#vampire thread mirror

[starvingtongue]

[voyter]

CRIMINAL ! ... halloween special

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader

your boyfriend ends up loving your costume idea for the two of you more than he initially lets on.

word count. 5.4k words warnings. jk and oc have matching costumes. vmin being the kings of halloween parties. slight crack. smut. roleplay dynamics. light bondage (handcuffs). oral (fem!receiving). handjob. unprotected sex (be safe girlies). switch!jungkook. switch!reader.

ana's notes. happy (late) halloween !!! this was originally supposed to be posted on the 30th but it wasnt finished .. so i was going to post it on actual halloween day but i got busy LMFAO IM A MESS !!! initially i wanted to do a kinktober but my ass couldnt even keep up with this so AINT NO WAYYY LMFAO IDK HOW YALL DO IT. BUT DONT FEAR ITS HERE NOW !! i had sm fun writing this, hope you love it as much as i do !! keep your comments positive or say nothing at all xx

For the past three years, Jimin and Taehyung have hosted their annual Halloween party. It's the one event they take seriously, spending hours planning the perfect invite list, décor, and food. Friends and acquaintances eagerly anticipate the night, knowing it'll be full of unforgettable moments, laughter, and chaos. Jimin and Taehyung always go all out, making their Halloween gathering the event of the season.

You and Jungkook have a tradition of matching costumes. The first year, you went as Harley Quinn, and Jungkook went as the Joker. That one's still one of your favorites — especially with Jungkook's green hair and tatted up face. He looked so good that night. The second year, you went for something bloodier: you, a sexy victim, and Jungkook as Ghostface. It was thrilling, especially when he made the night even better by fucking you with the mask still on. By the third year, you went classic as Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and Jungkook couldn't take his eyes off your tits spilling out of your corset. This year, you decided to skip the fictional characters and go with something a little simpler — but still hot. You were dressed as a cop, or rather, a slutty cop, and Jungkook was the prisoner.

"Don't you think this is a little basic?"

“Do you know how many people I’ve seen at these parties dressed as vampires and cats?” you retort, adjusting your costume and checking yourself out in the mirror. “Trust me, baby, no one cares.”

Jungkook, clad in an orange jumpsuit, glares at you through the mirror. "I just hate orange," he says monotonously.

You turn around and face him, giving him a smirk. "You'll survive. Besides, you make anything look good."

He smirks, leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. Your arms snake around his neck, fingers threading through the hair at his nape. His hands roam from your waist to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh in his large palms, pulling you closer. But just as things start to heat up, you push him back with a playful grin.

"Not now," you say, breathlessly. "We have to be there in a few."

Jungkook huffs in frustration, but doesn't argue. And even though he's not thrilled about his costume, the way his gaze darkens tells you he's already imagining what's to come later tonight. He knows he'll get you out of that outfit later. 

When you and Jungkook walk into the party, it’s all familiar faces. Laughter and cheers erupt the moment they spot you two, with Jungkook’s arms handcuffed behind his back, the bright orange of his jumpsuit standing out in the crowd. You guide him confidently by gripping his arm, playing the role of the stern cop escorting her prisoner.

Jungkook looks equal parts annoyed and amused, his usual cocky attitude momentarily restrained by the handcuffs, though the way his lips twitch hints at his playful frustration. The room seems to buzz with energy as people start teasing him the moment you step through the door.

“No fucking way you agreed to this!” Jimin exclaims, eyes wide in disbelief as he takes in the sight of Jungkook in handcuffs. Without missing a beat, he grabs the camera hanging around his neck, the polaroid already set and ready to capture every costume of the night. “Oh, I have to take a picture of this. Tae, hold my drink!”

Without waiting for a response, Jimin thrusts his red solo cup into Taehyung’s chest, some of the liquid sloshing out and soaking into Taehyung’s blazer. Tae rolls his eyes but doesn’t complain, knowing this is typical Jimin behavior.

Jimin hurriedly pushes his sunglasses up into his hair and pulls out the polaroid camera, eyes gleaming with excitement as he positions himself in front of you. You smirk, grabbing your belt, keeping your expression serious like a true cop on duty. Jungkook plays along, tilting his head to the side with a playful pout, his lips pursed like he’s posing for a dramatic mugshot.

With a click, the camera flashes, capturing the moment perfectly. A second later, the familiar buzz of the camera sounds as the polaroid slowly rises from the slot at the top. Jimin pulls the photo out, shaking it lightly as the image begins to develop.

“Had no choice,” Jungkook grumbles. “Whatever girlfriend wants, girlfriend gets.”

Taehyung laughs, shaking his head. “Bro, you’re so fucking whipped,” he teases.

“Fuck off,” Jungkook mutters, though he can’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “What are you two supposed to be, anyway?”

Jimin looks genuinely offended at the question, pulling his sunglasses back down over his eyes as if that alone should make it obvious. “Hello? Men in Black!”

He points his plastic gun at Jungkook. Beside him, Taehyung pulls out a shiny MIB card.

“Aw, I was really hoping you two would take my advice and go as Dumb and Dumber,” you pout, crossing your arms dramatically.

Jimin and Taehyung exchange offended looks, grimacing at your suggestion.

Jimin puts his plastic gun back in its holster with a flourish, shaking his head. “Respectfully, fuck you,” he replies, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You playfully lift a hand as if to strike him, your expression mock serious. Just then, more people start to stream into the home, their laughter and chatter filling the air.

“Well, since we are so extremely popular, we’ll meet back up with you guys soon.” Jimin says, turning to Taehyung, “We’ve got more people to greet.”

“Don’t get freaky in any of the bedrooms! I swear on my life I will kill you both,” Taehyung exclaims, shooting a warning glance over his shoulder as he follows Jimin into the crowd.

You roll your eyes, amusement dancing in your gaze.

"Alright, baby, can you take the handcuffs off now, please?" Jungkook whines, eyebrows knitting in genuine discomfort. "My arms are starting to hurt in this position."

"Keep begging like that, maybe I will," you tease, enjoying the playful power dynamic between you two.

Jungkook smirks, leaning in closer to amp up the charm. "Oh, please, officer? I promise I'll be such a good boy,"

You scrunch your nose in exaggerated disapproval. "Never do that again," you reply, trying to sound serious but unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

He chuckles, the sound warm and inviting, as you turn him around, your fingers brushing against his wrists. The thrill of the moment sends a rush through you as you unlock the cuffs with the small key, the metal clinking softly as you release him.

He turns around, his hands sneaking around your waist and pulling you closer, the warmth of his body igniting a spark of electricity between you. You smile up at him, feeling a thrill at the proximity.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his voice low and playful. “Now who knows what kind of crimes I’m gonna commit again?” He looks down at you, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Careful, prisoner,” you warn, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Don’t forget, I’m watching you tonight.”

He holds his hands up in mock defense, a grin spreading across his face. “I promise to behave… for now,” he replies, the challenge in his tone clear as he leans in just a little closer.

You can feel the heat radiating off him, and despite your attempt to keep things light, the air feels charged with unspoken tension. “You’d better,” you say, trying to maintain an authoritative tone but failing as a smile breaks through. “I don’t take kindly to rule breakers.”

“Oh, I know,” he replies, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone. “But I can’t help it if I’m naturally inclined to break the rules when I’m around you.” With that, he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear as he whispers, “What if I promised to make it worth your while?”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, and you step back slightly to meet his gaze, your heart racing. “You’re incorrigible,” you say, shaking your head, but your smile betrays your amusement.

“Only for you,” he quips, and the way he looks at you… you just know this Halloween night was going to be wild.

You stood corrected.

A few drinks into Jungkook's system, and any pretense of annoyance about the costume was long gone. His hands seemed to find your waist every chance they got, fingers tracing the curves of your hips with a needy grip. His lips, once teasing, were now constantly seeking yours, trailing kisses from your neck to your lips whenever you were within arm's reach.

Even in a crowded room, Jungkook's attention was locked on you, his dark gaze following your every movement. And each time you caught him staring, he'd flash you a cheeky grin before pulling you into another heated kiss, making it clear just how much he was enjoying your costume — and the power it had over him.

Getting a drunk Jungkook home was a damn task. The moment you got him in the car, he was all over you. As you navigated through the quiet streets, his fingers slid up your thigh, kneading it with a firm grip that sent sparks of heat racing through you. Each touch made focusing on the road harder, especially when he leaned over the console, his lips grazing your neck in a series of lazy, warm kisses.

"Jungkook, you need to calm down," you warned, trying to keep your focus on the road as his kisses sent shivers down your spine.

He huffed, not wanting to stop but eventually relented, throwing himself back into his seat dramatically. He crossed his arms like a child who'd been denied his favorite toy, his lips forming a deep pout.

You glanced over at him, biting back a smile as he sulked in his seat. "Aw, I’m sorry baby. Almost home, then you can do whatever you want," you teased, knowing full well that his patience would snap the second you both stepped through the front door.

Like a bunny, his ears seemed to perk up at your words, his pout disappearing instantly. He sat back in his seat with a huge grin plastered on his face, the sudden shift in his mood almost comical. It was as if he'd forgotten all about sulking, now fully focused on the promise you'd made.

Surprisingly, Jungkook behaved as you both got out of the car and made your way to your apartment floor. He walked beside you quietly, though the anticipation was clear in the way he kept glancing at you, his grin never fully fading. His restraint was impressive, given how wild he'd been earlier, but you could feel the tension radiating off him, like a predator waiting for the perfect moment.

The second you unlocked the door, though, all that restraint snapped. Jungkook practically pounced, pushing the door closed behind you as he pressed you against it, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss. His hands were everywhere at once — grabbing your waist, pulling you closer, one hand sliding up your back while the other dipped dangerously low.

Your sloppy kisses didn't break for a second as you stumbled through the apartment, laughter and heated breaths filling the air until you reached the bedroom. The second you got to the edge of the bed, Jungkook gave you a playful shove, making you fall back onto the mattress with a grin tugging at his lips. His eyes never left yours as he hovered above you, reconnecting your lips in a feverish kiss, his hunger for you palpable.

His mouth began its slow descent, trailing kisses down the curve of your neck, leaving a warm, tingling path in its wake. When he reached your cleavage, he paused, his lips lingering there as his fingers found the zipper of your bodysuit. With a swift motion, he unzipped it, freeing your breasts from the fabric. His eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you, a low groan escaping his throat.

Without hesitation, he leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it in slow, deliberate circles. The sensation sent a shudder through your body, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as your back arched in response. Your hand instinctively found its way into his hair, gripping the soft strands, guiding him as he lavished attention on you.

Jungkook's mouth left your bud with a soft pop, his lips slightly swollen as he looked at you with a mix of desire and admiration. Without wasting a second, he pushed the rest of the bodysuit down your frame, his hands quick and eager as he stripped you of the remaining fabric.

“You seduce all the officers like this?” you tease, your voice light but laced with a hint of challenge as you looked down at him at the foot of the bed.

Jungkook paused for a second, momentarily confused by the question. But then it clicked, and when he realized you were still playing into the roleplay from earlier, his expression shifted. His lips curled into a mischievous smirk, eyes narrowing slightly as he fully embraced the dynamic again.

“Only the ones I can’t resist,” Jungkook murmured, his voice dripping with playful seduction.

His teasing words sent a shiver down your spine, the tension between you both thickening with every passing second. His hands moved with skilled precision as he unzipped your boots, tugging them off one by one. The boots were discarded carelessly, the clatter of them hitting the floor barely registering as Jungkook’s focus remained fixed on you, eyes dark and full of hunger.

With a firm grip, Jungkook tugged at the bodysuit, sliding it off your frame in one fluid motion, the fabric slipping away as easily as the last remnants of his restraint. He didn’t stop there — your fishnets followed quickly, leaving you in nothing but your panties. His gaze devoured you, his eyes darkening with each lingering second on your bare skin. He bit into his bottom lip, his excitement almost palpable as his eyes traced every curve of your body like he was committing each inch to memory.

Grabbing your ankle, he lifted your leg gently, a smirk playing on his lips as he began a slow, deliberate trail of kisses from your ankle up toward your inner thigh. Each kiss sent a jolt of heat through your body, his touch maddeningly slow, teasing you with every lingering press of his lips.

“If you’ll let me,” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and full of promise, before kissing your thigh once more. “I did promise to make it worth your while.”

“Show me what you got, criminal,” you smirk, your voice laced with challenge and desire.

Jungkook’s smirk matched yours, his eyes darkening with intent as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties. In one swift, fluid motion, he pulled them down, the fabric sliding easily over your legs. The second they left your skin, his gaze fixed on the damp spot left behind, a low moan escaping his lips as his hunger for you deepened.

“Look at that,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers traced the wetness left on the cloth before lifting his eyes to meet yours, his smirk widening. “Already so wet for me, officer.”

The playful teasing from earlier had melted away completely, replaced with raw, undeniable need. Without hesitation, Jungkook lowered himself between your legs, his breath hot against your inner thighs. His lips hovered just above your core, his eyes flicking up to meet yours one last time before he leaned in, determined to show you exactly what he had in store. His tongue made the first slow, deliberate pass over your slick folds, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your body.

Your body reacted instinctively to the sensation, arching your back slightly as a soft moan escaped your lips. You melted into the bed, fingers gripping the sheets tightly as waves of pleasure rippled through you, the intensity of it all leaving you breathless. 

It was when he latched his mouth onto your clit, the cool metal of his lip piercing sending shockwaves through your body, that you felt a fresh wave of ecstasy wash over you. Your body shook involuntarily, a reaction to the exquisite pleasure he was delivering.

“So good, baby,” you moaned, your voice breathy and filled with longing as you looked down at the man between your legs. Jungkook’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, dark and smoldering, the corner of his mouth twitching into a playful smirk as he enjoyed your reaction to his ministrations. 

"Yeah?" he mumbled, his lips brushing against your slick heat, sending a shiver up your spine. "Am I a good criminal, officer?"

Though it had started as playful banter back at Jimin and Taehyung’s house, the way Jungkook was slipping into this submissive role now felt different — kind of sexy. The intensity in his voice, the way he was looking up at you, it was doing things to you that you hadn’t quite expected.

You bit your lip, nodding as you reached down, finding his hand and intertwining your fingers with his. "Mhm, so good for me," you whispered, the words coming out more breathless than you intended. The shift in the dynamic added a new layer to the tension between you both, and you couldn’t deny how much you liked it.

He hummed in satisfaction against your skin, his tongue working skillfully, each stroke more deliberate than the last, as if determined to draw every last sound of pleasure from your lips. You could feel the tension building within you, and with every flick and suck, he pushed you further into a state of bliss. The warmth of his mouth, combined with the gentle squeeze of his hand in yours, only heightened the sensations coursing through your body. You could feel yourself unraveling, bit by bit, under his expert touch.

You lift your other hand, your fingers tangling in his soft, raven hair, pushing it back to reveal his forehead. The sight of his knitted eyebrows makes your stomach flip — he always does that when he’s savoring something, and right now, that something is you. Your grip tightens in his hair, pulling him closer, pushing his face deeper into you. His nose brushes against your clit with each motion, and you can't help but buck your hips slightly, your body moving instinctively as you practically ride his face.

Your moans become louder, filling the room with the raw sound of pleasure, almost pornographic in intensity. The way his mouth moves against you, his tongue expertly flicking and teasing, drives you wild. You feel his moans vibrate against your sopping pussy, sending shockwaves through your entire body. The more you push him into you, the more he responds, his hands gripping your thighs as he devours you, thoroughly enjoying every second of it. You’re lost in the heat of the moment, each wave of pleasure building to something inevitable, your body teetering on the edge of bliss.

With one final buck of your hips, his nose pressing firmly against your clit, the pleasure overwhelms you. Your release crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body trembling as you cum against his face. A loud, raw moan tears from your throat, your back arching off the bed as the intensity of your orgasm takes over. Your thighs instinctively begin to close around Jungkook’s head, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest — if anything, it only drives him further.

He stays right there, nestled between your legs, his tongue continuing to lap up every drop of your release. If he had it his way, he'd happily stay there forever. His hand gently caresses your thighs, soothing you through the aftershocks as your body relaxes, your breathing still ragged as you come down from the high.

Jungkook removes his hand from yours gently, rising up from the floor. Fully clothed, he crawls up the bed, hovering above you with a smirk that sends a thrill down your spine. His mouth glistens with a mix of his saliva and your slick, a tantalizing reminder of what just transpired. 

Without warning, he leans down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. The taste of yourself lingers on his tongue, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth, the intimacy of the moment amplifying the heat between you. You feel him grinding his hips into your heat, seeking relief for the ache in his cock, and it drives you wild. The friction ignites another wave of desire, your body responding eagerly to his every movement.

He leans back down, reconnecting your lips, unable to get enough of you. The urgency in his movements tells you he's craving more, needing the connection as much as you do. Without breaking the kiss, you smoothly shift positions, pushing him back onto the bed. His body sinks into the mattress, and now it's your turn to be on top, looking down at him with a teasing smile. You sit up, fingers working the buttons of his jumpsuit as he watches you, his eyes dark with desire.

"Do good prisoners get anything in return?" he asks, his voice low, teasing.

"Yeah," you say with a smirk. "Freedom."

Your giggle fills the room as Jungkook kisses his teeth in mock annoyance, rolling his eyes at your cheeky response. Still, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, showing he's just as amused as you are.

"I'm sure there's other officers that'll give you something," you tease, your fingers still working on the jumpsuit.

"What if I want someone in particular?" he responds, his tone more serious, the heat in his gaze intensifying.

"I'm sure that can be arranged," you murmur.

With a smirk, Jungkook sits up swiftly, his hands making quick work of pulling the jumpsuit off his frame. The fabric falls away, revealing his toned, broad chest — the very sight that always makes your breath hitch. You can't help but admire him for a moment, your eyes roaming over every inch of him, from his sculpted chest to the way his abs tense under your gaze.

He catches the look in your eyes, his grin widening as he notices how you're practically staring. "Like what you see, officer?" he teases.

Ugh, slut.

"You know I do," you reply, your fingers tracing over the tattoos decorating his skin before you press your lips against his again, losing yourself in the kiss as your bodies draw closer.

Your kisses travel south, lips brushing over the warm skin of his neck, chest, and abs, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. When you kneel between his legs, you can't help but notice how hard he is. A wet spot glistens where he’d been grinding against you earlier, evidence of the friction that’s left you both desperate for more.

"Baby, hurry up," Jungkook whines, his voice thick with impatience, the need evident in his tone.

You raise an eyebrow, biting back a smirk. "Refer to me correctly," you command, wanting to tease him just a little longer.

He chuckles softly. "Officer, please hurry up," he says, playing along, his words dripping with need.

“Good boy,” you coo with a smile.

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his jumpsuit and boxers simultaneously, yanking them down in one swift motion. His cock springs free, hard and eager, the pink tip glistening with precum. It’s begging to be touched, twitching slightly under your gaze as you admire him, and you can feel the heat radiating off him.

You let your hand glide slowly up his thigh, teasing him with featherlight touches, savoring the way his muscles tense under your fingers. Jungkook's head falls back against the mattress, a low, desperate moan slipping from his lips as he exhales, his chest rising and falling with the anticipation building between you.

You giggle softly, enjoying how easily you’re driving him wild. Finally, you wrap your hand around his thick, hard cock, your fingers squeezing his length gently but firmly. His reaction is immediate — his hips buck slightly as he lets out a deep, shaky moan.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he groans, his voice low and husky, the sound making you smile even wider.

You start to stroke him slowly, enjoying the feeling of him pulsing in your hand. His hands grip the sheets, knuckles turning white, and his eyes squeeze shut in bliss. The way he reacts to every little movement you make has you feeling powerful, completely in control.

"My pussy turn you on this much?" you tease, your voice dripping with playfulness, a smirk tugging at your lips as you continue to stroke him slowly, deliberately.

Jungkook's moan deepens, his hips bucking slightly into your hand, completely at your mercy.

"Always," he groans, his voice breathless. "Can never get enough of it."

Such a sweet boy. You reward him by quickening your strokes, picking up the pace and driving him wild. His response is immediate — his body tenses, and a low, guttural moan escapes his lips.

Jungkook's hand darts to yours, gripping the one resting on his thigh, his fingers intertwining with yours tightly. His touch is needy, desperate, as if holding on to you will keep him grounded while the pleasure you’re giving him threatens to overwhelm him.

His breath becomes ragged as you continue working him expertly. He bites his lip, trying to hold himself together under your touch. You can tell he’s getting closer, every stroke pushing him toward the edge.

“W- wanna cum in your pussy, please,” Jungkook whines, his voice trembling with need.

You smirk, teasing him further. “Do you?”

He hums in response, the sound more like a moan, his desperation palpable.

“Okay,” you say, your voice soft but commanding. “Since you’ve been so good for me.”

You pull away from his cock, climbing on top of him, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable. Leaning down, you capture his lips with yours, and he responds eagerly, his hands sliding down the arch of your back, gripping your ass tightly, kneading it in his large palms.

Then, without warning, a sudden surge of dominance overtakes him. In one swift move, Jungkook flips you both over, hovering above you with a glint in his eye. He gives you a teasing peck on the lips, but before you can react, he flips you onto your stomach, effortlessly manhandling you as though you weigh nothing.

With your back turned to him, the sound of rustling heightens your anticipation. You can’t see what Jungkook is doing, but the moment you feel his grip on your arm, your heart races. The cold, familiar touch of metal against your wrist makes it clear — he's handcuffing you.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as he tightens the cuffs around your other wrist, pulling your arms behind your back. You’re completely at his mercy now, and the vulnerability only fuels the fire between your legs.

“Am I still a good boy?” he teases, his voice dripping with playful mischief.

“Bad boy,” you manage to reply, though the excitement surging through you betrays your words. The restriction, the control — it all makes your pussy throb with need.

The sound of the slap reverberates through the room, sending a sharp sting of pleasure coursing through your body. You jolt forward, moaning in response, your skin tingling from the impact. Jungkook grabs the chain of the handcuffs, pulling on it slightly, adding a thrilling sense of restraint to the moment. 

His other hand grabs his cock, and you feel the deliberate tease as he slaps it against your pussy, spreading your slickness over his length. It’s torturous — how long he’s making you wait. But finally, after what feels like an eternity, he slowly pushes himself inside you. 

You gasp, your walls stretching to accommodate him, while Jungkook releases a low, guttural groan, his breath catching at the sensation of being enveloped by your heat. He pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling, his fingers still gripping the handcuffs. The tension in the air is palpable, each movement sending shivers down your spine as he begins to move, his hips rocking into you with slow, deliberate thrusts.

Your breath comes out in heavy gasps, your face buried in the mattress as his pace quickens, his hips slamming into you with a steady rhythm. The sensation of being filled so completely has you whimpering, your body melting into the bed as you push back against him, craving more with every stroke. Each thrust is more intense than the last, the bed creaking beneath you as the slick sound of his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy echoes through the room.

Jungkook’s grip tightens on the handcuff chain, yanking you back harder onto his cock. “All your other prisoners fuck you this good?” he growls. 

A smirk curls your lips. He’s still milking this roleplay. He doesn’t voice it out, but he feels your pussy clench around him. You like this.

“Only you,” you moan, your voice breathy.

“That’s right,” he groans, his tone low and possessive.

Jungkook's pace quickens, the slap of his hips against your ass echoing through the room, his thrusts relentless. The headboard bangs rhythmically against the wall. He yanks the chain of the handcuffs harder, pulling your body back onto him in sync with every deep, punishing thrust.

Your body trembles beneath him, your moans now uncontrollable as the pressure builds to an almost unbearable height. Every drive of his cock inside you sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, his roughness pushing you to the brink. His deep groans mix with your cries, the heat between you reaching its peak, and you can feel yourself getting closer, your climax just within reach.

“You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he teases, his voice rough and low, dripping with lust. The heat in his tone sends another wave of pleasure coursing through you, and you can only nod, your voice caught in your throat as a moan escapes your lips, barely coherent.

His cock drags against your walls, hitting that perfect spot over and over, each thrust igniting a fire within you. Your body is a live wire, every nerve ending alight with sensation as the pressure coils tighter and tighter inside you, building towards a breaking point.

“Come on then, baby,” he growls, pulling you back hard against him, his grip firm and possessive. “Be a good officer and cum. I deserve it, don’t I?”

“Yes! Yes! You deserve it so much!” you manage to reply, the words spilling from your lips like a prayer.

“I’m such a good boy for you, huh?” he presses, his breath hot against your ear, his hips driving deeper.

“Such a good boy, my baby,” you affirm, your voice trembling with need. 

With a few more final, deep thrusts, your body shudders as the last waves of your sweet release ripple through you, your pussy clenching tightly around him. That tightness pushes Jungkook over the edge, and with a loud, needy moan, he releases into you, his hips faltering as he shoots his load deep inside. His groan fills the room as his cock throbs within you, emptying himself completely, the warmth of his cum spreading through you.

For a moment, the only sound is both of your heavy breathing, the heat of the moment still lingering in the air as your bodies stay connected.

Jungkook carefully unlocks the handcuffs, freeing your wrists from the restraints. He tosses them aside, his concern immediately turning to you as he notices the redness on your skin. Gently, he takes your wrists in his hands, massaging them softly, his brows furrowed with worry.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” he asks, his voice tender and full of concern.

“No, baby,” you reassure him, leaning in to kiss his lips softly, easing the tension he’s holding onto. You give him a few more sweet pecks, including one on his cheek, his boyish charm making you smile.

After cleaning up and peeing to avoid an infection, he helps you settle into bed, pulling you into his arms. His warmth envelops you, his face nestled against your neck, and you feel the soft brush of his breath against your skin. Your arms wrap around him instinctively, holding him close as the moment quiets. The heat from your bodies mingles with the gentle stillness of the room, creating a cocoon of intimacy and comfort that lulls you both toward sleep.

As your eyes grow heavy, his voice breaks the silence, low and a little playful. "I think I enjoyed that costume more than I thought," he murmurs against your neck.

© voyter 2024, all rights reserved.

[gaypeople]

It was my sole duty to distract Lestat, but in his mirrored eyes, the distraction reflected back onto me. And in the dead center of the whispering gallery, I lost the thread to my plotting and fell once more into the well with no bottom. I was his, and he was mine.

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE - 1.07 “The Thing Lay Still”

[cammys-imagines24]

°•Astarion When You're Injured•°

On the one hand, oh no, his beloved is hurt.

On the other, gods is he turned on.

Now if you were actually at deaths door, that would be different.

Astarion would be a nervous, furious, tear stained wreck. Worrying that he'd lose the single most important thing in his cursed existence.

The one thing that truly matters in his life. You.

But, if you're injured from just the run of the mill scrapes you get yourself into? Well that's fair game for him to be horny as all hell.

The way you wince when you roll up your shirt, a stab wound gouged into your abdomen.

How the blood trickles down to your breeches and stains your flesh, the crimson glinting in the slant of moonlight coming in from your partially open tent...

He'll feel his pants grow tight.

"Darling, I know you're injured and probably aren't in the mood but I must say you look positively scrumptious right now."

Astarion will watch you like a hawk as you stumble about your tent, looking for alcohol, bandages, a needle and thread.

The way you bite your lip to stifle yet another whimper, the sweet scent of your blood in the air. He licks his lips.

Oh, he could just eat you right up.

"Kitten, you've got to stop whimpering and groaning unless you want me to ravage you this instant."

When Astarion sees you go to clean yourself up though, he'll be absolutely affronted.

"Ah, ah. Don't you dare grab that rag, my dear. Have you forgotten about little old me? I could clean the blood off of you far better."

He'll say, sinking down to his knees before you. Have no fear though, the vampire will lick your wound til not a single leaking drop of your blood is left.

"This really gets you going?"

You'll ask, bracing your hands upon his shoulders for balance, your skin tingling from his attentive mouth. He's so skilled that you've nearly forgotten about the pain. Nearly.

"Well, my sweet, I could do without the you getting stabbed part but how can I resist when you're dripping red in front of me? You don't know the effect you have on me."

Astarion won't be selfish enough to ask you to take care of the little, well big, problem in his pants however.

He loves you dearly and he is here to help, in anyway he can.

You are injured and he understands that what you need from him isn't unbridled passion but sincere affection.

He will offer to stitch you up himself, seeing as your wound is in an awkward position and you can't really see it unless you're in front of a mirror.

The pale elf will tell you to lie down while he practically straddles you to get closer to the afflicted area.

Crimson eyes twinkling, fangs pearly and white as he smiles but he'll be gentle.

Threading through your raw skin carefully and giving your thigh a few affirming squeezes with his other hand when you gasp.

"See, pet? Aren't I just the best lover you've ever had? Flesh isn't so different from fabric and my stitches are perfect, wouldn't you say?"

Afterwards he'll wrap your stomach in bandages and get you anything you need.

Medicine to make you feel better and of course, all the recuperation time you need.

So much so that if the others in your camp need you that he will shove them out of your tent and order them to leave you be.

You'll not be leaving your bed for awhile that's for sure. Not while he's here to act as your nurse.

When you ask him to lay in bed with you, Astarion will give you one of his rare, tender smiles. Genuine with no mischief.

The fact that you need him and want him near is still a marvel to him.

It warms his ice cold spawn heart.

Makes him feel things he hasn't felt in 200 years.

"Oh, alright. My body is yours, in more ways than one."

Astarion will joke, flirtatious smirk slotting back into place along his mouth but he'll slip into bed without a fuss.

Your head resting on his chest, him mindful of your wrapped up abdomen.

Once you've had your medicine, rejuvenating sleep will call to you but before that you whisper how much you love him. Your words quiet in the night, against his ruffled shirt.

He'll hear you all the same and it disarms him.

"I love you too, sweetheart. You have to learn to be more thoughtful of yourself. Can't have you dying on me, now can I?"

Astarion's voice velvet, his fingers tracing abstract patterns along your back.

In his comforting embrace your eyelids droop, the pain a distant throb that you wish to have pass. His cold chest soothing against your flushed, exhausted cheek.

He'll pull you even closer, if that's possible and kiss the crown of your head.

"Sleep now, darling. I'll be here with you. Always."

[lizzyiii]

hi i was just wondering when the next chapter of his lady love will come out? it's an amazing story and i have not found anything else like it im obsessed!!👉🏻👈🏻☺️

heyyy....

His Lady Love (12)

pairing I aemond x vampire!mikaelson!reader taglist I to be added to the tag list just add your username to this DOC word count | 3.8k words summary I aemond has kept his distance from you since your secret. you discover something about helaena and distance between you and aemond grows further as he confesses a secret just to hurt you

tags | ANGST, ANGST, oh and more ANGST. temporary break up??? pregnancy mention. note I uhhh hi. so explanation - I graduated high school and there's no time to actually enjoy summer because this girl is broke. so I got a job for the very first time in my life, yeah, that and i fell into a rami malek dark hole and accidentally wrote an 80k word josh washington fanfic

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

Aemond retreated into himself after your confession, his cold silence heavier than any words he could have spoken.

The weight of your secrets hung between you, and his refusal to meet your eyes only amplified the crushing sense of rejection that echoed in your chest.

"I need time," he had said, but all you heard was rejection, rejection, rejection—a refrain that cut deeper than any blade could.

The days that followed passed in a blur of quiet torment, each tick of the clock marking the growing distance between you and Aemond. You found yourself in Helaena’s company more than ever.

She was a balm for your wounded soul, her gentle presence a rare comfort in the storm of your mind. It was with her that you could breathe, the children a welcome distraction from the chaos within you.

As you sat beside Helaena, the needle threading through the fabric of your embroidery, you allowed your thoughts to drift elsewhere.

Your fingers moved almost mechanically, following the familiar rhythm of the stitches as your mind wandered to the shadows you had left behind.

But no matter how hard you tried to lose yourself in the mundane task, your heart never stopped aching. Aemond's words, his retreat, followed you like a shadow.

You wondered, briefly, if it was selfish to want him to stay, to want him to understand you when you had already caused so much pain in your lifetime.

Helaena’s soft voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. "What’s troubling you?" she said gently, her eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored your own.

You paused, the needle hovering above the fabric as you hesitated. "Everything," you whispered, not knowing where to start, or if you even could. "But mostly... Aemond." Your words were fragile, as if speaking his name would shatter whatever thread of hope remained between you.

Helaena gave you a soft, understanding smile, though there was a trace of sorrow in her eyes. "He’ll return to you when he’s ready. Aemond is not like the others. He carries more than he shows."

You nodded, though skepticism clouded your expression. Helaena’s words were always laced with a strange wisdom, one that seemed to come from somewhere beyond this world.

You already knew that the Targaryens were no ordinary humans—there was fire and magic in their blood—but Helaena... Helaena was different. Her aura was otherworldly, almost prophetic, and it made you both trust her and fear her answers.

"Helaena," you said softly, your voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the room. Her light, lilac-hued eyes turned to you, dreamy and distant, yet wholly focused on you. "How do you see this ending?"

She blinked slowly, tilting her head in question. "You and Aemond?" she asked, her tone curious but kind.

You shook your head, "No," you whispered. "The war."

Helaena’s gaze drifted away, her attention drawn to the small cages on the table beside her, where her insects scuttled and fluttered.

She furrowed her brows, her lips pressing into a thin line as she contemplated your question.

Finally, she spoke, her voice slow and deliberate, each word dripping with an ominous certainty. "No one will win. It is inevitable. All it will succeed in doing is leading the Targaryens to become... extinct."

The words sent a chill through you, colder than any winter wind. You stared at her, searching for any sign of hope in her expression, but there was none.

Her gaze remained fixed on her insects, her hands idly tending to them as if the weight of her revelation meant nothing.

Your throat tightened, "Extinct?" you echoed, your voice cracking with disbelief.

Helaena nodded solemnly. "Dragons cannot thrive in a house divided. Fire turns on itself, consuming everything in its path until only ash remains." She looked at you then, her eyes piercing despite their faraway quality. "It is our nature to destroy. And so, we will be destroyed."

The silence that followed was oppressive, a heavy pall that settled over the room.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing against the inevitability of her words. "Is there not a way to fix all of this?" you asked softly, setting your embroidery aside.

"I don't know," Helaena murmured, her tone tinged with regret. Suddenly, she winced, clutching her stomach as a flicker of pain crossed her face.

You immediately leaned forward, concern etched across your features. "What’s wrong?" you asked, your voice steady but laced with urgency.

Helaena exhaled shakily, her hand still pressed to her abdomen. "I... I’ve been feeling unwell these past moons," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your brow furrowed as you stood, moving closer to her. "Have you not spoken to the Maesters?" you asked, your tone edged with frustration.

She shook her head faintly. "They are all busy attending to Aegon," she replied.

Reaching out, you placed the back of your hand gently against her forehead. Her skin was cool to the touch—no fever, no signs of sickness.

Still, something was wrong. You focused, your senses sharpening as you attuned yourself to her body, listening for any irregularities.

Your eyes widened as you caught it: a faint but distinct sound, a rhythm that wasn’t her own. Your breath caught, and you stepped back slightly, staring at her with newfound realization.

"What is it?" Helaena murmured, her tone both curious and cautious as she noticed the change in your expression.

You hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly, your voice laden with wonder and a touch of disbelief. "I listened to your body," you said, your words careful and deliberate. Your gaze drifted downward, settling on her stomach. "And I hear two heartbeats."

Helaena blinked, her lips parting in a quiet gasp. "Oh," she muttered, her hands instinctively moving to cradle her abdomen. Realization dawned in her lilac eyes, and she whispered again, this time with more weight, "Oh."

Without thinking, you kneeled before her, your hands gently resting on her lap. “Helaena,” you began cautiously, your voice barely above a whisper, “when last did you... lay with Aegon?”

Her expression tightened in distaste as she wracked her memory. “Aegon made use of me,” she said bitterly, “that night of the last supper.”

“The last supper?” you repeated, your brow furrowing as you tried to place the moment. And then it struck you—the supper when all the Targaryens had gathered, Viserys’ final attempt to unite his fractured family. The night before everything began to crumble. “Oh,” you breathed, the word heavy with understanding.

Helaena’s eyes turned glassy, her gaze distant. “Having a babe during a war is a bad omen,” she murmured, her voice filled with a quiet, resigned sorrow.

“Or,” you said softly, reaching for her hands and covering them with your own, “it could be a good one. A babe symbolizes life. Hope.” You offered her the warmest smile you could muster, though the shadow of unease lingered in your own heart.

“They shall be fine,” you promised, your voice firm despite the chaos you knew was to come. “You shall protect them.”

Helaena stared at you for a long moment, her wide, lilac eyes flickering with unspoken fears and fragile faith.

Her hands tightened around yours, and finally, she shook her head, her voice trembling. “I could not protect Jaehaerys.”

Her words were a blade to the heart, but you refused to falter. “And that is why I am here,” you said firmly, your voice laced with quiet determination. “To protect you. To protect them. All three of you.” You paused, catching your mistake, then softly added, “Four.”

A faint, hesitant smile flickered across her lips, fragile but genuine. You tried to match it, but your sharp hearing interrupted the moment.

Your brows furrowed as a distant sound reached your ears—wings, massive and powerful, cutting through the air. You rose swiftly, striding toward the balcony with purpose.

The sight that greeted you stole your breath. A dragon, light and unfamiliar, soared above King’s Landing, its wings slicing the air like a predator circling its prey. Its immense shadow fell over the Red Keep as it flew past, the sight both majestic and foreboding.

Helaena joined you on the balcony, her expression dreamy yet tinged with concern. Her gaze followed the dragon as it disappeared into the horizon.

“Whose dragon is that?” you asked, your voice low but urgent. “I don’t recognize it.”

Helaena tilted her head slightly, her tone distant but sure. “It’s not ours,” she murmured, her hands lightly gripping the railing. “And it is not one of Rhaenyra’s, either. It must be one of the unclaimed dragons of Dragonstone.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, a faint frown pulling at the corners of your mouth. “Well, it’s not unclaimed anymore,” you said dryly, though your words carried an undercurrent of unease.

Before Helaena could respond, a mighty roar echoed through the skies, deep and reverberating. The sound cut through the air like a blade, making your head snap toward the source.

Your sharp senses picked up what came next before your mortal eyes could: **Vhagar** rising into the heavens, her ancient wings spreading wide, her silhouette monstrous against the fading sunlight.

And atop her sat Aemond.

“No,” you breathed, your chest tightening with dread as you leaned forward, gripping the balcony railing. Vhagar’s great wings flapped, her movement deliberate, as she veered toward the distant horizon. Toward Dragonstone. Toward the mysterious dragon.

Helaena’s voice broke through your haze, soft and detached. “Vhagar will not falter. But Aemond…” She trailed off, her brows knitting faintly as though seeing something only she could. “He seeks dominance, but it may bring ruin.”

You gripped the railing tighter, your nails digging into the stone. Her cryptic words did little to soothe the storm in your chest.

The hours stretched endlessly, a gnawing worry festering in your undead heart. You had long left Helaena's chambers, not wanting to subject her to the tumult of your thoughts.

Instead, you roamed the castle halls, your pacing restless and your mind racing, oblivious to the leering gazes that followed your every move.

A pointed clearing of a throat brought you out of your thoughts. Turning, your eyes landed on Lord Larys Strong, limping toward you with that infuriatingly smug expression that seemed permanently etched on his face.

His head dipped in a mockery of respect. "Lady Mikaelson," he greeted, his voice as smooth as it was insidious.

"Lord Strong," you replied curtly, your tone clipped, your patience already wearing thin.

Despite your disdain, you knew better than to dismiss him outright. Larys Strong was the keeper of whispers, his ears always first to catch the murmurs that mattered.

You approached him warily, your voice low. “Do you know of Prince Aemond’s whereabouts?”

Larys tilted his head, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Worried, are you?"

The polite mask you had been forcing dropped immediately, your eyes narrowing into sharp slits. “Why wouldn’t I be concerned about the Prince Regent?”

His smirk widened, his gaze uncomfortably probing. “Yes, yes, of course. Especially given... your intimate relationship with him.”

Your lips pressed into a hard line, your jaw tightening at his insinuation. You loathed how he delivered the words with such deliberate emphasis, knowing well how the court gossiped about you.

You were no stranger to their whispers—Lady Mikaelson, now whispered about as the prince’s concubine.

Stepping closer, you allowed the faintest edge of your vampire nature to seep into your demeanor. Your eyes glinted dangerously, your voice dropping to a silk-lined threat. "Careful, Lord Strong. Tongues like yours have a way of getting bitten."

Larys raised his hands in mock surrender, though the satisfaction in his eyes only grew. “A thousand pardons, my lady. I meant no offense.”

You leaned back, your glare unwavering. “If you have nothing of use to share, then spare me your presence.”

As you turned, ready to leave the conversation behind, his voice slid after you like a poison-laced whisper. “Sharp Point.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your brow furrowing in confusion. You turned back to him, your voice dripping with skepticism. “Excuse me?”

Lord Larys, sensing the shift in your mood, adopted a more somber expression, almost as if he were doing you a favor by sharing such information. “The pretender Queen, Rhaenyra, has found three new riders for her dragons.”

A flicker of realization sparked within you, understanding the true identity of the dragon you’d seen earlier. You straightened, the tension in your body tightening as Larys continued.

“Prince Aemond flew out to challenge her. And when his eyes fell on Dragonstone, he fled in terror, or so the rumors say.” He paused, watching you for any reaction. “And after that? He let loose his fury upon Sharp Point, razing the whole town to the ground.”

A sickened breath escaped you, your heart racing in your chest as you absorbed the weight of his words. “No…”

Larys nodded, his voice laced with mock sympathy. “Yes. It’s true. Quite the display of anger, I hear. I would think it would be most frightening to find yourself in the presence of such a man. Dangerous, even, for a lady such as yourself.”

A slow, predatory fury began to unfurl inside you, and your eyes darkened with a mix of disbelief and contempt. How dare he insinuate that Aemond would ever turn his wrath upon you, let alone lay a hand on you.

But before you could retaliate, your heightened senses caught the distant sound of wings—a powerful, unmistakable beat that stirred the air around you.

Aemond had returned.

You turned sharply toward the sound, your pulse quickening. The fear that had gnawed at you now shifted into something else entirely: an unrelenting need for the truth.

You stormed into Aemond’s chambers, the heavy door slamming shut behind you, your steps echoing like thunder. He was there, standing at the edge of the balcony, the dim light of dusk framing him in shadow.

His silver hair caught the faint glow of the moon, but his back remained rigid, unyielding. You desperately hoped the whispers weren’t true, yet the ash smudging his tunic filled you with dread.

His actions reminded you far too much of the cruelty you had fled from—Niklaus, in one of his darkest moments.

“I waited hours for you, Aemond. Hours,” you began, your voice sharp with the tension that had built inside you all day.

He didn’t turn, didn’t so much as flinch, his voice cold and distant. “You need not concern yourself with where I go, or with my choices.”

That cold indifference stung more than it should have, yet it only fueled your anger. Your eyes narrowed, the fire within you rising. “I do concern myself, Aemond. Especially when you leave without a word, and come back covered in ash, with a storm of rumors following in your wake.”

He moved then, slowly, deliberately, turning to face you. His single eye, colder than you’d ever seen it, locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt as though he was a stranger. “I didn’t ask for your concern,” he said, his tone biting, cutting straight to the bone.

You inhaled sharply, your frustration boiling over. “And yet here I am, concerned,” you snapped, stepping closer, your voice trembling with restrained anger. “I know you, Aemond. I know fear when I see it. You are not above it, no matter how you might pretend otherwise.”

His voice was dark, dangerously calm as he spoke, “Do not pretend to know me. You know nothing of who I am—not truly. You’re too busy hiding your own monstrous truth to see anything clearly.”

The words struck, sharp as Valyrian steel. You ignored the pang of hurt that lanced through you, straightening as you took a step toward him, your voice sharp and unrelenting.

“Hiding my truth? You think I’m the monster here? What of you, Aemond? You destroyed an entire town. You burned it to the ground, tore it apart like it was nothing. That wasn’t strategy. That wasn’t wisdom. That was rage. Unbridled, destructive rage you refuse to face.”

“Do not preach to me,” he growled, his voice low and venomous, his eye narrowing with contempt. “You stand there, self-righteous, speaking of things you do not understand. You may have lived centuries, yet you are no better than the rest of us. You have blood on your hands, the same as anyone else.”

You inhaled sharply, steadying yourself, though your voice betrayed none of the hurt simmering beneath. “I never wanted this life, Aemond. But I’ve accepted it. I know what I am. But you—you wear your anger like a crown, as if it grants you dominion. You think fire and blood will bring you peace? It won’t. It never does.”

His expression twisted in offense, his voice rising. “You dare speak to me of peace, when you know none yourself?”

You stepped forward, closing the distance between you, your tone sharp and unwavering. “I have peace in knowing who I am. I have peace in knowing that no matter what the world throws at me, no matter how much it tries to break me, I stand. But you… You’re just a boy, Aemond. A boy pretending to be a king.”

His eye flickered, his jaw tightening as he looked away, gesturing toward the door with finality. “Enough. I will not stand here and listen to this.”

You sighed, your lips trembling, but your voice was as sharp and unyielding. “But you shall.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, his hands flexing at his sides. Then, with a coldness that cut deeper than any blade, he said, “Do you know when I last felt peace? When I went to the Blue Pearl.”

The words struck like a thunderclap. Your breath caught, sharp and sudden, as you stared at him, searching for some sign that this was a cruel jest. “What?” you whispered, the word barely audible.

He took a deliberate step toward you, his tone chillingly indifferent, almost mocking. “You heard me. When I thought you were gone—when I thought I’d never see you again, when you left me with nothing but questions and a shattered heart—I sought comfort elsewhere.”

There was a flicker of something in his eye—regret, anger, defiance?—before his lips curled into a faint, cruel smirk. “There. Now I’ve hurt you as you've hurt me.”

You froze, his words slicing through you like dragonfire. Your mind spiraled with unbidden thoughts, primal urges—rip out his heart, tear his throat with your teeth, leave him broken and bleeding as his words had left you.

But instead, you stood there, unyielding, forcing the tears brimming in your eyes to stay put.

Blinking them away, a hollow, bitter laugh escaped your lips, raw and filled with disbelief. “Hurt me,” you echoed, the words dripping with venom.

You studied him, the man you had once believed you understood, the one you had allowed yourself to care for despite your nature. How quickly the tides could turn. Only yesterday, you were in bliss, Aemond’s arms a sanctuary.

And now, here he stood, confessing how he had lain with a whore in your absence, mocking the bond you thought you shared.

Your voice was low, trembling with suppressed fury. “How utterly predictable of you, Aemond. To nurse your wounds with spite and call it vengeance. You speak of broken hearts, but you—” you stepped closer, your voice rising, “—are the one who destroys everything you touch with your pride and your anger.”

He flinched, but his resolve didn’t waver, his gaze meeting yours with an icy defiance.

You inhaled slowly, steadying yourself. If he sought a reaction, he would not have it—not the one he wanted, at least. “I never wanted to be the one to hurt you,” you murmured, your voice soft but unyielding as you looked away.

His presence, the very sight of him, sickened you. “I told you who I am because I thought it would bring us closer. I thought you, of all people, would understand.”

You paused, letting the silence stretch and coil between you like a serpent. “And now I see it was all for naught. You cannot be saved, Aemond. And I shall not endeavor to try.”

Your words hung in the air, sharp and final. You turned to leave, your steps slow and deliberate, each one heavy with the weight of your disappointment. But just as your hand reached for the door, his voice stopped you.

It was different now—no longer cold and cutting, but softer, laced with something almost resembling regret. “I did not say you could leave.”

His words halted you momentarily, your back still turned to him. You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep, steadying breath before replying, your tone soft yet cutting.

“But your actions have,” you whispered. “Why be together when all we’ve done is hurt each other, yes?”

The silence that followed was deafening. And with that, you walked away, your steps resolute, leaving Aemond standing in the shadow of his own choices.

You didn’t look back, though every part of you ached to do so. Instead, you left the room, the door shutting softly behind you—a sound that felt louder than any scream.

A/N — I'm going to be writing out of my ASS from now on, maybe including a teeny tiny bit of the f&b material, even though to me book Aemond and show Aemond are completely different, but ciao

those who couldn't be tagged are in bold :(

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[moonselune]

Could I please request headcanons or a Drabble for postgame Tailor!Astarion x reader? The worms are eating my brain I can’t stop thinking about him pinning dresses on his s/o with a measuring tape round his neck

The brain worms entered my head as well upon reading this

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tailor!Astarion xf!reader | The Most Beautiful Mannequin

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion worked with a meticulous grace, his hands sure and steady as they roamed over your body, pinning fabric here and there. It was strange, to see him in this domestic light. Gone was the battle-hardened vampire spawn with his daggers and shortswords in hand, now replaced by a man who had found peace in the art of tailoring, his fingers just as deft with needle and thread as they’d been with blades.

The light of the afternoon sun spilled through the window of your shared home, bathing the room in a warm glow. You stood in front of the mirror, dressed in little more than the fabric he’d carefully draped over you, while Astarion worked around you like an artist with his masterpiece.

He was muttering something to himself, eyes narrowed in concentration as he adjusted the hem of the dress. A length of measuring tape hung around his neck, and a handful of pins were tucked between his lips, their metallic gleam catching the light. Every now and then, he’d pluck one from his mouth and secure a fold of fabric, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent a shiver up your spine.

“You know,” he said around the pins, his voice slightly muffled but still carrying that familiar, teasing lilt, “this would go much faster if you could stay still for even half a minute.”

“I’m trying,” you protested, though the soft laugh that followed betrayed your amusement. “It’s not easy when you keep poking me with pins.”

“Well, if you didn’t wriggle so much, my dear, I wouldn’t have to poke you,” he countered, raising an eyebrow as he removed the pins from his mouth and placed them on a nearby table. “Honestly, you’d think you’d never been fitted for a dress before.”

“Not by someone like you,” you murmured, letting your eyes linger on him for a moment. He wore a simple linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing the pale, smooth skin of his forearms, and there was a casual elegance to him that made your heart skip a beat.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he replied with a smirk, though you could see the faint flush that crept up his neck. “Now, arms up. I need to see how this falls.”

You obliged, lifting your arms as he instructed, and he stepped closer, his body brushing against yours as he adjusted the fabric over your shoulders. You could feel the warmth radiating off him, the gentle press of his fingers as they smoothed out a crease. His touch was so light, so careful, as if he was afraid that one wrong move might tear the delicate material—or perhaps tear you.

He took a step back, scrutinizing his work with a critical eye, before making another adjustment, his fingers brushing against your waist.

“Much better,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “You know, I must say, you do make for quite the lovely mannequin.”

“Mannequin?” you repeated, giving him a mock glare. “I didn’t realize I’d been reduced to nothing more than a glorified coat hanger.”

“Well, if you could refrain from moving every other second, perhaps I could start seeing you as something more,” he teased, his lips quirking into that familiar, devilish grin. “But alas, you’re not making it easy, darling.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable,” he shot back without missing a beat, stepping closer once more.

This time, his hands rested on your hips, his touch lingering, and you felt your heart skip a beat as he leaned in, his breath ghosting against your ear.

“Besides,” he murmured, “it’s not every day I get to play dress-up with the most beautiful person in all the realms.”

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at his words, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling too widely.

“You’re incorrigible,” you muttered.

“And yet, you adore me,” he replied smugly, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck before he pulled away to continue his work.

For a while, you stood there in comfortable silence, letting him work his magic. Every so often, you’d catch him stealing glances at you in the mirror, a soft, almost tender expression crossing his face before he quickly masked it with that practiced smirk. It was those moments that made your heart ache with affection, that reminded you just how much he’d changed, how far you’d both come since the days of endless battles and bloodshed.

“There,” he said finally, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “What do you think?”

You turned to look at yourself in the mirror, your breath catching in your throat. The dress was exquisite, the fabric hugging your body in all the right places, the cut and stitching flawless. It was a work of art, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how perfectly it suited you, as if it had been made for you—and in a way, it had.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed, turning to face him, your eyes shining with gratitude. “You’re amazing, Astarion.”

He shrugged, though you could see the pride in his eyes, the way his chest puffed out just a little.

“Well, I do try,” he said, though his voice was softer now, more genuine. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” you corrected, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “And I love you.”

He blinked, his eyes widening slightly before he let out a soft laugh, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Always so sentimental,” he teased, though there was no bite to his words, only warmth. “But for once, I suppose I’ll allow it.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

“Thank you,” you said, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “For everything.”

He hummed, a pleased sound rumbling in his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

“Anything for you, darling,” he murmured against your lips, his eyes shining with a love that made your heart feel like it might burst. “Anything at all.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Oh I actually adore Tailor!Astarion so much, and I hope you guys adore him too! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[thequeenofneverland1]

Damon and Stefan Salvatore//// In the shallow of Katherine Pierce

Anonymous request: hi. Can you do where y/n is the twin of Elena but in reality she’s the daughter of katherine and the Salvatores likes her

Warnings:Emotional Distress, Threats of Violence:, Supernatural Themes, Family Dynamics, Romantic Tension and Self-Discovery.

growing up as Elena Gilbert’s twin, sharing every birthday, holiday, and milestone side-by-side. On the surface, you two were inseparable, sharing everything from a room to friends. But there was always something different about you, something unspoken that hovered in the background like a shadow. You couldn’t explain it, yet the feeling never left. It was as though some invisible thread tethered you to a part of yourself no one else could see.

You kept secrets, even from Elena. Small things, at first, hidden moments of intense emotion, instincts that flared up in ways you couldn’t explain. You were tougher, sharper, with a temper that burned quicker and brighter than hers. People noticed, joking that you must’ve inherited some kind of “Gilbert fire,” even if no one in your family was quite like you. Still, you brushed it off, thinking perhaps it was just part of being a twin, of having to share every part of yourself with someone else.

But as you grew older, whispers and rumors seemed to follow you in hushed tones. More than once, you caught adults exchanging glances, your name dropping like a slip of the tongue before they’d clear their throats and change the subject. Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of someone in the crowd, a stranger with piercing eyes and a smirk that felt oddly familiar, and feel an inexplicable pull, only for them to disappear a moment later.

Then, when you encounter Katherine for the first time, you’re struck by how similar you feel to her. The way she moves, the way she thinks and schemes, it feels like looking in a twisted mirror. The feeling unnerves you, a strange resonance you can’t ignore. She stares at you with a knowing gleam, as if she sees right through you, and it unsettles you in a way nothing else ever has. But why would Katherine Pierce, the infamous vampire, care so much about you?

Unbeknownst to anyone, even Katherine, she had a second child, one that was taken from her while she was still on the run from Klaus Mikaelson, hidden away as a twin to Elena by those who feared her power and lineage. You have her blood, her cunning, and perhaps her destiny. But for now, that truth lies buried deep, waiting to surface in ways that could change everything.

The day Elena brings Damon and Stefan to meet you is quiet and warm, one of those rare moments when Mystic Falls feels almost normal. You don’t have many expectations; after all, you’ve heard enough about them to feel prepared. But the moment you open the door and see them, you’re struck by a strange, inexplicable familiarity.

Damon’s eyes rake over you with a flicker of recognition, a glimmer of something he’s not used to admitting: intrigue, maybe even a kind of awe. You know Damon’s reputation, his devil-may-care attitude, but in this moment, he seems almost taken aback, as if seeing a ghost he’s crossed paths with before. Stefan, though more composed, is no less surprised. He stares at you with that quiet intensity, the kind that feels like he’s searching for something hidden just under the surface.

There’s a heartbeat of silence, an unspoken something filling the air. You meet Damon’s gaze, holding it just a little too long, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. You have a feeling you’ve just accepted a silent invitation into a game he plays with far too few worthy opponents. And Stefan, with his thoughtful, steady eyes, looks at you like he’s trying to piece together a memory that won’t quite come into focus.

Elena notices the looks. She steps between you and them, the tension sharpening her voice as she blurts out, “Okay, why are you two looking at her like that?”

Damon glances at Stefan with a mischievous glint in his eyes, raising his eyebrows as if to say, Did you notice that too? Stefan, on the other hand, shifts his focus back to Elena, as if deciding on how much to reveal.

“It’s just… strange,” Stefan says finally. “It’s like we’ve met her before.”

Elena rolls her eyes, folding her arms defensively. “You haven’t met her. This is my sister. Not some long-lost friend of yours.”

Damon, never one to back down from a chance to stir the pot, leans casually against the doorframe and smirks. “Relax, Elena. It’s just a bit… eerie. It’s like I’m seeing something familiar, but in a way I can’t put my finger on.” His gaze flickers to you again, that flirtatious gleam in his eye making it clear he’s more than willing to investigate the mystery further.

Your heart skips a beat, a mixture of irritation and intrigue taking hold. You’re used to getting looks, but this, this is different. You match his stare, feeling the subtle weight of his intensity, realizing that whatever unspoken history you may or may not share with him, he seems determined to uncover it.

Elena huffs, moving a step closer to you as if to shield you from whatever games they might be playing. “Well, you don’t need to figure it out. She’s not a part of whatever mess you’re dealing with.”

Damon’s smirk widens, his gaze darting back to you. “Oh, but something tells me she can handle a little mess. Can’t you?”

You give him a small, sly smile, letting him know you’re more than capable of handling whatever he’s thinking. Stefan clears his throat, shooting Damon a warning look, but you can sense that even he’s still trying to decipher the strange familiarity he feels around you.

It’s a strange, charged moment, one that leaves you wondering if this pull between you and the Salvatores is merely a quirk of shared history, or if there’s something deeper, something neither you nor they fully understand. For now, all you know is that you have their attention in a way you hadn’t expected, and part of you can’t help but be drawn into the mystery just as much as they are.

In the dimly lit corner of the Mystic Grill, Elena sat across from Caroline, swirling her drink distractedly as she tried to find the right words. She hadn’t been able to shake the strange, almost protective feeling she’d been harboring since the moment Damon and Stefan first laid eyes on you. There was something in their expressions, something that had nagged at her from the start.

Caroline tilted her head, picking up on Elena’s discomfort. “What’s up? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Elena let out a sigh, glancing around before leaning in. “It’s… it’s Y/N. Or, I guess, more like the way Damon and Stefan act around her.”

Caroline’s eyes widened, intrigued. “Oh? You think they have a thing for her?”

Elena bit her lip, unsure of how to explain. “I don’t know… it’s more complicated than that. Since that first day, the way they looked at her, almost like they’d met her before. Like they recognized something in her that they couldn’t shake.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Do you think it’s because she looks like you? I mean, you two are twins, after all.”

Elena shook her head, looking slightly frustrated. “Maybe… but it feels like more than that. Like they’re seeing something, or someone,they’ve lost. I’m worried they might be seeing Katherine in her.”

Caroline’s expression shifted to one of sympathy. “Elena, they’ve been through so much because of Katherine. But I don’t think they’d just start confusing the two of you. They know she’s your sister.”

Elena’s jaw tightened, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “It’s just… every time they’re around her, there’s this look, this intensity. I know they’re drawn to her, but I don’t want them to think that she’s Katherine. I want them to see her for who she really is.”

Caroline reached across the table, squeezing Elena’s hand reassuringly. “They know who Y/N is. She’s nothing like Katherine, and Damon and Stefan are smart enough to see that. They’re probably just a little… nostalgic, maybe? They’ve spent years haunted by memories of her, and seeing someone who reminds them of you, someone new, yet familiar, could stir up a lot.”

Elena nodded, though the worry in her eyes didn’t fully fade. “I just don’t want them to project their issues with Katherine onto her. Y/N deserves better than that. She’s not part of their past, she’s her own person.”

Caroline gave her a gentle smile, her voice firm. “And they’ll realize that, Elena. Besides, you’re not the only one watching out for her. They both care about you, and I don’t think they’d ever hurt her or use her as some replacement.”

Elena sighed, managing a small smile. “You’re right. I just… I just don’t want her getting caught up in all of this.”

Caroline nodded knowingly. “Trust me, you’re a great sister. And if Damon or Stefan start acting like idiots, we’ll set them straight.”

Elena chuckled, feeling some of the tension ease, knowing that no matter what, she had people looking out for her, and you

The Salvatore brothers returned to their grand, dimly lit boarding house, silence stretching between them. Each was lost in thought, still feeling the lingering effect of their encounter with you. Damon poured himself a glass of bourbon, his eyes distant as he swirled the amber liquid. Stefan, leaning against the doorway, finally broke the silence.

“She’s… she’s not like Elena,” Stefan murmured, almost to himself, though Damon heard every word.

Damon smirked, though his expression was more bitter than amused. “You noticed that too, huh?” He took a long sip, the warmth of the alcohol doing little to soften the twist of unease in his chest. “She’s got Katherine’s eyes, the same fire behind them. Like she knows more than she lets on.”

Stefan nodded, his mind drifting back to the way you’d looked at them, a flicker of recognition sparking in your gaze. It was the same feeling he used to get whenever Katherine looked his way: a sense that he was being seen, truly seen, with a level of intensity that went beyond the surface. The resemblance to Katherine was uncanny, not in looks alone, but in the subtleties of your expressions, the way your smile hinted at secrets neither brother could decipher.

“Did you… did you feel it too, Damon?” Stefan asked cautiously, his voice carrying an almost wistful tone. “Like we’ve met her before?” He knew it sounded absurd, but the connection felt strangely familiar, like your presence filled a void neither of them had realized was there.

Damon leaned back, exhaling sharply. “Yeah, but it’s more than that, Stefan. There’s something about her, like she’s the part of Katherine that got away, the part she kept hidden.” His jaw clenched as he recalled the nights he’d spent unraveling Katherine’s lies, searching for pieces of her that never quite fit together. Now, standing before you had felt like finding one of those missing pieces, resurrecting a part of him he thought had been buried with her.

“She isn’t Katherine,” Stefan reminded him, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. The intensity of Damon’s gaze as he spoke wasn’t lost on him. “But… there’s no denying the resemblance. It’s unsettling.”

Damon let out a humorless laugh. “You don’t think I know that? Believe me, I don’t need any reminders of who she isn’t.” He paused, swallowing his emotions. “But seeing her… it’s like being haunted by Katherine all over again.”

They both fell silent, wrestling with feelings neither could entirely pin down. The line between memory and reality was blurring, and neither could deny the strange attraction, the unspoken tension that had hung in the air from the moment they met you. You were Elena’s twin, yes, but something about you stirred in them a feeling both exhilarating and painful, an echo of the past they thought they had left behind.

Stefan finally spoke, his voice softer now. “We can’t let Elena know. She’s already suspicious, and if she finds out we’re… drawn to her sister, it’ll only hurt her. And… she doesn’t need to know that Y/n remind us of Katherine.” He met Damon’s gaze, a silent plea in his eyes.

Damon nodded, the usual cocky glint in his eyes dimmed by a seriousness Stefan rarely saw. “Agreed,” he said, though the words felt like a weight in his chest. “But let’s face it, Stefan. Whatever this is, it’s not going away. Not unless we get to the bottom of who she really is, and why we’re both feeling this way.”

The brothers exchanged a heavy glance, each recognizing the turmoil brewing between them. It was a pull neither wanted to confront, yet ignoring it felt impossible. The question now wasn’t just who you were, but what your arrival would mean for them, and for everything they thought they understood about love, loyalty, and the ghosts that refused to stay buried.

The arrival of the Mikaelsons sends a ripple through Mystic Falls, a new storm on the horizon. You’ve barely stepped out of the boarding house before you see them, all four of them, a striking and intimidating presence. Kol, Elijah, Klaus, and Rebekah stand together like something out of an old painting, a darkly elegant family bound by blood and the centuries that forged them. Their eyes scan the area, searching, and when they spot you, three sets of eyes light up with interest.

Kol is the first to approach, a wicked smile already playing on his lips as he watches you with an unmistakable spark. “Well, aren’t you a sight,” he says smoothly, his eyes drifting over you with an admiration that’s anything but subtle. “And here I thought Mystic Falls had grown boring.”

Elijah is more reserved but no less intrigued. He steps closer, his gaze thoughtful, his head tilted ever so slightly as if he’s studying a rare piece of art. “It’s rare to meet someone who carries themselves with such… poise,” he says, his tone polite yet filled with something deeper. He gives you a small, approving nod, and you can tell he’s the kind of man who’s drawn to people of depth and mystery, and it seems you’ve caught his attention.

Klaus is last to make his move, standing back a bit, his eyes dark and assessing. The way he looks at you is intense, almost possessive, as if he’s already decided that whatever’s drawn his interest here will soon belong to him. “You must be Elena’s twin,” he says with a smirk, his gaze practically pinning you in place. “Though, I must say, I expected something… softer.” His voice drips with challenge, and the gleam in his eye is as predatory as it is fascinated.

Before you can respond, Damon and Stefan appear at your side, their expressions tense. Damon steps forward, slipping an arm around your shoulders with a look of defiance. “Well, well,” he drawls, his voice edged with sarcasm, “look who decided to show up. What, Mystic Falls not deadly enough without you lot?”

Klaus’ smirk widens, and he meets Damon’s challenge head-on. “Relax, Damon. We’re only here to get reacquainted with an old friend.” His gaze flicks back to you, lingering with interest that he doesn’t bother to hide. “One we didn’t know we had.”

Kol chuckles, his eyes still fixed on you as he pointedly ignores Damon and Stefan. “Can’t say I blame them for hovering,” he murmurs, leaning a bit closer to you. “With looks like yours, I’d be protective too.”

Stefan shifts uncomfortably, a flicker of jealousy flashing across his face as he watches Kol get a little too close for comfort. “Maybe you should take a step back,” Stefan suggests, his tone controlled but firm.

Rebekah, who’s been watching the tension build with a smirk, finally speaks up, adding her own fuel to the fire. “Oh, don’t be so touchy,” she teases, glancing between Damon and Stefan with an amused glint in her eye. “It’s not our fault if she prefers better company.”

You can feel Damon’s grip on your shoulder tighten as he glares at the Originals, his jaw clenched as he looks between them. “I don’t think she’s in the market for new friends,” he says, his voice edged with a protectiveness you haven’t heard from him before. He throws a pointed look at Kol, then Klaus, his eyes flashing with warning.

But the Mikaelsons are undeterred, clearly enjoying the reaction they’re getting. Elijah, ever the diplomat, holds up a hand as if to diffuse the tension, though there’s a sly glint in his eye. “Let’s not be hasty,” he says, looking directly at you. “Perhaps she can make her own decisions.”

The moment he says it, you feel their eyes on you, Damon and Stefan on one side, Kol, Elijah, and Klaus on the other. The pull between them is palpable, and you realize with a strange sense of satisfaction that you hold all the cards here.

Damon’s lips curl in irritation, but he doesn’t let go of you, his arm still firmly around your shoulders. “If you think we’re just going to stand by while you try to—”

“To what?” Klaus cuts in smoothly, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Show her a better time? Give her a taste of freedom, perhaps? Because something tells me she might like that.” His gaze never wavers from yours, an unspoken invitation in his eyes.

The tension between the Salvatores and the Mikaelsons is electric, and you can practically feel the jealousy radiating off of Damon and Stefan as the Originals blatantly express their interest in you. Damon leans in, speaking low in your ear, “Don’t let them fool you. They’ll drag you into their twisted little games and spit you out when they’re done.”

But part of you is tempted, intrigued by the promise of something unknown and dangerous. You’ve always been drawn to things that lie outside the lines, and the Mikaelsons, especially Kol and Klaus, seem more than willing to play along. You smile at Damon, giving him a look that says you can handle yourself, and then meet Kol’s gaze with a spark in your eye.

The Originals might have come to town to stir up trouble, but they didn’t expect to find someone who could stir them up just as much. As you hold their gaze, you sense that this is only the beginning of a rivalry that’s bound to get more intense, and you’re more than ready to be in the middle of it.

The following evening, you found yourself at the Salvatore boarding house, standing in the dimly lit parlor with an expression that was equal parts confusion and frustration. After everything you’d witnessed at the gathering, the cold stares, the thinly veiled jealousy, and the sharp tension between the Salvatores and the Mikaelsons, you felt you couldn’t stay silent any longer. You needed answers.

Stefan and Damon stood before you, Damon leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, wearing his usual smirk, though tonight it seemed forced. Stefan was watching you, his brow furrowed, clearly sensing your frustration.

“Okay,” you began, folding your arms. “What was that back there? You two were acting like absolute jerks.”

Damon scoffed, raising an eyebrow at you. “Jerks? Us? I’d say we were just… looking out for you,” he replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He tried to brush it off with a smirk, but you weren’t buying it.

“Looking out for me?” you repeated, voice thick with disbelief. “It didn’t feel like that. It felt like you were trying to scare them off.” You looked between the two of them, your gaze intense. “Why, Damon? Why did you feel the need to interfere?”

Stefan sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking like he wanted to step in and explain, but Damon spoke first.

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Damon replied, his tone sharper than he intended. “The Mikaelsons, they’re not exactly known for their warm and fuzzy reputations. Klaus, Elijah, Kol, they don’t care about anyone but themselves.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” you shot back, frustration growing. “I can handle myself, Damon. I don’t need you two stepping in like… like some overprotective bodyguards.” You paused, meeting Stefan’s gaze, who looked down as if struggling to put his feelings into words. “What is really going on here? Because this isn’t just about keeping me ‘safe.’ This feels… personal.”

Stefan shifted, glancing at Damon before meeting your eyes. “You’re right,” he admitted softly. “Maybe it is personal. But not in the way you think.”

You waited, crossing your arms, silently urging him to continue.

“Seeing you with them, it brought back memories,” Stefan continued, his voice tight. “Memories of Katherine. The way you looked at them… it reminded us of things we thought we’d buried.”

“Katherine,” you murmured, the name feeling strange on your tongue. The infamous vampire you’d heard countless stories about, the one who had left a mark on everyone in Mystic Falls, including the Salvatore brothers. “You think I’m like her?”

Damon’s gaze softened slightly, the cocky veneer slipping as he studied you. “It’s not just that you’re like her. It’s that… you remind us of her. There’s this part of you, this fire, this strength, and the Originals, they’re drawn to it. Just like they were to her.” He clenched his jaw, as if the words were a bitter pill he was struggling to swallow. “And maybe we don’t want to see that happen again.”

The weight of his confession settled over you, and you looked between them, realizing the depth of what they were saying. It wasn’t just jealousy, it was fear, an old wound reopening, and they were terrified of losing someone else to the same darkness that had once pulled them both in.

You exhaled, trying to find the right words. “Damon, Stefan… I’m not Katherine. I get that she hurt you both in ways I can’t even imagine. But that doesn’t mean I’m her.” Your voice softened as you continued, “And the Mikaelsons, yes, they’re different, maybe even dangerous, but that’s my choice to make. Not yours.”

Stefan’s expression softened, a trace of regret appearing in his eyes. “We know that. It’s just… difficult. Seeing you with them, it brought up feelings we didn’t realize we still had. It’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth.”

You took a step closer, searching their faces. “Then be honest with me. Is that all this is, some unresolved ghost of Katherine? Or is there something else?”

Damon’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, clearly wrestling with something he couldn’t bring himself to say. But Stefan, his voice low and filled with honesty, spoke up.

“It’s more than that,” he admitted, his gaze steady. “It’s about you. You’re not just Elena’s twin to us, or some reminder of the past. You’ve… become important to us in a way we didn’t expect. And maybe that’s why seeing you with them was so hard.” He took a deep breath, his eyes full of unspoken words. “Because we care about you,more than we probably should.”

Damon shifted, his usual bravado fading as he finally met your gaze. “He’s right,” he said quietly, a rare sincerity in his voice. “Look, I don’t do this whole ‘feelings’ thing, but… yeah, you matter. And maybe that scares me more than I’d like to admit.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and electric, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The fierce protectiveness, the jealousy, the vulnerability, they had all been signs, masked behind layers of bravado and denial.

After a moment, you took a deep breath, your gaze softening as you looked at them. “I understand now. And maybe… maybe I feel something too,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you can protect me from everything. I need to be able to make my own choices, even if they involve the Mikaelsons.”

Damon sighed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Alright, we get it. We’ll back off… a little. But don’t expect us to stay quiet if those Originals start playing games.”

Stefan nodded, giving you a small smile. “We trust you. And we’ll be here, no matter what you decide.”

With that, an unspoken understanding settled between you, a recognition of the complex feelings swirling between you all. And as you left that night, you knew that whatever lay ahead, with the Salvatore brothers, the Mikaelsons, or the ghosts of the past, you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

After the heated conversation, the atmosphere in the boarding house has softened slightly. The tension between you and the Salvatores seems to have loosened its grip, and they’re no longer brimming with protective anger. Instead, Damon is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, studying you with his usual half-smirk, while Stefan is seated on the couch, still watching you with that cautious yet gentle look. They might still be worried, but you’ve made your point clear, and for now, that’s enough.

You take a deep breath, realizing that maybe this is the perfect time to lighten the mood and remind them, and yourself, that life doesn’t have to be all danger and drama. A glint of excitement shines in your eyes as you turn to face them both.

“So,” you start, a playful smile spreading across your face. “Speaking of needing you two… I have a favor to ask.”

Damon raises an eyebrow, looking at you curiously. “A favor, huh? Haven’t we done enough heroic, life-saving duties for the day?”

“Oh, relax, Damon,” you say with a laugh. “I’m not asking you to save my life or anything.” You pause, glancing at Stefan, who’s watching you with a small, intrigued smile. “I wanted to ask if you’d go to prom with me.”

Both of them look momentarily stunned. Prom probably isn’t something they’d expected you to bring up, especially not in the middle of this entire Mikaelson drama. But as the surprise fades, you can see a hint of something else in their expressions, something warm, something that speaks of a life they’ve nearly forgotten.

Damon recovers first, his smirk growing into a full-blown grin. “Prom, huh? I haven’t been to one of those in… well, let’s just say it’s been a while. Are you really asking us?”

You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile as you cross your arms. “Yes, you two. I mean, technically, it’s supposed to be a date thing, but seeing as I’m not exactly swimming in options that don’t involve ancient, overly charming Originals, I figured I’d bring my two favorite guys along.” You give them a playful nudge. “Come on, are you in?”

Stefan chuckles, leaning back on the couch with an expression that’s somewhere between nostalgia and amusement. “I never pictured myself going to another prom, but… if you’re asking, how could I say no?” There’s something soft in his tone, a sincerity that warms you. He’s been through so much darkness that the thought of a simple, carefree night must sound almost like a distant dream.

Damon, however, seems less sentimental and more intrigued. He steps closer, eyeing you with that familiar glint of mischief. “So, let me get this straight. You want both of us to be your dates to prom? You realize that’s going to turn a few heads, don’t you?”

You laugh, nodding. “Oh, I’m counting on it. I mean, if I’m going to prom, I may as well go all out. And besides…” You hesitate, a flicker of honesty slipping through. “After everything that’s been going on, I kind of just want one normal night. And I couldn’t think of two people I’d rather spend it with.”

For a moment, the lighthearted tone shifts, and there’s a silence that feels like understanding, like they realize what you’re really asking. It’s not just a night at prom, it’s a chance to escape the weight of the supernatural world, to remember what it’s like to feel young and carefree.

Stefan’s expression softens, and he gives you a gentle smile. “Then we’re in. We’ll make it a night to remember.”

Damon chuckles, but there’s a glimmer of something real in his eyes as he nods in agreement. “Fine, we’re in. But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.” He gives you a sly smile. “I’ll make sure to get us a limo, maybe even some flowers. A real prom experience.”

You raise an eyebrow, grinning. “Flowers, Damon? Are you actually saying you’ll go all out?”

“Hey,” he protests, feigning offense, “if I’m going to be one of your dates, I’ve got to bring my A-game. Besides,” he adds with a smirk, “I think I might enjoy this whole ‘normal life’ thing for a change. Plus, it’ll be fun to watch everyone’s reaction when you show up with not one, but two dates.”

You can’t help but laugh, already picturing the scandalized looks, the whispers. It’s a tempting thought, but more than that, you feel a warmth growing in your chest at the idea of a night with Damon and Stefan by your side, where, just for a few hours, you could all forget the supernatural chaos.

Stefan’s expression shifts as he stands, his tone quieter but full of genuine excitement. “It’s a good idea, Y/N. After everything, I think we all need this.”

“Agreed,” Damon says, his usual sarcasm replaced by something softer. “So, prom it is. I hope you’re ready to be the center of attention because something tells me this night’s going to make a splash.”

You nod, feeling a surge of excitement. For the first time in a long while, you feel a flicker of that simple thrill, that feeling of looking forward to something without any hidden dangers or secrets lurking around the corner. The thought of going to prom with the Salvatores, of having an evening where you can just be, it’s exactly what you need.

“Then it’s a date,” you say with a grin, looking between Damon and Stefan.

Damon raises his glass in a mock toast, his smirk widening. “To prom. And to making everyone at Mystic Falls High question exactly how you managed to score two dates.”

Stefan laughs, clinking his glass against Damon’s, a relaxed smile on his face as he glances at you. “And here’s to you, Y/N. For knowing how to keep us on our toes.”

Your heart warmed at the sincerity in his words. For a moment, the weight of Mystic Falls, the dangers, the past, the uncertainties, melted away. This felt real, uncomplicated by secrets and rivalries. Just you and the two people who, despite the chaos, had come to mean so much.

When the night of prom arrived, you felt an excited nervousness settle in as you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the elegant gown you’d chosen. It was a deep, rich color, one that brought out the warmth in your eyes and made you feel almost like a character from an old romance novel. As you looked at your reflection, you could hardly believe that tonight was finally here, that you were about to share a moment like this with Damon and Stefan.

In the hours leading up to prom, the Salvatore boarding house buzzed with an energy usually reserved for battles, not ballroom dances. But tonight was different. Tonight, Damon and Stefan were putting in effort that went far beyond the usual suit-and-tie routine. They were getting ready for prom with you, a night that had come to mean far more than either of them initially realized.

Damon stood in front of the mirror, his tailored black suit fitting him perfectly. He smoothed his lapel, inspecting himself with a critical eye, his usual cocky grin absent as he actually considered his appearance. The suit had been specially selected for the night, a sleek, modern cut that hugged his frame just right, exuding a devil-may-care charm that was so quintessentially Damon.

“Looking a bit serious there, aren’t we?” Stefan’s voice came from across the room. He was meticulously brushing his hair, his suit equally tailored to perfection, a classic, timeless look that spoke to his sense of elegance and quiet confidence.

Damon smirked, brushing his hand over his jacket. “Can’t help it, little brother. Tonight’s a big night.” His voice carried a hint of excitement masked under his usual sarcasm, though Stefan wasn’t fooled.

“Big night, or big ego?” Stefan countered with a grin, adjusting his cufflinks. His suit was a deep charcoal black, accentuating his calm, refined aura. He’d chosen it specifically to match your dress after overhearing you mention the color once. Stefan ran a hand through his hair one last time, making sure each strand was in place.

“Say what you will,” Damon replied, ignoring the jab as he spritzed some cologne on his wrist, dabbing it against his neck. ���But I’m just making sure I’m at my best tonight. We have competition.” He shot a look at Stefan in the mirror, referencing the lingering threat of the Mikaelsons, who had made their interest in you known a little too clearly for the Salvatore brothers’ liking.

Stefan rolled his eyes, his tone turning more serious. “Right, because a few sprays of cologne are going to keep the Originals away.” He tightened his tie with a practiced ease, still watching Damon with a bemused expression.

But Damon was already unscrewing the cap of his cologne again, this time going in for another spritz… and then another. “I’m just being thorough,” he shrugged, giving himself a liberal amount, until the scent filled the entire room in a thick, woodsy cloud.

Stefan coughed, waving a hand to clear the air. “Thorough? Damon, you’re basically choking the room at this point,” he complained, though his tone was amused. “Do you actually want her to smell anything else tonight?”

Damon shrugged, unbothered, his smirk widening. “What? She likes it. And it’s not like I’m risking smelling like Old Spice and regret like some people.” He shot Stefan a teasing look.

Stefan gave an exasperated sigh, but his eyes held a glint of humor. “Alright, alright. Let’s just try to leave her some oxygen to breathe tonight.”

Ignoring his brother’s complaints, Damon checked himself out in the mirror one last time, his gaze slightly softer as he thought about seeing you. “She deserves a proper prom night,” he murmured, more to himself than to Stefan. For a second, a look of genuine anticipation flickered in his eyes, something vulnerable and uncharacteristic, a glimpse of his softer side. “One she’ll remember.”

Stefan watched him for a moment, his own expression softening. “Agreed.”

The truth was, neither of them would admit it, but they were both nervous. The idea of a regular night where they could just enjoy your company, no threats, no looming dangers, was something they both hadn’t realized they craved until now. They wanted this night to be special for you, and, perhaps secretly, for themselves, too.

Stefan brushed his hair one last time, giving his reflection a final, approving nod. Damon adjusted his collar, straightening the lapel and flashing one last, self-assured grin in the mirror.

“Shall we?” Damon gestured toward the stairs, but as they both walked toward the door, Stefan couldn’t help but stop, catching a whiff of Damon’s overwhelming cologne. He raised an eyebrow, giving Damon a smirk.

“If she faints tonight, it won’t be from excitement,” he said dryly.

Damon laughed, waving him off. “Oh, please. She’ll love it. Besides, no one will be able to ignore my charm when I walk into that room.”

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, and you opened it to find the Salvatore brothers standing there, both dressed in sharp, tailored suits. They looked every bit the part of classic gentlemen, yet each in their own way. Stefan with his calm, reassuring smile and Damon with his roguish smirk, his gaze lingering on you with open admiration.

“You look… incredible,” Stefan said softly, his eyes alight with warmth as he took in your appearance.

Damon stepped forward, his eyes glinting with his usual mischief, but there was a sincerity there that made your heart skip. “Well, princess, if I’d known you’d clean up this well, I would’ve asked you out sooner.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress your smile. “Thank you. You both look… well, let’s just say the tuxes suit you.”

As they each offered you an arm, you slipped yours through theirs, feeling a thrill of excitement as you walked out of your house with the two of them by your side. Arriving at the prom with both Stefan and Damon drew some curious glances, whispers trailing behind you. But you ignored it all, your focus on the magic of the night and the two people who’d made it feel so special.

As the night went on, the three of you laughed, danced, and shared stories, the usual weight of Mystic Falls lifted, if only for a few hours. You found yourself captivated by Damon’s sharp wit, his playful remarks making you laugh more than you had in ages, while Stefan’s gentle kindness made you feel safe, his quiet strength grounding you in a way that felt natural and right.

When a slow song began, Damon gave Stefan a quick nod and took your hand, leading you to the dance floor. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close, his intense blue eyes locking onto yours as the two of you swayed in rhythm. For a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you, and you could feel the connection between you, a pull, a shared understanding, deeper than either of you could deny.

After the song ended, Damon reluctantly stepped back, giving Stefan a turn. Stefan’s touch was soft, his hand resting gently on your back as he guided you through the next song. There was a gentleness in his gaze, a tenderness that made you feel seen, truly seen, in a way you hadn’t before. As he held you, his eyes never left yours, and you could sense that he, too, felt something he couldn’t quite put into words.

When the music finally stopped, the three of you lingered on the dance floor, sharing a quiet, meaningful moment. Damon’s smirk softened as he glanced between you and Stefan, a flicker of genuine contentment in his expression.

“I’ll admit it,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “This was a pretty good idea.”

Stefan chuckled, nodding. “Agreed. I’m glad you asked us.”

You smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness as you looked between the two of them. “Thank you… for making this night unforgettable.”

And as the three of you stood there, bathed in the glow of the twinkling lights, you knew that this was more than just a prom night. It was a memory, a rare and precious moment of peace and joy in a world filled with shadows. Whatever the future held, you knew this night would always be a reminder of the bond you shared, and the feelings that had quietly taken root between you and the Salvatores, feelings that promised to grow, even amid the turmoil of Mystic Falls.

The music at the Mystic Falls High gym is loud, pulsing with a beat that reverberates through the room, blending with the cheerful shouts and laughter of the students on the dance floor. The air is filled with the scents of perfume, cologne, and the faint aroma of punch. Damon and Stefan stand at the edge of the room, keeping a watchful eye on you as you move through the crowd in your elegant dress, the color complimenting your skin and the lights reflecting in your eyes. For the first time in what feels like forever, you’re smiling, carefree, sharing a moment with friends, soaking in the thrill of the night.

You glanced around, your instincts screaming that something was wrong. A figure in the shadows near the entrance caught your eye, his silhouette tall and ominous. Mikael. You knew the stories, heard the tales of his ruthless pursuit of the Originals, but he had never set his sights on you, until now.

Before Damon or Stefan could notice, you slipped quietly out the side door, hoping that maybe you could lure him away from the prom, away from everyone you cared about. But as soon as you stepped outside, you could feel Mikael’s presence, looming and heavy, like a predator stalking its prey. You took a deep breath, moving quickly down the empty school hallway, hearing the faintest echo of his footsteps behind you.

The announcement for prom royalty echoes over the speakers, and the crowd’s cheers swell as your name is called. “And this year’s prom Queen is… Y/N Gilbert!” The room erupts into applause, and heads turn, waiting for you to step forward.

But you don’t move. Damon’s playful smirk drops as he scans the crowd, his brows knitting in concern when he doesn’t see you. Stefan is quick to follow suit, his eyes darting around the gym, searching for any sign of you.

“Where did she go?” Damon mutters, the hint of worry creeping into his tone as he starts to push through the crowd, Stefan close behind.

“She was right here a minute ago,” Stefan’s brow furrowed, his eyes darting through the crowd

Damon didn’t wait another second. He pulled out his phone, ready to call you, when suddenly, it buzzed in his hand. Your name flashed on the screen, and he immediately pressed the answer button.

“Y/N? Where are you?” Damon’s voice was edged with worry.

Your breath came out in ragged gasps as you whispered into the phone, “Damon… Mikael is here. He’s… he’s chasing me. I had to leave the prom—I didn’t want him hurting anyone else.”

The weight of your words hung heavy, and Stefan’s eyes widened as he picked up on the conversation. He moved closer, trying to listen, his face contorted with worry and determination.

“Where are you?” Damon’s tone sharpened, the protective side of him igniting at the mention of Mikael’s name.

“I… I think I’m near the science wing. I’m trying to stay ahead of him, but he’s… fast.”

Stefan took the phone from Damon, his voice calm but urgent as he spoke. “Stay where you are, Y/N. We’re coming to get you. Don’t try to face him alone.”

You swallowed hard, glancing over your shoulder as Mikael’s silhouette emerged at the end of the hallway, his cold eyes locked onto you. “I’ll try. Just… hurry.”

With that, you ended the call, your heart pounding as you backed up, searching for an escape route. But Mikael’s predatory gaze never left you, his every step deliberate as he stalked toward you.

Damon and Stefan didn’t waste a second. They pushed through the crowd, ignoring the curious glances as they headed for the exit. Damon’s jaw was clenched, his eyes blazing with determination. “If he lays a hand on her…”

Stefan placed a steadying hand on Damon’s shoulder, his own face grim. “We’ll get to her first.”

They moved quickly through the dimly lit corridors, following the faint sound of your heartbeat, a skill both brothers had perfected over the years. The closer they got, the louder your heartbeat became, each rapid thump a painful reminder of the danger you were facing.

Meanwhile, you darted around the corner, your breathing shallow as you tried to stay quiet. But Mikael was relentless, his pace unwavering as he followed the trail of your scent. Every door you passed, every hallway you ducked into, seemed to only draw him closer.

“Do you really think you can outrun me?” Mikael’s voice echoed down the corridor, cold and taunting. “You may look like her, but you are not Katherine. You’re weaker, more… vulnerable.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you clutched your phone tightly, hoping that Damon and Stefan were close. You could feel your strength waning, the adrenaline beginning to fade as the reality of your situation set in. But you knew you couldn’t let him see your fear.

You turned to face him, standing tall despite the tremor in your hands. “I’m not afraid of you, Mikael.”

He chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Brave words for someone so… fragile. I’ve taken down creatures far stronger than you.”

Damon and Stefan moved swiftly through the winding corridors of Mystic Falls High, their steps purposeful and their expressions set with determination. You were out there, facing Mikael alone, and every second counted. Nothing mattered more than reaching you. Their thoughts were focused solely on getting to you before Mikael had a chance to harm you.

But as they turned a corner in the empty hallway, they came face-to-face with none other than Klaus, Elijah, and Kol. The Mikaelson brothers stood there, blocking their path, each wearing an expression that ranged from mild curiosity to amusement.

“Where are you two rushing off to in such a hurry?” Klaus asked, his voice light but laced with intrigue. “Don’t tell me there’s trouble brewing at the Mystic Falls High prom.”

Damon shot him a dark look, jaw clenched. “We don’t have time for this, Klaus. Get out of our way.”

Kol smirked, stepping closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What’s the urgency, boys? You seem… tense. Care to share?”

Stefan cast a quick glance down the hall, clearly itching to move past them. “This isn’t any of your business. We need to go.”

But Elijah, with his usual composed demeanor, raised an eyebrow. “If this concerns Mystic Falls and involves my father, I’d say it is our business. What’s going on?”

Damon’s patience snapped. “Mikael’s after Y/N. She’s out there, alone, and we’re not wasting another second talking about it.”

Klaus’s smile faded instantly, replaced by a look of concern, and something else that flickered briefly in his eyes, something dark and protective. He exchanged a quick glance with his brothers, and for once, the usual rivalry between the Salvatores and the Mikaelsons seemed to fade.

“If Mikael’s after Y/N,” Klaus said, his voice low and dangerous, “then you’ll need all the help you can get. She’s valuable to us, too.”

Damon sneered, clearly unconvinced by the sudden show of camaraderie. “Right, because you care so much. Spare us the act, Klaus.”

But Elijah stepped forward, his gaze earnest. “This isn’t an act. Mikael’s vendetta is reckless and cruel, and if Y/N’s caught in his crossfire, it affects us all. Let us help.”

For a tense moment, Damon and Stefan stood there, sizing up the Originals. They knew the Mikaelsons had their own motives, but this wasn’t the time to argue. You were in danger, and any delay only gave Mikael more time to close in on you.

Finally, Stefan gave a quick nod. “Fine. But stay out of our way.”

Without waiting for a response, Damon and Stefan turned and resumed their sprint, and the Mikaelsons followed, their footsteps falling in sync as they raced through the school, united in a rare truce for the sake of protecting you.

As they approached the science wing, Damon’s ears picked up on a faint, familiar heartbeat, yours. It was rapid, but strong, and it propelled him forward even faster. When they rounded the corner, they spotted you at the end of the hall, trapped between Mikael and a row of lockers, his looming figure casting a shadow over you.

In an instant, the Salvatores and the Mikaelsons moved as one. Damon and Stefan surged forward, drawing Mikael’s attention away from you, while Elijah and Klaus moved to your side, each taking a protective stance in front of you.

Mikael turned, his expression twisting with disdain as he faced the five men now blocking his path. “Well, isn’t this a touching little reunion,” he sneered. “The Salvatore brothers and my wayward children, all coming together for a mortalgirl.”

Damon’s eyes blazed, his voice a deadly growl. “Call her that again, and you’ll regret it.”

Klaus smirked, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze as he added, “You always did underestimate the people we care about, Father. But tonight, you’re going to regret it.”

Mikael’s face darkened, but before he could respond, Kol lunged forward with supernatural speed, striking the first blow. The others followed suit, surrounding Mikael in a whirlwind of force, each blow fierce and unyielding. Damon and Stefan fought side by side with the Mikaelsons, their combined strength holding Mikael at bay, pushing him back with every strike.

Meanwhile, Elijah turned to you, his voice gentle despite the chaos. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, still catching your breath. “No… but thank you.”

He nodded, a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Stay behind us. We won’t let him near you again.”

Klaus threw a look over his shoulder, his voice laced with unexpected concern. “Get her out of here, Elijah. We’ll handle this.”

But you stepped forward, determination flaring in your eyes. “I’m not leaving any of you to face him alone. He came here for me, and I won’t run.”

Damon, catching the exchange, shot you a quick look, his expression both exasperated and protective. “Stubborn as ever, aren’t you?” he muttered, though there was a hint of admiration in his voice.

Finally, with one final, powerful blow from Klaus, Mikael staggered back, his eyes blazing with anger. He took a moment to assess the line of his enemies, his gaze moving from the Salvatores to the Mikaelsons, before he gave a cold, bitter laugh.

“You think this is over?” he sneered, locking eyes with each of you. “This girl is a weakness, a liability. She’ll be the end of you all.”

With that, Mikael disappeared into the shadows, his promise lingering ominously in the air.

As silence fell, Damon turned to you, his shoulders relaxing as he took in the sight of you, safe and unharmed. He moved toward you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Next time, don’t run off without us. Got it?”

You managed a shaky smile. “Got it.”

Stefan gave you a gentle smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “We’re glad you’re okay.”

Klaus watched the exchange, his expression thoughtful, though he quickly masked it with his usual cool demeanor. “Looks like we’re all a bit protective, aren’t we?”

Damon glanced at Klaus, the usual animosity softened, if only for the moment. “This doesn’t mean we’re friends, Klaus. But… thanks.”

Klaus smirked, giving a nod. “Trust me, Salvatore, it’s a one-time alliance. But you’re welcome.”

With that, the Mikaelsons turned, disappearing down the hall, leaving you and the Salvatores in a rare, quiet moment. Stefan pulled you close, and Damon wrapped his arm around you, a silent promise of protection.

As you walked out of the school, flanked by the Salvatores, you felt a sense of gratitude and belonging. No matter what threats loomed, you knew you weren’t alone, and with Damon and Stefan by your side, you could face anything.

The night was finally quiet as you stood in the empty school parking lot with Damon and Stefan by your side, each of them visibly relieved that you were safe. After everything that had happened, you felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude and affection for them, and without a second thought, you pulled both of them into a warm, thankful hug.

Damon’s arms wrapped around you first, holding you protectively, while Stefan smiled softly, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. For a moment, everything felt right, a rare moment of peace in Mystic Falls. But just as you closed your eyes, letting the safety of their embrace sink in, a voice cut through the silence, sending a chill down your spine.

As you walked out of the school with Damon and Stefan on either side, a sense of calm finally settled over you. The night had been intense, terrifying even, but you had made it through with them by your side. Their presence grounded you, and the silent comfort they offered was all you needed. You came to a stop, turning to face both of them, and a small smile spread across your face.

“Thank you,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around both of them in a warm embrace. It was a moment you had needed, to feel safe, supported, and understood. Damon rested his chin on your head, his usual smirk replaced by a rare, soft expression, while Stefan’s arms wrapped protectively around you.

But the moment was short-lived.

A familiar voice, smooth and taunting, cut through the quiet, sending a chill down your spine. “Well, isn’t this touching?”

You froze, your heart thudding as you slowly turned to see Katherine Pierce standing a few feet away, her lips curled into a smug smile as she took in the scene before her.

Damon and Stefan’s relaxed postures vanished instantly. They stepped in front of you, shielding you from Katherine as their gazes hardened. Damon crossed his arms, his tone sharp and suspicious. “Katherine. What are you doing back in town?”

Stefan’s eyes narrowed, his stance protective. “Last I heard, you had no reason to be here.”

Katherine ignored them, her eyes locking onto you with a look that was both intense and unnervingly affectionate. She took a step closer, her gaze appraising. “I came back for my daughter,” she said, her voice smooth but carrying a weight of finality. “And I’m not leaving without her.”

Your breath caught in your throat, her words settling heavily as the truth began to dawn on you. Daughter. The word echoed in your mind, sharp and disorienting. You glanced between Damon and Stefan, your shock mirrored in their expressions as they exchanged a stunned look.

Damon was the first to break the silence, his voice thick with disbelief and anger. “Wait. Your daughter? Since when do you have a daughter?”

Katherine’s smirk only deepened. “Oh, come now, Damon. Did you think my life began and ended with you two? There’s so much you don’t know.”

You took a shaky step forward, your eyes never leaving Katherine’s. “What… are you talking about?”

Katherine’s gaze softened, though there was a glint of something almost predatory in her eyes as she looked at you. “You’re my blood, Y/N. My own flesh and blood. You may have thought Elena was your only family, but there’s more to the story than anyone told you.”

Stefan’s voice was cold, his protective side flaring as he stepped closer to you. “If this is some twisted game, Katherine, it ends now. She’s been through enough tonight.”

Katherine held her hands up in mock innocence, a hint of amusement in her gaze. “Oh, don’t worry, Stefan. I don’t intend to hurt her. Quite the opposite, in fact. I want her to come with me, to leave this dull little town behind and be a part of something bigger.”

Damon’s eyes narrowed, a mix of anger and suspicion clouding his expression. “After everything you’ve put us through, you expect us to just hand her over to you?”

Katherine let out a low chuckle. “I don’t expect anything from you, Damon. But Y/N deserves to know the truth. She deserves to know who she really is.”

Your heart pounded as you stared at Katherine, every instinct telling you to be wary, yet something in her gaze drew you in. There was a strange familiarity in her face, a resemblance you had always ignored, but now couldn’t deny. The way her eyes sparkled, the way her smirk mirrored your own… it was like seeing pieces of yourself in someone else.

But confusion and hurt welled up within you, and you shook your head, taking a step back. “Why now? Why would you show up now, after all these years, and claim to be my mother?”

Katherine’s expression softened, but there was still a calculating edge to her gaze. “Because, my dear, I’ve kept my distance to protect you. But things have changed.“

Damon clenched his fists, stepping between you and Katherine once more, his voice filled with a dark warning. “If you think we’ll let you just waltz in and drag her into your mess, you’re delusional. She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Stefan’s eyes darkened, his protective instincts kicking in as he placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “She has a life here, Katherine. Friends, people who care about her. You can’t just claim her like a prize and expect her to follow you.”

Katherine arched an eyebrow, her tone sharp. “Oh, but I can. Because I am her mother, and I’ve done everything in my power to keep her hidden from the dangers that haunt my life. Unlike you, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep her safe.”

You swallowed hard, emotions swirling inside you, fear, anger, disbelief, and something you couldn’t quite place. A strange curiosity that tugged at the edges of your mind. You looked at Damon and Stefan, their faces set with determination, a silent promise that they wouldn’t let Katherine take you without a fight. But part of you couldn’t help but wonder if there was truth to Katherine’s words.

“What if… what if she’s telling the truth?” you whispered, barely able to get the words out.

Stefan looked down at you, his expression softening as he saw the confusion in your eyes. “Y/N, whatever she’s saying, you don’t have to go with her. You don’t owe her anything.”

Damon’s gaze flickered with a protective intensity as he nodded in agreement. “She’s lied more times than I can count. She’s only ever looked out for herself.”

But Katherine’s voice broke through, filled with conviction. “You may not trust me, but you can’t deny the truth of who you are. Y/N, you’re stronger than you know, and I’m the only one who can help you tap into that power. I can teach you things these two never could.”

The offer hung in the air, and Katherine’s gaze never wavered as she held her hand out to you, an invitation and a challenge. “Come with me, Y/N. Let me show you what you’re truly capable of.”

You stared at her outstretched hand, a part of you tempted by the mystery she promised to reveal. But as you glanced at Damon and Stefan, standing resolutely by your side, their loyalty and love a constant reminder of the life you had built here, you felt torn.

With a shaky breath, you looked Katherine in the eye, your voice steadier than you felt. “Maybe you are my mother. Maybe there’s a part of me that wants to know more… but I’m not going anywhere with you. I belong here, with people who care about me.”

Damon placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his voice full of quiet pride. “She made her choice, Katherine. And it’s not you.”

Katherine’s face hardened, her gaze flicking between the three of you. “Fine,” she spat, her voice laced with venom. “But don’t think this is over. You may feel safe now, but one day, you’ll need me. And when that day comes, don’t expect the same kindness I’m offering now.”

With a final, piercing look, Katherine spun on her heel, disappearing into the shadows, leaving a cold silence in her wake.

You stood there, your mind still racing, and Stefan wrapped his arm around you, his warmth a balm against the lingering chill Katherine left behind. “You don’t have to face this alone, Y/N,” he murmured. “We’re here. Always.”

Damon gave you a reassuring smile, his arm slinging protectively around your shoulders. “And if Katherine comes back? She’ll have to go through us first.”

As the Salvatores led you into your house, you could barely hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. The events of the night, the encounter with Mikael, the terrifying chase, and Katherine’s bombshell revelation, had left you feeling raw and exposed. Damon kept a gentle hand on your back as you walked through the door, while Stefan lingered beside you, offering silent support.

Once inside, you caught a glimpse of Elena waiting in the living room. She rose to her feet the moment she saw you, concern etched across her face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. Without a word, you brushed past her, tears gathering in your eyes as you hurried up the stairs. You heard her call your name, but you just couldn’t deal with her questions or confusion right now. All you wanted was a moment alone to process the whirlwind of emotions tearing through you.

Elena’s face fell as she watched you disappear upstairs, her brow furrowing in confusion. She turned her gaze toward Damon and Stefan, who remained in the entryway, both of them looking grim and exhausted. She crossed her arms, an angry spark flaring in her eyes. “Alright,” she demanded, her voice sharp. “What happened? Why is my sister, no, my twin, crying?”

Damon sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, clearly in no mood for another confrontation. “Elena, it’s been a long night. Maybe we can talk about this in the morning.”

But Elena wasn’t having it. She planted herself firmly in front of them, blocking their path as her gaze darted between the two brothers. “No. I want answers. You two were supposed to protect her, and now she’s up there crying her heart out! What did you do?”

Stefan’s jaw tightened, his usual calm demeanor wavering as he glanced up the stairs, clearly worried about you. He looked back at Elena, his tone soft but steady. “It wasn’t us, Elena. Katherine showed up tonight.”

Elena blinked, taken aback, and for a moment, her angry expression faltered. “Katherine?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

Damon’s eyes darkened, his expression guarded. “She’s the reason Y/N was crying. Katherine… she told her something. Something that none of us saw coming.”

Elena rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “What, that she has some new plan to ruin our lives? Or that she’s out to hurt us all again?” She crossed her arms tighter, an edge of skepticism in her voice.

Stefan took a step closer, his expression serious. “No, Elena. She told Y/N that she’s her mother.”

Elena’s mouth dropped open, and then she let out a short, incredulous laugh. “What? You can’t be serious. That’s just… Katherine being Katherine. She’s playing one of her twisted games, and you two actually believe her?”

Damon crossed his arms, his gaze steady. “We don’t know for sure, but it hit Y/N hard. Katherine told her she came back specifically because Mikael was after her, and that the only reason she stayed away this long was to protect her.”

Elena scoffed, rolling her eyes again. “And you actually think that’s true? Katherine only looks out for herself. She’s lied to all of us more times than I can count. This is just another manipulation tactic to get under Y/N’s skin, and clearly, it worked.”

Stefan looked at her, a flicker of frustration in his usually composed expression. “It’s not that simple, Elena. Katherine seemed… different. She was cold, but there was something else in her eyes when she looked at Y/N. Something real. And Y/N feels it too, even if she doesn’t know what to make of it.”

Elena’s eyes blazed with anger as she shook her head, disbelief twisting her features. “So, let me get this straight. Katherine shows up, spins some ridiculous story about being Y/N’s mother, and you two just… believe her? She’s doing this to mess with her head, to make her doubt herself, and you’re playing right into it.”

Damon’s face hardened, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm. “Elena, believe what you want, but you didn’t see the way Y/N reacted. She’s not just upset, she’s questioning everything about her life right now. Katherine got to her in a way none of us expected, and if there’s even a chance that she’s telling the truth, then Y/N has the right to know.”

Elena let out a frustrated noise, pacing back and forth. “She has a family, me, and she’s letting Katherine, of all people, get inside her head. It’s exactly what Katherine wants! You two were supposed to protect her from people like her, not indulge in her twisted mind games.”

Stefan’s patience seemed to wear thin as he stepped closer to Elena, his tone firm. “We’re trying to protect her, Elena. But this isn’t just some lie we can brush off. For Y/N, this is about her identity. Whether it’s true or not, she deserves the space to figure it out without us dismissing her feelings.”

Elena’s expression hardened, and she shot them both an accusatory glare. “So, what, you’re just going to let Katherine manipulate her, twist her around until she doesn’t know who she is? I thought you cared about her.”

Damon’s eyes flared with anger, his voice sharp. “We do care, Elena. That’s why we’re letting her make her own choices. She’s strong, stronger than you’re giving her credit for. This isn’t about controlling her; it’s about giving her the support she needs.”

Elena scoffed, disbelief still evident in her tone. “Right. Support. By letting Katherine just walk into her life and saying that My twin is her daughter.”

Stefan shook his head, his voice calm but unyielding. “Elena, if you want to help, then be there for her when she’s ready to talk. She needs her family right now, and that includes you. But we can’t ignore the possibility that there’s more to her story than we know.”

Elena opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, a quiet sound drifted down from the stairs, a muffled sob, barely audible but enough to pierce through the tense silence in the room.

All three of them paused, their gazes turning toward the stairs. The anger in Elena’s expression softened, replaced by a flicker of worry as she listened to the sound of your crying. A moment passed, and she let out a long breath, her shoulders slumping slightly as she seemed to grapple with her frustration and concern.

Damon glanced at her, his tone softening. “She’s up there, questioning everything she thought she knew. We’re not asking you to believe Katherine, we’re just asking you to be there for her, to understand what she’s going through.”

Elena looked at him, her expression conflicted, but finally nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Fine. I’ll… try. But I don’t trust Katherine, and neither should any of you.”

Stefan gave her a small, reassuring nod. “None of us trust her, Elena. But right now, Y/N needs us to support her. We’ll deal with Katherine later.”

With a final, wary look, Elena relented, letting the tension slip from her posture. Damon and Stefan exchanged a relieved glance, and with a quiet sigh, they moved toward the stairs to check on you, hoping that when the time came, all of you could face the truth together, whatever it turned out to be.

[marshmallow-phd]

A Manor of Shadow and Blood

Genre: Regency Gothic AU

Pairing: EXO x Reader

Summary: A stormy night brought you to the manor in the middle of the woods. Nine strange men occupied its halls. They won’t let you leave. A dangerous secret haunts this estate. Learning it might either be your saving grace or it could lead to the last breath you ever take.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5

**

The grand hall was lit as bright as midday. Every surface was polished to perfection, reflecting the candlelight at a greater force. Brilliant brass and gold surrounded you as you made your way through the dancing couples, their movements in perfect sync. Wrapped in each other's arms, they spin around without a care for your wandering presence. 

While all who surrounded you were decorated in blacks and whites, your own dress was the color of freshly spilled blood. The heavy skirts that hug from your waist made it difficult to navigate the ballroom. Their fullness was of an older fashion, one that maybe your grandmother would have worn in her youth. The dropped shoulders left you exposed, your skin chilled despite the amount of bodies in here. 

You kept navigating the dance floor, on the look out for something, though you didn’t know what. Then you felt the familiar burn of eyes boring into your back, which sent a shiver down your spine. You whirled around to find the source, the dress brushing at your feet with the sudden motion. Through the crowd, you spotted Baekhyun leaning against the wall. With a single finger, he beckoned you over. And you obeyed. 

Breaking through the sea of dancers, you took in his elegant suit, the hems lined with gold thread that shimmered against black velvet. 

"You shouldn't dance alone," he purred. Arms crossed over his chest, he smirked at you with a grin even the devil wouldn't wear.

"I have no partner," you retorted. He held out a lazy hard. Hardly the romantic gesture. "No, thank you." 

"How about me?" asked a sweet voice in your ear. 

You turned your head to find Junmyeon at your back. He laid a soft hand on your hip to keep you from escaping out of propriety. When you didn’t shove him away, the hand slyly moved to your stomach, pulling your bare shoulder blades into his chest. With the fingers of his left hand, he tilted your chin towards him. 

"Am I a suitable partner?" 

No answer passed your lips. You could think of nothing to say. The thought of him twirling you around the dance floor was not… unpleasant. 

Junmyeon neither needed nor cared for a reply. He dipped his head to your shoulder and pressed a kiss to the skin. A small gasp passed your lips. And then he pressed another. More and more as he climbed up the curve of your neck. Heat rose from every inch of you as you sighed into the affectionate touches. You relaxed into his touch, welcoming each new contact of his lips. 

"It's rude not to share, Junmyeon.”

Your attention snapped back to Baekhyun, who you had forgotten was there. He pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer to you so he stood in front of the minor. 

No, not a mirror. There was no reflection. 

Except… there was. The mirror reflected the floor, the ceiling, the candlelight. You. 

But not Baekhyun. Not Junmyeon. And not the dancers still spinning behind you. 

Fingers snaked through your hair and pulled your head back, your vulnerable neck exposed. From the gallery above, Kyungsoo watched as elongated fangs flashed behind Junmyeon’s lips and plunged into your neck. 

*****

You woke with a start, the blanket flying off of you as you sat up in a fury. Sweet drenched every pore of your skin. Your day old dress clung to your skin in a way that felt suffocating. Each breath was a struggle for your lungs. 

Vampires. The nightmarish tale that had kept you up as a child until you were convinced they weren't real turned out to be true. But how could they be real? 

Creatures of the night. Blood drinkers. Horror stories meant to keep children from wandering about after dark. 

Curling your legs to your chest and encasing them in your arms, you tried to think of a way out. To escape. With what strength you possessed, you slid off the bed and walked over to the window. The sun, so bright and full of life, was just beginning its descent towards the horizon. Night–their domain–was hours away. If the legends were true, then they would all be asleep at this moment. Any risk that was to be taken had to be taken now. 

After changing into a sturdier dress, you retrieved your still mud-covered boots and, keeping them in one hand, you carefully pushed away the pathetic barrier and snuck out of the room. 

Each step was taken with unmatched caution. You tested every board with your foot before fully committing. Any squeak of a floor or stumble down a stair could alert them to your escape. But by the grace of a miracle, you made it to the front door. Fingers trembling, you pulled on the boots and tied up the laces before opening the door only wide enough for you to slink through. 

The next breath taken outside was like the first breath of life. But there was no time to take it in. 

Gathering your skirts in your grip, you took off into the trees. The dirt was dry and sturdy under your feet. Branches and leaves crunched with the weight of your boots. A lady’s delicacy was out of the question as you ran without abandon. You didn't know what direction you were running. But vampires needed blood to survive and they weren’t drinking yours. And Jongdae had brought those buns from a bakery, not their own kitchen. You doubted any of them knew how to cook. That meant a village or town had to be nearby. Junmyeon had lied about the isolation of the manor. If you just kept going, you could find freedom. 

However, your stamina was running out. This was never your preferred activity. Your lungs and throat burned in an unfamiliar way. The sun still shined above. A short respite could be spared. 

You leaned against a tree trunk for support. In your boots your feet pulsed. Only now did you realize that you had run away without food or water. Not knowing where the kitchen was located, you didn't have time to waste on it. You could survive, you told yourself. Just a little farther. The town couldn’t be too far. Unless you were headed in the wrong direction. 

A rustling rippled through the silent forest. You snapped to attention, trying to find the source. 

“The wind,” you gasped between ragged breaths. “It had to be the wind.” 

A low, rumbling growl said it wasn't wind. 

In the distance, large silhouettes emerged. Wolves. Nearly a dozen of them. 

You ran as fast as your crying legs could take you. With their superior nature built for the hunt, the wolves caught up to you within seconds. Their growls and howls grew louder and more threatening behind you. Running from the manor had been easy. Running from the wolves was to be your end. 

Powerful paws slammed into your back. You were thrown to the ground, rolling across the ground as a scream ripped at your throat. The momentum stopped you on your stomach. Hair covered your face, but you could still see your death through the strands. 

Wolves of gray and black gathered in a half moon circle. They had their prey in perfect position. The middle wolf pounced. All you had time to do was throw up your arms to protect your face. Claws raked across your forearm. Another scream echoed through the merciless trees. The wolf landed on the other side of you with pride. Now you were surrounded. A second wolf leapt. 

A blur appeared in front of you and collided with the wolf midair. The two bodies tumbled across the forest floor. A human and the wolf. 

Not a human. 

Chanyeol. The wolf trapped within his grasp, Chanyeol tightened his grip–

Crack. 

The wolf fell limply to the ground, its tongue hanging from its jaw. 

The others appeared seconds later. Not understanding what they were up against, the wolves let you go to attack the newest threat. 

"Are you alright?" Junmyeon knelt down in front of you. His hands were outstretched as if you were the wild animal on the verge of attack. Behind him, snarls and whimpers told of the fight–and who was winning. Despite not answering him, he caught sight of your bleeding arm. "We need to get back to the manor." 

He didn't ask permission before picking you up into his arms and sprinting through the forest. Everything blurred past you, your loose hair whipping at your face. He burst through the manor doors and didn't stop until he was able to set you down in the largest chair. Once you were safe, he fell to his knees, only his palms keeping him upright. The others soon stumbled in behind him, heaving and collapsing onto the floor. Only then did you notice the smoke floating up from each of their backs. Patches of burnt, red skin sizzled on their knuckles and faces. Anything that had been exposed to the sun. 

"Baekhyun," Junmyeon gasped. 

"I already have it." Kyungsoo came into the parlor with bottles stacked in his arms. He quickly passed them around, waiting until the others were quenching their thirst before pulling the cork out of his own bottle and chugging the contents. 

With his bottle empty, Junmyeon tossed it to the side and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Red smears stained the ivory fabric. You shrank back in the chair as he turned towards you. 

"What hell were you thinking!" He growled. "I warned you about the wolves!" 

"Junmyeon, she's shaken up enough," Jongdae defended. Before your eyes, his burnt skin healed to be like new.

"She could have been killed!" 

Your head was pounding. He was… concerned about your life? The legends said that the sun was a vampire's deadliest enemy. It was why they thrived in the darkness. But they had all risked a final death to come after you. 

"Did you hear me scream?" you whispered. You could barely feel your own lips moving. All heads tuned to you. 

Yixing was the one to answer. "Yes. We all heard you." 

"Why were you out there?" Sehun asked aggressively.

You sucked in a sharp breath. There was no escaping the truth now. You stared at Jongdae. "I figured it out.” 

Baekhyun laughed. "At least we don't have to walk around delicately anymore." 

"When exactly did you do so?" Minseok mocked.

"Then you should remember what I said to you before was true. Harm would not come to you within these walls." Junmyeon crouched down next to the chair. His eyes... there was something behind the darkness that tugged at your still wildly beating heart. "I know you were running away. And if you're desperate to get away enough to get yourself killed, then the choice can be yours. We can send you on your way with every provision. Or," he cleared his throat, "you stay here. With us." 

A choice? He was giving you a choice?

Your gaze drifted over the faces that stared back at you. Even Kyungsoo refused to look away while he waited. There was almost a plea in his expression, a subtle beg. But was it to stay? Or for you to run as far away as possible? 

Junmeyon took your attention away when he picked up your wounded arm with delicate fingers. His pleading was much more clear. 

To leave would be the better choice. The more sane choice. But what would happen afterwards? You could claim being lost in the woods. With evidence of the carriage and the missing driver, what else could they believe? After a few days on bed rest, you would be back by your aunt's side, following her every whim. Including indulging her on a "perfectly adequate" suitor because you had no other option, no other path. That suitor who would then become your future. But you didn't want it. You refused to give in to it. 

Already within these few days, you were… changed in a way. They might not be human, but these men would forever be burned into your memory. Who could move you with music the way Chanyeol had? What silent strength could match the aura of Junmyeon? You had been promised that none of them would harm you. The chance for something extraordinary was right in front of you. The kind of chance you had only read about. It just had to be taken.

"I think… I think I want to stay."

*****

The moon became an ever changing friend. You hardly saw the sun anymore. Like the men you had given yourself over to, you lived under the stars. It was oddly beautiful. This time was often forgotten about by you and many others. The night was only a background to your time within your dreams. But now it was your entire world. 

Every evening, you awoke to the dying orange light of the day. Breakfast always waited for you outside the door. It was the rule that no one broke; none could enter your room without explicit permission from you. Those walls remained your safe haven when things grew too overwhelming. 

Despite your decision to stay, discovering that other creatures walked the earth required a step away once in a while. Especially now, with you aware of their true nature, the men were refusing to hold back. 

Dropping from the roof, running around with spectacular speed, and lifting objects that ten men couldn't hold. It was remarkable. Except for the diet and inability to walk in the sun, the… condition seemed more like a blessing.

"You're rather thoughtful this evening,” Jongdae commented. He walked beside you like he did every twilight. 

After you finished your breakfast, you met Jongae at the front doors to go on a walk around the manor grounds. Often others would join you as well. Junmyeon was the most frequent, though Yixing, Changed, and Jongin made many appearances over the past week and a half. Boundaries were constantly tested, but one word from you and they retreated.

"I guess you could say I am thoughtful tonight," you finally sighed. You hadn’t realized that you were being so obviously quiet. Funny, since you would have thought Jongdae would enjoy the silence. You typically had many questions or comments of your own to make. 

"Should I go steal a penny from Sehun?" 

You laughed. "I'd like to think my thoughts are worth more than a single penny.”

"They must be if you've become so skilled in deflecting from them." He crossed over to block your path. Gaze narrowed, he studied your carefully guarded expression. "What are you thinking about so hard? Regretting your decision to stay already?" 

"No," you insisted. "Not at all."

He raised an eyebrow that simply asked, "Then what?" 

"Do you always stay here?" you countered. "At the manor, I mean." 

"We travel," Jongdae answered with a nod. "Not too often. It’s a bit difficult, you see."

"But we like traveling north.” Minseok dropped from who-knew-where, landing with barely bent knees and hands folded behind his back. "In the winter, the night lasts longer. Junmyeon has a small hunting lodge up there. 

A hunting lodge? "Then why do you stay here?" 

Minsoek shrugged. "This manor is bigger." 

"Having nine of us in one household can be a bit volatile,” Jongdae added. He stepped aside to continue the stroll. "We need the room to separate so we don't level a building." 

Your foot caught on an invisible lump in the grass. "You could destroy a building while fighting?" 

Minseok snickered as he caught your stumble and helped steady your stance. His hand lingered at your waist until your sharpened glare made him remove it. "We haven’t crumbled a wall in a few years."

You scoffed at the casual tone. "What sort of fight caused that?" 

"I can't remember." Minseok leaned forward slightly to look at Jongdae for help. But he didn't seem to recall either. 

"Who knows what started it between Chanyeol and Kyungsoo.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol had fought over something to the point of destroying a wall to crumble? It didn't feel plausible. Neither seemed like the hot-headed sort. You wanted to know the igniting incident so desperately. 

Both Jongdae and Minseok suddenly whipped their heads towards the front of the manor. 

"What is it?" you asked when neither offered an explanation. 

"Junmyeon's calling for us." Jongdae scooped you up into his arms without warning. At your confused expression, he explained, "We're not leaving you alone out here." Remember your last adventure in the woods lingered in the silence.

The short lived wind whipped at your hair that you still wore loose to cover your neck. As soon as he stopped running, you wiggled out of his arms to be back on your feet. Everyone else was already gathered just outside the door. Several eyed you and Jongdae with suspicious and annoyed glares. You took a step away from him for some separation. 

Clearing his throat, Junmyeon called everyone to attention. "We have to go hunting–real hunting. Now, normally, we all go together, but now that we have our guest," he nodded towards you, "some will have to stay behind with her until the first party… comes back." 

"If you all need to go,” you couldn't quite speak the word feed, "then I'll be alright. For a few hours, at least." You weren't sure how long this excursion would take.

Junmyeon's features softened. "No. We'll go in groups. Chanyeol, Kyungsoo, Minseok and I will go first. We shouldn't be gone long." He reached out and patted the top of your head before disappearing into the trees. Kyungsoo gave no goodbye as he followed suit. The last two playfully shoved each other while taking off. 

"Come." Yixing took hold of your hand and started pulling you inside. "I want to show you something."

"But–" You had wanted to ask Jongdae a question, but the traitor was already gone, off somewhere to do something he would never tell you about. So, you let Yixing take you into the manor and up the main staircase at the end of the hallway. At least he let you stay on your own feet instead of insisting on going at his speed. 

Going down an unfamiliar hallway, you were reminded how big this place was and how much you still had to explore. The men occupied most of your time, vying for your attention and pulling you this way and that so you didn’t have much time on your own. It was odd and overwhelming at times. 

During your seasons in town, you were hardly a well-sought after prize. There were prettier girls with grander dowries. You had accepted that fact. Now you were the center of a courting dance to which you knew none of the steps and possessed endless partners. 

Yixing paused in front of a door that looked identical to all the others. He kept his fingers tight around yours as he slowly turned the knob with his free hand. The door swung open. 

The gasp inhaled through your parted lips wasn't enough to convey your awe. 

Maps of all the places you'd heard of and dozens more you hadn't covered the walls like homemade wallpaper. Slipping out of Yixing's grip, you walked further into the study, spinning slowly around to take it all in. The maps were varying degrees of tan, some as light as his skin, others as dark as animal leather. 

Instead of bookshelves, doorless cabinets waist high lined three of the walls. Their squared shelves were stuffed full of parchment and ink and quills. A lone sketcher's desk sat in the middle, an unfinished drawing laying against the tilted surface. 

"What is this place?"

"It's my personal study," Yixing answered as he laid a hand on the edge of the desk. "Kyungsoo gave it to me after I had accidentally taken over one of the parlors." 

Your awe increased ten-fold. Your initial assumption was that he was a collector, not the original artist. "You drew all of these?" 

He nodded almost... shyly. "I did. I was a cartographer. Before." 

"Before?" You understood what he meant, but you didn't know how to ask for the story. 

Turning his eyes to the parchment, he pinched it between his fingers. "I didn't just love traveling. I loved capturing it on paper. I wanted to make these places into art, but not like every other painting. I wanted them to be perfect. Exact replicas as if you were staying at them from God’s point of view. And I wanted to be the best. I couldn't be, though. I wasn’t good enough." 

You moved closer to him, entranced in the story. "What happened?"

A rueful smile tightened at his lips. "I was given a chance to become perfect. What I didn't know was that I traded everyone knowing my maps for the talent to make it happen." Sorrow rolled from him like the tide warning of an oncoming storm. 

Feeling the pull to comfort him, you reached out and covered his fidgeting hand with your own steady fingers.

"People will be able to know your work some day," you whispered. "I’m sure of it." 

Perhaps you had been a bit too forward, a bit too open. 

Yixing moved gracefully forward to eliminate most of the space between you. A smooth thumb that once must have been calloused when it was human caressed the edge of your jaw. His flickering eyes made intentions obvious. 

Clearing your throat, you stepped out of the touch. "Why isn't this one finished?" You pointed to the drawing on the desk. It was an aerial view of the manor, with the top half of the parchment containing the beginning edges of the garden hedges. Disappointed, Yixing sighed and went along with your distraction. 

"I'm still working out the maze. It is intricate. Much more than I was prepared for." 

"Goodness." You were thankful that you hadn't wandered in there yet, especially on your own.

"Yixing.” 

Both of you turned towards the door to find Sehun standing under the frame. 

"Yes, Sehun?" Yixing said through somewhat gritted teeth. The young vampire wasn't phased. 

"I need to speak with you." 

"Fine." None of you moved. 

Sehun looked at you with a pointed glare.

You received the hint loud and clear. "I'll leave you, then.” 

With more relief than you cared to admit, you scurried out of the room and down the hallway. 

Around the corner, you pressed your back against the wall and forced yourself to take deep breaths that filled your lungs to capacity. Panic had been the response at Yixing's closeness. You didn't mean for that to be the response. You didn't want to be closed off to any of them. But you couldn't help it. Maybe it was merely the closeness of the situation. 

Giving yourself a small amount of grace, you pushed off the wall and made your way downstairs. So used to your time being absorbed by the men that you weren't sure what to do with yourself. Two of the ones that remained behind were currently occupied. As for the three others, they could have been anywhere. 

You wandered around the main floor with a fleeting hope that one would come to find you. Then you saw them. A row of grand doors evenly spaced along the north wall called you forward.

The grand ballroom took your breath away. Not so dissimilar to the one in your dream, though this one’s lack of warmth and light left you heartbroken. Memories of dancing figures and lively music haunted these walls. In the corner, you could imagine a small orchestra strumming their instruments in delight. 

You walked to the center where dozens of pairs used to twirl and bow and embrace each other in time with the melody. Ghostly laughter echoed in your ears. What had once been  bright and golden and full of life was dull, dark, and covered in cobwebs that swayed in the breeze of unknown origin. 

Glancing around, you confirmed that you were truly alone before closing your eyes, lifting your arms, and began a soft hum. 

You danced with an invisible partner in the fashion that your grandfather had taught you as a small child. It was more intimate than the choreographed dances currently popularized. You had always imagined your first ball like this, instead of the disappointment you really experienced. You had pictured a boy you didn’t know catching your eye. As the music was struck up, he laid a hand on your waist.

Just like now. 

Hm. Your imagination was running wild, even pretending the weight of a palm was there on your lower back. And now in your lifted left hand. 

No. That wasn’t your imagination. 

Your eyes snapped open. 

Jongin had taken the place of your imagined partner. He smiled down at you with a feline smirk as his hands tightened around you, refusing to let you slip away. There was no choice in leaving this musicless dance. You had stopped humming but he continued to whirl you around the marble floor. He controlled the dance, in charge of every step. He led with an expertise he shouldn’t have possessed–if he were a man of this age. 

In one final move, he slipped his arm fully around your waist, pulling you so close that no room remained between you. Without breaking the spin, he lifted you from the floor as if you were no more than a kitten and whirled you around like the heroine from your favorite novel.

When the spin came to a close, he set you back on your feet, but didn’t let go. Your lungs heaved from the exercise–and from the way your bodies pressed together. Each rise of your chest brought you even closer to Jongin. He kept your gaze like a stablehand trying to calm a wild horse. His right hand slipped from your fingers, softly tracing the delicate inside of your arm. The touch left behind a fire you couldn’t explain. A cold, simmering fire.

He cupped your jaw as his eyes drifted down to your lips. This was a different reaction to Yixing’s wandering gaze. Not panic, but something similar. 

Jongin held you in place as he leaned down, his lips pressing gently into the corner of yours. The thin breath in your lungs hitched. He lifted his lips only to find a new patch of skin. The delicate skin covering your pulse. Every muscle in your body froze. He kissed the skin softly. Surely, he could feel the race of your blood. 

“Whenever you need a partner,” he said in a hush against your neck, “just whisper my name.”

And then, he was gone. 

You stared off at the empty path left behind Jongin. The sheer hubris.

His name lingered on your lips, wondering if he would really come back like he said. But you kept the whisper inside and left the ballroom just the same. 

[starryjuicebox]

Pull My Strings

Pairing: (Soft) Ascended!Astarion x F!Reader Word Count: 2.1k Warning: 18+, Explicit. PiV. Creampie. Fluff and smut.

Summary: A special day in your life with Astarion.

Another day in paradise—the sun kisses your pale skin as it greets the world in a dazzling hello. Beside you, your lover stirs, opening a bleary crimson eye. “Good morning, darling.” 

You run a hand through his soft white curls, laughing a little. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” 

While Astarion didn’t really “sleep”, over the many years you had been together, he seemed to have grown more relaxed in his trances with you by his side. 

Unlike you, he was still very much not a morning person; evidenced by his burrowing back underneath the cozy covers of your shared bed. You cuddle up to him, frigid skin absorbing the warmth from his body. Long since used to this behavior (though he had nearly jumped out of his own skin the first time you snuggled after his ascension), he wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on the top of your head. 

“It’s a special day today,” you tell him excitedly. 

He merely hums in response, stroking your hair. “Is that so? And what’s so special about today?” 

The nerve! How could he have forgotten? You stare at him, mouth open, before turning away. The two of you had lived together for so long, why had he forgotten this year? Throughout the millennia that you and Astarion had lived in Baldur’s Gate, you had witnessed the rapid advancement of technology and society. The world around you changed so much, but every year on this day, he always had something special planned just for you. 

Astarion’s hands come to rest on your hips, before pulling you flush against him. You can feel the hard outline of his length pressing into your clothed core. “My love, what’s gotten you so upset?” Astarion croons into your ear, grinding against you. 

Your lips curve downward into a pout. “I’m struggling to come up with an idea for my next book. I was supposed to announce the summary today.” 

That was only a half-truth. While inspiration did elude you for the time being, your lover’s ignorance was a far greater crime. You celebrated your birthday together every year, and yet Astarion seemed to have completely forgotten this time! 

“We could come up with some…ideas together,” his voice drips with honey as he pinches one of your nipples through the fabric of your nightgown. 

Frowning, you push his hands away and sit up. If he wasn’t going to celebrate your birthday with you, at least you could get some work done. That would mean spending your day productively, even if your stupid vampire lord husband had forgotten. 

Grabbing your tablet off the nightstand, you open a document and begin typing out some potential story threads in an impromptu brainstorming session. Sex pollen, maybe? Ugh, no. That one had already been done plenty of times. Beach sex? No thanks, just thinking about sand in your vagina made you cringe. 

“That’s a ‘big ass’ iPad, my dark consort,” Astarion says, interrupting your thoughts and looking over your shoulder to see what you’re doing. Though his speech and mannerisms did not change no matter how much time passed, you did try to do your part in teaching him the more…updated lingo. 

You stifle your laughter. “A present from you, two years ago.” 

A birthday present to be more precise. 

Despite your hint, Astarion the Ascendant Ignoramus does not seem to get it, and merely hums. 

You stare at the document. The mostly blank page stares back at you. 

“Fuck it,” you grumble, powering off the device. You couldn’t just will good ideas into existence, so you might as well get a start on the day. 

Heading over to the massive walk-in closet, you gasp as a beautiful ensemble greets you. A red and black corset dress paired with a puff-sleeved bolero jacket hangs neatly in front of the mirror. Both pieces are exactly your size, and have clearly been designed with you in mind. Matching platform boots with a silver bat accessory sit beside the outfit, and you scratch your head. How long has this been here? You call out over your shoulder, “Hey, when did you get this for me? I love it!”

“Anything for you, my darling,” comes his cool response. Your question remains unanswered.

“Well…thank you.” This was certainly a surprise, but since he hadn’t even mentioned your birthday, it surely was a fluke. Astarion often surprised you with random presents anyway. Once upon a time, the gifts had been difficult for you to accept, but over the years, Astarion had worn you down. Spoiling you was very much one of his love languages. There were never any strings attached, and no expectation of something in return. 

You try on the outfit, and it seems to have been tailored exactly for you. A very tiny ‘A.A.’ is stitched onto the inside, and warmth floods your heart. Astarion hadn’t just ordered the clothing for you; he’d made it. That made the present all the more special. 

When you walk over to the vanity, a brand new eyeshadow palette immediately catches your eye. Suspicion floods your mind. What is going on? The brand is one of your very favorites. Most of the palette consists of beautiful neutral colors that match most of the clothing you own, but there were also gorgeous duochrome shades as well. 

“Sublime, just like you, darling.” 

You whirl around to see Astarion leaning against the wall with a self-satisfied smirk. 

“What’s the occasion?” Did you dare to hope that he had remembered? 

“There has to be a special reason to give my treasure gifts she deserves?” 

The disappointed sigh in your throat is swallowed down. It wouldn’t be right to seem ungrateful, after all; these were really thoughtful presents. “Thank you.” 

Carefully fixing your makeup (and definitely indulging in the brand new palette), you turn to select your favorite perfume and gasp softly. An unfamiliar heart-shaped pink glass bottle only labeled “Little Love” grabs your attention. A soft voice whispers in your ear, “smeared lipstick and warm, flushed skin—vanilla, orris root, violet, sugar, cetalox, skin musk, and safraleine. Scents that remind me of you, my love. Go on, give it a try.” 

Spraying some on your wrist, you delicately sniff the concoction. “Oh!” It smells exactly as Astarion had described. You love it. 

“I made it; I really did miss my calling as a perfumer,” he drawls, examining his nails. 

“...Thank you.” You didn’t want to inflate his already massive ego any more, but these presents were really nice. It was also pretty strange that they appeared all at once. Did you just miss them before? That wouldn’t be possible, right? 

Dabbing the perfume on your other wrist, you carefully close the bottle and stand up to fix some breakfast. 

“No dry oats for you today, darling. I already have something just for you.” 

How had he reached the kitchen ahead of you? Astarion stands there, holding a massive cake, topped with a single candle. Three tiers of rainbow-flecked vanilla birthday cake, layers of creamy frosting and crunchy crumbs, each topped with rainbow sprinkles. It is absolutely ridiculous to just have between the two of you. But it’s your favorite, and you know he ordered it just for you. 

“Happy Birthday, my dear.” 

Your hands fly to your mouth. The silly man was just pretending he had forgotten all about your birthday this whole time? 

While you are busy contemplating how to both smack and kiss him at the time, he pulls you into his arms and sits down, placing you onto his lap.

“Open your mouth, little love.” 

Astarion cuts a slice of cake for you and feeds it to you. It tastes like a little piece of heaven. 

“...I thought you’d forgotten,” you admit, after swallowing the bite of cake. 

“Oh, you wound me!” He places a hand on his chest theatrically. “I would never forget such an important day.” 

You smile at him. Other than his nonchalant behavior earlier today (which had clearly been just to tease you), he was right; he had never forgotten any of your birthdays. 

After you finish the slice of cake, he places the rest of it into the refrigerator. “Now, pet, let’s play a little game.” 

“Oh? What game?” 

Over the course of the millenia you had been with him, there were all sorts of little games and activities you two had to keep things fresh and interesting. 

“You’ll try to chase me, and if you catch me…I’ll give you another present.” 

You nod. “It’s on, then.” 

This would be a breeze for you; you had always been faster than him to begin with. 

His lithe form shifts into one of a small black bat. 

“Hey! That’s cheating!” You cry out, as Bat-starion takes off flying back towards the bedroom. Keeping up is a walk in the park for you, but he stays just out of your reach. “Hey!!!” 

Pouting at him, you take a running leap and grab the bat with both hands, landing perfectly on your feet. 

“Gotcha.” 

Soft fur ripples back into warm flesh as Astarion returns to his regular form. “Well done, my dear. As promised…another present.” A pink candy is pressed against your lips, and you open them to taste the sweet and tangy flavor of berry lemonade… your favorite! 

Eyes widening, you look at him. 

“I did order several tubes of these, but I hid them around the palace. You’ll have to go find them yourself later. Now, there is one last present for you.” 

“What is it?” 

You had already gotten a new outfit, makeup, perfume, cake, and candy. What else could Astarion have possibly gotten you? 

“Me.” 

Stepping away from you with crimson eyes glinting, his pale fingers slowly unbutton his jacket. You don’t need to breathe, but find yourself holding your breath anyway. 

His jacket becoming a red and black silken heap on the carpet, Astarion then begins removing his shirt. Inch by inch, the smooth, pale chest you are all too familiar with is revealed to you. 

The dress pants are next. Astarion leisurely unbuckles his belt, before sliding the trousers down his perfect legs. 

“Precious thing; you always stare so eagerly,” he teases you with another smirk, palming his thick length through the fabric of his underwear. 

“Well, you are putting on quite the show. Now, are you going to give me my present, or do I have to take it myself?” 

He chuckles. “My, my. So impatient.” 

You cross the room to rest your forehead against his, before pressing your lips together. Sliding his hands into your hair, he deepens the kiss, before pulling away and gently nipping your bottom lip. “Good things come to those who wait.” 

“Well, it’s my birthday. And I want good things without waiting.”  

Closing the distance between you once more, you claim his lips in another kiss. 

The floor beneath you falls away as you are swept into his arms. “Oh, I can refuse you nothing.” 

He tosses you gently onto the soft bed. Astarion may be well-versed in keeping a cool and collected facade, but you’ve been his lover for over a thousand years. The man is just as eager as you are. 

Crawling atop you and capturing your lips in a searing kiss, he palms your breast through your clothing. You can feel your nipples stiffening, eager for his warm touch. Astarion kisses down your throat and chest, unfastening the corset along the way. 

He gently nips at your hardened peak with his teeth, before latching on and sucking hard. You moan, running your fingers through his soft hair as he moves onto the other nipple.

“Take me now,” you pant at him. He’s already made you wait for so long.   

“As you wish.” Moving back up to meet your lips with his again, deft fingers push your lacy panties aside. Astarion slides into you with one smooth, confident thrust. 

You groan in unison as he sets a punishing pace, likely in part caused by your impatience. Your walls flutter around his thick cock as he snaps his hips into you. Locking your ankles behind his hips, your nails dig into his back. Each thrust brings a familiar stretch, and you love every second of it. Your bodies slot together like perfect pieces of a puzzle, born from so many years of lovemaking. He knows your body as well as his own.

Reaching between your bodies, he rubs at your clit with practiced fingers. You’re close. So close. A spark of pleasure rising to dizzying heights. 

“Come for me.” 

You shatter. There is nothing but the wave of ecstasy washing through you. 

His hips stutter as he follows you with a groan. Warmth floods your insides as you lay there, panting from exertion.  

“Now let’s freshen up and greet the day, my love. Here’s to another year in our eternal lives.” 

You decide that tonight, you’ll go for round two. 

[wereprinxe]

HELLO!

I made an interactive thread on Twitter to make yourself/sona/oc in REDACTEDVERSE! YEAH!

I wanted to do it the same was here too, but it's only 10 pictures per post. >:(

So tumblr version will have a link and text only, to have everything in one place, sorry! /lh

Scrolling further, there is Tumblr version!

Twitter link:

YOUR POWERS - BASED ON YOUR BIRTH MONTH

JANUARY - Elemental

FEBRUARY - Seer

MARCH - Psychokinetic

APRIL - Illusory

MAY - Dreamwalker

JUNE - Warder

JULY - Stealth

AUGUST - Vampire

SEPTEMBER - Energetic

OCTOBER - Telepath

NOVEMBER - Shifter

DECEMBER - Freelancer

---

YOUR SPECIFIC POWER - BASED ON YOUR BIRTH DAY:

(if elemental/energetic)

1-11 - Air Elemental, Electro Energetic

12-17 - Fire Elemental, Graviton Energetic

18-24 - Water Elemental, Magneto Energetic

25-31 - Earth Elemental, Sonal Energetic

---

YOUR SPECIFIC POWER - BASED ON YOUR BIRTH DAY:

(if shifter)

1-3 - Primate Mammals (Lemur, Monkey, etc)

4-7 - Reptiles (Lizard, Snake, etc)

8-11 - Hoofed (Deer, Horse, etc)

12-15 - Fish (Shark, Eel, etc + exception of Dolphin)

16-19 - Bird (Parrot, Crow, etc)

20-23 - Canine Mammal (Wolf, Dog, etc)

24-27 - Feline Mammal (Lion, Cat, etc)

28-30 - Rodent Mammal (Rabbit, Mouse, etc)

31 - Other Unmentioned Mammals (like Raccoon, Hedgehog, Bear, Skunk, etc)

---

YOUR HOMETOWN - BASED ON YOUR BATTERY PERCENT

0-15% - McKinley

16-30% - Kennedy

31-45% - Borden

46-60% - Dahlia

61-85% - Mont Blanc

86-100% - Duke

---

YOUR JOB - BASED ON YOUR FAVORITE COLOR:

(or the color of your shirt if multiple or no fav)

RED - 7/eleven

ORANGE - Academy Staff

YELLOW - Max's Rustic Pizza

GREEN - CloseKnit

BLUE - E.M.T.

PURPLE - Shaw Security

PINK - Vesta Distribution Company

BLACK/GRAY/WHITE - Department

---

BORN AS - BASED ON YOUR DOMINANT HAND:

RIGHT-HANDED - Magicborn

LEFT-HANDED - Humanborn

AMBIDEXTROUS - Free choice!

---

YOUR LOGO - BASED ON YOUR (SUN) ZODIAC SIGN's ELEMENT:

(the one on your birthday, most recognized zodiac sign)

AIR (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius) - Jewelry/Accesories (Earrings, Rings, etc)

WATER (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces) - Technology (Laptop, Game Console, etc)

EARTH (Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn) - Weapon (Crossbow, Sword, etc)

FIRE (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius) - Home Decor (Mirror, Bookshelves, etc)

---

END OF SILLY FUNNY HAHA THREAD! HAVE FUN!

[another-lost-mc]

RAPHAEL x gn!Reader, 0.8k words, nsfw. Content warnings: Marking/hickies. Possessiveness if you squint. A/N: Inspired by The RAD Vampire Club! Devilgram story.

“This looks fantastic,” you told Raphael as you stretched out your arms in the costume he made for you. It fit you perfectly, and you were genuinely impressed by the craftsmanship of his work. You didn’t expect he would put so much care into an outfit you were only going to wear for one night.

You were surprised when he invited you to Purgatory Hall earlier that week to confirm your measurements. You offered your approximate measurements over the phone, but he insisted he wanted to verify the numbers himself.

“Is that really necessary? I don’t want to waste your time.”

“It’ll be a bigger waste of time if what I make for you doesn’t fit. Who took your measurements?”

“…I did?”

It was embarrassing to think about—the way you twisted in front of the mirror, jotting down your measurements for him and hoping the entire time that the tape wasn't too loose or crooked as you awkwardly measured yourself. You tried your best and hoped that whatever he made would fit, at least.

But then he sighed into the receiver, and you guessed he was imagining how you managed to achieve the numbers you gave him, too. “Come over after dinner and I’ll confirm your measurements myself.”

That’s how you ended up in his bedroom in Purgatory Hall, wearing only your undershirt and underwear, perched on a stepping stool he grabbed from the kitchen he shared with his dorm mates.

You expected him to take your measurements quickly in the sitting room, and maybe he planned on that, until you both realized Solomon was reading on the sofa. Raphael sensed your apprehension and led you straight past the sorcerer and into his room instead.

Raphael’s intense focus while he worked was nerve-wracking enough—you didn’t want to worry about Solomon leering at your half-naked body.

Raphael worked quietly but quickly, drawing the tape measure across your limbs and around your torso. He was respectful, not touching you more than necessary, and you didn't notice his eyes roaming freely over so much exposed skin. You were surprised how comfortable you felt with him in such an intimate position, but there was nothing intimate about this. He was professional about it, and you tried to be too.

He scratched out numbers on the sheet of paper he brought with him—the one with the original dimensions you gave him—and he corrected all of them. He snickered under his breath when he came across one you had measured very poorly.

“Hey, I tried my best!”

He smiled when you crossed your arms over your chest and pouted. “You did, but I want you to look your best even if it’s for a silly party. Let me finish this for you and you can be on your way.”

When Raphael met you at the venue to prepare for the festivities, he handed you a zipped-up clothing bag. You put on the outfit excitedly and stepped out of the dressing room for his approval. He gave you an approving once-over, visibly pleased by how you looked in the costume he tailored specially for you. You were delighted—it was comfortable enough to move around in freely, but fitted enough to be flattering on your body.

He stepped closer to you and after a moment of scrutiny, he pulled a loose thread off your shoulder. “You look like a respectable vampire now. Your unsuspecting victims won't stand a chance.”

You admired yourself in the full-length mirror when he walked away and started tidying his supplies. “Are you coming to the party too?”

His reflection in the mirror shook its head. “I’m not sure I understand the appeal of blood-sucking, even if it's only pretend.”

“I’d let you try, if you're curious,” you joked, looking over your outfit one more time as you smoothed down the front of your jacket.

Your eyes shot back up when you felt something—someone—at your back. Raphael had moved behind you suddenly, and his bright eyes caught your gaze in the mirror. He pushed down the collar of your shirt—gently, so he didn't ruin the lace trim—and bent his head.

His hair tickled the side of your face when his lips brushed against the side of your neck. He hummed when you gasped, and he pushed down a little firmer with his mouth and sucked. He was careful enough so that it didn’t hurt, but there was no mistaking the hint of teeth that scraped your skin before he lifted his head and stepped back again.

“Perhaps I’ll see you the party after all,” he murmured, licking his lips as he turned away. He was out the door, closing it behind him with a decisive click before you could even respond.

You were frozen in place, overwhelmed by the tingling sensation radiating from your neck and the erratic heartbeat hammering in your chest. You leaned forward and stared at your reflection in the mirror. There was an unmistakable mark on your neck now, blooming purple just above your collar where everyone else would see it.

Taglist: @l-d-8 @mithrakira @your-next-daydream @xpixie @tortibomb @rensphilia @4allthefours4 @a-hidden-gem @beelsjuicytitties @goldenglow149 @callmesaya @alexxncl @sirimirihiro @i-am-empress-irish @angelsdilf @todothedodo

Join the taglist here. | Obey Me! Masterlist

[workingforitallthetime]

I am BEGGING you to say more about Will and Mack in silence on the other side!! on my KNEES!

conveniently, i have 3.5K of will/mack that i could not resist expelling from my brain at the end of the google doc. grab a marshmallow stick and let me tell you a campfire story.

(this is very much an epilogue and is not going to make sense unless you've read silence on the other side. if you want the reward of mack/will you have to suffer through the mortifying ordeal of will/gabe/leno.)

Will could wait for Gabe to ask, but she’s done letting things happen to her. She packs a suitcase. She sits on the couch and waits. When she hears the sound of Gabe’s key in the door, she slips off her ring and clenches her fingers around it. The diamond digs into her palm as she rehearses the words in her head. I can’t get married. I’m sorry.

She texts her sister on the way to the airport, after the angry red dent fades. The pale strip around her ring finger is going to take longer, just like the mark on her neck. Can I stay with you for a couple of days?

Of course. Grace answers quick. Are you in Boston? Is everything ok?

Will’s not going to cry in the back of an Uber. Flight gets in at 10:30. And no. 

As the plane pulls away from the gate, she texts Ryan. I’m moving back to Boston. She should switch into airplane mode. Instead, she waits as they taxi.

The reply comes as the plane rounds the turn onto the runway, bright rows of lights blazing the path ahead. Didn’t know you were from Boston.

Will’s swiping her thumb over the text thread to delete it when one last message pops up. Thought it was West Philadelphia. She snorts in spite of herself, and lowers her thumb onto the red trash can before she can second-guess it. She’s not going to cry on a plane, either.

The night air when she emerges from the sliding doors at arrivals is still late-summer muggy. Grace picks her up at the airport, and Will gives her the briefest version. I told Gabe we’re not getting married. No, it wasn’t a mutual decision. No, I don’t know what it’s going to cost. No, I haven’t told mom and dad yet, I’ll do it tomorrow. No, don’t say anything in the bridesmaid group chat, I’ll do it tomorrow. 

The wheels of her suitcase are gritty on the floor of Grace’s apartment. She changes into pajama pants and an old St. Catherine’s t-shirt. She drinks a glass of water and racks the glass in Grace’s dishwasher. She sinks onto the couch, tipping her head back on top of the cushions.

“Oh my god.” Grace stops short at the edge of the room, peering at Will over the armload of bedding she’s bearing. “Did you break up with Gabe because he’s a vampire?”

Will touches the mark on her neck. It doesn’t feel like anything. If she hadn’t seen it in the mirror, she wouldn’t know it was there. “Wasn’t Gabe.”

Grace’s eyes bug out. I don’t want to talk about it, Will says, it’s not a thing. It’s not, like, the reason. It’s just something that happened. She takes the sheets from Grace and shakes them out and tucks herself into the couch. The streetlights outside cast thin stripes through the blinds and across the floor. She’s not going to cry into Grace’s fleece Patriots blanket.

The feeling in her stomach, hollow and sick, that settled in while she waited for Gabe to come home hasn’t gone away. It won’t go away for many days yet. Terrible days. Days of overhearing her mother on the phone apologizing to relatives about their nonrefundable flights. Days of trying to cancel wedding registries before she gets any more notifications about purchased gifts. Days of ignoring the voice messages from her parish priest, the one who was supposed to officiate. The absolute last person Will wants to talk to is a priest.

She goes back to the Midwest, feeling like a burglar in her own apartment as she packs up her things while Gabe is pointedly not home, driving her car along ugly interstates back to Massachusetts with her dad. Somewhere in Pennsylvania, while the road is empty in the beam of their headlights and they’re between episodes of a podcast about white collar crime, he tells her he’s proud of her. He knows it must have been a difficult decision. He trusts her to make the right choices. All Will can say past the lump in her throat is thank you. The tears trickle down the sides of her face in the dark.

She stays at her parents’ house. She writes thank-you notes that are mostly apologies. She goes to brunch with the friends who were supposed to be her bridesmaids, tells them it just didn’t feel right, I knew I’d regret it. None of them mention the cost of the bachelorette weekend last spring, but Will knows they’re all thinking it. When her mom asks, Will tells her she can pick up the dress if she wants. Will doesn’t want to see it. Every time she drives past the country club, the sick feeling in her stomach twists into a hard knot of shame.

On the September Saturday when Will was supposed to get married, Grace makes her go for a hike in New Hampshire. Golden leaves drift over the top of the low stone wall along the trail. At the top of the mountain, granite hills and colorful trees spread out below them. The lake in the valley sparkles in the autumn sunshine. They eat burgers at a roadside diner afterwards and drive back into Massachusetts after dusk, and then the day is over. It’s over, it’s done, it’s finally behind her, and now everything else is ahead.

She starts commuting into the office again. When coworkers ask, she tells them the Midwest didn’t work out. The engagement didn’t work out. After that, there aren’t any conversations about how unreliable she was last summer. She stays on top of her inbox, meets her deadlines early. Never misses a meeting. 

Boston’s not the same. Her old places are all Gabe’s old places too. Her friends are all Gabe’s friends. Most of them aren’t reaching out. Even the ones who are on her side seem confused by her. They don’t understand, because Will can’t imagine telling anyone the real story.

She thinks about going out. Thinks about getting on the apps. Trying to figure out… whatever it is she has to figure out. She can’t manage to pull the trigger. Someone could see her, recognize her.

Losing Boston, or at least the version of Boston she used to love, feels like another breakup. A separate grief just as painful as her grief for Gabe and everything their life was supposed to be. But Will ends it just as unflinchingly as she did her engagement. She finds a new job, something in finance or business or law in New York City, because that’s the place you’re supposed to go to start over.

The details of the job aren’t important. All that’s important is that it’s a job where beauty and breeding and ruthlessness are assets, and Will’s able to leverage all three to the hilt. Oh, and also it’s in an established industry where Rick Celebrini is a known and feared figure.

Will makes the connection pretty quickly when she’s introduced to her coworker Macklin. Mack is a half-step ahead of her at all times and it would be infuriating for Will, if she didn’t like him so much. Or if he didn’t like her so much. Everyone tells them they’re such a great team, hitting all their metrics, seizing opportunities, climbing the ladder together. Will sees in Mack a kind of internal steeliness that matches her own, which isn’t that surprising from someone who was raised by Rick.

Will’s kept cautious by the pervasive sense that she would fuck up anything she started with Mack. That’s what she does. She ruins things. She ruined everything with Gabe, and she’ll ruin anything she starts with another guy. And she really can’t afford to ruin anything with Rick Celebrini’s son. She’s found her niche in this industry, and getting on the wrong side of Rick would mean starting over, again.

So Will remains just as impervious as she can be. Even as she and Mack get closer and closer, and everyone in the firm starts to talk about them as a dynamic duo, and their rising stars are more and more closely linked together, she keeps everything strictly professional. Sometimes her eyes follow the lines of Mack’s three-piece suits not just to appreciate the tailoring, and as soon as she catches herself she looks the other way.

(She’s scared. Scared that nothing’s ever going to feel like it did with Ryan. Scared that nobody else is ever going to love her as much as Gabe did. She’s scared she doesn’t understand what she wants and that she’ll never figure it out. She’s scared there’s something fundamentally wrong with her and that’s why she hurts people. She’s scared that how much she likes Mack means she’s going to hurt him too. She’s scared and nobody knows it, least of all Will.)

Mack’s fascinated by her, and all the more fascinated because of the total blank of her personal life. When he tries to draw her out, he learns about growing up in Lexington, prep school and field hockey, going to BC. They talk about Boston, joke about their BC/BU rivalry, threaten to bet on the Beanpot. Will goes to office happy hours, is clever and engaging at client dinners. But she dodges all questions about what her life is like outside of work. Mack doesn’t know anything about her friends, doesn’t know whether she’s dating anybody, doesn’t even know whether she’s straight.

But Mack knows the connection’s there, and he’s going to keep trying. Picture those gifs from the 49ers game: Mack’s trying to get Will’s attention, and Will’s ignoring him, and Mack doesn’t even care. He’s willing to work for it. He wants to work for it. That’s how Rick raised him: how hard you work is the measure of how much you care.

One day Will rounds the corner by the elevators and walks into a knot of coworkers talking about some smart maneuver Mack pulled, something he talked over with Will in advance so she immediately recognizes a reference to a client or a contract term. “No dick, but he’s got plenty of balls,” says someone with their back to Will, and everyone who saw her come around the corner gets an awkward expression on their faces.

Will gives them the same look of icy disdain she uses to shut down people who call her Mack’s work wife. Someone says loudly that they’ve got a conference call starting in a few and the group hurriedly dissolves, except one office gossip who caught Will’s momentary confusion and has been simply dying for an excuse to have a conversation with her on this topic. She follows Will into the elevator. “Didn’t you know he’s trans?” she says as soon as he doors close. “It’s all very hush-hush, nobody ever says anything because Rick’s bitten a few heads off about it. I was there at an off-site when he literally yelled at someone about pronouns.”

(Just imagine Rick Celebrini when his kid announces he’s a boy. Okay, says Rick, not in so many words, if you’re a boy you’d better be the most boy you can be. What are you doing today to be a better boy? Mack’s grown up with Rick micromanaging his medical care and tailoring his punishing workouts to achieve some not entirely defined standard of masculinity and generally making Mack feel like he’s not working hard enough if he’s not at all times trying to be The Most Boy. Rick does not react kindly to anyone who suggests that Mack is anything other than his son… including and especially Mack, who is immediately reminded that he is All Boy, Only Boy if there’s ever any suggestion he might stray from Rick’s expectations of masculinity. Mack knows better than to say yes when the menswear stores he frequents suggest a pink shirt or a floral tie to go with one of those three-piece suits.)

Not that Will knows any of that. She dials the iciness a few degrees colder and hums the most neutral hmmm in her vocabulary until her coworker blessedly exits the elevator, disappointed by Will’s unsatisfying reaction.

Will lets the doors close. She punches the button for a different floor without looking at the display, aiming generally for something a long way away.

It’s just a surprise, that’s all. That’s why her heart’s racing, the unexpectedness of it. A confounding variable in the already tangled mess of Will trying to sort out her own identity. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything on the long list of reasons why she needs to keep Mack firmly in valued colleague/work best friend territory.

It’s a chink in the wall, though. And a wall that’s already being subjected to Mack’s considerable efforts, as well as geologic forces beyond Will’s control, is going to crumble eventually.

It happens at the holiday party. Some swanky venue rented out for the night, marble pillars, parquet floors. Raw seafood on ice, top-shelf drinks. Towering centerpieces with pine boughs and crystals. Will, in her classy little black dress, doesn’t have a date, of course. Neither does Mack, in his black suit with some requisite element of lowkey corporate festive. A red plaid vest, a tie with tiny holly berries on it, something like that.

They circulate through cocktail hour like the pros they are, catching glimpses of each other through the crowd, always aware of where the other one is. Somebody’s seated them at the same table for dinner (Mack might have had something to do with this) and after a couple of glasses of champagne Will forgets that she ought to be making holiday-appropriate small talk with everyone else at the table and she starts doing what she actually wants to do, which is talk to Mack. Mack, with his blue eyes and soft hair and strong fingers tapping the base of his rocks glass, making Will feel like she’s at her witty, charming best. Basically, everyone else is Tyler Toffoli on the plane and Will and Mack are in their own little world.

They sneak sideways glances at each other during the speeches and toasts, silent acknowledgement of corporate inside jokes. Will doesn’t look at Mack when Rick’s got the spotlight, but she can feel him sitting up straighter next to her, a little bit of extra rigidity in his spine.

After dessert the table groups start to dissolve and word starts to spread among Mack and Will’s coworkers, the younger crowd, about where the afterparty’s headed. Mack catches Will at the edge of a conversation and says something low into her ear, just for her. Want to go someplace else?

Will does.

Mack takes her someplace loud and anonymous, with more drinks and a crowded dance floor. Will doesn’t shrug off Mack’s hand at the small of her back. They dance, closer and closer together, and Will’s eyes are shining, and when Mack finally kisses her Will kisses back like she’s drowning. 

I’m calling a car, Mack says, and Will doesn’t let go, too much adrenaline and champagne and desperation to think about whether this is theoretically a bad idea. It’s been so long since somebody she cares about has touched her. Mack’s apartment is quiet and tasteful and Will barely sees it. She doesn’t want Mack to be something that happens to her. If this is happening, she’s going to make it happen just as much as Mack is.

If I was going to write a sex scene here it would be about how the expectations of masculinity that Rick has imposed on Mack have taken root in Mack’s assumptions about how he ought to have sex, and how that does or doesn’t align with what Mack actually wants, and how all of that collides with what Will wants, which is to eat that boy’s pussy.

Will falls asleep with her head on Mack’s chest and wakes up with the enormity of it all setting in. This is big, this is huge, and nothing that happened last night alleviated the underlying fear that she’s going to fuck it all up.

Mack can practically feel the tension radiating across the sheets at him. He reaches for Will. “I don’t want this to be a one-off.”

This does not have the desired effect of Will relaxing into him. Heart sinking, Mack tries again. “It can be if you want, though.” The pinch in Will’s brows doesn’t go away. Mack scoots back so he’s not touching her. “Just so you know, that’s really not what I want.” In the absence of a response, Mack starts desperation-yapping. “I know there’s something here, and I think you do to, and last night felt…”

Will’s eyes are huge across the gap between their pillows. She has to say something. “I’m a bad bet,” is what comes out. “I break everything.”

“Are you saying that because you want me to walk away?” Mack’s hoping that’s a quick answer, but Will looks like she’s actually thinking about it, so he keeps talking. “Do you want me to walk away?”

Very quietly, against the pillow, Will admits it. No.

Mack exhales. “Like, I’m not gonna. It’ll have to be you.”

He grins, like this is a joke, and it infuriates Will because he doesn’t understand. It’s not funny. Will’s warning him that he’s going to get hurt and he’s laughing. “That’s what I’m worried about,” Will hisses through her gritted teeth.

“That you’ll break up with me?” Mack, incredulous. “I can take it. That’s not a reason not to, like, try.” He reaches for Will again and Will lets him. “I could change my mind and dump your ass too.”

Will gives him a scornful look at the suggestion that anyone could ever break up with her, and Mack cracks up because it’s such an extremely Will reaction. “Let’s just be good, okay?” Will lets herself be pulled into his arms. “Until you break up with me, and I’ll deal with it. We can be good for now, right?”

Will whispers it against his lips before she kisses him. So good.

Eventually they get up. Will picks through Mack’s collection of sweats and ends up in a Canucks hoodie and Lulu joggers because she refuses to wear anything that has BU on it. They get coffee, and while they’re drinking it at opposite ends of Mack’s couch with their feet tangled together in the middle, Mack says I think you should tell me more about what you said earlier. About breaking everything.

Will’s silent, turning the sleeve of her coffee around and around the cup. There’s no way to avoid it. Mack’s going to have to find out sometime, if they’re going to do this. And Will really, increasingly every second, wants them to do this. “I was engaged,” she says, watching Mack. She can practically see his mouth forming questions, but he waits. “Like two years… three years ago now. My college boyfriend. Gabe. We were together for seven years. We moved to [Midwest city].”

“You lived in [Midwest city]?” Macklin’s laughing. “I can’t even picture it.”

“I know, right?” Will briefly experiences the warm glow of being known before she gets back to business. “It didn’t work. I cheated on him.” Will takes a deep breath. “Like, a lot. Her name was Ryan.”

She watches for Mack’s reaction to the pronoun, but he just nods. When Will doesn’t say anything else, Mack asks, “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know.” Will used to think about googling, but there’s no place to start. Ryan. The dive bar. The city. That’s all she knows. “It wasn’t… like that.”

“What happened to Gabe?”

“I ended it.” Will doesn’t have to google Gabe. He pops up in suggested posts, in her friends’ tags. He has a new girlfriend. They got a puppy. “It was, like, not very long before the wedding,” she adds, just so Mack knows how awful she is. “It really, really sucked.” Will puts all of the anguish of that brutal September into each really.

Mack forms his next question carefully. “Did you break up with him because he was a guy, or because he wasn’t the right guy?” 

“I don’t know.” Will lifts her chin defiantly. It’s the most vulnerable thing she’s ever said. Here’s my fucked up situation. Here’s what you’re getting into. 

“What’s that mean for me?” Mack does not relate to identity crises, having had his own identity rigorously reinforced since adolescence (or so he thinks). “Being… the guy that I am.”

“Oh, are you trans? I hadn’t noticed,” Will says, like she didn’t have her tongue in his pussy ten hours earlier.

Mack laughs, and that’s enough vulnerability for two people who don’t like it and are going to have to figure that part out later. “We should have dinner next weekend, if you don’t break up with me before then.”

If I was not inherently resistant to established relationship fic, there would be a lot to explore here. Chiefly, I’m intrigued by what happens when Rick’s singleminded focus on Mack’s masculinity (and the not-necessarily-positive ways that Mack has internalized that), collide with Will’s attraction to Mack, which is not premised on masculinity. Will’s got to figure her own shit out somewhere along the way, but she’s at least pretty sure that 100 percent masculinity is not on her list of priorities in a partner. I think that Rick is immediately welcoming to Will, to a degree that’s almost curious, and Will and Mack slowly realize that in Rick’s eyes Mack’s earned some kind of manhood badge by bringing home a hot girlfriend. Also, as ever, there’s a plot to be made out of Rick treating Will like another Celebrini child who warrants Rick’s micromanaging, and Will figuring out how to resist that without alienating Rick, and along the way prompting some realizations for Mack about the ways in which his Sheriff Rick upbringing was maybe a little bit fucked up.

Anyway. Here’s how the story would end. Mack makes it a running joke about Will breaking up with him. What do you want to do for Valentines’ Day, if you don’t break up with me before then? At first it’s jarring, and then it’s a comfort, a little reassurance that Mack still likes her enough that he’s willing to risk it all going wrong. Yeah, I could do Thanksgiving in Lexington if you’re not going to break up with me… Do you want to come to Whistler with us this year, if you haven’t dumped me by then?... I’m going to book our flight for R.J.’s graduation weekend unless you want to break up first. And then, over time, it starts to become jarring again. We should move in together when your lease is up if you’re not going to break up with me.

“Stop saying that,” Will finally says. “I’m not going to.”

“You’re not going to break up with me?” Mack’s about to fist-pump over his long game paying off. “Like ever?”

“Like ever,” Will confirms, and Mack can’t get down on one knee fast enough.

[iibonniee]

Mine, all Mine

Pairing: Lee Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: werewolf!wonho, mating, unprotected sex, creampie

Rating: R

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Hoseok knew you were always the one for him. Always the one to call his mate

Masterlist | Tags: @beautifulworldandmore @kyunnielove @iamkyunie @doveslittlekpoparchive @dessianna1

Hoseok, a distinctive character straddling the line between ordinary man and supernatural entity, had always known Y/N was the one. She was his essence, his soulmate. In the cosmos’ grand interplay during the mating season, supernatural beings and humans coexisted and mingled within blurred boundaries. However, the key distinctions brought a unique dynamism to their world.

In their most primal essence, wolves embodied raw energy and family bonding. Their unwavering sense of loyalty set them apart. On the other hand, vampires represented passionate yet restrained entities, meticulously threading the fine line between sensual charm and predator instinct. Witches, time-enduring sage women, were the bridges, weaving seamlessly between the human realm’s mundanity and the supernatural’s flamboyance. Their elevated senses gave them access to magic’s unseen, uncharted territories.

Humans added grounded reality to this mystical spectrum. Being ordinary amongst the extraordinary, they symbolize resilience and audacity. Their willingness to adapt is what makes them unique. Yet the roles fluctuate, and the ordinary can also embody the extraordinary.

Just as Hoseok, who straddled the realms of man and wolf, embodied extraordinary love for Y/N, time and again, it wasn’t the power that marked destiny but the profound sense of belonging that transcended the boundaries between different beings. After all, amid the chaos of wolves, vampires, witches, and humans, love proved to be the most transcendent power of all.

Hoseok and Y/N held on to their love in defiance of prevailing norms. Despite the forbidden nature of a werewolf-human bond, they found solace in stolen moments and secret rendezvous.

As Hoseok’s transformation drew near every full moon, he sought refuge in Y/N’s presence, her understanding quieting the storm within. Her love and acceptance provided him a sanctuary, a place where he was seen for more than his beastly phase but as a sentient being capable of profound love.

Y/N, for her part, while fearful at first, found courage in Hoseok’s oceans. His demonstrative loyalty, inherent in his wolf nature, was a testament to his genuine feelings for her. His eyes held promises of eternal devotion and a fierce need to protect her, instilling in her the courage to face the backlash of their unconventional love.

Contrasting their world with the vampires’ eternal seduction dance and witches’ harmonious coexistence, their love story, raw and unfiltered, echoed with defiance that questioned established societal constructs. While they might have been feared for their forbidden connection, their deeply emotional narrative began to draw some unexpected allies among their contemporaries.

In the backdrop of the seasonal rites of mating season, their love bloomed, resonating with a quiet strength that somehow found a way to survive amidst the chaos. Indeed, Hoseok and Y/N were mirror reflections of their world, marked by diversity and dynamism swaying to the rhythm of love’s power. Despite their circumstances, Hoseok and Y/N remained hopeful, choosing to face whatever obstacles lay ahead together.

As long as their hearts echoed the same rhythm, as the moon would bear witness to their love, they vowed to continue their dance. Their love, however forbidden, was a testament to the extraordinary, an emblem of resilience and audacity, and the epitome of a tale that dared to wield the special amidst the ordinary.

On one such night, with the moon casting long, weaving shadows around them, they found themselves in a secret retreat—a haven for their forbidden love. Hoseok’s amber eyes flitted to Y/N, his gaze heavy with desire.

“Do you trust me?” Hoseok’s low voice broke the silence, his demeanor remaining poised even as his wolfish instincts swelled inside him, itching to claim her.

“I would trust you with my life, Hoseok.” Y/N replied, her voice barely a whisper.

“Give yourself to me, love.” Hoseok coaxed her, his voice sultry and hypnotic. “I want to show you the depths of my desire, the extent of my love… Will you let me?”

Her heart pounded as she managed a small “yes,” surrendering to the raw desire reflected in his eyes. As Hoseok leaned in, his hot breath danced across her neck, sending shivers of anticipation down her spine. His husky whisper echoed in her ear, heavy with promise and desire: “Tonight belongs to us.”

“And will you trust me with your body?” His low voice rang with confident anticipation. Hoseok’s amber eyes darkened at her words, his desire practically radiating from him.

“Yes.” she whispered, causing a predatory grin to spread across Hoseok’s face.

His hands traced over her body, his fingers creating a map of desire as he undressed her. Each touch promised the pleasure to come, stirring a deep need within Y/N.

Slowly, he nestled himself between her neck, softly kissing her skin and leaving bruises, marking her as his. Her breath hitched as he pulled away and looked into her eyes, fire mirroring fire. “Tonight, Y/N,” he growled, “I mate with you. I claim you in the most primal way.”

“First,” he rumbled, withdrawing slightly to trace a thumb over her stomach. “We take the rest off.”

His palm ghosted over her clothed breasts before drifting down her hips, and Hoseok took his time unbuttoning her pants, revealing her aching cunt to him. His lips never left her skin, further inflaming the mounting need as his other hand untangled his own restraints, shedding their last inhibitions.

As the clothes puddled at their feet, the amber glow in his eyes intensified to an inferno as he took in the sight of her laid bare beneath him. With every breath she took, soft and needy, he reveled in the anticipation of the storm to come.

The first touch was a tease—a whisper of skin on skin—as Hoseok framed her body between his strong thighs, his hardened length grazing tantalizingly against her thigh. He wasn’t rushing them into it; instead, every brush of his finger on her skin promised what would unfold.

His fingers explored the folds of her, teasing out delicious little whimpers as he swirled over her clit, bringing her pleasure. He withdrew the moment he noticed how worked up she was getting, leaving her a panting, writhing mess under his commanding gaze. The sight of her, drenched in desire for him, was something he could feast on forever.

“Patience, Y/N…" he chastises gently, a smirk on his lips.

Then, aligning himself at her entrance, he looked deeply into her eyes. He was so close to breaking. So close to taking her and making her his. Hoseok growled, “Tonight, Y/N, I mate with you. I claim you in every way possible.”

Hoseok, aligning at her entrance, lured his gaze once again to meet with hers. Unspoken words were exchanged through the silence—a sacred symphony of raw want and untamed anticipation seeping into their connection.

With a growl that resounded and a sinfully deep baritone that sent shivers cascading down her spine, he voiced his primal intent, “You’re mine tonight, Y/N. I need you. I’m going to make you fucking mine.”

A moment stretched into eternity as he maintained the delicious, tightening suspense—a predatory dance—before the imminent chase. His cock, hard and throbbing, nudged teasingly against her slick folds, each brushing a scorching whisper of what was to come, setting aflame her deepest cravings.

Their world contracted until it was only them, woven together by the promise of the impending ecstasy. The air around them pulsed with overriding desire, skin on skin, and the irresistible pressure at her core was nothing compared to the erotic charge that vibrated between them.

Slowly, achingly, he pushed the tip inside her. The intrusion was just the hint of what was to come, a heady foretaste of the imminent coupling. The faint stretch was nothing compared to the tidal wave of pleasure already threatening to break, threatening to drown them in its intensity.

Her every gasp and whimper, each shake and clench beneath him, only fueled his untamed desire. Yet he held back, ruthlessly restraining his own raw urgency that screamed at him to plunge deep within her. Her body enveloped him inch by sinful inch.

His amber eyes never wavered from hers, capturing each flicker of pleasure, each gasping breath, and each ephemeral blink. These nuances painted a tempting picture of her journey towards pure bliss, fueling the embers of his own restraint to cinders.

Slowly, he moved. A test, a teasing motion as he heard her cries of want. Part of him was worried that he’d push her too far. His amber eyes shimmered, reflecting the intoxicating dance of lust and love, remaining latched onto her gaze while she drank in every subtle hint of pleasure that danced across her captivating features. Each gasping breath she took, each fleeting blink, became a symbol of her escalating ecstasy, fueling his restraint and teetering on the edge of obliteration.

He moved with measured, almost torturous, deliberation. Each subtle roll of his hips sent waves of tantalizing friction through their bodies. The act was a teasing initiation. Under his lingering gaze, he sought signs of discomfort, aiming to temper the raw sensuality of their situation with instinctual protectiveness. However, with every whine and whimper she bequeathed, he knew the pushing only enhanced her pleasure.

He watched her, relishing each minute tremor that clung to her lashes and the shaky trails of heated pants escaping her ruby-tinted lips. Her feast of reactions was a testament to his doing, setting aflame the embers of his need and chipping away at the last vestiges of his restraint.

Her legs wound tighter around his hips, urging him to break the thread of control he precariously hung onto. Her silent plea was heard loudly in his guilt-inducing consciousness, yet he refrained, fuelled by the intoxicating thrill of prolonging their inevitable climax.

The primal dance of their bodies continued; the rhythm was jagged and almost painfully slow, pushing them to the boundary of their restraint. Every whispered word of desire in her ear, every teasing brush against her sensitive peaks, stoked an overwhelming yearning within them. Their connection was a tempest, blistering and fervent, interlaced with an elemental passion that swirling amidst them. United in rhythm, their bodies gravitated toward a brink they hesitated to unmask, holding the moment captive in its incandescent suspense.

Feeling the vibrations against their feverish skin and the mounting tension, they inched on the edge, letting the searing waves of need wash over them, intertwining them in an intricate dance of want and restraint. It was a seductive struggle between the primal urge to surrender to carnal instincts and the intense desire to extend the sweet torture of anticipation.

He withdrew and thrusted in again, setting their senses ablaze in a swirl of tantalizing entropy, evoking sinful moans and painting delight across her blushed visage. Each plea that dripped from her parted lips echoed his name and their bodies.

“Hoseok,” She spoke with pleaded words, “Don’t treat me like a doll, please. I want you. I want you to ruin me.”

At her plea, Hoseok found himself skimming on the edge of his resolution. Her voiced confession ricocheted within his being, setting off a wildfire that threatened to consume his restraint. Hoseok growled lowly, the sound rumbling deep within his chest, echoing the carnal hunger that had taken control.

“Y/N,” his voice, laced with a sinful rasp, clung to the rhythm of their bodies moving against each other in slow, deliberate motions. “My love… you’re so sure?”

Her hesitation was a captured kite within him, dancing in the winds of his desire. His eyes bore into hers again, desperate to ascertain that she was ready to step into the whirlwind of carnal pleasure.

A firm nod from her, a breathless ‘Yes,’ was the only affirmation he needed. She was his, and he was hers. Completely.

“Hoseok,” she panted once again, her body writhing against his touch. Her plea echoed in the quiet room “I want you to ruin me.”

With a possessive growl, Hoseok snarled back, the primal need within him rising at her request. “Just as you wish,” he husked, each syllable dripping with raw desire. “I intend to make you feel every stroke, every caress, and every pulse of my need inside of you.”

His movements became bolder, more assertive, pushing deeper with each rhythmic thrust, eliciting pleas and gasps that tumbled from her lips as sacred whispers. Yet he was careful, ever so careful, refusing to rush their journey to the ecstasy he planned to impart.

He didn’t move inside her again until she was panting, the sheen of sweat making her skin glow against the moonlight filtering through the window. The room filled with the erotic symphony of her desires escaping through hitched breaths, beckoning him to explore the depths of the ecstasy he could deliver.

“Tell me,” Hoseok murmured, “who do you belong to?”

With each stroke of his hips, he drove his point home, a perfect syncopation of their heartbeats and his thrusts. She began to break, the once languid pace accelerating into a frenzy. But not yet; he had vowed to clarify his claim and let it last until their bodies could hold no more.

“Y/N, who do you fucking belong to?” Hoseok spoke through gritted teeth. He thrusts into her hard, his eyes dark and not leaving her own. His voice tightened with lustful sincerity; each syllable echoing her name was like a sin itself, evoking profound longing within her. The room was filled with hot tension, entangling their senses into a vortex of sinful craving.

Hoseok’s command was not a question but a raw declaration of dominance, mirroring the primal intensity burning within their gaze. Framed within the confines of the room, their silhouettes painted a raw, sensual painting—bodies sheened with sweat, blending into one another rhythmically as they danced on the brink of shared ecstasy.

“Answer me, Y/N.” His baritone fell around her like a veil of silk laced with lethal obsession. “Who owns you?” Each word is punctuated by thrusts so precisely, forming a deliciously sinful haze. His gaze held her captive, her body shimmering under his touch as she fought to form words amidst the overwhelming waves of desire.

A strangled moan escaped her lips as she finally managed to utter, “Only you, Hoseok. Only you.”

Satisfaction glittered in his darkened gaze before he lowered his lips to hers, swallowing her cry of pleasure in a scorching kiss. At her admission, his rhythm became more frenzied, hips snapping against hers with such ferocity that she could hardly keep up. The room vibrated with their uncontained moans, only their heavy breathing and pounding heartbeats forming a symphony of unrestrained desire.

But Hoseok was nothing if not a deviant. He slowed his movements, drawing out the pleasurable torment with a devilish smirk playing on his lips. His hands trailed her quivering body, tracing the burning path with caresses that felt both soothing and torture.

He leaned in, nuzzling his nose against her ear, whispering in a voice that dripped raw, primal desire. “That’s right, baby, only I can touch you like this. Only I can make you break beneath me.” The shared ecstasy became a compelling game, a sensual battle between want and restraint, each teasing touch stoking their yearning to the brink of madness. Their world revolved around each other, their senses attuned only to their bodies’ rhythm and shared breaths. They teetered on the edge, neither willing to be the first to succumb, their bond tangled in a delicate dance of dominance and surrender. “And when I cum inside you, everyone will know you’re mine. Nobody will want a filthy whore like you. I’m making you mine.”

Hoseok’s words were sin personified, wrapped in a sultry baritone that sent shivers down her spine. The raw sensuality he imbued in his declaration was a turn-on, fueling her desire to an indescribable high.

“That’s right,” he growled against the shell of her ear, hands gripping her waist, guiding their unhurried rhythm. Once again, his hips met hers in a blissfully torturous cadence. However torturous, it was a pleasure she was willing to endure under Hoseok’s skillful ministrations. “Every time I fill you up, you’ll know… only I can make you feel this way… You’re mine, Y/N. I’ll keep coming inside you until you have my pups.”

Their bodies moved in a perfect rhythm, the intoxicating heat between them growing insurmountable. He was a master of this compelling game, effortlessly navigating the thin line between desire and restraint, between pleasure and pain, pushing them closer and closer to the brink.

His hold on her tightened. He was teetering on the edge, consumed by the reckless need to stake his claim. The pleasure was becoming unbearable, threatening to break him. Teasing her, he dipped a finger into her core again, the sensations alighting their bodies aflame.

“Hoseok, I—” a filthy moan cut off her plea as he pushed deeper within her, one last long, slow, and hard thrust that challenged every shred of control they’d been clinging onto.

“That’s right,” Hoseok breathed into her ear, voice raspy from the strain of holding back. “Tell everyone who you belong to when I make you cum. When I make you scream my name.”

With that, their control snapped, Hoseok thrusting into her one last time, a meandering journey of pleasure reaching its peak. His breath hitched as the climax washed over him, stroking into her with a finality that echoed a raw, primal growl. A hot wave of euphoria spread through them as he came inside her, marking her as his.

“Only… only you, Hoseok,” she whispered, her body quaking, breaths ragged against the overwhelming sensations that tidal waved through her, intensifying as his name fell from her lips. He rode out their pleasure, each pulse of his release sending them spiraling into a visceral realm of primal satisfaction.

Catching his breath, he pulled out and watched as his cum slowly spilled out from her. Hoseok let out a throaty groan, his head lulling to the side as he watched it spill out like a scene from his favorite movie.

“Fuck.” He spoke up, his fingers playing with her pussy, merely avoiding his cum that was spilling out and onto the messy sheets. “This will be my favorite view.”

[whatshehassaid]

Also lil fun fact in s1… Louis reads a part of Daniel’s book where he’s talking about how recollection and memory can trick you: “I look at my daughter in the rear view mirror of my Buick sitting in her car seat… my editor tells me it’s 7 years before car seats become mandatory. My ex wife tells me I never had a Buick”

In the books Daniel is turned into a Vampire by Armand in 1985

In the show:

Louis: Alice is in her third trimester… she steps in gum on the corner of Rue Palatine and Servandoni.

Daniel: the old parlour trick…

Louis: she makes you scrape it off with a credit card..

Daniel: it’s not a credit card. I HAVE no credit, it’s a library card

Louis: She’s wearing that short purple dress you favor…

Daniel: I liked the way she lo- walked in it… she was CONFIDENT

Louis: You felt freer to hold her hand in Paris… *hint of sarcasm* I wonder why that is..

Daniel: hitting the garage door, Louis… all the crap… have at it

Louis: you worked SOOOO hard to get that table right in the corner so you could pull out the ring…

Daniel *scoffs*: the ring… that’s good..

Louis: just at the right moment to surprise her

Daniel: which I DID..

Louis: And what did she say when you finally asked her to marry you?

*Daniel has a flash of Armand in the 70s*

Louis: Danny. I’ll ask for a third time. What did ALICE say… when you finally asked her to marry you?

Armand *softly*: Louis perhaps we should…

Daniel *visibly upset* : She said no.

*Louis chuckles maliciously*

*long silence*

Armand *squirms on the couch and a sad uncomfortable expression comes over his face*: she wanted to say yes.

*Daniel’s eyes widen as he looks up at Armand*

Armand: she just didn’t trust you. You hadn’t given her a reason to.

Louis *still with a malicious tone*: do you want to know what she thinks of you now? IF she thinks of you now? *glances at Armand* we could do that

Armand: or we could simply return to the interview.

——

Season one Louis serves Daniel the dessert he had in Paris claiming he has a human meal once a week to hold onto the thread of humanity…

Daniel: this is the dessert I had after I proposed to my first wife… after I got my shit together. We were in Paris. Little cafe on the Rue Servandoni up the way from Saint Sulpice.

Louis: I know it. It’s a beautiful street.

Daniel *becoming nostalgic*: Alice…. Half of her eyebrow was blonde… like a mutt. She always dyed it back to brown…

Daniel *somewhat sadly*: I liked it when she left it alone….

*daniel closes his laptop stopping the recording of the interview*

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

Day 31: Costume

♤♡-Pairs: Kaveh x male!reader

☆☆-Warnings: male reader, college au, kissing, fingering (kaveh receiving), bathroom sex, nurse costume (kaveh), clothes ripping (kavehs tights), panties (kaveh)

A/N: Super early upload! But I hope yall enjoy and thank you for this amazing first kinktober! Happy Halloween 🎃 👻

WC: 1.7k

"Do I really have to wear this?" Kaveh groaned, eyes casting a disgusted glance towards the pile of white fabric in his hands. 

"You do. That's how bets work." Alhaitham added, lithe fingers working at the button of his cape. Kaveh looked to his other friends; eyes pleading. But they only gave him a sorrowful glance, agreeing with Alhaitham. "Ugh, but what if he's there…" He mumbled, fingers picking at a loose thread. "Then you'll thank me, because he'll want to fuc-"

"Ahh, no more." He shook his head rapidly back and forth. Hanging his head in defeat, he slowly trudged to the bathroom. Slipping on the costume, his face immediately erupted into hot, red heat as he casted a glance in the mirror. White fabric tied in front, just above his belly button. Intended to push up breasts that he didn't have, instead gave the same boob window he had with his normal attire. But now, his tummy was exposed too. His blonde happy trail, peeking just a bit above the band of the skirt. Oh the skirt-he immediately hid his face in his hands. It stopped above mid thigh and he was sure if he turned-yup, you could clearly see the bottom of his ass. Or you would, if Alhaitham hadn't taken pity on him and gave him some tights. This was humiliating. Especially if you saw him. Kaveh nibbled on his bottom lip. Maybe he should just stay-

A harsh knock came to the door. "Come on, we're gonna be late." Kaveh really didn't wanna go. 

Reluctantly, he opened the door and peeked out. All three of his friends waited by the door, faces absorbed in their phones. With a deep breath, he stepped out, all heads swiveled to his direction. Alhaitham gave a hum of approval. "He'll definitely fuc-"

"Stop!" He yelled, waving his hands in front of his face. "Let's just go," he pouted with his arms crossed over his chest.

…

Kaveh had never felt more embarrassed than he did right now. He was hiding from you, it was obvious. As soon as he arrived, you just had to be the first person he saw. Your hair slicked back with gel, plastic fangs tucked in your mouth as you wore a low-cut suit. Who knew he had a thing for vampires? Not that it mattered, as soon as he made eye contact with you, he ran away. And everytime after that. Currently, he had posted up in the bathroom. Staring angrily at himself for being so weak and nervous to talk to you. Or even look at you. It was no secret he'd had a crush on you for a while. Well, you didn't know. 

He needed to put his big boy pants on and face you! With a curt nod to himself in the mirror, he turned to open the door. Coming face to face with you, a beer in your hand that he accidentally made you spill. "Shit," you hissed, the cold liquid seeping into your shirt. 

"I.." kaveh choked, his throat felt dry as he stared at you. This wasn't how it was supposed to go! "I'll help! Paper towels? Um.." he looked around, eyes wavering as he tried to find something. "Don't worry bout it, an accident." You gave a sigh, stepping into the bathroom now, shutting the door. Kaveh blinked, watching as you shrugged off the top layer of your suit, removing the white button up underneath it. He gulped. "Want a picture?" Your eyes glanced at Kaveh's shocked expression before you chuckled. "I'm messing with you dude," your eyes drifted a little lower before coming back up. "Nice costume."

Someone open the ground and swallow him whole please. "T-thanks…" He shifted his feet. "Lost a bet," Kaveh murmured. "Yeah?" You questioned, using your distracting hands to wash the beer stain out of your shirt. "Thank whoever made that bet with you, for me." He blinked. Did he hear you right? 

"What?" You chuckled, giving up on your shirt and set it on the counter, turning to him. "I said, thank whoever made that bet with you." You looked him up and down. "To think I'd see you in a nurse outfit, a sexy one at that." Kaveh's cheeks felt hot, was this really happening? Were you really saying these things to him? 

You stepped closer, hands hovering at your sides. Looking like they itched to touch his body; they did. 

"I know you like me Kaveh." You sighed, a playful smile on your face. "Y-You do? How? I mean-" He rubbed at the back of his neck, accidentally showing more of his slim waist. You felt your cock stir in your slacks. He really did look just too damn hot right now. "It's not hard when you catch someone constantly having eyes glued to you." You stepped even closer, bodies almost touching. "You were so absorbed in it, you didn't even see me looking at you, did you?" 

He swallowed thickly; had he really missed it? Kaveh shook his head. "Thought so," your hands tentatively rested on his hips, causing him to suck in a breath. "Well, now you have no excuse. What do you say we have some fun, hm? It's well overdue, and I have to be honest. This costume?" You licked your lips. "Makes me hard."

Was it possible to feel even hotter? Kaveh pondered that as he felt his head nod, giving you the go ahead. Immediately, you surged forward, pressing your lips against his. And it was a mess of spit, tongues tangling with the other, and teeth knocking against each other. It was hot. Kaveh could already feel his dick spring to life, lifting the front of his skirt a bit. You groaned, hands slipping around to the back. Grabbing handfuls of his ass, squeezing the flesh hard enough to make him squeak against your lips.

You chuckled, pulling back. "Sensitive aren't we? That's fucking hot." You lean back in, claiming his lips again. Kaveh found himself palming at your bare chest, seeking something to ground him from his foggy mind. Unable, still, to comprehend this was actually happening.

"Hop up," you murmur against his lips. Tucking your hands under his thighs, lifting him. Your hands spread across his backside, molding the flesh how you liked. "A shame you didn't wear any pretty panties with this." You mumbled, fingers tugging at the fabric of the tights. "Do you like these?" Kaveh heard you question. He shook his head, "N-Not really-ah!" His body flinched, the obscene sound of ripping fabric echoed in the bathroom. Did you…just rip his tights? Oh fuck, that was hot. "Oh?" You were pleasantly surprised to find, he was in fact, wearing panties. "Fuck-" you groaned, resting your forehead against his cheat. "You're killing me. I won't rip these, I wanna fuck you with them on." 

"Please.." he found himself saying almost immediately. Shivering when he saw how your eyes darkened with his neediness. "Don't worry, I will, gotta prep you first." With one hand around him still, you brought the other to his mouth. And you didn't even have to tell him, he immediately took your fingers into his pretty mouth. 

"God, you really are too fucking hot." Your dick strained painfully against your pants, leaking pre already. 

You pressed your fingers against his tongue while he swirled it around your digits. If he sucked fingers like this-how would he suck cock? The thought was enough to make you groan. As much as you wanted that though, you wanted to be inside him. Needed to be. You slipped your fingers out, sliding his panties to the side and slipping in a finger. His hole twitched, spasming around you as there was slight resistance. "Relax," you spoke softly against his lips. Thinking if you kissed him, maybe it'd help him relax. And you were right. Soon, you were able to get three fingers inside, his body grinding himself on your fingers.

His soft whimpers and whines going straight to your dick. You doubted it would take long for either of you.

"You ready baby?" He nodded his head almost immediately, hot breath puffed against your neck. You moved over towards the sink, slipping your fingers out and setting him on the ground. "Turn around for me. I want you to see. No distractions." He complied, turning towards the sink, laying his front on the counter. His ass pointed upwards as he flipped the back of his skirt up. You rubbed the front of your pants at the sight, "You really are gonna kill me." No more wasting time. You undid your pants, slipping them down your legs. Freeing your cock from its confinements, spitting abruptly into your hand. Stroking up and down its length a few times before slapping the tip against the flesh of his ass. 

His ass wiggled, his pretty mouth begging you to just put it in please. "Need to feel your cock inside me." He didn't have to tell you twice. Grasping the base of your dick, you slowly fed yourself into his greedy hole. Twitching and clenching around you. Even though you prepped him, you were still met with some resistance. You leaned forward, kissing up his back. "Fuck-relax baby, can't move, squeezing me too much." 

Eventually the resistance faded and you were fucking into him. Your balls, full and heavy, slapped against his ass. His blessed out face present in the mirror and you couldn't help but hiss. Tangling your hand in his hair, pulling back enough to make him arch. Allowing you to push deeper inside, the tip of your cock brushing against his prostate.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," Kaveh whined. Eyes became misty as the pleasure took over his body. Making his poor nipples harden and brush against the cold surface of the sink. "Gonna cum," he announced. His pretty eyes leaking tears that rolled down his cheeks, flushed a rosy pink. 

"Me too," you grunted, picking up speed. "With me, cum f'me, oh fuck fuck-" 

A flash of white burned behind your eyes as your hips stilled, spilling your sticky cum inside him. Kaveh's dick twitched, spraying his seed on the counter and his tummy. You fell, landing on his back as you panted heavily. 

…

"You owe me twenty bucks," Alhaitham pointed to Cyno. Sipping from his cup, eyes following you and Kaveh walking out of the bathroom.

Masterlist

Prev. ☆

[black-ak9]

Pre-Halloween survey. Day 3.

What pieces of furniture in your vampires' homes seem absolutely essential to them?

Welcome to the furniture store "the haunted house"

You will be able to find all the macabre decorations that your crypt or mansion needs.

Rest in peace and in style with a coffin made of the finest materials: dark oak, cursed wood, mountain rock Imported from the best cities

Capture beauty and souls with a mirror worthy of an empress

Ideal dining room to contemplate the corpse at the funeral

A perfect vortex to the Underworld would fit into a closet for capes, evening dresses, jackets and bones. And maybe Larry will come out of the closet .

A Very fine bookcase so you can store all the tomes, volumes and novels in your collection, and with a free book: from the Necronomicon to the biography of el charro negro

Nothing like a luxurious cellar of blood bottles, and wines...of course

Call us for design and construction of secret passages to dungeons, attics, basements, torture chambers and ballrooms

Your secret will be safe with us with stitches of needle and thread.