell, Martin), the cash you had on you completely fell out. You don’t doubt that some of the greedy girls you work with probably already scooped it up. 

Truly disgusting. You can’t wait to get out of here and never return. What you’re going to do, you’re not sure, but you’re a survivor. You’ll figure it out. 

You always have. 

“Mad?” You question Klaus, zipping up your bag when you confirm all your belongings are together. You face him, and his expression reads like he can’t believe you’re pretending to be confused. He just killed a man in front of you. 

Which was an exaggerated reaction, in any case. Klaus didn’t have to snap his neck. He could’ve just beat him up, or thrown him out of the club, now that you think about it. 

But you still don’t feel bad. Like Barry, the world won’t miss a guy like Martin. 

“I’m not mad at all,” you promise, because you’re not. You’ve changed, and that much is obvious. Whether it be from Klaus, from this town, from something else entirely - you don’t know. Maybe you’ve always just been bad, deep down, and that’s why things turned out the way they did. Maybe that’s what your parents saw in you all along, why they treated you the way they did. 

Why everyone in your life has always treated you poorly. 

When Klaus stays silent, you slam your locker. “Martin had it coming. Follow me?”

Klaus is speechless, but he obeys, which is crazy in itself. The man that can’t be tamed, following you down the hall to the private rooms. You both enter, and when the door closes and you lock it behind you, you toss your bag on the ground. 

“What are you doing?” Klaus questions, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks unsure. He hasn’t carefully crafted this moment, isn’t in control of it, and you wonder how that feels for someone like him. He’s spent the last few years, no, his whole life, trying to be in charge of every single situation. Making an entire city his prisoners, just so he can come out on top. 

The thought turns you on. You’re done pretending - because there’s nothing that gives you as big of a rush as having the big, bad hybrid wrapped around your little finger. It’s obvious now, that whatever little crush you have on Klaus, he reciprocates. And he helped you tonight, stood up for you, was on your side. 

Besides, death happens all the time in this city these days. So what if Martin is dead. He can join Barry in hell. No one has ever stood up for you before, and you’re going to ride the high, the feeling of someone caring about you, for as long as possible. 

“Thank you for protecting me tonight,” you tell Klaus, walking towards him. He’s already on the couch, and you waste no time plopping yourself down on one of his legs, your rightful seat on his lap. He wraps an arm around you, rests his hand on your hip. “Nobody’s ever done that for me before.”

Maybe it’s pathetic to admit, that no one has ever cared for you as much as Klaus has, when he’s really only paid to watch you dance and talk and cum. But it’s the truth, and you think you owe him that much for what he did for you tonight. 

What he’s been doing for you, since he arrived at the club. Whether he realizes it or not. 

“I don’t like hearing that,” he says, which is not the reply you expected. You look at him, feel his fingers stroking gently over the skin of your hip like he can’t not touch you. “I don’t like knowing you’ve never had anyone to protect you before.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, so you don’t say anything. Instead, you drop from his lap to your knees in front of him. You’re quick as you reach for his belt, unbuckle it, go to unzip his pants - but Klaus tries to stop you. 

“What are you doing?” He asks again, as if it’s not obvious. But you know what he means. This isn’t a normal reaction to what just happened, but what about this situation is normal? Klaus is immortal, part fucking wolf, and you’re a stripper who’s about to put his cock in your mouth.

“Thanking you, Klaus,” you say softly, a strange confidence overtaking you. Maybe that’s all you needed to feel better about yourself. To be more sure of yourself. Maybe all you needed was someone to show they cared, even just a smidge. Even just an inch.

“Y/N,” he warns, even as you take his hard cock in your hand. He’s already turned on, and you realize it’s from what just happened in the main room of the club. Klaus gets turned on from violence, from hurting other people - and apparently you get turned on that violence and hurting people gets him going. 

Klaus has a beautiful cock. It’s big, thick, the perfect size in comparison to his body. It’s veiny and pink, and you can’t help it, you lick your lips like you can’t wait to get a taste. 

You can’t. You’re desperate for it, have thought about his cock and what it’d feel like in your mouth since you met him, if you’re being honest with yourself. Have wondered what it’d be like to get intimate with someone as powerful as him. Wondered if it’d make you feel submissive to be in the presence of a man like Klaus, or if you’d feel more powerful by association. 

With his cock in your mouth, you realize you feel powerful. Making Klaus Mikaelson shudder, controlling his pleasure with your tongue and the suck of your lips - the power is intoxicating. 

But it’s fleeting, because just as soon as your power started, Klaus puts a hand in your hair. He guides you along the length of his cock, and you let him, eager to please him. Drool runs down your chin, and Klaus bucks his hips up and begins to talk dirty. 

“You’ve been thinking of this, haven’t you? Fuck,” he growls, and you moan against his length. It sends shudders through his body, you realize, because you feel his dick twitch in your mouth. “My little dancer. So eager to please me. Fuck, sweetheart. Your mouth was made for this.”

It’d be degrading if it wasn’t so hot. But everything Klaus is saying is true. There’s a certain allure to his darkness, and while you suck him off, or - while he uses your mouth - you begin to make the realization that the other dancers didn’t really hate Klaus. 

They were jealous of you. They probably wanted him, but just couldn’t work up the courage to go over to him like you did. Maybe you’re stronger than you realize, you think. 

Or maybe just more stupid. 

Suddenly, Klaus pulls you off of his cock. “Up, love,” he orders, and you do as he says, wiping the drool from your mouth with the back of your hand. When you’re standing, he rips your panties off first and then your bra, like an animal, smirks when he sees your naked body. 

Your bra and panties lay on the ground by your feet, and Klaus looks at them smugly before palming your breast. “Been waiting ages to do that,” he admits, presumably about ripping your clothes off of you. Then he switches his attention to your body, and he hums, something in his eyes that almost makes it look like he can’t believe this is real. 

“You’re glorious,” he murmurs, pinching one of your nipples. With the hand that’s not cupping your breast, he rubs it up and down your waist, feeling your skin - almost like he’s trying to make sure you’re real. That this moment is real. 

You know the feeling. 

“Every curve, every inch of your perfect skin,” Klaus stands then, pulling your body to his. In between you both, so close like this, you feel his hard cock poking you. It’s so erotic, so fucking hot, and you know if he were to feel between your legs that you’d be soaking. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Made to be admired.”

There’s a pause while he looks at your mouth, like he wants to kiss you, and you think it’s finally going to happen - all of this, yet you’ve never kissed yet. And you want it more than anything, maybe even more than you want his cock inside of you. 

But it doesn’t happen. Instead, Klaus pulls away, gently pushing you down onto the couch. “Hands and knees, sweetheart,” he says, as if that’s not obvious, but you obey anyway. 

Of course you do, and he knows you will too. 

You hear Klaus behind you, taking the rest of his clothes off. The sound of his belt hitting the floor, his shirt being shrugged off, shoes kicked off. But when he gets behind you, your back to his chest, his arms bracketing both sides of you, all you can focus on is the feel of his necklaces against your skin. They’re cold, and they make you arch your back. 

Klaus chuckles, his dick poking at your wet entrance. “Such a good girl, arching without instruction,” and then he pauses, pulls away a little. Maybe you look nervous, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but he asks tentatively, “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

Your body heats in embarrassment. Can he really see how little experience you have when it comes to sex? But you shake your head and softly say, “No.”

“Just a few men,” you clarify, and you feel Klaus press a kiss to your back. He lines his dick back up with your entrance, pushing in slowly. 

“I hope they die,” he says randomly, and it catches you so off guard that you forget to breathe when he pushes himself into you. It’s a stretch for sure, but only for a second. Because you’re so turned on, your body opens for him, and it feels so good that all you can do is whine. 

Klaus has turned you to putty in his hands, on his cock, and it’s the first time you can remember ever being able to let go of all the thoughts that have you spiraling on the daily. For the first time in a long time, you’re able to just focus on the present moment - which is, currently, squeezing Klaus’ dick with your tight little pussy. 

“Fuck,” you whimper. He’s got one arm on one side of you holding himself up, and the other gripping your shoulder, pulling you up against his body. The angle makes his dick hit such a good spot inside of you that your eyes almost roll back into your head. 

Forget the oral sex from someone with almost a thousand years of practice, you think, his dick is fucking magic.

“Klaus,” you moan, fingers gripping the arm of the couch. You dig your nails into the fabric, but then Klaus reaches forwards and smacks your hands away so you’re holding onto nothing. You’re worried you’re going to fly away in pleasure, only able to focus on the feeling of his cock going in and out of your tight, wet heat. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s -

“Focus on me,” Klaus orders, instructing you to keep your hands in front of you. You hold them together while he holds you both up, knees on the couch like you’re a pair of animals rutting against each other. It’s feral. “Focus on my cock inside of you, Y/N. I know you’ve been waiting for it. Tell me how it feels.”

How can you even begin to describe the sensation? 

“Good, it’s,” but then he hits that spot again and you moan, losing track of all your words. Klaus pulls out and thrusts back in again, and in a move that surprises you so much you actually gasp, he smacks you on the ass. 

“That’s not a full sentence, doll. Try again.”

Bastard. Monster. Fucking ass. 

But you try again anyway. 

“It feels good, Klaus, so good. You’re so big and I’ve wanted this for so long and, and,” you can’t say anything else. All the build up that has led to this moment is causing you to break down, and when he moves his hand from your shoulder to the front of your body, past your tits and to your pussy, presses down on your clit when he cups your cunt in his hand, you lose it. 

You’re going to cum, and the pleasure is so overwhelming, you feel like you’re going to cry too. 

Klaus must notice this, or he feels the same, because his thrusts get sloppier and then he lets you go, so you’re back to being bent over on your knees, his solid body using you to make himself bust. “Touch yourself for me,” he orders, more out of breath than when he snapped someone’s neck, and you wonder if that’s because he’s working himself out - or if he’s holding back some of his strength. 

“God, these fucking shoes. I always wondered if you’d keep them on while you were getting fucked,” and just like that, Klaus’ stripper fantasy is revealed. You’re flattered. 

You reach a hand under your body and rub your clit, hand cramping, arm at an awkward angle, but it’s worth it. You feel so good, and it’s not just sexual. It’s everything. So much all at once. 

It’s Klaus, and with that thought in mind you cum, feeling your pussy pulse arouse his cock. 

He doesn’t cum at the same time as you, but he does let out a growl so deep you worry it’s a full moon. “Fucking hell, Y/N,” he moans, gripping your hips so tight they’ll leave bruises. “I could fuck you forever,” and you hope he does. But then his thrusts get faster, and you know he’s about to cum. 

Klaus buries his face in your hair, breathing you in, pressing kisses to the back of your shoulders and the back of your neck. “Tell me you won’t forget me when you’re gone,” he says, before letting out another moan. “Fuck, I’m cumming.”

It’s so sudden, both his release and his comment, that you don’t say anything at all. You just feel the heaviness of his body on your back, the way he fills you up with his cock and his seed, leaking out of you as he pulls out, and the feel of something rough cleaning you off a second later. 

He’s using your ripped up panties to wipe you off. 

You don’t plan on bringing up what he said as you get dressed. Maybe he said it in a moment of pleasure, but the truth is - you can’t get it off your mind. If he means what you think he means, that you’ll be leaving town soon, then why do you feel so disappointed at the thought of leaving him?

You put on a pair of pants and a sweatshirt from your bag, no longer a sexy vixen, and you know Klaus has never seen you like this. You hope it doesn’t change his view on you, but there’s literally nothing else you can wear. 

This was all you brought. 

“You never answered me,” Klaus says as you put on your shoes. You’re so happy to take the heels off, and your feet scream in relief when you slip on your boots. They’re flat, they’re comfortable, and you feel more like yourself than you did just a second ago. 

You’re not sure if that’s good or bad. There was something kind of nice about the armor that was your stripper outfit. You could pretend to be someone you’re not, almost like a mask, even if it sounds stupid because you were almost naked in the outfit. 

“How could I forget you, Klaus?” You say, but you mean it in more ways than just in regards to the connection you share. How could you ever forget the man that burst into town all those years ago, who disrupted and destroyed so much for so many people? 

But you think he means promise you’ll remember me as something more than a monster, and if that’s the case, you want to tell him that you will. 

Of course you will. 

“Where am I going?” You ask for clarification, because you know what he means - it’s something you’ve talked about before. You just never knew Klaus was really listening. 

You want him to say what you think he’s going to say. 

Klaus walks towards you, necklaces tangled around his neck. The buttons of his henley are lopsided and his jeans are wrinkled from when they were on the floor while he was fucking you. He looks utterly distressed, and you realize it’s because of the conversation you’re having. 

He doesn’t want you to leave, and that scares you as much as it warms your heart.  

When he reaches you, he grabs your hands in his. Whatever you two have - it’s complicated, and you can tell that it’s taking everything in Klaus to do the right thing right now. 

“You’re going to leave town. You’re going to that performing arts school you’ve put off for a few years,” he smirks at that, and then you realize he’s making a dark joke. Like you’ve had any choice in putting off school. 

“Klaus, I,” but you don’t know what to say. You should be screaming yes. Should be running out the door to go home and grab your money from the safe under your bed, should be offering to suck Klaus off again just to guarantee your freedom. This is what you’ve been wishing for and wanting forever. 

This is your golden ticket. 

Yet you find yourself saying, “I can’t.” 

Klaus looks at you like you’re crazy, and maybe you are. But you think you see a little relief in his eyes too. You don’t know what’s wrong with you, because it’s not like you can stay for Klaus. There’s no future with this. No future for this. For you both together. 

This is it. It’s the beginning and the end of something, and the thought fills you with so much emotion you don’t know what to do. You’re not sure what the emotion is, think that it could very well be love, but you’ve never known love. It’s a stranger. All you know is that you feel. 

You remind yourself that at the very least, Klaus Mikaelson is the reason you can feel again. 

“I hoped you’d say that,” Klaus laughs, and then he looks at you, and suddenly you blank out. 

You can hear it, it’s registering in your brain, but you’re not totally conscious of it. It’s almost like someone’s talking to you from another room, like you’re half asleep. All you hear is his voice, telling you, “You’re going to leave town. You’re going to that performing arts school you’ve put off.” He holds your hands so tight, you’re worried they’ll be bruised when he pulls away. 

He’s trying to compel you, you realize, in the back of your mind. He tells you he’s already got you registered, did research on your name and your background because he can do things like that, that there’s someone waiting at your apartment to take you across the city border, and your money is safe. You’ll be okay. 

Money won’t be an issue anymore. 

You go to do as he says, but just as you head to the door, he comes to you. Turns you around and grabs your head, looks you over and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, Y/N, for the dances,” he says. It’s a strange goodbye. “Remember me as someone good.”

You don’t tell him that his request is unnecessary. That there’s no reason to compel you to think of him like that. 

Because you’ll always remember him as someone good. 

Good to you.

___

9 Months Later

It’s the end of your first show, and you’re on top of the world. 

You’ve been practicing for months, and you’re proud of yourself for how far you’ve come. When you first arrived, you had a lot of practice to catch up on, as was expected. It was overwhelming at first, turning back into a ballerina, but your instructor told you that she can’t believe you took such a long break from dancing. 

She always compliments you, tells you that whatever practice you were doing at home kept you in shape. That you must’ve been born a talented dancer, if this is how you dance with a lapse in years of professional training. 

She’s sweet.

If only she knew. 

The show, recital, was a success. You’re leaving the auditorium, ready to shower back in your campus apartment and change your clothes to meet up with some friends. Your new life is so normal, so fun, it’s hard to believe what your past used to be. 

You never really think about it. You’re too busy to think about it most days, with all the dancing and new friends and normal life shit you’ve become adjusted to. You never thought you would get to this place, literally and figuratively, and you know you only have one person to thank. 

It’s hard sometimes, reasoning with yourself if your thoughts go back to Klaus Mikaelson. He was the cause of some of the worst years of your life, but he was also your savior. Where, how, do you come to terms with that? Where does blame start, and when does forgiveness begin? 

Is a good deed still a good deed if the only reason the deed was needed was because of something bad they did? 

Believe it or not, you’re not a philosophy major. Just inquisitive, with a lot more time to think now that you’re not in survival mode all the time. Maybe you just want an excuse to think about Klaus when he crosses your mind, but the truth is, long thoughts and morals aside -

It doesn’t matter what he did, because you forgive him. People do bad things all the time and never make it right, but Klaus - he did right by you.

That’s got to count for something.

You’re heading up the stairs that lead to your apartment when you…see him? 

Is it -

No, it couldn’t be. Why would he be here? 

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking. 

But it’s not. In front of your apartment door, holding a bouquet of red roses, is Klaus Mikaelson in the flesh. 

You wonder if you’re just experiencing psychosis from lack of sleep - it’s different from what you used to experience back then. Your lack of sleep now is from studying and hanging out with friends, late night dance practices. Not hunger and anxiety and insomnia.

“Y/N,” Klaus says, and it's weird. This is weird, but if he’s talking that means it’s real.

What is he doing here? 

And why does your heart speed up like it did back when you first saw him at the club? 

“What are you doing here?” You ask, but your tone isn’t mean. You’re happy to see him. There’s no explanation. It’s chemical - you just are.

You’ve avoided the news about your former city like the plague. It’s easy, in all honesty, because you still don’t have a phone. It doesn’t matter to you, because the past is the past. You don’t want to know, and you’re scared, that if you think about it too hard, the past might suck you back in.

You were given a golden ticket and you’d be stupid to look back. 

But, strangely enough, the part of your past you don’t mind thinking about is standing in front of you. He looks proud, and he smiles with something like shyness behind it. 

You feel silly, in stage makeup and another sweatshirt. You still can’t wrap your head around it, who Klaus is and what he’s done and what he’s done for you. Maybe you never will. 

He hands you the roses and you thank him. It’s silent, while he looks you over, and you him. Handsome as always, because he doesn’t age, looking far too expensive to be standing in this apartment complex. 

Money isn’t an issue anymore because someone anonymous (cough, Klaus) paid for the entirety of your tuition at once, and also gifted you enough cash that you deposited into an account that could feed you for years - but you’re frugal with your money. Could live somewhere nicer, but you just want to be careful. 

You never know what could happen. Good or bad. Best to stay safe. 

“I’ve never missed a performance, and I don’t intend to start now,” is all Klaus says, and that does something to you. 

He’s never missed a performance, you think. Never at the club, even when you thought he wasn’t there. Which is how he protected you that night, against Martin. Klaus has always been watching, protecting -

And if that’s the case, it makes sense that for your first public performance tonight, he was there. 

Nobody has ever been there for you like that. 

You’re so much different now. You’re not so insecure, not so nervous - you don’t worry so much. You can actually joke around, laugh a little bit, take things as they come instead of letting trauma run your life. 

So you’re not the shy, damaged girl you were back when you left Klaus at the club that night. Which gives you the confidence to say this. 

“You never kissed me,” you blurt out, and Klaus laughs. Steps closer to you, so close that you can smell his cologne. Woodsy, warm, maybe a little mint? Your body heats up at his closeness. 

“Maybe that’s for the best, love,” Klaus says, with a tinge of regret in his voice. You know he’s right, but you can’t help but slip down the trail of memory lane with him. Standing this close to him, stage makeup on again, his stupid necklaces on display. 

The only physical difference from back then are the clothes you’re wearing and where you are. But there’s so much else that’s different, it’s almost like Klaus is visiting from another world.

“What did you think of my dance?” It’s the same thing you used to ask him every night at the club. Nostalgia is a dirty liar, because there’s something that makes you miss that. 

Miss him. 

You have to look away. 

“You’re a goddess. Now. Then,” Klaus reaches out, pushes some of your hair behind your ear. “Always. But I have to say, the heels were a little hotter than the slippers.” You grin.

Sharing history with this monster. Smiling with this beast. Only Klaus doesn’t feel so much like those descriptions anymore. 

At least, he’s not the monster of your story. You know a handful of people that could fill that role. 

Klaus Mikaelson is your savior. 

“Good to see your compulsion is still working,” he says, and you wonder if he means to say it out loud. You quirk a brow, but it’s now or never. 

This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. 

“I’ve been taking vervain for years,” you admit shyly, opening the door to your apartment. His compulsion never worked on you. 

“Do you want to come inside?” 

[nkuyaa]

⸝⸝ when love and work collide. 𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

⋆⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆ IDOL!Mark x IDOL!FemReader ⋆⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆ ⋆⋆⋆

꩜ warnings : smut... pet names, public(?) sex ꩜ word count : 3,797 ꩜ summary : You haven't seen your boyfriend, Mark in a long time due to overly busy schedules caused by your new comeback. You were missing him a lot and the both of you text regularly, worrying your other members as you barely communicate during breaks. Usually too busy texting Mark. One day, you were set to perform on music bank, not knowing your boyfriend would be there too due to his recent comeback. After your performance you get off stage and get right to your phone, immediately texting Mark about how well you think you done, however.. He facetimes you, unknowingly, you answer. And to your surprise, Mark is waiting outside of your changing room. You rush out, leaving your fellow members clueless. You are over-filled with joy to see him, and it takes a fast turn quickly.

It had been weeks. Weeks since you last saw Mark. Weeks since you’d felt the comfort of his embrace or the heat of his kiss. Your group’s comeback had taken over every waking moment, from early rehearsals to late-night studio sessions. Mark, too, had been caught up in his own promotional whirlwind, and despite the constant texting and late-night chats, you could feel the distance. You missed him more than you let on, though the longing was there in every message, every shared moment between your busy schedules.

Tonight, Music Bank had just wrapped up, and you were buzzing with excitement from your performance. Still, no matter how electrifying the stage had been, the only thing you could think about was Mark. You quickly pulled out your phone, sending him a message:

“I think that was our best stage yet. How’s your comeback going? Miss you so much… I really can’t wait to hear your voice later.”

You hit send and leaned back, trying to catch your breath. Your heart was still racing from the performance, but a familiar notification made your pulse quicken even more. FaceTime from Mark.

Without even thinking, you tapped the screen to answer, excitement bubbling in your chest. When his face appeared, you blinked, confused for a moment. This wasn’t a normal FaceTime call. He wasn’t in his room or in his practice studio.

“Mark?” you whispered, eyes widening. "Wait, where are you—?"

His signature smirk appeared. "I’m here, baby," he said, his voice low, sending a wave of warmth through your body. The background behind him was unmistakable— the hallway of the building you were in, just outside your dressing room. You swallowed hard, heart pounding.

"Surprise," he added, his gaze dark and playful. His eyes scanned you as if he was savoring the moment, his lips curling slightly.

You didn’t need to think twice. Dropping your phone onto the couch, Your members stared at you as if you were insane.. However, you ignored them. You rushed to the door, your heels clicking sharply on the floor as you hurried to swing open the door and get outside into the hall. And there he was. Mark, standing just outside your dressing room, looking every bit as irresistible as you remembered. His black leather jacket clung to his frame, his messy blonde hair, perfectly tousled, and those dark eyes— the ones that had always been able to read you in a way no one else could.

“Mark,” you whispered breathlessly, a spark of excitement running through your veins. You barely had time to register the words before you were in his arms, your lips crashing into his.

The kiss was desperate, frantic, like you both had been starved for each other. His hands roamed down your back, pulling you against him, and you felt every inch of him as he deepened the kiss. His lips were soft but demanding, and the urgency in his touch made your head spin. You melted into him, responding just as passionately, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Mark muttered against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. His hands slid under your jacket, his fingers grazing your bare skin, making you gasp.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze, your chest heaving. “I’ve missed you too,” you breathed, your fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jaw. You had no idea how you were still standing, your entire body feeling like it was on fire. “I couldn’t wait for this.”

His eyes darkened with a hunger that made your stomach flip. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you,” he murmured, lips trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in that teasing way he knew drove you crazy. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the solid muscles beneath the fabric.

But before things could escalate further, the sound of footsteps approaching snapped you both out of the moment. You froze, realising your members were right behind you both.

Hanyeom, the most observant one out of your group had came out the door first, her eyes widened. “You two—?” she started, then paused, a grin tugging at her lips. “Making out in the hallway. 정말로?”

You pulled back quickly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You wanted to laugh at how caught you felt, but you were too distracted by Mark's hand still resting on your waist, his touch firm and possessive, like he didn’t want to let you go.

Mark, however, just chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement. “She’s irresistible,” he said casually, a sly smile curling his lips.

You shot him a playful glare, feeling your face flush deeper, but the way he was looking at you— with that wild, predatory glint in his eyes made it hard to focus on anything else.

“Okay, okay, we’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,” Yeojin, the most matured in the group, giggling as she teased the both of you, her eyes twinkling. “But maybe take it to a private room next time?”

You and Mark exchanged a knowing look, and without another word, your members disappeared down the hallway, still chuckling amongst themselves.

Once the coast was clear, Mark wasted no time. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you back toward him, his lips instantly finding yours again. The kiss was urgent, like he couldn’t get enough of you. His hands slid under your shirt, tracing the smooth skin of your back as his lips moved to your neck, pressing soft kisses along your jawline.

“Mark…” you whispered, the heat of the moment beginning to make your breath come faster. “We can’t—”

“Shh,” he murmured, cutting you off with another kiss. His hands slid down to your hips, pushing you against the wall of the hallway. The firm press of his body against yours made your heart race. He was too close. Too intoxicating.

“I’ve been waiting for this too long,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. “You feel so good, baby. I just… I need you.”

The raw desire in his voice sent a thrill straight through you. You responded with a soft gasp, your hands gripping his shirt, tugging him closer. You could feel the tension between you both, that undeniable chemistry that had been building for weeks, months even.

His lips crashed into yours again, and this time, the kiss was full of desperation, hungry and unrelenting. You couldn’t pull away, not when he was holding you so tightly, not when every part of you was so attuned to him. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, the desire between you both so palpable it nearly hurt.

But reality was creeping in— the moment couldn’t last forever. With a sigh, you pulled back, still breathless. Mark’s lips were swollen, his eyes heavy with want, but there was also a flicker of tenderness beneath that smouldering gaze.

“I want you more than anything,” he whispered, voice thick with desire. “But we can’t—” you begin to speak...

Just as you were about to slip back into the rhythm of the night, you felt Mark’s hand find yours again, pulling you aside. Your eyes met his, wide with curiosity.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice soft but with that mischievous edge he knew too well. You raised an eyebrow, uncertain of what he was up to. “Mark…?”

“Not just yet,” he whispered, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he led you down a quieter hallway. The sounds of bustling staff and other performers faded away, and you could feel the distance between the two of you growing more charged with every step.

“Where are we going?” you asked again, voice barely above a whisper, a little thrill running through you.

“Somewhere private,” he answered, his grin widening. “I want to be with you. Just the two of us for a little while.”

Mark guided you to a small locker room tucked away from the crowds. The air was cooler here, and the quiet hum of the air conditioning seemed to amplify the sound of your heartbeat. The soft lights in the room added to the sense of intimacy, making everything feel more contained, more real. You were alone here, in a little bubble of space and time where nothing else mattered.

He closed the door behind you softly, locking it with a small click that made your heart skip a beat. His gaze was steady, his smile softer now, filled with a warmth that spoke volumes. Mark took a slow step forward, eyes never leaving yours, and his hand gently cupped your cheek.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured, his thumb tracing over your skin, the tenderness of his touch sending a warm shiver down your spine. “More than you know.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you whispered back, your voice catching in your throat. Every word felt like an unspoken promise, something that had been building for far too long.

The space between you two felt electric now, charged with everything you both had been holding back. Mark leaned in, pressing his lips gently to yours. It was a slow, lingering kiss— his lips soft but full of meaning, like he was savouring every moment, every second of your closeness.

You responded, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, and for a moment, the rest of the world melted away. There was no stage, no rehearsals, no cameras—just you and him, together, at last.

His hands moved to your back, pulling you closer, your body pressed against his. The feeling of his warmth, the solidness of his chest against you, made your head spin. Every touch, every kiss felt like it was amplifying the connection between you both, building a closeness that had been missing for so long.

Mark pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. You both gasped for breath, but your hands stayed locked around him, not wanting to break the moment.

“Are you okay?” Mark asked, his voice low and tender. He seemed to be checking in, making sure you felt the same way—

You nodded, your chest rising and falling with each breath. “I’m more than okay,” you said, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Mark smiled, the intensity of his gaze softening into something sweeter, more sincere. He kissed your forehead gently, his hand brushing through your hair as he held you close.

“I’ve been wanting to be with you like this,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, feeling a warmth settle deep in your chest. The distance, the busy schedules, the constant work— they all seemed so small compared to this moment. You were with him. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

“Me too,” you whispered, looking up at him. “I think I’ve missed you more than anything.”

Mark chuckled softly, the sound rich with affection. He brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear and stepped back slightly, eyes scanning your face. “We’ve got time. Let’s just be in the moment,” he said, his voice laced with tenderness.

For a while, you just stood there, wrapped in each other’s presence. No words were needed; everything had already been said with the way your hands held each other, the way your lips met in slow, soft kisses. It was a perfect, fleeting moment— one you both needed, after all the time spent apart.

But as the world outside the locker room slowly crept back in— the sound of footsteps, voices calling out— you both knew it was time to hurry up. You suddenly feel him quickly grab your waist, turning you around in a hurry, greedily attaching his lips to your neck. Kissing and biting all over as he began to lift off your shirt. "Undress for me baby." He says, letting you go as he lifts off his top, revealing his broad shoulders and toned abs. You stare for a good minute before taking off the rest of your clothes, watching him as he unzips his trousers- leaving the both of you in only your underwear. He leans down, taking in your scent as he kisses your back, slowly removing your bra. Taking in the sight in front of him while still trying to keep up the pace. Once he finally removes your bra he removes his boxers. You do the same. Removing your pants as he turns you around, his lips crashing right back to yours- heating up the situation even more. He savoured the moment as his hands make their way down to your ass, cupping it and lifting you up in a swift motion. You wrap your legs around his waist, not pulling away from the kiss at all.

As the kiss deepened, the tension between you and Mark was palpable, charged with everything you'd been holding back during the long weeks of separation. His hands traced the curve of your back, pulling you even closer, the heat of his body radiating against yours. Every kiss was more desperate, more hungry, as if the time apart had made you both crave this connection even more.

Mark's lips left yours briefly, his breath ragged as he stared into your eyes. "I've wanted this for so long," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. You could feel the intensity in his words, in the way his hands cupped your face, pulling you back to him.

"I know," you whispered back, your hands sliding up to his chest, feeling the solid warmth beneath your fingertips. "I missed you more than you can imagine."

His lips found yours again, but this time, the kiss was deeper, more urgent, as if he couldn’t wait any longer. Your bodies pressed together, and you could feel the strength in his arms, the way he held you like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. Every touch, every movement, felt like an unspoken promise.

You bit your lip, struggling to pull yourself together, but his words had a way of unravelling you. Every inch of him felt like home, like everything you’d been waiting for. His lips found yours again, slow but insistent, as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of you against him.

You kissed him back just as desperately, your hands sliding lower along his body, exploring the familiar warmth of him. Just a deep, overwhelming need to feel each other, to close the gap that had been there for so long.

As you broke the kiss, Mark’s lips lingered near your ear, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his hand caressing your back, the touch both tender and possessive.

You nodded, your breath shaky. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you whispered, pulling him closer.

As soon as he heard you confirm he wasted no time in lining himself up with your entrance, using his hand to ensure it was lined up perfectly. He looked at you with sparkling eyes, waiting for your nod to go. You waited a few seconds, taking in the feeling of his member tracing along your entrance, finally- you nod. Not even a second after you nod he slid himself inside, immediately picking up the pace and showing no mercy, already hitting the right spots- filling you up completely. He moved in closer to kiss you, muffling your moans as he pounded into you. You claw onto his back, definitely leaving some obvious marks, but neither of you care. Your fingers dig into his skin, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens. The feel of his muscles beneath your hands, the warmth of his body pressing against you, makes everything else fade away. It’s like the world outside of this room doesn’t exist— there’s only him, and there’s only you.

Mark groans softly against your lips, his grip tightening around your waist as he pulls you closer. His body feels like fire, and every touch makes your heart race faster. Every time his member inside of you hit the right spot it'd release another groan from you.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. His hands find the curve of your back, drawing you even closer, and you respond instinctively, your body pressed against his as if you can’t get close enough.

Your breath catches as his lips move lower, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone. The feeling of him so close, his presence wrapping around you, makes everything inside you ignite. You close your eyes, savouring the moment, your heart swelling with the connection that’s growing between you, something deeper than just physical attraction. You feel a knot slowly forming in your stomach, "Mark.. I'm close." You warn, he smirks before speaking- "Me too, don't wait for me I won't be too long.." After his confirmation you release, he then follows right after. Riding out your high, slightly overstimulating you. You cry out as he abuses his power and he tries to keep you quiet, knowing that people may be able to hear.

Mark pulls back for a moment, his forehead resting gently against yours. His breath is labored, and his hands move to caress your face, brushing stray strands of hair behind your ear. You can see the raw tenderness in his eyes— the same depth of feeling that you’ve always shared, but now more intense than ever.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability in it making your heart ache.

“I know,” you reply softly, your hand tracing his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath your fingertips. “I missed you more than I can say.”

The connection between you both feels almost overwhelming, as if the universe itself has conspired to bring you back to each other. The love you share, the way you understand each other without needing words, fills the space around you. Every touch, every kiss, only deepens that bond.

Mark leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, but this one is different. It’s slower, more deliberate, full of emotion rather than urgency. He takes his time, savoring every second, as if trying to memorize this moment. His hands move to your waist, holding you firmly but gently, like he’s afraid of letting go.

“Let me take care of you,” he says softly, his voice full of tenderness. “You mean everything to me.”

“I’m already taken care of,” you whisper back, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your palm. “With you, I feel complete.”

And in that moment, nothing else matters. The noise of the world, the expectations, the pressures of your careers— they all fade into the background. There’s just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, finding solace in the quiet intimacy that only you can share.

Mark holds you close, his lips pressing one final kiss to your forehead before pulling back, his gaze softening with affection. “I’m always going to be here for you,” he promises, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “Through everything.”

You smile up at him, your heart full. “I know. And I’ll always be here for you, too.”

Auth. note : I'm so tired and have barely any good enough ideas so if this is bad, i apologies🥹

[madhatterbri]

Acquainted | D.P.

Summary: Damian likes that he is acquainted with a dancer.

Author's Note: Y/N works in a dance club in this. Don't like it? Don't read it.

Happy Monday Night RAW, babes. ❤️

Damian Priest Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @mrsarcherofinfamy @brideofinfamy @new-zealand-chic @magicalbuttertarts @miss-kuki-nz @terrortwinunicorn @hotwheels1108

He opened the front door. The moonlight shined on Y/N. Her high heels clicked against the cobblestone steps to his home. A skin-tight dress clung to her body. Hair and makeup were done as if she were on the red carpet.

Damian remembered the first time he saw Y/N. He was at a club with a couple of his boys. They just needed a night out. Newly single, he wasn't looking for love. He certainly didn't expect it at this place.

Smoke fogged up the place. Men and women sat at the tables and watched the women. They were pretty entertaining until his eyes landed on her. When their eyes locked on each other, it was game over for him. He had to know more.

Car lights poked through his living room window. Thoughts of meeting Y/N left his mind. A smile crept on his face. The night they met was no longer important. She was here. He was going to be in for one hell of a night.

"You came," he pointed out. The wrestler bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn't believe he said something so obvious.

She hummed in response. Her hand grabbed his cheeks. His chocolate brown eyes stared into hers. A smile poked through on her normally serious demeanor. Their lips met for a kiss. While their lips touched, she spoke. "You going to let me in?"

Damian nodded briefly. He opened the door for Y/N. The dancer walked into the house. The streets were void of any life. He couldn't imagine the rumors that would start if anyone found out she came in.

Not far behind her, he locked the door behind him. Y/N walked towards his bedroom. The Boricua followed closely behind her. He stopped the moment she did.

Her back pressed against the wall, and her fingers grabbed the collar of his shirt. Damian placed a hand on the wall. Their lips locked. She pulled his bottom lip with her teeth.

He gasped in the kiss. Her hands unbuckled his belt. His jeans and underwear slid down his legs. As his clothes went south, so did she.

Short moans echoed down the hallway. Her tongue licked from the base of his dick to the head. She kissed the tip of him. Her tongue worked its way around the head.

Damian cursed and sucked his teeth. His brown eyes watched in awe as his cock disappeared into her mouth. His hand on the wall turned into a fist.

Y/N bobbed her head on him. Short thrusts from his hips pushed him deeper. She reached out and grabbed the hand by his side. His hand found its way into her hair. He gripped her hair and controlled the motion. Damian felt her throat relax to take more of him.

"I'm close,"

The words hung in the air. He half expected her to move, yet she continued to swallow him. When his pants quickened, she stilled as he came down her throat. His orgasm washed over him. He hadn't felt this refreshed in a long time.

His pants and underwear were forgotten in the hallway. Her fist bunched up on his shirt. She entered his room first. Her fingers brushed his tanned abs and chest. He brought up his hands for his shirt to go.

When they made it to his bed, Y/N continued to take the lead. Her dress left in a pool on the floor. She performed the lap dance routine he gave him back at the club. Her lips kissed every part of his now naked body. All the blood rushed to his groin. In no time at all, she had him ready for round two.

She pushed his chest for him to lay down. He happily laid on his back. Straddling his waist while on her knees, she slowly slid down on him. Over stimulated, she brought her head back. Eyes fluttered as her walls stretched to accommodate him.

He hissed the moment her nails dug into his chest. She rolled her hips. Sounds of pleasure filled the room. His hands gripped her hips. He bounced her up and down on his cock.

His second orgasm came crashing down on him. Hers followed not long after. They remained still while they caught their breath. Y/N removed herself from on top of him. No other words were spoken between them as she left.

Damian stared at the ceiling above him. A smirk appeared on his face. He was happy they were acquainted.

[hoshigray]

Let me get this out of my system before I forget: toji x fem! reader, both assassins who take each other's missions. But on the one occasion you work together, Toji feels that no good deed goes unrewarded. Cw: dom! toji - fem! reader - mating press - praise - toji acts cocky the first half but is a soft menace in the other half - pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweetie, darlin', good girl, princess) - drool/mention of sloppy kissing - mention of overstimulation (fem! receiving). Cw: 708

You and Toji are the top assassins in the league, and titles like that spark competition. You constantly outdo each other, taking up his missions because you need the money, and taking yours because he's a petty bastard. Flashing a snarky grin at you whenever he walks by, his canine peaking under the scar on his lips. He knows you hate him and finds it adorable how you roll your eyes whenever you see him.

But you two make an excellent team when you go on missions together! Not that it matters to you two because you both argue about the other's performance; he's too messy and carefree, and you're way too cautious and like to take your sweet time.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, exhausted from the mission and his reckless behavior, you turn on your heel to head home. But Toji calls out to you, "I'm gonna grab somethin' to eat, wanna join?

The quirk of your brow doesn't go unnoticed. "Relax, it's on me. Think of it as a reward for not being a complete thorn in my side today."

You scoff. "Yeah right." After Toji's multiple pleas more like teasing than pleading, you agree to accompany him to dinner. However, you keep your guard up while you're with him. Even if it's past work hours, that doesn't mean he can't pull something out of his ass.

Well, that promise did nothing for you as you're crying, panting, and making the most embarrassing noises you never thought you could make.

Folded into your life's most intense mating press, Toji surveys your disheveled appearance in relish. Sweat and cum connect your bodies together while drool slides down from your mouth. His hips go at an irrational pace that has you see stars, and the sounds of his balls smacking your wet folds make you hide your face in shame. Why the hell did I get myself into this situation? I could've just turned and gone home!

"Haaaah, shit..." His hoarse groans compel you to squeeze around him even tighter. He jolts a bit, smirking at your body's reaction."Haha, damn, baby. Had I known I'd see you like this earlier, I'd — hnngh! Oh shit" Toji moves your legs further with his shoulders, his body weight pushing onto you and making you feel so helpless being trapped under him like this.

"Hey, c'mon now," He chuckles when he sees your face is still covered up. He uses one hand to remove them, trapping them above your head. "Don't wanna miss the perfect view, sweetheart."

Through watered eyes in a haze, you stare up at the man making you feel so fucking good tormenting you. The bedroom lights behind him make Toji appear so deliciously alluring, his tanned skin bathed in sweat that some strands of his hair stick to his forehead. With blatant lust looming over his eyes, you feel small under his sharp emerald orbs.

A small chuckle escapes his lips. "Damn, sweetie, lookin' so beautiful fr' me, ya know that?" He surprises you with a deep thrust, and a sudden yelp becomes sweet music to his ears. "My beautiful darlin'."

You immediately turn to the side, biting your bottom lip before he sees it quiver. "Aht aht, don't do that." He's quick to grab your chin to face him again. "You can't hide from me, not like this." He draws closer to press his lips onto yours and you melt on the spot. You instantly become a mewling mess, his sloppy kisses turning your brain into mush.

And it doesn't stop there, of course not. He then slithers his hand down to your clit, giving it unnecessary yet gracious attention for being disregarded.

That was it for you, your walls spasming around his cock as you cream onto him, your euphoric orgasms taken by his ravaging mouth. He breaks the kiss to see a trail of spit still linking the two of you.

"Good girl," He praises you as he lets you ride out your high, admiring how pretty you look. However, "Sorry, baby, but I still gotta finish here." He grinds his hips into your messy cunt, the overstimulation nearly choking you in your own spit. "Stay with me for a few minutes, okay, princess?"

[sarrsqz]

Back to Clarity

My tragic girl 😔

Interview with the Vampire: Claudia de Pointe du Lac x Reader

This was made with the idea of being platonic but could also be read with romantic undertones I suppose. I just wanted to give her some love because no one really talks about her on here.

Takes place in season two - Paris, 1950.

Word count: 1.2k

Claudia's hand shook as she leaned her head against it. Her leg bounced against the wooden floor, slightly heeled shoe making a soft clicking sound each time. Her skin felt colder than usual, bare elbows resting on the vanity in front of her. Her face scrunched up in irritation at the sounds of the audience cheering and clapping for those on stage.

She cursed herself as the coven played with her storyline, her insecurities. The fact that her existence was an abomination was humorous to them. They found joy in mocking her right to her face.

She had spent so long finding other vampires. Her determination constantly tested at every dead-end and suicide she was forced to witness. Finding the Parsian Coven had been a dream come true for her. A way to find true purpose. To be surrounded by other vampires who saw her as more than a child. More than their child.

But she was met with the same resistance as before. A group of centuries old vampires who saw her as a mistake. Who found pleasure in exploiting her.

The various ruffles and laced parts of the outfit she was forced to wear itched and burned her skin. She reached to the collar of the blue dress, pulling at the fabric like she was pulling off a second skin.

She craved to hear the stitching be torn out of the homemade dress. Desired to watch the fabric curl in on itself in a pit of fire, or watch it dissolve in a tank of acid. Anything to destroy any remnants of a connection she has with it.

Her eyebrows drew together, knitting in a tight line of frustration and humiliation. Her lips quivered when she finally took in the appearance of her face. The face of a teenage girl, decked out in blue eyeshadow and faux freckles stared back at her. She felt her breathing get deeper, harsher.

Her red eyes scanned over the mirror's reflection, hands stopping their clawing movements against the dress. The sounds faded out behind her. They sounded miniscule, unimportant as she blankly took in her makeup covered face. The face of a girl who should've died forty-three years ago.

Her fingers moved to her face, erratically smudging away the makeup. It smeared together, blending into inharmonious colors against her skin. Her red eyes seemed to be brighter in contrast to the ugly smudges on her face, breathing in deeply to restrict her true emotions which were threatening to break through the surface.

"Makeup pads are over there, y'know."

Claudia's head snapped over her neck, hands tensing while still being held out in front of her. You took in her face, the vulnerability expressed underneath all that rage.

You were leaning against a wooden pillar in the middle of the room, arms loosely crossed over your chest. You looked at her blankly.

"Oh, really? How quaint." She responded after a second of hesitation, voice bitter. She turned back around in her seat and crossed her arms in her lap. Her eyes refused to meet the mirror in front of her. She pushed her embarrassment down, replacing it with defiant rage. It continued to build as she heard you walking over to Estelle's dresser. "Shouldn't you be out there? Playing out those fantasies of yours?"

You pushed in the dresser's cabinet with your hip after grabbing what you need, smiling to yourself at the sound of her accent. You've yet to visit America, but it seems just as bland as the rest of the mortal run world. At least here you have some of your kind.

"I'm not on today." You placed the makeup pads on her vanity after responding vaguely. Claudia glared at them while picking at her nails. While she was desperate to remove any childlike addition they gave her for the performance, she refused to accept your aid. "I don't need your help. I'm not a kid." She spat, looking back at you as you sat down near her at another vanity. You crossed one leg over the other, leaning closer to the mirror and adjusting a piece of your hair.

"I didn't say you were."

"Felt like it."

Her response was quick, practiced. She's had this conversation before. Whether it be mortals or vampires, she was never deemed as an equal in their eyes. She learned that the hard way.

Your arm fell to the table, head turning to look at her. It was silent for a moment. Just you and her staring at each other. Her face seemed to be set in a permanent snarl.

Claudia's walls were high. They had to be. After everything she'd gone through, she had no other options but to close everyone out. Her struggles were just that -- hers. No one else understands her pain. The curse of immortality in a body that restricted growth and true experiences. Unable to bond with neither mortal nor vampire, the former seeing her as a child and latter seeing her as an atrocity.

"It's just makeup, Claudia." Your voice was soft, although detached in Claudia's eyes. "Don't let it define you."

"Oh. It's that easy, huh?" Her eyebrows shot up, egging you on in a sarcastic manner. She sat up in her seat, breathing heavily, hands placed firmly on the sides of the chair she sat on after uncrossing them.

More silence spread between the two of you. The only sounds came from the audience, entertained beyond belief at the various acts the coven put on for them.

Your face was blank, calmly looking over Claudia's defensive expression. You turned your head back to the mirror after a moment.

"You're not gonna say nothing?" Claudia asked while leaning forward more, bewilderment mixing with anger taking over her face. Her curled hair fell over her shoulders, hanging in the air while she awaited a response from you.

She waited for you to say something you couldn't take back. Something to confirm her suspicions that finding other vampires had been futile, and that no one in the coven truly respected her. But secretly, a small part of her craved your words to be the exact opposite. To find someone who could accept her -- to prove Lestat wrong.

To prove herself wrong.

You looked back at her, sitting up in your seat as well. Your eyebrows furrowed as you glanced to the wooden floor for a moment before looking back at Claudia. "It's not about them. It's about you. You deserve more than this bitterness... you know that don't you?"

Claudia's eyes widened slightly, a sense of ease replacing the heavy feeling in her chest. Her eyes scanned your face, looking for a lie, a ploy. Something to convince her to crawl back into her well-built safety net.

"Here," your voice cut through her thoughts. You reached forward for the makeup pads, grabbing a nearby makeup removal serum to place on them. "Let me help you, Claudia."

Her nails picked at the wooden chair she was sitting on. She let you wipe off the smudges, remove the ribbons from her hair -- bringing her back to clarity.

A sense of equality stemmed between you both. Claudia could almost feel her walls crumbling with each wipe of the makeup pads.

Being wrong never felt better.

[floweryrkive]

with you ? always.

a huh yunjin drabble !

genre : fluff, a tad bit of angst.

pairing : idol!yunjin x non!idol! bodyguard!gn!reader, established (secret from everyone) relationship.

warnings : none that I can think of but lmk if I missed anything !

author's note : ah this was going thru my brain so bad that I ended up making another whole blog to upload gg fanfics 😭 the lack of yunjin fics at times is so sad :") anyways enjoy and lmk what you think !

word count : 2.2k

The arena was filled with loud cheering, bright lights and very, very many people yet the one who you wanted to see seemed to not be visible at all.

It was the end of another successful concert, the girls' final greetings having been done and the arena going dark to let them come backstage.

You'd been at the back as well, staring in awe at the way they performed more specifically at the way she did. You don't think you once even looked at anyone else, though you knew and appreciated how hard they all worked but she was, well for you at least, different.

You were head over heels in love with the woman, you'd literally go and pluck the stars from the night sky or go in the deepest of oceans to find the shiniest pearl if she even simply asked you for it.

Huh Yunjin.

And by some miracle you think, she loves you too. Not that you weren't someone who didn't deserve her. You had your own accomplishments which ultimately led you to working as her personal bodyguard.

Though you were pretty sure if someone told you ,a few months ago, that you'd be in a relationship with said woman, you'd probably have punched them for making such an awful joke.

You didn't get on the right foot. Her being stubborn and not wanting a bodyguard to follow her around even if she wants to go to a simple trip to the store while you were just trying to do your job.

She acted like a menace that time but that's a another story for another time.

For now, you just wanted to check up on her. And as though the universe favoured you for the first time in a while, but you do think it did favour you when you somehow ended up with her, you spot her making her way after all the other girls walked in.

Her hair was slightly tousled, sweat covering her forehead and her face all red from performing but you still find her the most beautiful woman you'd ever laid your eyes on.

She seemed to look around for someone, and a small grin made its way on your face, realising she might be looking for you.

Her stylists and the crew were already helping the girls out by giving them water bottles and towels, she seemed to promptly ignore them as she still searched around.

You shook your head when she declined a water bottle and moved your hand to grab one from the person passing them around.

Once you looked up, before you could even call her, she spotted you and maybe it was the lights in the room but her eyes seemed to brighten up even more than they usually were.

You gulped as you realised just how much you loved to see her look at you like that, thinking about what you'd do if it ever disappeared.

She sprinted across the room and stood in front of you. You had to tilt your head slightly down as she was shorter than you. You bit your lower lip to prevent a grin from forming on your face as you saw the same excitement glow on her face each time she seemed around you.

"Hi." She breathed out as a smile formed on her face and you couldn't control your own chuckle as you shook your head.

"Hello." You said with your hands behind your back still holding the water bottle. You looked around briefly, noticing how the busy crew was tending to other matters, leaving Yunjin to her since she didn't seem like she needed anything at the moment.

Well not anything they would be able to provide because what she really wanted was who stood in front of her.

"So what did you think of the performance?!" Her cheery voice brought your attention back to her as she put her hands to her side, clenching her fists as though she was nervous and excited. But also to control herself from throwing herself at you like she sometimes would.

Being the observer you were, you knew she was out of breath seeing her chest rise and fall in quick breaths so you put your hand in front, prompting her to take the water bottle.

"Drink some water first bab— Miss." You coughed out before the nickname slipped, her eyes blinking when she recalled where she was.

"R-right! Water! Yes, uhm thank you." She grabbed the bottle, trying to open it but her hands were sweaty and the condensation on the bottle seemed to have made it slippery too.

"Here." You grabbed her hand and took the bottle back, opening the cap, and handing it back to her.

"Thank you!" She smiled at you as she gulped down a sip, almost moaning in relief as the coolness calmed her throat and mind.

Checking your surroundings, you made sure no one was paying attention before you, leaned in closer to her, just a little forward to not seem suspicious but also only say something she could hear.

"Anything for you, baby." You whispered sweetly as though it was the most normal thing, and it was but not at that time.

You stood straight in time to see her choke, and your eyes widened reaching for her water bottle as you briefly went beside her to pat her on the back.

"Wh-what did you—" Once her coughing stopped, she looked at you while glaring but you could see her cheeks turn pink.

"What? I said nothing." You shrugged innocently, as you put your hands to your side now standing beside her.

"You-!"

"Unnie?" Eunchae came up in front of you, calling Yunjin who was flustered and glaring at you.

"We're going back to the hotel and probably planning to eat out, joining?" She eyes you two, in suspicion but you just looked blankly, looking away from them.

Yunjing thought about it for a second though, because what she really wanted was to spend her time with you now. She was exhausted and didn't feel like going out, just wanted you to hold her until her world was just the scent of your cologne and warm arms around her.

Sighing, she just nodded, trying not to look too disappointed by how her plans seemed to go differently.

"Yeah, yeah, fine." Her tone sounded off but Eunchae figured it was likely exhaustion.

"Alright we'll be in the van!" She happily smiled at you both to which you returned a small grin and Yunjin waved her hand.

"Come on, let's go, they're waiting." You told her as you looked towards the exit door.

"But I wanted to just…nevermind yes let's go!" She shook her head, not finishing her train of thoughts as she moved forward, you trailing behind her in slight confusion as to what her sentence was going to be.

And with that you followed her out to where the van was and greeted the others as you pulled open the door for her.

The night went smoothly after that, having been told you could go on your own after you dropped off the girls at the restaurant, being reassured you weren't needed because it was just below the hotel and there were the other bodyguards there too.

But it took everything in you to not go and hug her when you were saying your farewell for the day, the disappointment and sadness that glimmered before appearing again.

Why was it so hard to just spend time with you?

She was quick to cover it, her smile, the one that was definitely not genuine, on her face as she waved her goodbye to you. She didn't even mouth anything to you, like she usually would when you'd leave and you knew there was something up.

Being the best partner you thrived to be, you got back to the hotel, to your room, changed into comfy grey sweatpants and a sweatshirt while putting on another layer of a black jacket, put on your cap and went about.

It was difficult though. To find a flower shop open at this hour but lucky for you, there was one downtown that sat in a quiet corner. You made your way there and scanned the variety of flowers, the middle aged woman greeting you while you politely greeted her.

Finally settling for a combo of red and white tulips, you got a bouquet made and quickly made your way back to the hotel so as to not seem like some sort of creep. You'd hidden the flowers in a paper bag that the lady gave you and it was better to hide them that way.

Going back to your room, you made sure you looked decent enough, threw the paper bag on your bedside table and got out of your room.

Lucky for you, both yours and her room were near each other. The privilege of a personal bodyguard you suppose. She messaged you a few minutes ago that they were back and she was headed towards her room.

Her last message to you read,

'goodnight :( miss u <3'

It was only two minutes ago, so you doubt she'd be asleep as you stood in front of her door.

You looked down to prevent your face from being visible, scanning the hallway to make sure no else was there before you knocked on the door.

You could hear some shuffling and then it was quiet for a moment before you saw the doorknob turn.

Yunjin was very confused when she saw someone hiding behind a bouquet of flowers, her brain being a little slow in processing due to her exhaustion but also distraction.

You moved the flowers beside your face, her coming into view now before you grinned at her,

"Hi." She had to blink once, she blinked twice and her mouth fell agape.

"Firstly, these are for you. I don't think I told you about your performance, like you were incredible as always and I just felt like bringing you these to show you since I'm not really good with words and—oomph!" You yelped when she leaped forward and into your somewhat open arms. You quickly put one hand around her waist to stabilise her and yourself while holding the bouquet in the other.

Her head buried itself in the crook of your shoulders as her arms wrapped around your neck. She felt a low vibration from your chest indicating you laughing,

"Seems like my surprise is appreciated."

"Come on love, let's head inside yeah?" She just mumbled in agreement as you slowly walked inside. She moved backwards as you guided her by her waist, careful to not bump into the door.

Placing the bouquet near a table by the entrance, you kicked the door closed as you wrapped your moved your hand to close the lock.

Finally you wrapped your arm fully around her as you continued to stay standing, just in each other's embrace. "Honey, is everything fine? Tell me, is there something bothering you?"

"Just…just you. Missed you. Wanted you." She whispered to you so softly, it made you feel the kind of warmth you do when the sun touches your skin on a cold day. It wasn't too far off anyways considering she was your sun, the brightest star in the sky.

"Well you have me now, want to get more comfy love?" Your hand automatically reached for her head and gently caressed her soft hair. She hummed in both agreement and relief as her previous thoughts of not being able to see you went away.

All she knew in that moment was the smell of your homely cologne, the familiar musky sandalwood and the way you engulfed her form in your arms.

She didn't even realise you were both lying down on the bed until she looked up to see you staring back at her. "Good?" Your voice was low making it sound slightly deeper than usual. Just the tone she secretly loved.

There you both laid, your arms around her body and hers around your shoulders, legs somewhat tangled as she looked up at you and gently grinned.

She nodded as you moved your hand up to her cheek, thumb caressing it as you leaned down.

You kissed her forehead as she shut her eyes, you then moved to her right eye, softly pressing your lips and the same to the other. You pecked her nose before finally settling on a longer peck on the lips.

When you pulled back, she made a noise of protest, which had you giggling at her, "What?" You teasingly asked, "More." and before you could tease her more she moved her hand and grabbed you by your jacket collar, promptly pressing your lips against her soft ones.

It was slow and nothing more, allowing you to taste the strawberry lip gloss she'd put on, the one she knew was your favourite, just happy to be with each other after rarely being able to see each other. You smiled into the kiss as she pushed herself more into you.

With the need of oxygen, you both pulled away from each other, her eyes hazy while yours were similar, her cheeks being pinker than usual and you certainly felt your own burning up.

"Feeling better?" She bit her lip before leaning in to brush her nose against yours before whispering three words that made you grin in delight,

"With you? Always."

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

feedback is always appreciated 💌

floweryrkive © 2023

[heartfullofleeches]

How would Host react if one day I decided to dress up as and mimic him for a show

Just what are you up to today?

As a consumer of tricks and mischief himself, Host could tell you had a few up your sleeve from the smirk in your eyes down to the tiny hiccups between each word as you asked him to keep all eyes off your dressing room today. Cute. He decided to play along as he had full trust you wouldn't run off, and only a monster would resist such a harmless and innocent request. He was a tad disappointed to hear you wouldn't be there to start the show, but as long as you were there by its climax it'd be yet another smash hit. Host figured he'd do his part and hype up the crowd for your arrival. He hasn't been this excited since that corrupt politician you brought on the other week. His tie is grey today. That's an interesting development

The curtains draw and Host steps out on stage, welcomed by the cheers and appulse of your crowd. They're a rowdy lot today - right off the bat. What's got them so livened up already?

"Good-Day, Folks. Welcome to another exciting episode of your favorite show -"

"With your favorite host!"

Host taps his mic. He wasn't used to feedback unless for comedic effect. The crowd cheers and hollers all the same from the combined greeting - and from the unsteady click of heels on the title floor Host knew he was no longer alone. He twists his head to look back at the figure emerging from the cover of shadows - microphone in hand.

"Well, Well - what's this now? Surprised to see me?"

A confident smirk dawns their face; stride as professional and flashy as their bandaged eyes could lead guided by two stage hands. Their usual flare swapped out with a grey business suit. Hair slicked back to the best of their capabilities and voice carrying that boastful charm. His copy walks up to him, halted by one of their helpers. They whisper something in their ear and the copy's smile grows.

"If it isn't my doppelganger. Handsome devils, aren't we?"

Host does a doubletake at your attire; camera zoomed in on you from all angles. Posture to dress - you were a spitting image; eyes wrapped up with some bandages to complete his signature look. Feeling the relentless stares you've grown accustomed to, you tilt your head up at him. You swap your mic with his as you saulter over to his desk, kicking your feet up on the table as you take your seat. Your left leg missing the table due to your altered sight, but you pick yourself back up and swing it over your right.

"That's better. These shoes are killing me. Speaking of which, how are our dear guests?."

The stage goes dead quiet. Not even a whisper, or an awkward cough to clear the air. You lift your hand up to remove the bandages.

"Haha..."

Host's chest rises with a breath.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."

He keels over, clutching his ribcage as he bellows a pitched laugh perfectly synced with the millions of voices in the crowd. He laughs harder, bending to his knees as he squeezes his chest tighter and tighter til theirs a faint crack!. He snickers; practically wheezing as he tries to get out a single word between his fit of hysterics. He scrapes black mucus from the corners of his mouth, shoulders bouncing with a silent giggle as he rises and stumbles over in your direction.

"Y/n... Your performance.. It's so spectacular, it's moved me to tears! I knew I picked the most excellent show host in the biz. I haven't laughed that hard in ages. I think I've fallen in love all over again! I knew you'd always upstage me, but if there's anyone who could successfully steal my show - it's you."

The overhead lights blind you as he carefully peals the wrappings from your face. "But if I can make one request, do be a me solid and don't cover up these pretty eyes of yours. Can't have a good show if every part of you isn't accounted for, and you'll need them to see the faces on our dear guests when we bring them out. Today, more than any, we'll knock'em for sure. I look forward to your full act."

[valentine-cafe]

What if reader was avoiding your scary ocs and when they were in the same space like, tried to smile but ended up looking/walking away. their voice was meak and hushed and they tried to not inconvenience your ocs, so they naturally think that Oh, reader is scared of them, what else is new?only for someone to point out the real reason being "actually they've got a big fat crush on you" ???

. ˚◞♡ 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉 𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔◞ ₊˚

𖹭. in which you start avoiding the scary characters because you have a crush on them /gn reader

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ HERRERA HUSBANDS 209 ꒱ at first they would be quite amused by your seeming fear towards them. following you around and meeting you at all different corners of the city or jìngyí’s clinic. ushering you to a lounge to speak with them to see the way you would try to deflect each and every question asked with meak and mumbled words.

then, when one of their assistants approached them one day. after you had just gone home from your appointment. he can’t help but snicker a bit at their bosses while shaking their head.

“you both are intelligent but oblivious. they are not scared of you they are in love. you can see it in the way they get flustered when you speak to them, fiddling and looking everywhere.”

and for a moment the room went quiet, the scientist and doctor slowly look at each other. before back at the assistant. only for the husbands to excuse themselves to rush after you like two feral and excited animals.

snake monster x reader, mad doctor x reader, spider-moth-mantis x reader, mad scientist x reader, yandere x reader, villains x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ XĪYÁNG 9819 ꒱ often doesn’t have time for such. when someone is scared of him, he takes no time to bother. often too focused on his work. though curious he is to admit why you in particular is so quick to shy away from him.

you’re an intern at the syndicate, he’s seen your skills, he’s seen the way you interact with the crew. yet with him you show so much fear. your respect outweighs it, but your fear of him certainly is strong.

it wasn’t until his girlfriend noticed your behavior around him that he found out was going on. as she snickered and gave him a little elbow to his side.

“you don’t recognise the lovesick looks?” she hums, giving you a little wave from afar and watching as you turned away with a face flaring up redder than a tomato.

“oh—” is all that’d reach your ears as the realisation kicked in for the mercenary leader.

grim reaper x reader, mercenary leader x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ALESSIO 1311 ꒱ you were one of the bartenders at the club he’d perform at with his band most often. and oh those sweet little mumbled out voice you got when he was close to you made him chase for you each time.

he had a sadistic side to him that adored when people feared him. though that was usually only with humans. and he was curious as to why you, a pretty little thing in the sector would be so flustered and scared around him.

your small and hurried responses would make him itch with a want for you to talk more, watch you ease up around him.

he had no clue that it was not fear you felt, but that insufferable lovesick, crushing feeling in your heart each time he caught your eyes from across the room.

“this person. head over heels for you,” one of your coworkers at the bar would mutter to him one time when you were on break. and only then did it really hit him that you had a crush.

he was quick to rush to the back of the club to fluster you a bit more and give his own little piece of mind on how he felt.

rockstar x reader, enigma x reader, mercenary x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ JÌNGYÍ 1311 ꒱ would probably actually catch on before he was told by someone what exactly was going on. though uncertainty had kicked in at some of your most recent responses to your conversations with him.

he just needed a sort of confirmation to be sure he wasn’t taking anything the wrong way.

so he observed how you acted with other people around you, cornering you at times to see how you talked to him and then leaving you, following you around to none of your knowledge to observe even more.

and when it hit him you were very different with other people around you he tried to put the puzzle together. to his luck, one of your friends had seen you and had laughed a bit, excusing themself from the group to walk over to him and tell him a bit of what was going on.

and with the blink of an eye, from you and all of your friends, you were gone. swept away by a large, serpent tail, while jìngyí made his way home to sit you down and talk.

naga x reader, mechanic x reader, artificer x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ JÌNGYÍ VERSELESS ꒱ he likes to toss and play around with the people he scares. it’s the demonic part of him that urges him to torment the poor souls that shy away from him, and you certainly were no exception.

trapped in his citadel way down below in the abhorration. his presence making you flustered every time he is around. he had no clue he made your heart beat out of fluster and now fear.

it was his alessio that brought it up to him and told him what was really going on. which lead to jìngyí instead becoming less teasing and tormenting and more possessive and quiet around you but in a comfortable way.

he looks after you and makes sure you are okay, sometimes pulling you to rooms of his citadel and keeping you inside of them for a while to make sure you don’t run away. don’t worry, alessio knows exactly what that feels like, so at the very least the two of you can be comforted by one another. . .

demon x reader, necronancer x reader, alchemist x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ PRIMORDIAL HUSBANDS ꒱ often do not bother too much with those who are scared of them unless there is a reason to. you are a baker in the town next to the emerald woods that they often frequent, to get pastries for their husband.

they only noticed your fidgety mannerisms around them when they entered the bakery after rishen. he had been talking and chatting with you merrily and you had been just as bright.

yet, when they caught your eyes, your posture immediately faltered and your lips thinned, eyes looking away.

the man you had previously spoken to would only tilt his head in confusion and look over his shoulder, only to see his husbands who stood in the doorway to the bakery and stared at you in confusion. eyebrows raised.

he then looked back at you and then back at his husbands, before grinning and giving you a look. one you knew way too well.

“rishen—”

“oooooooooh, you’re crushing on my husbands?”

“what?” the husbands both let out in unison and give you another look.

the embarrassment was too hard to handle for you, and you ended up sinking behind the counter and hiding away from the world there.

corrupt gods x reader, siren x reader, sorcerer x reader, rhytaari x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ VALERIUS ꒱ to put this one really short, he would be very nonchalant about you. yeah, you’re scared? it’s not something he really thinks about. he’s got plenty of people who fear him enough already. though upon discovery that you were not scared but in love, he would have given you the biggest look of disappointment.

“you have awful taste in men if you are crushing on me.” he sighs, shaking his head and turning around.

“find someone better for you.” and with that he was off. leaving you to splutter and spill tears of embarrassment.

demon x reader, rhytaari x reader 

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

Shizurui's feelings for each other headcanons (can't believe i've not done this yet, i should have my badge revoked, honestly-)

- as i'm pretty sure all us like... five Shizurui-ers agree, Rui definitely fell first

- minor celebrity crush ever since he was introduced to MMJ! that he didn't think would mean anything. but then after he properly spent time with her on the school trip?

- kaboom, cue falling head over heels queerplatonically <3

- disaster. absolute disaster, he is. he's so obvious about it despite his best efforts not to be

- during W x S rehearsal, Emu'll be chatting about her school day and who she talked to- everyone else catches on to how Rui seems more interested in her rambles immediately after Shizuku's name's mentioned

- even Leo/need finds out about it through Tsukasa and Emu and are gossiping about it. a bit of Shiho has withered away and died at the thought of her sister getting close with Tsukasa's somehow even more chaotic friend /silly

- Shizuku doesn't realise SHE likes him more than an acquaintance, let alone being aware of the other way round

- she subconsciously tries finding excuses to spend time with him <3

- "oh dear :(( i broke the microwave again :(( i suppose i'll have to call Kamishiro-san :(( and he'll spend time telling me how to fix it :(( such a shame... :)"

- it helps that all her friends now direct her to Rui when she has tech issues since they're aware the two know of each other's existences now!! they all reckon it's a miracle they met, since he's the rare one who won't ever get tired of explaining anything related to tech again and again <3 (especially since it's her)

- she definitely takes advantage of that without meaning to. whattt, just wanting to talk to him? as far as she knows, she's just mysteriously become more aware of how often she struggles with computers and appliances!!

- Tsukasa unintentional, oblivious wingman?? TSUKASA UNINTENTIONAL, OBLIVIOUS WINGMAN!!

- "ahaha, Shizuku!! absolutely wonderful show last weekend, we all went to see it and agreed it was marvellous!! especially Rui, actually, i recall him murmuring that you looked "ethereal," haha!! i'm sure he was quite impressed by the stage lighting then!!"

- rest in peace, Rui Kamishiro, he died too young

- 'tis all well though, since Shizuku, OF COURSE, believes he was just on about lights. (and was totally NOT disappointed when she heard Tsukasa's conclusion, nope, not at all, that would be so silly, to expect Rui was complimenting HER and not just the technical aspect of the show, wouldn't it? these idiots /most affectionate)

- Nene makes fun of Rui endless

- once she (almost immediately) pieced it together, she started doing shit like playing a Shizuku focused song to grab his attention when he's absorbed in tinkering and completely tuning everything else out. and then she loses her mind when it WORKS

- "oh, so THAT makes you finally look up?"

- Emu, the most emotionally intelligent character in the game, in my (correct) opinion, also just knows instantly and definitely thinks they're adorable and is VERY straightforward about it

- "Rui-kun, Rui-kun, i have the most WONDERHOY idea, wahahahaha!! you and Hinomori-senpai should TOTALLY go on a DATE over there, at the Ferris Wheel!! :D "

- "...!!"

- "ehhhh?? are you okay?? you look like your heart went crash-bam-boom!!"

- "... Emu-kun, we are very lucky i had paused eating just now because i do not believe you are quite vertically gifted enough to perform the Heimlich maneuver on me."

- Emu wingman number two? Emu wingman number two!!

- it actually gives Rui so much stress that Emu goes to the same school as Shizuku, cause you just know she might let something slip without even meaning to. not like Shizuku would catch on in the vast majority of cases though

- you could have all their friends waving a massive sign at her reading "RUI KAMISHIRO LIKES YOU" in gigantic, lit up letters and she'd be like "aww~ that's so very sweet, i didn't know Kamishiro-san was such a passionate fan of idols!! hehe, i'll remember to thank him for supporting our group so much...!!"

in conclusion: one of them is as oblivious as one can possibly get while the other gets to be nothing of the sort, thanks to his friends constantly reminding him of his feelings at every chance!!

[orionsangel86]

The Problem With Thessaly

I’m sure plenty of fans would agree with me that there are certain elements of the Sandman comics that are going to be very difficult to adapt for television. I don’t envy the mammoth task Neil and the creative team on the show have ahead of them. But one element in particular which has been on my mind frequently is how they are going to introduce Thessaly to our screens.

It’s not just that she’s a TERF. It’s that she’s a cold, cruel, selfish, and inconsiderate bitch who only ever thinks about herself. Oh yeah, and she’s a huge TERF. There isn’t a single likeable element to her.

And yet.

We are supposed to somehow believe that our main protagonist, idiotic as he may sometimes be, depressed and seriously down on his luck as he is, will fall head over heels in love with her.

Sorry. But it ain’t happening. Something has gotta change. So here are my thoughts on how they could fix the Thessaly Problem.

Under a cut for comic spoilers (and its a bit long)

I kinda get the reason it happens in the comics. Kinda. I can’t remember the exact quote, or where I read it, but Neil explained it as “two people who you know are absolutely not right for each other and no one who knows them can understand why they are together.” He purposely wrote it to be a really weird match that didn’t make sense.

From Dream’s perspective, at this point in the story he has just had some of his biggest romantic disasters slapped in his face (at one point literally) all within a very short space of time for an entity as long lived as him. First Calliope, then Nada, and then Alianora, and he is hurting from all of them. Having to face his romantic failures one after another within the space of a few years AFTER having to go through 70 odd years of relentless suffering trapped in a glass prison has GOT to mess with your head. So I think Thessaly is basically the worst rebound in history. They are only canonically together for a few weeks but he somehow falls head over heels for this plain, dull, horrible person. 100% this is a rebound. He’s messed up. So yeah, I kinda get it.

From Thessaly’s perspective it seems she just really liked the idea of being the object of someones attention and desire even though she never returned his feelings and left him the minute he stopped devoting all his attention to her (god she really is a bitch).

So why don’t I think this will work in the show?

Because the show is a kinder universe than the comic. Dream is different in the show. He is already more thoughtful, warm, compassionate, and has a better self awareness when it comes to his shortcomings. He’s also a far more romantic character in the show, which is probably thanks to Tom Sturridge’s excellent performance and likeability and absolutely maddening sexual chemistry with literally every character he interacts with (his pretty face doesn’t hurt either). You just have to look at his scenes with Calliope to know that they are playing up the romance and kindness there when in the comics Dream is extremely cold to Calliope throughout their very short interactions.

Given the news that the writing team on Game of You will include trans writers specifically to cover the sensitivities of honouring Wanda, I don’t know how they will adapt the transphobia she suffers at Thessaly’s hand, or whether they will include that at all - personally I think they should remove it. Not to make Thessaly more likeable, but because it reinforces a really wrong view of witchcraft and magick that modern witches and pagans are working extremely hard to reject. Not to get too deep into these topics, but transphobia is a fucking plague in those communities and the last thing we need is more people thinking everyone who practices witchcraft is a fucking TERF. The comic even goes so far as to imply the actual MOON is transphobic. Like WTF? The moon isn’t fucking transphobic and “womb magic” is stupid. If I ever have to read the words “divine feminine” in a witchcraft FB group again I’m gonna scream.

Anyway my point is that I don’t think those scenes in the comic are necessary and there are plenty of other ways to adapt that story without resorting to transphobia.

The other issue is that if they do keep it in, they somehow have to deal with the fact that their protagonist is seemingly totally cool with dating a transphobic murderous bitch. Um. Yeah, not cool Dream. I think the show is going to do everything it can to make Dream MORE likeable and based on what we have seen so far I definitely think that’s the route they are taking.

So yeah Dream won’t be falling in love with a TERF in the show, that I am sure of.

The thing is, the best way they can deal with the Thessaly problem is also the simplest - Don’t include her. Just don’t write her into the show. Simples.

Because we already have a character in the show universe who technically doesn’t exist in comic canon, who knows magic and the occult, and who is MUCH more likeable and kind whilst still being a bit messy and selfish and totally a terrible match for Dream... Oh, and who also happens to be played by possibly the most well known actor on the shows main cast list.

Johanna Constantine.

Jenna Coleman is a fairly big name and one of the primary stars for the show. At least Netflix seemed to think so since her face was all over the marketing and she was included in basically every cast interview, even though her character only turns up in 1 and a half episodes. She is also playing a new version of an already well known character in pop culture and I am convinced Netflix is already considering spin off options for her. So there is no way they aren’t going to include her in future episodes of the Sandman.

Except thats where Netflix has a problem if it wants to stick to comic canon. Lady Johanna Constantine only turns up in one more Sandman story, and John Constantine doesn’t show up again at all in the comics.

So my piece of speculation that I’m almost 90% certain will happen, is that they will bring back modern Johanna Constantine in an extended or adapted role based on another character.

My money is on Thessaly. Remove Thessaly, replace her with Johanna.

I’m not just saying this because I think Johanna and Morpheus hooking up will be hot (it will be, don’t deny it. My bisexual ass knows a hot couple when I see them). But because it makes sense.

Yeah okay we have that pesky little rule about the Endless not dating mortals - but that rule currently doesn’t exist in show canon either, so theres no reason why they can’t just also scrap that for the sake of some sexy, messy, and definitely disastrous bi4bi action.

All jokes aside, with only a few tweaks to the story in a Game of You, you could seemlessly fit Johanna into it. She can be in New York for a specific case, hell, maybe Barbie and the sudden appearance of Martin Tenbones on a busy New York street IS the case she’s investigating? She can still find a way to break Hazel and Foxglove into the Dreaming AND when Morpheus shows up they can have another tantalising showdown like they did in episode 3. It works better with Johanna tbh. She actually cares about people, the motivation is there for her to want to save Barbie and protect people from supernatural sources. We can just make the storm and the collapse of the apartment block be caused by George or the cuckoo or something (or not have it happen at all since I am also practically certain that Wanda is NOT going to die in the show).

This ALSO means that much later on, when Lyta is having her breakdown and destroying the Dreaming, having Johanna being the one to protect her from Morpheus rather than Thessaly also adds a more human element to it. Morpheus has never been a killer, but sometimes his duties demand it. He goes to kill Lyta to prevent the Kindly Ones destroying the Dreaming. If it is Johanna blocking him instead of Thessaly, their motives align. Johanna would protect Lyta for the simple fact that she won’t let a supernatural creature harm a human (as much as she can - sorry Kevin), and Morpheus, being hesitant about killing anyway, would be easily talked out of it by Johanna. “Find another way to save the Dreaming, I won’t let you harm her.”

It just adds an emotional weight that isn’t there with Thessaly, who only protects Lyta because she made a deal with the Kindly Ones in exchange for more centuries of life - an ironic request when Morpheus (and Death) are keeping Hob Gadling alive simply so he can be Dream’s BFF.

It just works for me. Scrap the “no mortals” rule and you can have them have the messy disastrous relationship that doesn’t work out. It is far more believable that Johanna Constantine could break Dream’s heart - she’s already a known heartbreaker in the show (sorry Rachel). It’s a doomed love story a modern audience can get behind, makes sense, the actors already have insane sexual chemistry, and it could definitely hit all those story beats needed to get the show to a version of the Kindly Ones whilst also actively improving it.

I may first and foremost be a Dreamling shipper, but talking in terms of canon I very much want Morpheus to have a passionate short-lived heart breaking affair with Johanna. Fuck Thessaly. Keep her relegated to comic canon. Morphanna all the way.

And THAT is how we fix the problem with Thessaly.

[sophiasharp]

Brain has been rotting out of its skull these last few days thinking about Copia’s initially rocky relationship with the ghouls, particularly about how he made it so much worse to start with.

Cause I gotta imagine that he was only put officially in charge of Ghost after the deaths of the other Papas, so that’s gonna leave him a bit of a mess for a bit, especially because he suddenly doesn’t know who the hell he can trust anymore now that his main support system just got completely wiped out.

(They were the strongest men he knew, they may have played dumb to the Clergy but each of them were so much smarter than anyone gave them credit for, he’d been so sure they would be here till the Abbey itself crumbled, and yet now he’s here. He, the useless bastard younger brother, has lived to see another era, and they haven’t, and it just isn’t fucking fair-)

So when he’s initially put in charge of the ghouls, he endeavors to be detached- to be what he knows Imperator would want from him for fear that even the slightest provocation could send his house of cards crumbling down, as it were. He referred to them only as “ghoul,” was straight and to the point during rehearsal, and then avoided them completely in everyday life if it could be helped.

And then there is the photo shoot. You know, the one with the severed head.

(It was a threat, it was an open fucking threat, not just to him but to anyone else left that could be considered close to him, it was a threat to play his part like they wanted or otherwise join his predecessors in death, it was a warning to his few remaining friends to stay away lest they prove “distracting” enough to the new band leader that they must be dealt with, because why else would it be Terzo’s real head? Why else would they go to the trouble of decapitating a dead man for a magazine cover?)

The day after, Copia gets so much worse. He can’t talk to anyone about the stress he’s under, can’t safely relieve his frustrations and anxiety to anyone else so he takes it out on the ghouls. He becomes hyper critical off their performances. So what if Rain is still learning the bass? So what if Cumulus has yet to fully acclimate to the surface? So what if Dew only regained consciousness from his element change a week ago and is still dealing with the loss of almost his entire pack? So what if they’re all grieving the same way he is? It’s no excuse. They need to be better.

(Don’t they know? Don’t they know the razor’s edge they all were balancing on? Don’t they know they’re all one mistake away from being cast aside? From being sent to the pit without any warning? From having their existence be deemed not worth of the air they breathed? Don’t they know? Don’t they?)

That day the tension snaps between Copia and the ghouls. It’s one unneeded criticism too many and they all just. Leave. They’ve had enough of thinly veiled threats for one day, never mind the rest of the week. It serves as a wake-up call for Copia, makes him realize just how badly he’d fucked up taking his aggression out on the band mates he’s likely to be spending his entire musical career with.

He regroups after that. Endeavors to apologize. To explain himself, if they’d let him. He knew nothing would mend the rift he’d created immediately, but the sooner he admitted his wrongdoings, the sooner he could start over with them, prove he was more than just a cowardly dog hiding at Imperator’s heels.

So he goes to the ghoul den- not for the first time overall, but certainly for the first time since Terzo was dragged off stage all those months ago -and tries to talk to the ghouls, the majority of whom were huddled around the coffee table in front of the couch.

Mountain gets up to meet him in the doorway, and before Copia can get so much as a syllable out, a pamphlet is being thrust into his chest with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

No, not a pamphlet, he realizes as his heart sinks. A magazine. One with a hauntingly familiar image on the cover.

(He still feels the cold blood through his gloves, still feels the weight of the head in his arms, the bright lights of the camera flash seared into his brain even a day later. He wants to scream. To cry. To vomit. To say or do anything and yet it’s as if he’s rooted in place, only able to look at that damn photo and his brother’s dull, lightless eyes-)

“We may be under your leadership, but If you ever try to hurt my family again, they will never find your body. I’d suggest you leave now before I lose my patience.”

[huntiesworld]

Blow | Chris Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Summary: Y/n takes Chris to the strip club.

Warning: Smut, giving head, strip club. Use of French in the lyrics!

Requested?: Nope! 

Author's note: That is my work, Please DON’T COPY MY WORK!! Based off of Partition by Beyonce

This my first-time writing smut so don't be mean! Thank you

Y/n: Pink

Chris: Purple

The low hum of the engine thrummed beneath through the sleek black sedan as it rolled through the neon-lit streets. Y/n glanced at Chris, her husband, sitting beside her, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. Tonight was a night unlike any other, Tonight, Y/n had a surprise for Chris, one that would make every fantasy come alive. 

The car pulled up to the entrance of an exclusive club. The outside was discreet, but the deep bass of music thrummed through the walls, hinting at the world within. Y/n stepped out first, her heels clicking against the pavement as she took Chris’s hand, leading him through the entrance. 

Chris followed her, anticipation building with every step. As they entered, the dim lights and sultry atmosphere enveloped them. Y/n flashed a knowing smile at the host, who nodded and led them to a private section, secluded yet with a perfect view of the stage. 

Let me hear you say “Hey Mrs. Carter! (Hey Mrs. Carter)

“What’s going on?” Chris whispered, a mix of excitement and confusion in his voice. 

 Y/n just smiled, pressing a finger to her lips. “You'll see.” 

Moments later, the lights dimmed further, and a familiar beat began to play. The unmistakable opening notes to Beyonce’s “Partition” filled the room, and Chris’s eyes widened in realization. The curtains on the stage parted, revealing Y/n, dressed in a tantalizing ensemble that left little to the imagination. 

Say, “Hry Mrs. Carter!” (Het Mrs. Carter)

Give me some

Chris’s breath caught in his throat as Y/n began to move, her body swaying in perfect rhythm to the music. Her eyes locked onto his, and it was as if the rest of the world disappeared. Every move she made was for him and him alone. 

“Driver roll up to the partition, please. I don't need you seeing Yonce on her knees.” Beyonce’s voice crooned through the speakers, but it was Y/n’s performance that held Chris captive. She danced with confidence and allure that was irresistible, each movement a promise, a tease, a whisper of desire. 

Y/n moved closer to the edge of the stage, her gaze never leaving Chris. She could see the effect she has on him, the way his eyes darkened with longing, the way his hands gripped the edge of his seat. She reveled in it, knowing that tonight, every fantasy would be fulfilled. 

-See me up in the club with fifty-leven girls , posted in the back, diamond fangs in my grill

As the song reached its crescendo, Y/n slid down the pole effortless grace, her body a symphony of curves and control. She ended up on her knees, just as the lyrics suggested, looking up at Chris with smoldering intensity that left him breathless.

The final notes of the song lingered in the air as Y/n rose and walked off the stage, making her way to Chris. She straddled him, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “Did you enjoy your surprise?” 

Chris’s hand found her waist, pulling her closer. “You have no idea.” he murmured, his voice thick with desire 

The man ain't ever seen a booty like this. Cause when he wanna smash I'll just write another one

Y/n smiled, capturing his lips in a kiss that promised so much more. The night was far from over, as the music continued to pulse around them, they both knew that this was just the beginning of an unforgettable evening. 

—-------------

The atmosphere of the club clung to their life a second skiing as Y/n and Chris exited the private room The sultry beat of “Partition” still reverberated in their veins, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. The ride back to their penthouse was charged with electricity, neither saying much. Their silence filled with heated glances and charred, hungry breaths. 

As soon as they stepped into their luxurious suite, Chris spun Y/n around, pressing her back against the door, his lips capturing hers in a fervent kiss. The world outside ceased to exist, it was just the two of them, lost in a whirlwind of desire. 

Now my mascara run’, red lipstick smudged, oh he so horny he want to fuck

“God, you were incredible.” Chris breathed against her lips, his hands exploring the curve of her body, feeling the heat through the thin fabric of her dress. 

“You haven't seen anything yet.” Y/n whispered back, her voice low, seductive purr. She pushed him gently, guiding him to on the plush leather sofa in the center of the room. 

Chris sat down, his eyes never leaving hers, his anticipation palpable. Y/n slowly peeled off her dress, revealing the lingerie beneath - the same tantalizing ensemble she has worn during her performance. The look of Chris's eyes was enough to set her skin ablaze. 

He popped all my buttons and ripped my blouse. Oh, there daddy, daddy didn't bring a towel

She straddled his lap, her hands sliding up his chest to undo the buttons of his shirt, revealing the hard planes of his muscle beneath. Chris groaned, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her closer. Their lips met again, this time more urgent, tongues tangling in a heated dance.

“Tell me what you want.”  Y/n murmured against his mouth, her breath hot and teasing. 

“I want you.” Chris replied, his voice hoarse with need. “All of you.” 

 I just wanna be the girl you like, The kinda girl you like

With a sly smile, Y/n rose slightly, just enough to slip her hands between them, undoing his belt and freeing him from the constraints of his pants. Chris’s breath hitched as she took him hand, her touch gentle and commanding. 

Slowly, deliberately, Y/n positioned herself over him, sinking down inch by agonizing inch, drawing a deep groan from Chris’s lips. The feeling of him filling her, stretching her, was exquisite, and she savored every second.

They moved together in a rhythm as old as time, bodied slick with sweat, breaths mingling in a symphony of desire. Chris’s hands roamed over her back, her hips, her thighs, pulling her closer, deeper, wanting to be as close as possible that bordered on feral, her body aching and writhing in a dance that was both primal and elegant. 

Handprint and footprint on my glass. Handprint and good grips all on my ass

Chris’s hand moved to her breasts teasing her nippled thorugh the lace, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through her body. Y/n threw her head back, a cry of ecstasy escaping her lips as he thrust deeper, harder, each movement sending a shockwave of pleasure through her. 

The world around them dissolved into a blur of heat and sensation, every touch, every kiss, driving them higher and higher. Y/n’s nails dig into Chris’s shoulders as she feels the coil of pleasure tightening in her core, ready to snap. 

“Chris… I'm close.” she gasped, her voice trembling with the intensity of her approaching climax.

He likes to call me peaches when we get this nasty. Oh, there daddy, daddy you ripped my fur

  “Me too, baby.” Chris groaned, his hips bucking beneath her, driving them both to the edge.

With a final, powerful thrust, they shattered together, cries of ecstasy mingling in the air as they both rode the wave of their release. Y/n collapsed against Chris, their bodies slick and spent, their hearts beating in unison. 

For a few moments, they simply held each other, basking in the afterglow of passion. Then Y/n lifted her head, her eyes meeting Chris’s, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

Take all of me. I just wanna be the girl you like

“Best performance ever.” Chris whispered, his voice filled with love and admiration.

Y/n chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of her hair from his forehead. “Glad you enjoyed the show.” 

Chris’s hands tightened around her waist, pulling her close for another kiss. “I can’t wait for the encore.” 

—-------After A While------------------------------------------------------------------------

The world outside their penthouse suite faded into significance as Chris and Y/n remained entwined on the plush leather sofa, their bodies still humming from the intensity of their shared climax. Chris’s eyes sparkled with mixture of love and raw desire as he looked up at Y/n, who was still straddling him, her skin flushed and glowing. 

“Ready for round two?” Chris murmured, his voice a husky whisper as he ran his hands up and down her back, sending shivers of anticipation through her. 

Y/n smiled, a sultry curve of her lips, leaned down to kiss him, their tongues dancing together in a slow sensual rhythm. “Then let's not wait.”  she whispered against his mouth. 

Hello. Est-ce que tu aimes le sexe? 

With a graceful movement, Y/n slid off him and stood up, extending her hands to him. Chris took it, letting her lead him to the bedroom, their footsteps soft against the hardwood floors. The bedroom was a sanctuary of luxury, dimly lit by the warm glow of cand;es scattered around, casting flickering shadows on the walls. 

Chris watched as Y/n slowly removed the remnants of her lingerie, letting the delicate fabric fall to the floor. His eyes drank in every inch of her, the way the candlelight played across her curves, highlighting the perfection of her form. Desire surged through him, a potent force that made his heart race. 

“You’re so beautiful.”  he breathed, his voice thick of emotion.

Le sexe, je veux dire: l'activité physique, le coït. Tu aimes ça?

    Y/n smiled, the complement making her feel even more empowered. She approached him, her fingers gently removing his shirt that was opened from before. She pressed a kiss to his chest, her lisp trailing a path of fire down his torso as she knelt before him, her hands working to free him from his pants. 

Chris shuddered at her touch, his arousal growing with each passing second. He could hardly contain himself as she took him in her mouth, her movements slow and deliberate, driving him wild of pleasure. His hands tangled in her hair, guiding her as she worked her magic.

Just as he felt himself nearing the edge, Y/n pulled back, hey eyes meeting him with a mischievous glint. She rose to her feet, pushing him gently onto the bed. Chris fell back against the pillows.  His body arching with need as he watched her climb onto the bed, positioning herself over him.

Tu ne t'intéresses pas au sexe?

Y/n hovered above him for a moment, savoring the look of desire in his eyes. Then she lowered herself onto him, both of them gasping at the sensation. She began to move, slow and sensual, setting a pace that had both of them moaning in pleasure.

Chris’s hands foamed her body, caressing her breasts, her hips, her ass, feeling the heat of her skin beneath his fingertips. He thrust up to meet her movements, their bodies moving in perfect harmony, creating a symphony of pleasure. 

“You’re amazing.” Chris groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, to make this moment last as long as possible. 

Les hommes pensent que les féministes détestent le sexe

“So are you.” Y/n replied breathlessly, her movements becoming faster, more urgent. She leaned down, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, their tongues tangling as they moved together, driving each other to the brick of release. 

As the intensity built, Chris felt the coil of pleasure tightening within him, ready to snap. He gripped Y/n’s hips, guising her movements, feeling her muscles clench around him as she rode him with wild abandon. 

“Oh, baby, I'm so close.”  Y/n gasped, her voice a high breathless moan. 

“Me to sweetheart.”  Chris groaned, his control slipping as he thrust harder, and deeper, pushing them both to the edge. 

Mais c'est une activité très stimulante et naturelle que les femmes adorent

With the final thrust from both partners, they cried each other's names with pleasure. Y/n fell into Chris, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. 

For a long moment, they lay there, holding each other in their arms. Basking in the afterglow of their passion, then Y/n lifted her head, hey face of a fucked out expression, looking at Chris with a small smile. 

“Encore delivered,” she murmured, her voice filled with love. 

Take all of me. I just wanna be the girl you like (Girl you like)

Chris chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “And it was perfect.” he whispered, giving her lips a tender kiss. “Absolutely perfect.” 

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s embrace, knowing that no matter how many encores they had, each one would be just as unforgettable as the last. 

[chaoticbardlady99]

She’s Not Acid Nor Alkaline (Astarion x F! OC) MDNI 18 +

Author note- here’s my horny Pirate OC x Astarion fic that I’ve had sitting in my google drive for the last month. If you like it- let me know what you think :) also I have not written 3rd person in a hot minute so if the writing is half asses- please know I’m getting my groove 😂 (I was also very 🍠 the entire time I wrote this LMFAO)

Synopsis: Astarion and the rest of his companions have found a way to bring Karlach back from the dead, but it’s going to require an entire crew and a beautiful Sea Captain to get there.

Photo belongs to @cheekylittlepupp on Tumblr

CW: Violence, death, smut- filthy smut, dom/sub, oral (m! Receiving), PIV

Part One- Pirate Captain Wales

Astarion trudges through the streets of Athkatla, Amn while closely following his companions- Wyll and Tav taking the front and center. The latter drawing attention to the group with his bright white scales and piercing red eyes.

Astarion had loved Tav once. He couldn’t say he was in love at any point, but Tav’s kindness and warmth towards him had changed Astarion’s soul for the better.

The group had remained in Baldur’s Gate and continued to play an integral part in each other’s lives. Tav, Gale, Wyll, and Astarion somehow ended up becoming roommates while Shadowheart and Lae’zel had their own place. Astarion was secretly grateful that all of them wanted to live near each other. Astarion wasn’t quite ready to be on his own in the world yet and he enjoys having company now. He prefers it over loneliness.

Astarion’s favorite companion, Karlach, heartbreakingly passed shortly after the Netherbrain was defeated. Her passing left a massive hole in the group and in Astarion’s heart. She was easily the closest thing he’s had to a “best friend” in his entire life.

Tav had been searching endlessly for a Ring of the Sunwalker and a way to get Karlach back. Tav had fallen head over heels for Karlach and she had loved him equally as much in return. Astarion had cried with Tav on more than one occasion talking about the Tiefling.

Tav had helped Astarion in finding a Ring of the Sunwalker- succeeding only a year after defeating the Netherbrain. Astarion wasn’t sure what that meant for their traveling relationship, but Tav was bewildered when Astarion asked if he could continue traveling with Tav to help find Karlach.

“Astarion,” Tav says seriously, “you are always welcome wherever I am- don’t be silly. Or do- that might make Karlach come back just to smother you in hugs.”

Astarion scowls with fake disdain, “what a terrible thought.”

When they came back to Baldur’s Gate- they began staying with Wyll and Gale while trying to find a solution to resurrect Karlach or at least convince Wither’s to do one last favor.

Mizora eventually ended up portaling into their living room (it was not a welcome intrusion) and informed Wyll that- in exchange for a contract being completed- Mizora would give Wyll the exact location Karlach is imprisoned and a map.

Tav had gone to lunge at the woman- demanding to know what in the hells Mizora was talking about and to tell him where his beloved was now.

Wyll took the contract to save Karlach- whatever it had been is not known to anyone, but they found out that Karlach’s body had been transported to the third layer of the Hells- Minauros. She is wasting away there because Zariel had wished it while putting the infernal engine in her body.

According to Mizora, Karlach’s body was intact enough to maybe perform a resurrection. The key word was ‘maybe’, which didn’t sit right with Astarion, but Tav had been there for him when he needed him. Astarion had been there for him too when he faced his father, but this felt far more important and equal to Tav helping him kill Cazador. Not to mention, Tav convinced him not to corrupt himself in the end.

There was one good way to get to Minauros and that was through Stygia and the only hidden portal was past Flamsterd’s Sunken Tower. Not only was the Tower all the way across the Sea of Swords and then some, but it’s under the fucking water in a bubble of air and Flamsterd was not known for letting just anyone pass through his waters. He protects the gate relentlessly- not allowing anyone in or out unless they can navigate his underwater attacks and his Sea Dragons.

Wyll had talked to his father and the Duke gave him a name and a location. He knew someone who could get them there, navigate them safely through the waters, sail them through Stygia, and back.

That’s what led them to the city of Althkalta- in search of the Pirate Captain Wales and his ship- The Chimera. When Gale scoffed- asking what a Pirate could specifically do for them. Wyll simply stated that the captain is Valkur’s Aasmir- a Chaotic Good minor Seagod who was also a ferocious seafarer. Duke Ravenguard said Captain Wales was the best of the best- destroying whole fleets of WarShips over the last 58 years when Baldur’s Gate was in need of help getting their trading ships from harbor to harbor. He always asked for payment, but he always finished the job and was reliable. Gale kept his reservations to himself (and Astarion- since they actually agreed on something for once) since Wyll was hell bent on this Pirate Captain being the answer.

Astarion didn’t understand why they didn’t just go through Avernus- bringing this point up a few times as well as Shadowheart. Wyll and Tav shook their heads- the two of them being very familiar with the Hells and it’s domains. This would be the safest way without alerting Zariel that they are saving Karlach- they don’t need the Archdevil swooping in at the last minute and putting a new engine in Karlach’s chest before they can even begin to find a way to resurrect her. Astarion couldn’t argue with that logic and if this Captain was as good as they say- well at least Astarion will see more of Faerun.

Althkalta wasn’t the worst city Astarion has seen. Menzoberranzan has been his least favorite so far- constantly watching his back for angry spider people was not his favorite pastime. Astarion is eager to get the introduction to the Captain over with though. He’s fucking tired and is ready to just read a damn book.

It takes forever, but Wyll finally finds the entrance to the Speakeasy. They get to The Chimera’s hang out by making several twisting turns down random alleys and stumble upon a man screaming at an incredibly stunning half- elf woman.

Astarion feels it hit his heart like a bus- he swears his heart almost beats again.

Oh Gods Dammit.

Astarion always thought that thiramin nonsense was total bullshit. Astarion doesn’t even believe in love at first sight.

Now he isn’t quite sure what he believes as he looks upon this woman. Astarion thinks he might pass out from how elated his body feels when she meets his eyes and her painted red bow-shaped lips part with a small gasp.

Her piercing azure gaze leaves his and he barely catches the groan of frustration that threatens to leave his lips.

She’s petite- maybe only standing at about 5’2. Her pointed ears are pierced with bard rings. Her wavy hair falls down to just between her shoulder blades and it’s a sun kissed golden brown. Her skin is equally as blessed with the warmth of the sun and freckles are smattered all over her face- even some on her stomach and trailing below her midriff. Astarion wants to see where those freckles lead so badly it makes him feel feral.

The woman is lean with beautiful breasts that are barely concealed under a white, flimsy cropped fabric fashioned into a shirt that wraps in the front. Her nipples are hard against the fabric and Astarion doesn’t think it’s from the warm air. The scent of her arousal hits his nose as his eyes trail down her legs and ass- the skin tight black leather pants leaving nothing to the imagination. She blushes at Astarion’s attention and turns away quickly- regaining her smug composure.

“Selune help me,” Shadowheart says lustfully, “I want to be the one in her bed by the end of tonight.”

He has to remind himself that Shadowheart is his friend and no, he will not kill her.

Astarion wants to drag this woman off and ravage her- consume her- until no one else thought they could have any claim over her. He swallows thickly- what in the hells is happening to him?

“You can’t just fucking kick me out!” the Orc hisses with a knife drawn.

The woman rolls her eyes- earning a huff of approval from Lae’zel.

“I think I just did,” her voice like milk and honey, “it’s my crew- I’m the Captain.”

She drinks the rum in her left hand while the right is holding a weapon he hasn’t seen before towards the ground.

Wait, she’s?

“We have a contract, cunt-,” the man sneers, “ I get six months worth of pay.”

She laughs so hard she snorts. Astarion is going to die all over again. How much more fucking adorable and sexy can she get?

“You do realize you are talking to a Pirate, don’t you?” She holds the gun up lazily pointing it away from her body but higher up towards her face.

Astarion reasons with himself- he’s just excited to see a different face in a beautiful body in an entirely different town. Astarion just needs to fuck somebody and he’ll figure that out later. He is sure that’s what’s happening.

“I don’t have to pay you or deal with your bullshit if I don’t want to,” she takes another long sip from the bottle, “ and frankly, I’m really getting sick of you suggesting that I should be a ‘good little half- breed’ and bend over for you.”

Astarion feels his skin light on fire and he has to resist the urge to pull out his weapons. Astarion can feel Tav’s gaze looking at him with amusement and a stupid giddiness Astarion could shank the man for.

“Well,” the orc smiles and steps forward with one of his hands going towards her breasts, “you are so tantalizingly del-“

The man’s head disappears and the weapon in her hand is smoking. She shoves it into a holster on her belt and turns towards the group.

A tiefling man- a vampire spawn to Astarion’s surprise- comes running out and he is also pretty to look at because Shadowheart is immediately enamored with him. Astarion is glad that she is now much more interested in him than whoever this woman is.

The tiefling groans, “Calypso- really?”

“Oh please, Lucy,” she goads, “what else would you have me do? He was barely tolerable and was too busy fucking his own hand to even do anything competent.”

“Yes, but for the love of Hells could you please stop killing our terminated employees in the middle of the street?”

Astarion wants to burst into laughter- this has happened multiple times?

“Lucy, go piss on someone else’s parade,” she says before turning back to the group with one hand perched on her hip, the other waves in the air dramatically “we have company! Dammit Lucifer!”

She takes another long sip from the rum, “I must apologize for my first mate’s unruly manners- he’s not known for being a very good host.”

Lucifer looks at her with a glare and waves his hands- casting the corpse into another realm. She smiles at him cheekily and he rolls his eyes.

Astarion feels a pit of jealousy invade his stomach. The man is tall with slate colored skin and piercing demonic red eyes. He has long black hair that is windswept and horns that resembled Karlach’s if she had both pairs. He’s muscular- he looks like he can pick her up and throw her against a wall. The way he looks at her tells Astarion he has definitely wanted to or has in the past. The way Lucifer scans over her body is like a man who has drank from the fountain of youth and wants more.

Not that he doesn’t come with an assortment of baggage and lovers, but he does hope it’s not a serious relationship between the two of them.

“You’re Captain Wales?” Wyll says in disbelief, “my father neglected to mention that you are a woman.”

Calypso raises an eyebrow at Wyll.

“And why couldn’t Captain Wales be a woman?”

Wyll’s eyes go wide and he is fumbling over his words. Calypso’s melodic laugh floods the air and she smiles brightly at all of them.

“I’m just fucking with you,” she says, “but- obviously- I need to know who your daddy is before I just let you into my Speakeasy. Not many people know where this is.”

She reloads the device in her hand and points it steadily at Wyll.

“So tell me- are you a friend or a foe?”

“Hopefully a friend,” Wyll says with a nervous laugh, “my father is Duke Ravenguard of Baldur’s Gate.”

Something seems to click for Calypso and she puts away her weapon.

“Oh you are most definitely a friend,” she smiles brightly, “come on in- pardon the disaster inside. Big guy didn’t make a whole lot of friends while he was here and my crew enjoys fighting.”

The minute the door opens the cheering erupts in an ear shattering pulse of sound. The energy in the air is full of life and adrenaline. Astarion is swept up in the sound of people cheering their crewmates on and placing bets against them. His need for some chaos has been sated. Baldur’s Gate was getting rather peaceful before this journey.

The crewmates stop abruptly as Calypso walks into the giant bar and they all cheer in succession- chanting some obscene thing about the Orc being gone. It was so out of sync that Astarion had no idea what any of them were saying.

“Oh shut your whore mouths you whiny babies,” the whole crew laughs and some whoop and cheer- her tone is playful and bashful, “get back to your stupid fight. I bet 50 gold on Toothless Tosh.”

In a flash- the energy picks all the way back up in the room and is even more chaotic than before as they push the man he assumes is, “Erwin” (from the cheers) into the ring. He’s a massive tiefling and his opponent is an Orc, the man named ‘Toothless Tosh’.

The fight is explosive- the tiefling gets a few good hits in and the orc just takes it before grabbing the tiefling’s face with one hand and slamming him on his back- effectively knocking the man out. The crowd screams in chaos- some people are pissed they lost and others are goading about winning.

One man begins to punch another out of anger and it gets ugly. Astarion expects the rest to join in but they don’t. They all look at each other with a “well they know better” look.

Calypso finishes her Rum bottle and flips it in her hand so that she’s holding the neck of the bottle.. She walks over and slams the glass over the first guy’s head as he goes to stand up and attack the other man again.

A damning silence fills the room. Astarion is admittedly very turned on by the display of power.

“My friends,” she says, her broken bottle in hand as she steps on the back of the crewmate she killed, “you know the rules- if you guys can’t handle gambling and want to beat each other to death- do it outside. I don’t need your filthy blood all over my tavern.”

She turns to the second guy and points her broken bottle in his direction- the man’s eyes light up in fear.

“Clean up the body and consider this your only warning.”

Astarion watches her saunter off and he’s absolutely mesmerized by the swing of her hips. He’s going to explode.

The group follows her with Lucifer behind them- the tiefling keeps giving Astarion suspicious glances and it makes Astarion want to just kill him so it will stop. He has a feeling Calypso wouldn’t care for that much though.

They pile into a room in the back- a massive map on the wall and a massive desk in the middle of the room. There’s even a globe. There are plush chairs and no windows- the room is lit by candlelight.

Her long eyelashes cast shadows on her face and she looks even more ethereal than she did before. She leans against the desk and leans back on her palms. Tav gives Astarion a look as if to say ‘after you’ forcing Astarion to be the one closest to her.

Forcing was hardly the term- she could stab him through and he’d probably thank her.

Not actually, but the sentiment is there nonetheless.

After everyone is settled into the cabin, Calypso smiles at all of them.

“So,” she smiles slyly, her gaze lingering on Astarion, “how may I help all of you?”

****************************************

Calypso relishes in Wyll’s uneasiness and his obvious struggling to not look at her basically bare chest as he explains the situation.

Men are so predictable- wildly, easily, predictable.

Except for the man with the beautiful white curls atop his head with the ruby red eyes. He is unlike any man she has ever been given the privilege to be near. He looks like art.

“Sounds like an interesting adventure you lot have planned,” she says slowly, “what is it you are specifically looking for in Minauros?”

This is the question the group has been sidestepping the entire time- Tav looks like he’s on the verge of tears.

“You won’t want to go,” Tav says flatly, “there wouldn’t be anything of worth in it for you.”

“Try me.”

The man she’s been waiting to speak all evening finally says something.

“Are we really going to sit here and pretend like we all don’t have some item of worth we can’t compensate with?” He scoffs and looks at the Dragonborn, “do you want Karlach back or not?”

His voice is even more beautiful to listen to than she could have ever imagined. Calypso felt like she had been struck by lightning the minute she saw him.

Calypso’s father used to tell her about elves and their beliefs surrounding soulmates. The die hard romantic inside of her had always dreamed of finding hers- hoping he, she, or they were out there in the world looking for her.

She met Lucifer about a year or two after she had been saved from her mother by a young flaming first now known as Duke Ravenguard. Calypso owes him her immortal life and she will continue to gladly fight for him- and she now supposes his son- to repay that debt a thousand times over. If her son needs help, she’s happy to provide it, but she doesn’t want to let a group of individuals onto her ship if they won’t trust her. Calypso knows from experience that it never goes well.

The white scaled Dragonborn bows his head in defeat before looking at Calypso- her heart breaks for him. His gaze alone is enough for Calypso to agree to such an arduous journey.

“Karlach- my partner- she…” he trails off before taking a deep breath, “she died after we defeated the Netherbrain. The infernal engine in her heart caused her to implode- or so we thought. Mizora told us that she’s rotting away in Minauros and that we could still possibly save her.”

“Why do you need a ship to enter the hells,” Calypso says while keeping her eyes trained on the Dragonborn. She doesn’t want to give anyone the chance to interject.

“We don’t want to alert Zariel that we are saving Karlach,” Tav says bitterly, “we don’t want her resurrection to end with her being imprisoned again.”

There is a pregnant pause in the air as the group looks at Calypso with weary eyes. She doesn’t understand why all of them are acting like she is so evil. Okay maybe she did kill two people within 30 minutes of meeting them, but both of those crew members had been contracted and were on thin ice before this group of misfits arrived at her door.

“I appreciate the information,” she says with a smirk, “I was already going to help you anyway, but good to know we can all trust each other.

“Really?” Wyll says to her with surprise, “no payment?”

“Eventually we will discuss payment,” she says slowly, “but I want to make sure I get you to where you are going safely first. Ravenguard may trust me and like me just fine, but I have no desire to get his son killed with all of his gold sitting heavily in my pocket.”

“You don’t think this is going to be an easy trip?” Wyll says.

She shakes her head and goes to say something, but Lucifer interrupts her.

“I can’t believe you are even considering doing this,” he hisses at her, “Umberlee cultists and the Cult of Water are traveling along this same route.”

“Lucy,” she says in a warning tone.

“No!” He says indignantly, “how do you know his son is as good a man as he is? What if your fucking battle prowess and stupidly good luck doesn’t actually work and then we’re all fucking doomed!?”

She gives the man a warning glare.

“I am a grown woman, Lucifer,” she snarls, “I have been captaining my ship for a little over 58 years now. I know the risks and I know that myself and my crew can handle them.”

Lucifer glowers at her and as he goes to speak- Calypso interrupts him.

“There is no argument to be had- if you or any of the other crew mates don’t want to go then that is entirely okay as it always has been,” she says matter-of-factly, “but Duke Ravenguard has sent his only fucking son here for help which means it’s important. I will not take that lightly nor turn them away to be at the mercy of another Pirate or snobby government Naval Officer.”

Lucifer storms out of the room- slamming the door behind him and knocking a picture or two off the wall. Calypso rolls her eyes at his antics- he’s been nothing but an absolute shit ever since she told him she didn’t want to have sex with him anymore two weeks ago. She was tired of pretending to enjoy herself with him.

They had been screwing each other on the side for the last 60 years- her saving him not all that long ago from a lesser Master Vampire who had struggled to establish himself.

At first their affections for each other were full of want and desire, but as time has gone on, Calypso realized she wants- no needs- more than someone who can provide her meaningless mediocre sex and half-assed returned affection. She didn’t even like the guy that much.

Calypso had been wondering if she had made a mistake cutting the man off- her fingers weren’t cutting it and she missed loving someone.

Then the Pale Elf walked up to her door and now she knows what it feels like to feel alive- to feel true, pure passion, lust, and affection. She feels ridiculous for it- she barely knows him and she would give her entire life to him.

Calypso wants to crawl into his bones and let him take everything from her. She would take the man right now if given the chance, but for once, the idea of anyone watching her be intimate with someone is not that tantalizing of an idea.

Calypso wants him all to herself and she must find a way to make that happen. Maybe not tonight, but she’ll find a way eventually.

Calypso asks the stunning bar maid to show her guests to their rooms and answer any questions she has. She then whispered in her ear that she’ll reward her greatly if she lets her know what the Pale Elf was up to that evening.

The barmaid came back not even 10 minutes later with information. Calypso had the woman crying out for more as Calypso ravaged her with her mouth- a reward for her quickness.

His name is Astarion and he immediately asked where the nearest flop house or brothel was. The bartender said that he told her that he needed to get someone out of his head and someone else underneath him. The bartender declined his advance because she was far too excited for Calypso to lavish her. She told Calypso that he looked like he was on the verge of exploding the minute he walked out of her office.

Excellent.

Calypso shouldn’t exploit her bartenders for information like this, but Calypso has a Gods given talent when it comes to pleasuring people and she isn’t about to let that go to waste.

Calypso doesn’t pay a lot of attention to the woman outside of going through the usual motions. Her mind is on Astarion.

Would he respond to her this way if her mouth was around his cock? Would he lavish her in affection and knock her down a peg- taking control of the situation- like Calypso has always wanted.

Calypso even lets her mind wander to him staying the night, waking up in his arms, and even just getting to know him. She wants to memorize his face and how he enjoys being pleasured- loved.

She finishes the woman and once the bartender redresses- Calypso smacks her ass, tells her she was “so good for her”, leaves a love bite on her neck for one last reminder of her time in Calypso’s bed, and sends her back to tend the bar.

Calypso can’t deny that she’s a little hurt he went to go fuck someone at a brothel. Not that she didn’t just basically do the same thing, but there wouldn’t have been any need for any of it on both sides if he had just waited a couple more seconds before living her room after the meeting.

Calypso hops into the bath she had drawn earlier and forgot about- using a simple cantrip to warm the frigid water again.

She scrubs her face first and then swishes her mouth out with a swig of rum- swallowing it with a shudder. At least the woman's taste is gone.

Calypso takes her time afterwards- she soaks her hair with coconut oil and then uses soap to scrub it out. She soaks her hair again, scrubs, repeats- until her hair is ¾ of the way clean of the coconut oil. She grabs the jar of honey, orange, and olive oil- putting the tiniest amount into her hair.

Calypso enjoys her few restful moments where she can just feel like a person again. No one special- just her and her vain ways.

Correction- self care. Calypso loves her self care.

Running a whole crew of assholes was incredibly difficult. They were all the best kind of assholes, but the contracted workers have continued to be a nightmare. Calypso hopes that these so-called, “heroes” will be different. She already knows Ravenguard’s kid is going to be a total goody two shoes.

Calypso finishes cleaning herself off- using the destroy water spell to make the bath water disappear. She dries herself off, rubs grape oil into her skin and puts on another thin, white flimsy shirt with an equally provocative pair of panties.

She admires herself in the mirror. She adores herself and reminds herself every day how fucking incredible she is- inside and out.

Calypso is intelligent, mischevious, and daring. Some would even go as far as to say captivating. Her hourglass figure looks like a fucking God blessed it.

Oh wait- ONE DID!

Calypso huffs in frustration and lays out on her bed- her hands finding themselves going underneath the thin fabric of her underclothes and begin touching herself.

She’s embarrassed by how quickly she was consumed with thoughts of Astarion- how desperate she is to know what it’s like to be touched by him. However, she quickly loses whatever rhythm she was getting with herself when she remembers where he currently is and it certainly wasn’t on top of her.

Calypso groans in frustration and rolls over- putting her head in her pillow and screaming. This is not the way she would like to be screaming in her pillow tonight, but it is what it is.

Calypso decides she doesn’t care what he’s up to- she can still imagine. Rolling back over, Calypso puts her hands back on her pants- rolling and teasing her clit. The moans that leave her mouth are tame and quiet- her other hand finding enjoyment in pleasuring herself by fingering her own cunt.

Calypso is like that for Gods only knows how long- trying to get herself off without thinking of the pale elf’s whereabouts.

The knocking at the door interrupts her solo session and she gets up with a frustrated sigh- pulling her hands out of her barely passable underwear and she opens the door.

*************************************

Astarion thrusts himself into some random woman at a local flop house- desperate to get Calypso out of his head. Her brown eyes are clenched shut while she (he thinks her name is Beth?) is screaming and crying out for him, but he’s barely present for it.

Astarion could care less about the woman underneath him and it just doesn’t feel that good to him at all. He actually feels entirely used up and like he needs to wash off.

Once the woman cums- he allows himself to stop focusing so hard and just allows himself to soften. He lies to the woman and says he had an amazing time before quickly leaving- her voice asking him to come back for a cuddle.

Being with someone else didn’t make his aching for Calypso go away- it just dredged up old gross feelings because he wasn’t honoring what he wants.

No- he will have to go directly to the source and if she is willing, Astarion will allow himself to indulge. After 200 years of utter bullshit, he deserves this much.

His shoes click against the cobblestone streets as he walks back to Valkur’s Den- the home of The Chimera and her gorgeous Captain. Astarion is hardly paying any attention- the dissociation has it’s hooks into his bones and it’s not improving.

He washes himself off using a cloth and a pitcher of water- removing any evidence of the woman at the flop house.

Astarion reasons that he should wait until tomorrow, but his body won’t listen. He needs to see her- the living equivalent to a breath of fresh air. It’s an ungodly time and tonight may be the last restful sleep any of them get, but he doesn’t care.

Astarion will fuck her to sleep every night if that’s what he has to do to make up for one night of total disruption.

The candle light flickers under the door so he assumes she’s awake or has fallen asleep with the light on and he entertains the thought of leaving. He gingerly knocks on the door, then it flings open and there Calypso is.

She’s wearing a pair of underwear that barely hides anything between her legs and the white shirt she wore earlier is now untied, laying delicately against the swells of her breasts- her nipples turning delectably hard upon seeing him. Her arousal once again stirs his own. Calypso’s hair is mussed up and her cheeks are flush. The slick between her legs suggests she was indulging in herself and Astarion has to focus on not just taking her right there in the door way.

“How lucky am I to be greeted by such a beautiful face at this time of night,” she muses, leaning towards Astarion, “and I thought you’d still be pleasuring yourself at a brothel.”

Ah so that’s why the barmaid was asking so many questions.

Astarion grins mischievously, “are you jealous, Darling? Afraid some woman who couldn’t get me off is a far better fuck than you are?”

“Oh please,” she retorts, “I saw how you looked at Lucifer and that Orc. Don’t like the idea of anyone else taking me? Making me moan and writhe under them?”

Calypso smiles wickedly at him as Astarion feels his proverbial hackles rise at what she just said.

He just needs to get her out of his system- that’s all. She can fuck whoever she wants.

As long as it’s only him.

Calypso looks him up and down with an amused smirk. She shifts herself ever so slightly that one of her breasts is almost entirely revealed to him. Her deep azure eyes wander down to his hardening cock before looking at him through hooded eyelids.

“You know, Astarion,” she says, pulling him through the threshold by his pant strings, “if you want to be buried inside of me- all you need to do is ask.”

“Well aren’t you sure of yourself, Darling,” Astarion replies back hotly, trying to keep his cool, “who says I wasn’t here to request that you wear less revealing clothing from now on?”

Calypso walks up to him- trailing her fingers along his arms and slowly letting her eyes meet his.

“It’s a yes, by the way,” she quips, ignoring his statement entirely.

Astarion swallows thickly- desperate to win this little battle they are having. Calypso raises one of her eyebrows at him and smiles cheekily.

“But if that is what you are truly here for- then your wish is my command,” she says politely, turning around on her heels in the direction of her closet.

Astarion doesn’t think about it- he smacks her ass hard. She yelps in surprise and then gasps out in pleasure as his right hand tangles in her hair, pulling her flush to his chest as he closes the door behind them. She moans as he nips at her neck- the sound only intoxicating him further.

The fog is lifting ever so slightly- the longer he touches her and explores her- the more he is brought back to reality.

This is who he actually wants to be connected to- who he wants to explore and pleasure.

Astarion guides her over to look in front of the mirror- the way her pupils are blown wide with lust makes him almost cum right there. Calypso is intoxicating and he needs more.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he growls at her through clenched teeth.

“And if I don’t comply?”

Astarion smacks her ass hard again, relishing in her yelp of pleasure, and flips her around. He undoes his pants with one hand as he makes her watch his cock spring free. The blush between her cheeks, her heart rate, and the strong smell of lust between her legs tells him she’s enjoying herself. Not everyone enjoys being the leader all the time.

Astarion roughly pushes her on her knees in front of his cock- knowing exactly what she’s wanting from him. There’s a certain air of lustful desperation in her presence- she wants him just as bad.

Calypso wants him to take control- she wants to be rough housed with. The thought tickles his brain- the image of the Tiefling man and two other lovers being far too gentle and depending on her to make it fun.

Astarion is going to be a complete 180 for her. He is going to show her why he is 10 x better than the Tiefling man who was practically eye fucking her the entire night.

“Open your mouth,” he commands.

Calypso keeps it closed and looks up at him like it’s a challenge. Astarion grips the front of her hair and top of her scalp- earning an open-mouthed wanton moan from her before shoving his cock in her mouth.

Calypso hums in pleasure while tears prick her eyes as Astarion slides himself down her throat. Gripping her hair, he moves her up and down at variation of speeds. Her look of frustration every time he is about to cum and then slows her down is wonderful.

She may have won the battle earlier, but Astarion is here to win the war.

Astarion watches as she goes to touch herself and he thrusts into her mouth- hard- earning a delicious choked whimper from her.

Astarion pulls her off his cock and makes her look up at him. She stares at him with doe eyes as if to mimic a virgin being fucked into for the first time. He growls impatiently.

“No touching yourself. Be a good for me,” Astarion says thickly before, “and I’ll consider rewarding you- do you think you can do that for me, my sweet thing?”

Calypso pouts and begins to argue- Astarion pushes himself into her mouth again while his hand still has purchase in her hair. She’s a lustful mess with her mouth around his cock- the white shirt barely staying on and her thighs dripping with her nectar. Her drool dribbles down her chin mixed with his precum.

She hums eagerly around him. Her left hand grips the back of his thigh while her right hand fondles his balls and follows her mouth occasionally with languid strokes. Astarion is fucking relentlessly in her mouth- almost overcome entirely with pleasure when she begins to moan as his precum continues to coat her mouth.

The way Calypso touches him makes him feel like he’s died again but actually went to heaven. He pulls out of her mouth before putting her down on all fours in front of the mirror. He is reinvigorated by the way her spit and his essence dribbles down her chin, the way her breasts hang- how her eyes look in the throes of pleasure.

Astarion begins to thrust into her without foreplay- she can take it and she does. Calypso cries out as he fucks into her- she goes to touch her throbbing clit again and Astarion grabs her arms- pulling them behind her back.

Calypso groans in frustration- cussing at him and he punishes her by thrusting into her even harder. She’s thanking him for taking her in between wanting cries.

“Asta- fuck- your- I’m,” Calypso keens loudly as her eyes flutter shut.

Astarion watches her in the mirror as her arousal overcomes her- her chest heaving as she comes down from her high and her head drops as she pants. Calypso’s hair hangs messily around her face as she looks into the mirror. Her face is full of euphoria and bliss as she looks up from underneath the tangled mess he’s created. Astarion is sure she isn’t real- all of this is far too good to be true.

He kisses along her shoulders and up her collarbones- turning her perfect body around and wrapping his arms under her legs.

Astarion eats up the giggles that leave her lips as he picks her up, lays her down on her bed and begins to kiss her deeply- passionately. He lines himself up with Calypso’s soaking cunt and slowly thrusts himself into her. Astarion kisses her neck as she traces his body with her fingers. Astarion feels a surge of emotion cross over him when she immediately moves her fingers away from his scars the minute he tenses.

Astarion kisses her neck softly- hoping his silent worship of her is felt through his actions. Her hands hold him in place and his silver curls are in between her fingers.

“You can feed,” she whispers breathily, “if you like.”

Hells.

Astarion greedily sinks his fangs into her without any warning- his lust for her and his hunger from the lack of food winning over. She tastes like citrus, sunshine, and ocean mist. Astarion is grateful to find someone who tastes better than Tav.

His thrusts become messier, slower, and longer as he feeds. Calypso whimpers and moans underneath him.

“You feel… so fucking incredible,” she coos quietly.

Astarion barely brings himself back to reality in time to release his fangs from her neck. She sighs as he cleans the wound with his tongue and with one finally thrust- he’s moaning as she clenches around him and he fills her to the brim with his seed.

“And you have been very good for me, Darling,” he growls playfully into her ear before placing a kiss behind it.

Her pleased giggles with a ‘my pleasure, Handsome,’ filled his chest with warmth.

Astarion collapses onto his back and pulls her fucked out form against him. Calypso immediately lays her head on his chest and lets out a content hum.

“You know,” she drawls, “I don’t usually let people stay overnight in my room.”

Astarion doesn’t know why it feels like being flayed when she says that. Of course she would want him out of her room- this was just sex. Astarion was just getting her out of his system.

Astarion looks at her with amusement, trying to appear suave and unbothered by the statement.

“No worries, Darling,” he says with a fake smile, “I so did enjoy our little tryst though. Perhaps we can do this another time before this little journey of ours ends.”

He goes to get up and she pushes him back down with a gentle palm on his chest- rolling her eyes playfully.

“Let me finish- I’m usually not lucky enough to be in the presence of such an interesting company,” Calypso teases, but her eyes are soft, “I want you to stay the night.”

Astarion cocks an eyebrow, trying to appear suave and unbothered, but his body hums with pleasure under her touch. He squeezes her ass with both hands as he lifts her onto his lap, and she beams at him.

“Perish the thought- for a pirate you are a terrible liar,” Astarion muses and presses a chaste kiss to her pouty lips, “a sweet thing like yourself doesn’t have the most interesting people across all of Faerun groveling at your feet?”

“Oh I most certainly do,” she states matter-of-factly, “but my opinion of interesting and the world’s opinion of interesting is a different matter entirely.

“Will you stay?”

She pulls back and studies his face. Astarion looks at Calypso and tries not to let his utter infatuation with her show. She looks at him with an innocent, genuine curiosity. This obviously isn’t something she does often and he can hear her heartbeat racing- the hidden worry in her eyes getting more prominent.

“Or no-“

“No!” Astarion protests more abruptly than he means to.

The glee that fills her eyes is almost worth how embarrassed he feels at his eagerness. Who the hell is he?

The slight feelings of grossness and dissociation had attempted to invade his brain like it always does, but her gentle praise and want to please him made him feel… treasured. It helped keep the worst of it at bay- leaving it to be quite literally swept away by the ocean itself.

He also doesn’t know when he threw caution to the wind. Astarion blames it on the alcohol and the enchanting beauty the Sea Rogue possesses. Astarion is certain that his deep attraction to her is just the fact that she is an Aasimir. They are known for being more attractive right? Except he hadn’t been attracted to Dame Aylin so he doesn’t know if that’s a proven theory.

Astarion’s inner dialogue is cut short by the sound of Calypso’s breathing getting heavier and her heart rate slowing. He places a soft kiss behind her ear before letting his trance take him.

[ymilksh]

➫ A SCHOLAR'S LOVE (2)

♡theme/warnings: cyno/reader, fluff, slight jealousy

♡summary: cyno is terribly smitten by you. absolutely head over heels. thinks everything about you is great- but has no confidence to actually say it to you. you've picked up on his antics and so has your friend group... so will he stay love-sick, or tell you the truth?

"kaveh, those balloons don't go there." you stated, pointing to a bunch of coloured balloons stuck behind your couch. "i know you're into interior design, but..." you put a finger to your chin, squinting your eye at his choice of decoration. "it really looks like a clown threw up behind our couch."

kaveh raises a brow at you, setting down the last group of balloons with a weight attached to their strings. "oh really now? since when did you spend years researching the ideal grouping of indoor decorations, miss decorator?"

"since it was my birthday, mister."

kaveh groans, moving the balloons back to their original position. "thank you, kaveh~" you sing, walking into the kitchen of your small dwelling. as students of the akademiya, you were given homes to share with each other for the duration of your schooling. you and kaveh shared a house along with al haitham, and cyno and tighnari shared a house with one of their acquaintances.

earlier that day, kaveh had helped you prepare some desserts and appetizers for your birthday party. it was lucky your birthday came on a saturday, leaving you some much needed space from your studies and some time to relax on your special day. some friends and family would be over to celebrate soon, and the after-party would consist of you and your buddies having a sleepover.

everything was perfect, until you realized after looking at what kaveh had made for you; you didn't have a birthday cake.

"kaveh? y-you never made a cake, did you?" you shouted from the kitchen, a little panicked at this discovery.

kaveh walked into the kitchen, analyzing the food on the counter. "shoot. i- sorry, y/n. i must have forgotten… the grand bazaar might have a few stalls with some ingredients- but al haitham said most of them were shut down for a performance." kaveh explained with a hint of regret. he had previously made a list of things to make for the day ahead- yet threw it out thinking he could rely on his memory to finish everything.

"this is because of you getting cocky again, isn't it? listen, i told you to stop being so competitive with al haitham! you can clearly plan a party better than him, i know that, there's no need to prove that to me." you scolded him, putting away the other food you inspected.

"really, y/n, it's nothing like that! i honestly forgot about that stone-faced al haitham today, he's been out all day since the morning doing who-knows-what. i just impulsively threw away the list of food i was supposed to make." he shook his head with his palm on his forehead, disappointed with himself.

"okay, kaveh. i forgive you. we'll just...have to go without one. i'm sure i can whip up some small tart or find a pie stall-"

a knock on the front door cuts your sentence short, some muttering outside catching your attention. kaveh stays in the kitchen, panicking at the leftover mess he forgot to clean up as well.

opening the door, your eyes light up when you see cyno next to tighnari, cyno's hands full with presents and an oddly large square box. "cyno, tighnari! you're here early! come on in." you smile, opening the door fully. cyno says hello and blushes after walking in, tighnari throwing you a wink as a greeting.

having your friends’ company was just the type of pick-me-up you needed after hearing your party wouldn’t be having a birthday cake. it was an integral part of the celebration, after all! kaveh definitely owed you one. after getting everyone situated in the living room, you helped cyno place the presents onto the coffee table.

“oh, ah, y/n. that one-“ he points to the large box, “it needs to be refrigerated.” tighnari quirks a brow at him, wondering what the box’s contents are. “sorry if it’s any trouble, i know it’s quite large.” he deadpans, making you chuckle.

“no, not at all. here, come bring it to the kitchen, we can put it in the fridge. just what is it, exactly?” you inquire, your brain brimming with curiosity. maybe a fruit platter? no… he would have let that stay in plain sight. a new type of mechanical device? nah, he knows you better than that.

“it’s…nothing too special, i’ll let you know when you can look inside.” cyno sounds unsure as he tells you, following you to the kitchen.

kaveh greets him immediately, jumping at your entrance. “ah, cyno’s here! and i’m guessing tighnari tagged along with you?” kaveh nervously asks, tucking his dirty cloth behind him. you roll your eyes, snatching the cloth from him and tossing it into the sink.

“don’t mind him, cy-cy. he’s just embarrassed he managed to make this much of a mess yet didn’t bake me a birthday cake like i asked.” you informed him, throwing a light fist bump to kaveh’s shoulder.

cyno’s eyes lit up at your nickname for him- did he hear you correctly? cy-cy? he could feel his heart begin to swell with joy, a small cough erupting from him out of shock.

“ah- cyno, are you feeling okay? that cough sounded a little dry. anything you wanna drink?” he shook his head, refusing the offer. “okay. just let me know.” you smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. he shuddered at the action; when did you get so friendly towards him? were you always so attentive like this… ?

at this moment, cyno realized tighnari was right. his worries had definitely caused some clouded judgement.

at around 4:30pm, al haitham returned home with a bouquet of flowers and a couple bottles of wine to mark the occasion. closing the door behind him, he met with you all in the living room and set down his items on the coffee table, discussing everyone’s day so far.

after talking for some time, it was now around 5pm; the sun painting the sky a beautiful shade of blue with streaks of orange dawning the horizon. everyone gave their greetings to you, wishing you a happy birthday and all the best ahead. you beamed at the energy in the room, it was overwhelmingly positive.

cyno however, was lost in thought, imagining a million different ways this evening could go. would you enjoy your gifts? was what he prepared… too bold? tighnari had told him to make a passionate and sincere gift for you; explaining that when you don’t have the words, sometimes a handmade gift can communicate a message a lot easier. of course he would still have to clarify what his intentions were, but tighnari was sure you would love whatever cyno made. even if it wasn’t the prettiest.

still, the dark haired student had no idea what cyno ended up doing for you. he was just as confused as you when you saw the box, almost second-guessing his advice when he saw how large it was. but remembering how carefully cyno treated his interactions with you; in his heart, he had faith in his friend to make the right decision- to really put his heart into this gift. whatever it may be, tighnari trusted cyno’s judgement.

eventually, people started to filter in and out of the party, parents and grandparents parting a little earlier due to their older age. some presents were opened and others were left to be opened later, as you had gotten pretty tired from all the dancing you did and all the food you consumed. despite kaveh’s oversight of the cake, you would say your party went just as planned!

after all the excitement died down and the sun had finally set for the night, al haitham noticed you had fallen asleep on the couch, laying a blanket over your body. it was just the five of you once more; everyone taking a separate position in the house. cyno was sitting on the other sofa opposite you, head buried in a book al haitham had left on the side table. al haitham was checking to see if you had drank too much- kaveh was cleaning up the decorations strewn across the living room, and tighnari was packaging the leftover food.

as he put some containers of food away, tighnari noticed the box cyno had brought sitting in the middle of the fridge, a pang of guilt hitting his stomach as he forgot to remind cyno to take it out. “ah, dear me. he’s probably got his legs between his tail over this being left behind.” tighnari sat the leftovers down, grabbed the box and brung it to the living room.

“cyno, i think there’s something you forgot to give to miss y/n.” he smiles, setting the box down to poke you awake. you stir in your sleep, making a cute whimper sound that cyno can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut at. you were just… way too cute. it felt out of character for him to be so affected by your actions… but he nonetheless welcomed this warm feeling inside of him whenever he looked at you.

“hwaaa~ hey eweone, whad did i miss?” you yawned, your distorted voice causing kaveh to laugh at you. “don’t laugh, your words are barely comprehendable when you’re awake!” you retort, half smiling at him.

“well, cyno still hasn’t given you your present, you know.” al haitham explains, curious as to what this will lead to. his friends had clearly been planning something behind his back… and it seems behind yours and kaveh’s as well.

“ah, that box! well, come sit everyone. i’ll open it right now.” you smiled, tearing into the wrapping paper. cyno watched with anxiety, nervous about your reaction. tighnari just smiled at him, a silent plea for him to calm his nerves. you can do it, cyno. trust yourself with this.

“wow- oh my goodness, c-cyno, did you really make this…for me?” inside the box was a decorated cake with two layers, the words ‘happy birthday y/n’ written in cursive draped along the top. adorning the rest of the cake were stick figures made of pretzels and frosting, flowers and animals beside them representing you and your friends. “it’s so lovely, when did you have the time to make this?”

cyno’s face was now fully tinted with red, watching you examine each of his dressed pretzel figures with such precision and care as if they were real. “i took the time to study the preparations of a birthday cake a few days before the party. i wanted to make you a gift… that sent a message to you, one that symbolized your importance to me. to us.” he explained, holding your hand as you listened to him, teary-eyed.

“but that isn’t the only part of my gift. i wanted to take you somewhere to show you something. is…that alright?” he asked. tighnari was ecstatic at cyno’s response to his advice- he even planned something extra? it was quite the coincidence that he could make your dreams of having a birthday cake come true- but this was just the icing on top.

“yes, of course. do you guys mind at all? i’m sure it won’t take long.” you asked your friends, hearing no objections. al haitham smirked at the situation before him, of course it was like this, how could he have missed it? kaveh was thinking the same, both of them shooting a glance at each other.

“okay, we’ll be off then. i promise it won’t be long.” cyno smiled, nervously taking your hand in his to guide you outside. there was a small patch of land near the neighbourhood you lived in, clear enough to see the skies and all the stars that wandered across it. he laid next to you on the grass, turning to face you.

“y/n, i have something to tell you that i’ve been thinking of for a while.” he takes a deep breath, reciting his thoughts in his head. “the only reason i chose to say this today was because of tighnari- well, you know how he is. when he sees a flower beginning to bloom, he can’t keep his mouth shut about it.” he chuckled, looking off to the side.

you stared at him dreamily, wondering what his next words would be. the fact you were alone together enjoying the starry sky surely was a gift in itself, but was the flower… meant to represent you two?

“and, my pretty padisarah, you are who i’ve been wanting in my g-garden.” he stutters, making you giggle.

“oh archons, tighnari definitely said that to you as an example of what to say, didn’t he?” you continued to giggle, your contagious laughter spreading to him as well. resting the back of your hand against cyno’s cheek, you tucked a strand of his pearl coloured hair behind his ear, leaning a little closer to him.

“i want you in my garden, too, cyno.”

smiling, he leans further in as well, unsure about his next move until you press your lips to his. the kiss you share is sweet and pure, eliciting sparks in your chests at having your feelings reciprocated.

as you pull away, cyno lies flat on his back, and you copy him. “i’m relieved you feel the same, y/n. i’m sorry if i offended you with my staring lately, i couldn’t figure out how to tell you i liked you.”

you sigh happily, wrapping your arm around cyno’s waist. “oh, don’t worry, part of me felt it was something like this… i just wanted to see if it was really true. truth be told, i wouldn’t have known how to go about it either. i’m glad our friend did the heavy lifting, hehe.”

“yeah, me too.” cyno agrees, staring up at the sky with you. two constellations have become visible now, intertwined with each other as they float across the atmosphere.