#TVD

[deangirlnotagirl]

Every time Elena slaps a Salvatore brother an angel gets its wings

[kaywopp]

Damon and his audacity kills me. He literally triggers my emotions so bad, right when I’m actually fw him lol there he go again.

[urdreamygirl]

Autumn in the early 2010s 🍂🕯️🤍

Elena Gilbert, Aria Montgomery, late 2000s fall, early 2010s fall, pretty little liars, the vampire diaries

[hacked-wtsdz]

Any cw show could be fixed by being more freaky and fucked up and insane

[wholoveseggs]

Hi! Love your work. Idk if you’ve written this before so if you did pls direct me to it, if not I have a request. The reader and Elijah are a fairly new couple and barely getting to sex, and when he moves to go down like the munch he is she stops him cause no one’s ever done that. Cue amazing head. That’s it. Just Elijah giving the reader life shattering head lol, thanks!

Double Feature

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

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader} Elijah takes you on a date to the drive-in theater. Titanic is playing… but that’s not the only thing going down tonight.

♡♡ I may have written this in a day... thanks for the inspiration ~xo ♡♡

2.9k words - Warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving), semi-public setting, almost getting caught, first time reader, Elijah bringing a whole charcuterie , fogged windows, cozy blankets, and one brief mention of Leo...

The car that pulled up in front of your house was too nice for Mystic Falls.

Not flashy, exactly ... sleek black, classic lines, elegant in that reserved intimidating way that just screamed Elijah. He stepped out and circled to the passenger side, opening the door for you like it was the 1950s. The white button-up he wore was crisp, sleeves rolled to the forearms, paired with a fitted vest that made him look like a man out of time.

"Evening,” he said, voice smooth and polite as he took your hand, placing a kiss to the back of it. "You look beautiful,"

You gave him a once-over, pretending to squint. “Hmm. You clean up okay.”

That earned you a low chuckle and a kiss pressed to your cheek, brief, but warm. Your stomach flipped the way it always did when he touched you like that. Then he helped you into the passenger seat and rounded back to his own, starting the car with a rumbling purr.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

Elijah flashed a smile at you. "It's a surprise."

"I don't like surprises." You teased, pouting a little.

"I think you will like this one." He glanced at you briefly, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “I promise it’s more pleasure than peril.”

You turned toward the window to hide your grin... partly because of the phrasing, partly because being with him still made you feel giddy. It was a new, delicate thing between you two and it made you feel like there was something bubbly inside you that might burst out any second.

A few minutes later, as the car curved down an old road toward the edge of town, you spotted it: the flickering screen of Mystic Falls’ vintage drive-in theater, tucked between trees and glowing against the dusk.

"I can't believe I've lived here my whole life and never been to this," you said, grinning, watching the gigantic screen loom larger the closer you got. "I thought it was closed."

"I'm told the reopening is largely thanks to Stefan Salvatore," Elijah said as he pulled into the grass. "Apparently he wanted to impress Miss Gilbert with a proper old-fashioned date."

You shot him a look. "Wait, you keep up with Mystic Falls dating gossip now?"

He gave a small, amused shrug. "One hears things."

Before you could press him further, he pulled up to the ticket booth. You reached for your purse, but Elijah had his wallet out, handing a crisp bill through the window. The girl on the other side looked like she was about to swoon.

You watched the way her eyes lingered on him as she handed back the change, and it made you giggle. How could you possibly blame her? The man looked like he just stepped out of the very screen that loomed behind them. 

Elijah found a lovely parking spot, nestled among the trees and far enough from the speakers that it wasn't deafening. A perfect spot to sneak kisses and maybe even more if you felt bold.

He got out of the car and opened the trunk, pulling out a large basket and a blanket. "Shall we?"

The night was warm and pleasant and you could smell popcorn and hear the buzz of conversation all around. He laid the blanket on the hood of his car, and then helped you climb up next to it, a gentleman as always.

"You packed a picnic?" You raised a brow at him, impressed.

"Just a few things," he said, smiling, pulling out an assortment of snacks, fruit and a bottle of wine, a thermos of tea, and some chocolates. He clearly put a lot of thought into this and the fact made your heart flutter.

The sun began to fully set and the screen came to life. You could feel the warmth of him, the soft brush of his hand on your waist, pulling you in closer, and you let your head rest on his shoulder.

"I don't even know what movie we're watching," you whispered.

"The Titanic," he replied, voice low and amused. "I hear it's quite tragic. You might need me to comfort you."

You snorted. "Elijah, everyone knows how Titanic ends. The ship sinks, the hot guy dies, and the girl hogs the door."

He chuckled softly. "Ah, but the journey can still be rather enjoyable, don't you think?"

You bit your lip to hide a smile, glancing sideways at him. "Is that your way of saying you're going to distract me from the movie?"

He leaned in just enough to let his lips brush your ear, his voice a velvet murmur. "Only if you ask very nicely.”

You tried to turn your attention back to the screen, but not really. His arm around you, the warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne…. it was all far more distracting than any doomed love story. You could feel Elijah’s thumb brushing slow circles against your hip. You shifted a little, trying not to make it obvious, but you were already too aware of him. Too aware of yourself, of how little space there was between you. And how much you kind of wanted there to be less…

The air was filled with the murmur of conversation, and the sounds of people moving and laughing all around, a strange, constant white noise. By the time Jack was sketching Rose in charcoal, the warmth of the day had given way to the kind of crisp night air that clung to your skin and crept under the warm blankets. You shivered once, snuggling closer to Elijah to try and soak in the warmth of him.

"You are trembling," he said softly, his hand moving up and down your arm in slow, soothing strokes. Then he pressed a kiss to your temple, “We could move to the backseat, if you like. It’ll be warmer.”

You looked up at him, raising a teasing brow. “Smooth, Elijah, very smooth. Offering warmth like a true gentleman.”

Elijah smiled, eyes dancing. “I try.”

He leaned in and kissed you, slow and sweet at first, then deeper, until your fingers curled slightly in the front of his vest. When he pulled back, his voice was gentler. “Come on. You’ll be more comfortable.”

You nodded, heart fluttering, and he stood, offering you a hand with his usual quiet elegance. You slipped inside first, settling on the plush leather while he followed, pulling the blanket over both of you and shutting the door with a gentle thud. The windows were already fogging a little from the warmth of your breath and the shift in temperature.

You curled into his side again as the movie played on outside, and not two minutes later, you saw Jack and Rose moving into the backseat of their car on-screen.

You knew which scene it was, and you felt a familiar heat curl in your stomach, and you tried not to think about Elijah's hands, or his body pressed up against yours. It was all so new between the two of you, and you didn't exactly know what you were doing.

You shifted restlessly, squeezing your thighs together…Rose’s fingers on the glass, that gasp of breath, the way they pressed together, breathing in each other's air... you felt your whole body go warm and tight with arousal. When you peeked up at Elijah, he was watching you. Not the movie.

“I… sorry,” you mumbled, trying to laugh it off. “It’s just… um. Kinda hot,"

“You’re blushing,” he murmured, voice low.

“I’m not,” you lied immediately.

“You are,” he said, smiling softly, eyes gleaming in the dim light. “It’s adorable.”

You tried to hide your face, but he reached out and brushed your cheek with the back of his knuckles, slow and reverent.

"Why are you so shy, hmm?"

"I'm not," you lied, biting back a smile. "I'm very brave, bold even."

"Of course," he said, the words dripping with fondness. "My brave, brave love."

He slid a hand up the side of your leg, fingertips brushing the edge of your dress. Your breath caught, and you felt suddenly hot, dizzy with desire and something else, a feeling like your heart was in your throat, and the butterflies were having a rave in your stomach.

He kissed you again, the kind of kiss that made you melt against him. His hands found your waist, guiding you back until you were lying across the seat, sinking into the soft leather. The blanket shifted around you as he followed, settling his body over yours, the way of him comforting, safe.

You reached for the buttons of his vest, fingers fumbling slightly in the dim light, nerves making them clumsy. Still, you managed to slip one free… then another. Your hands felt clumsy. Unsure. Was this okay? Were you going too fast? Too slow? Your fingers trembled just slightly as you reached the third button, which snagged stubbornly on the fabric.

He noticed and reached down to help, his touch gentle as he tugged it free and shrugged the vest off, tossing it aside without ceremony.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling too warm and too cold at once. You let your hand drift over his shirt, fingers grazing the hard muscle of his chest beneath the soft cotton, the tension in his arms as he held himself up above you.

He dipped his head to nuzzle your neck, kissing and sucking little marks there that made you gasp and squirm beneath him. The sound that left your lips was embarrassingly needy, and he chuckled, low and pleased.

He began to kiss his way down, lips skimming along the tops of your breasts, your ribs, lower still. Your breath hitched. Your whole body felt like it was trembling beneath his touch. Wanting, yes, but anxious too. And when his hands moved between your legs, gently pulling them apart, something in you panicked.

Both of your hands flew to his hair, tugging him away. "Hold on… wait-”

"Do you want me to stop?" He lifted his head to meet your eyes.

"I..." Your face burned, and you couldn't bring yourself to say it. "Just..."

He kissed the edge of your knee, looking up at you through dark lashes, his eyes patient and gentle in a way that made your heart stutter in your chest.

You swallowed hard, embarrassment prickling hotly across your skin. "I've never….I mean, no one's ever... done that to me before."

He went still for a moment, eyes locked softly onto yours. Then he pressed another slow, reassuring kiss to the inside of your thigh.

"Then allow me the honor of being the first," he whispered, voice low and rich, a soft promise that made something melt inside you. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

Your chest tightened and loosened all at once, the anxiety starting to fade into a tentative trust.

"Okay," you breathed, leaning back against the seat, fingers slowly relaxing in his hair.

You watched, heart thudding, as he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to your lower stomach. Then another, even lower this time. Each one made your skin prickle and your stomach flip.

You almost stopped him again.

Not because you didn’t want it…but because your mind was racing, sputtering with thoughts you couldn’t seem to shut off. What if he didn't like the way you tasted? What if you missed a spot shaving? You hadn't really prepared for him to be down there. You hadn't prepared for anyone to be down there. What if you were so nervous and awkward and weird that he just never wanted to touch you again?

You tensed without meaning to, thighs twitching, heart knocking hard against your ribs. But then…the first warm slow stroke of his tongue made a soft moan spill from your lips. You bit down on the sound, trying not to let him hear. He chuckled softly. His hands tightened on your hips, holding you in place. The second lick was slower, more deliberate, and you had to press the back of your hand to your mouth to keep from crying out.

And then he moaned against you… like he was savoring you, like this was something he wanted. This was not something he was doing for your sake … and realisation caused something inside you to crack open.

Your mind went blank, all the worries and anxieties slipping away, replaced with the warmth of his mouth, his tongue, the heat of his breath against you, the slickness of his mouth, the way he hummed a little, the vibration traveling all the way up your spine and down again. You couldn’t think. You could only feel. And God, it felt like worship.

You whimpered, your hips rocking instinctively into his mouth, hands buried in his hair as pleasure curled tight and hot in your belly. The view of his strong shoulders and his broad back, his hands sliding up the inside of your thighs, spreading you wider for him. The way his head moved between your legs, dipping and swaying, his hair disheveled, and his lips shiny and wet. The little moans he let out that vibrated against your clit.

Your eyes squeezed shut, thighs trembling. "Elijah - I'm going to-"

You felt yourself get closer and closer, heat pooling and coiling inside you, a tight tension winding between your hips, building, and building. Your hand twisted in the soft material of his shirt, trying not to scream, or cry, or both. You were right there. You were-

And then his mouth was gone.

You couldn't help the whine that escaped you as you tugged desperately at his shirt and shoulders, trying to pull him back.

"Why did you stop?" you gasped, barely recognizing your own voice. "Elijah, please... please don't stop."

"I'm not, sweetheart," he whispered, a teasing note to his voice, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your knee, "there are people near, just one mome-"

He was cut off by a loud thump outside the window, a couple giggling and stumbling past. Elijah pulled the blanket up over you, and you could feel him trying not to laugh, his shoulders shaking silently. You stifled a laugh yourself.

As soon as the noise faded, Elijah pulled the blanket back, pressing another warm kiss to the inside of your knee.

"Now," he said, the word a low, velvety purr, "where were we?"

Before you could answer, he ducked back between your thighs and resumed his rhythm, faster this time.

Your back arched, hips moving of their own accord, trying to fuck yourself against his mouth. It was a blur of sensations: the heat and softness of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth, his hands holding you firmly in place, the sounds of his moans, and yours, and the muffled chaos of the Titanic sinking outside… sirens wailing, passengers screaming, violins swelling…

And in all the chaos, your sole focus was the man between your thighs..

"I-I'm close," you gasped, "Elijah, I'm- I'm-"

He didn't pull away this time. Instead he pulled your clit between his lips, sucking softly, and the sudden pressure was enough to send you spiraling over the edge.

Your whole body tensed and then shattered, a broken, muffled cry on your lips as you came, shaking and trembling against him, your hand clamped hard over your mouth to keep quiet.

He eased you down, lapping gently and slowly, his mouth soft and soothing until the pleasure started to ebb, leaving a warm, fuzzy, post-orgasm glow.

You were still trembling, breathless and panting as he leaned back, kneeling on the seat, looking down at his handiwork with a smirk that made your whole body flush.

"’lijah," you gasped, laughing a little and letting your head fall back, staring up at the ceiling of the car. "That was…"

"Good, I hope," he teased, and when you glanced up, you found his expression soft and a little shy, like he actually needed confirmation.

You sat up, your limbs still feeling like jelly, and reached for him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him back down on top of you, kissing him, tasting yourself on his lips.

"Yeah, it was good," you whispered, laughing softly. "Very, very good."

He chuckled, kissing the top of your head, then he reached behind you and rolled down the windows just a crack. Cool night air flooded in, and the sounds of the movie and the world outside rushed in too.

"You know," he said, voice a low murmur in your ear. "We can continue this in my bed if you would prefer. Much more comfortable than a backseat."

You smiled, a soft, shy little smile, and nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

You both took a few minutes to pull yourselves together, smoothing your dress, making sure your makeup hadn't smudged. Elijah straightened his shirt, buttoned up his vest and ran a hand through his tousled hair like it would do anything at all. When the two of you finally climbed out of the car, the screen was showing Jack’s final moments…his body floating in the water, the music swelling as he froze and sank into the dark atlantic abyss. 

“Hopefully that isn’t an omen,” Elijah murmured, and you smacked his arm, laughing.

But as the credits rolled and he pulled out of the lot, heading toward his house, the film stayed with you.

Not the tragedy.

Not the sinking ship or the cold water or the history…. Or even 90s Leonardo…

But the romance of it all…

The impossible, all-consuming, life-changing kind.

And that somehow, Elijah made every day feel better than a movie.

[bonkai4ever94]

Its the little things that bring me joy

For a example seeing some new bonkai edits popping up on insta feed 😍

The bonkai Fandom

[dumbblondeposts]

[userlaylivia]

@cuddlyreader

“What’s that face?” - “What face?” - “That face..” - “I’m happy .”

[floralpools]

Bewitched.

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, oral, cunnilingus, unprotected, fluff, some violence, biting

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Witch reader

Summary: You're a witch with a specific skill set, one that has intrigued a certain hybrid.

Word count: 2.7k

...

Voodoo. Magic. Impulse. Obsession.

She was his newest fascination.

Klaus heard her laughter cracking through the walls of the barren bar before it cut short. He observed the sunlight blazing across her poorly parked car. His lips slanted in mild amusement. He told himself, that’s all it was, all she was. Mild amusement for an immortal. Though, something felt different.

He strutted into the place, head hung high as he scanned the bare vicinity. His eyes halted on a man behind the bar, rinsing glass cups. The bartender's eyes adverted from Klaus, the second he caught his stare. The man's nerves were duly noted as Klaus approached him.

“I’ll have a glass of your finest red,” Klaus spoke artfully, with a fake smile plastered on his face. The worker shuddered. “Ug- we’re not serving right now.”

“No worries mate,” his mellifluous voice paused. “The red I fancy isn’t something I’d find on your menu.” The man's gaze shot up to Klaus’s. His lips trembled as Klaus continued his jest. “Unless you intend to provide me with a bite, I suggest you tell me where she’s hidden.” Klaus’s threat echoed through the building, till silence took its place.

Suddenly, the sound of a back door, opening and slamming shut jolted Klaus away from the bartender. He instantly raced to the door, ripping it open. He watched as her frame scattered into her rusted car. He growled. There was no way he'd let her escape once again...

Your body was convulsing with anxiety. Who were you to know a little magic truce with the “other side,” would have a certain hybrid on your front doorstep. It didn’t help when you levitated everything in your apartment at him, including your freshly made spaghetti with bolognese. It was to be expected, that would piss him off...

Yanking the car door shut, you forced the key in and started the engine.

“Where are we headed this time darling?”

“Ahhh!” You screamed, snapping your head to the uninvited passenger. Klaus sat leisurely beside you, and you swear your life flashed before your eyes. “I must say, I enjoyed our time in Chicago. Perhaps San Fran may be the next best thing, love.” His smug face adorned your features, absorbing the way your face contorted in both fear and frustration.

“Jesus,” you huff, and Klaus’s smirk grows. “As much as I love the idea, somehow becoming your personal chauffeur isn’t that appealing.” Klaus chuckles lowly, leaning in, more and more.

“Well, if you hadn’t decided to run off, you crafty little thing," he drawls sweetly, "We wouldn’t have the pleasure.”

“If you weren’t trying to kill me, maybe I’d stick around.” Klaus’s brows twist like he's appalled by your words. “Who said I was interested in killing you?”

“You- I- then, what do you want?” You stammer. Klaus went quiet. You watched as his expression goes blank, before he acts as though he was in deep thought. Then, his mouth gaped in 'awe,' as if the answer suddenly came to him. “Your talents of course.”

“My talents.” You repeat, baffled.

“Yes, do keep up, my dear.”

“Why? You could have any witch at your disposal, at a moment's notice.”

The corner of his lips elevate once more. “I’m flattered.”

He’s become so close now, you feel his breath, and you try not to shiver as it grazes your neck. He, on the other hand, basks in your scent.

“But, unlike my other witches, you have a gift,” he muses. “Your connection with the dead is something to behold, and something I crave.”

After a prolonged silence, you speak. “If I help you with whatever," you move further into your seat, "When it comes to an end, you’ll let me walk away, unscathed?” Your brow quirks, and with every fibre of your being, you manage to maintain eye contact. “Yes, you have my word.” Klaus’s expression went stoic, holding an unflinching seriousness that made your heart rate stutter. And strangely, you knew you could trust him.

That's how you ended up as his lackey. For the past 5 weeks, you were at his beck and call as he tormented humans, werewolves, and vampires alike.

Like any other day, your conscious is eating away at you, as you call upon another ancestor of those he plagues. Today though, you finally broke. He had been cruelly punishing a guy for hours, as you questioned his late brother through the veil.

“That’s enough!” Klaus’s eyes dart to yours, and his angry appearance softens. Instinctively, he grips your forearm and drags you out of the motel room.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

“What's wrong is that I’m tired, and his brother is telling me jack shit about those ‘hunters.’” You huff, closing your eyes.

Klaus firmly presses himself stock-still, resisting every urge that wishes to devour you, as you naively allow him to hold you so close, let your guard down, and close your eyes. Such an urge that has only worsened, and become insatiable since you started your venture together…

“Love, why don’t you grab a bite from the cafe across the street, while I fill up the car's tank?” He says heartfeltly, "That way we both can have a break."

Your eyes flutter open, and you nearly tremble at the gentle look that flickers in his gaze. However, his body language, which clutches you tightly, suggests he is anything but. “Okay.”

After five minutes alone in a booth, you gather up the last of the courage you were trying to dispel. Now, heading back to the rented room, to release the hostage. Stupid, very stupid, you think. But you can’t help it.

When you enter the room, the door slowly creaks shut, and shadows engulf you. It’s too quiet, and you can’t see the hostage. Unease fills your system, and you begin to regret this decision. That impending regret soon became alarms going off, when the captive grabs your torso, roughly caging your arms. His grip is inescapable, and when you try to scream, his free hand covers your mouth.

“You fucking bitch,” he murmurs with disgust, and you wince. “How about I leave you bleeding out here, all laid out for you bloodthirsty master.” The man crackles with humourless laughter. “I’m sure he’d appreciate that.”

While his venomous words made you cower, you relentlessly struggle against him, fighting with all that you could muster. Unfortunately, your captor was a werewolf, and far too strong for you to at least break free, to cast a spell.

He muffles Klaus’s name with his palm, and tears prick your eyes. Even after the numerous times you’d bicker and argue, he was still the first person who came to mind, who you hopelessly called out to.

The man began lifting your body towards the door, urgently turning the knob. Just as the outside light cuts into your vision, you're wrenched from him, pulled into a powerful embrace. With ease, Klaus’s arms carry you away, swiftly placing you in the backseat of your car, locked safely inside.

His figure then disappears just as quickly, and you hear your aggressor's voice wail in pain. Shaking, you curl over yourself, covering both ears pathetically.

After what feels like an eternity, two large hands cup your tear-stained cheeks, bringing you out of your shell. He quiets you, as he slides inside the vehicle, smoothly pulling you onto his lap. One of his arms supports your back, while the other strokes your hair. Calming you down, he mutters things like: 'Everything’s fine now love,' 'I’m here,' 'I’ll take care of you...'

“I’ve never felt so helpless,” you mumble.

He shakes his head. “There’s nothing you could've done to stop a werewolf, especially when a full moon draws near,” he soothes. You press your cheek further into his broad chest. “Though, I wish you would’ve just listened to me for once, and stayed put.”

You shoot your head up, adjusting to face him, close enough that your noses nearly meet. “If I listened to you, I’d probably be dead by now.”

“Oh really?” He grins, eyes creasing, “How so?”

“Well, for one, that time you ordered me to question that vampire chick's dead boyfriend about his affair, right in front of her.” Klaus guffaws. “You're laughing, but she would've bit my head off.”

“She wouldn’t have,” he denies, still chuckling.

“Yes, she would have Klaus.” You start to laugh too.

“You know, I wouldn’t have let her.” His face deadpans, “Like I didn’t let our were-friend hurt you," he voices, airily. "I gave you my word.”

“Yes, of course, your word.” You giggle nervously, glancing at the hand currently bracing your thigh, gliding its thumb back and forth. “It’s not all that I’ve given you.”

You look up and are met with a mysterious look this time. Your brows furrow in confusion. He smiles dreamily, “Your skills as a witch truly know no bounds.”

“The hell are you talking about now?” You retort, making Klaus laugh loudly.

“I’m talking about your spell," he whispers. "The one that has bewitched me.”

You freeze, heart dropping.

“You don’t mean that...” Your sentence trails off as Klaus stares through you.

He’s so unpredictable, that a part of you believes he's most likely playing some sick game. But, there was also a possibility that he meant it, and all the hidden desires, for your unconventional boss, were about to bubble to the surface.

“I've meant every word, from the moment I met you, when you got the better of me.” He smirks, breath fanning your face. “Witchcraft.”

Then his lips take yours, slow at first, but the entanglement shortly turns desperate. Slightly hesitant, you grind on him, eager to pull him closer. He groans, and his hands enthusiastically roam your waist and back, beckoning you nearer.

Moving in a frenzy, as your fingers tangle in his locks, you swing your leg to straddle him. He moans your name in between kisses, and palms your ass.

Continuously rolling your body into him, makes you feel his arousal, causing a whine to escape. When your lips break apart, his mouth runs down your jaw, to your neck. You gasp, but you don’t stop him. He audibly tells you how much he’s enjoying himself, and you squeeze your thighs over his.

“I can only imagine how sinful you taste here darling.” He remarks as his hand slides over your core, and you whimper. “How about you let me try?” He hums politely. “You know you want me to.”

“No,” you huff.

“No?” His voice rises questioningly, and a hand gropes your chest, while the other grips your chin, tilting your head down to peer into his eyes. “Not here,” you finish, and he smirks wildly.

“Then, I’ll just have to get us a private room?” He purrs seductively into you ear, making you shiver. “One that is, unoccupied,” he rolls his tongue, and you shiver again at the double meaning behind his words. You don’t even want to think about what he did to your assailant…

“Please,” you sigh into a kiss, pecking his lips, which seems to surprise Klaus momentarily. His surprise briskly turns into a beaming smile. “To be continued,” he utters before shifting you off him, and rushing out the car.

Not long after, Klaus reappears with that same childlike cheer gracing his features. Jerking the door open, he outstretches his hand like a gentleman. You accept it, and his palm completely envelops yours. He tugs you to his hip, and nibbles on your earlobe while you walk to a random room.

As soon as the door locks behind you, he presses himself against your backside. “Now, how about that taste?” He mutters while lifting your hair to kiss your nape, and rubbing himself against you. You press closer, before spinning around to enclose your mouth on his again. He groans into your mouth approvingly, backing your body toward the queen-size bed.

His lips free yours when your back legs hit the edge, and you fall backwards with a yelp. His hands soon make work of your lower half, removing your clothes as he kneels infront of your cunt. You inhale deeply, as cool air hits your bare body.

He goes silent, so you raise your head to peek at him. Klaus ogles you heatedly, like the predator he is. “Lovely,” he sing-songs.

He abruptly grips your thighs and heaves your core to his mouth, so close, his breath warms your skin. “K-Klaus.”

“Hmmm,” he hums shortly, before delving into you. You sob a cry of shock. His tongue expertly runs over your folds, sucking the nub with such a slow deliberation, like he can’t decide how he wishes to take you at first, as if he’s imagined every which way he could.

You whine, motioning him to make his choice, bucking up, feeling his stubble scratch you. Then he grows aggressive, hungrily lapping your clit, over and over, until he ushers out your orgasm.

When your lengthy climax finishes, he moves to sigh pleasantly into the crook of your neck. “You’re incredible,” he emits with a chant of your name, thoroughly relaxing your shaking form.

“Fuck, take off your clothes,” you beg. He immediately abides by your command, tearing off his shirt and pants. You grab his necklaces to haul his lips to yours. You savour every inch of yourself on his tongue, and he relishes in how dirty the act is.

“There’s only so much I can do before dawn, and it won't nearly be enough to satisfy my hunger for you.” His poetic words erupt something within. You exhale, “It seems you’re going to break your promise then.”

He stills at your words, befuddled. You elaborate, “There’s no way I’m coming out of this unscathed.” A timid smile spreads across your face, and he almost nods in understanding, feeling a strange quiver in his chest.

Wordlessly, he pulls himself from his slacks, and you take off the last of your clothes. Suddenly feeling a little out of body, you decide to take back some control of the situation. So, you flip your positions, once again, surprising Klaus, though he allows it.

You straddle him, and lower yourself onto his thick cock. You whimper the second the tip enters, and he growls, pressing his fingertips into your hips, definitely leaving bruises.

“You’re too big,” you gasp.

“You can handle it, sweetheart,” he states mindlessly. He wraps his arms around your waist and arms, pulling you down onto him. His hips press completely into you, pushing himself inside to the hilt. A wheeze leaves your lungs as he grounds into you. “Klaus, it’s too-“

“It’s perfect,” he finishes for you. You barely have any time to adapt to his size before he begins pounding. Pleasure wracks through you, and he takes whatever control you had away. His pace is unnerving, and you utter incoherent words, while his fangs graze your neck.

“Tell me,” he groans through his panting. “Tell me you want me.” He demands, though it almost sounds like he’s begging for it. “I-I want you.” The words stumble out as his thrusts reach your center.

“More,” he just about whines.

“I want you Klaus,” you shout. “You feel so good- fuck I’ve always wanted this, you.” You ramble, egged on by him. He loves it, and you feel it in his strength. He holds you tighter, and the air abandons your body.

Feeling his leg tremble, you know he’s close. “Bite me.” His clamped-shut eyelids pop open, and his dark pupils bore into yours. You kiss him, and take his bottom lip between your teeth. “Bite me while you cum,” you command.

He gulps before taking his last few pumps into you. He moans into your neck as his teeth puncture your flesh. You cry out at the mixture of pain and pleasure that shatters you both.

After almost 10 minutes, he releases you from his firm caress and kisses the holes in your neck.

Still inside, he turns you both on your sides. You catch your breath. “How are you still hard?” You sigh in exasperation, and he chuckles breezily. “I told you, you’ve bewitched my very soul darling.” He smirks.

“This is only the beginning.”

if u liked this, check out my fic adaptation, "spellbound," on wp @ shrenvents!!🫶

for the fanfic's teaser, click here.

[milkluvr333]

Not pleased with the lack of new fics for my fav characters (hyper fixations) lately. The withdrawals are eating me alive

[rosieposie1002]

Homecoming Look :

[paradiecircus]

Literally found a drabble in my drafts of a scene inspired by this moment, & then my mind went off on writing for a bit lol yay I love when those stories come back to me!!!

that’s it? he just left you?

[hacked-wtsdz]

Stedelena started here

[hexedwinchester]

My Fictional Boyfriend Type

so i was discussing Stefan Salvatore with my friend and she drops this bomb that i have a type in fictional characters (boyfriends as she likes to call them).. For reference, this is my list of favorite fictional characters: 1. Sam Winchester 2. Edward Cullen 3. Stefan Salvatore 4. Neal Caffrey 5. Patrick Jane. (The list is longer but this is top 5) note, my friend doesn't know much about Stefan and Neal Caffrey. Apparently, as per her, these characters are similar which is why I am attracted to them. At first, I didn't believe her because, well i didn't, but she had some very good points to make:

Good hair: which i thought was quite okay, I mean, actors should have that, right? but when i come to think about it, Sam and Edward are known for their hair among other things. Stefan gets teased about 'hero hair' and Neal and Patrick have good hair too. so not too far off?

Calm but can explode: ok yes, this is cryptic but true. All these characters are known for being calmer than other characters but they are also known to implode if pushed beyond their limit

Smarter people in the room: Again true. Sam, Neal and Patrick are smart cookies which is an obvious trait for them and if you see, both Edward and Stefan repeat high school/college a lot more than other characters in the show

Lean built: Again, this could be more of an actor thing but so true, all these characters have a lean built (except Sam in later seasons) but to be honest, Jared by default is leaner whereas Dean is bit broad in that sense. Edward, Stefan, Neal all have a lean built. Although Patrick may not, he is still leaner compared to Rigsby and Cho in The Mentalist

Independent: This was a very good point she made. All these characters are capable of being independent. All these characters at some point have chosen to walk away and be independent

Genuinely good characters with a dark side/secret: Well, no surprise there either. Sam with his demon blood, Edward with his vampire secret, Stefan and his ripper era, both Neal and Jane with their con artist secrets.

So, what do y'all think? Do i have a type then? :D

psst, why are there only few gifs for Stefan?! :(

[wholoveseggs]

Hey lovely, I re-read the Extraordinary series the other day, and I remembered how amazing it is!!! Especially the third part. How would you feel about a story where the reader is sleeping with both brothers regularly (not necessarily at the same time). There is a constant competition between Klaus and Elijah because Elijah falls for the reader, and Klaus is teasing him about it by not letting his affair with her go. Reader is pretty oblivious when it comes to Elijah's feelings, although he is her secret favorite, and eventually things just escalate in a smutty way as Elijah has to make her his.

Drops of Affection {Part One}

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

Part One

{Elijah Mikaelson x Klaus Mikaelson x f!reader} You’re sleeping with both brothers... It’s supposed to be casual. It’s supposed to be simple. But Elijah’s falling for you, and Klaus isn’t about to let that go unpunished.

♡♡ ahh @originals23, look what you made me do. This was supposed to be a short one... but now it’s two parts because apparently I was feeling dramatic and in the mood to ruin everyone’s day ~xo ♡♡

3.5k words - Warnings: smuttt {with klaus in this part}, dom/sub dynamics, riding, possessiveness, praise, mild choking, wolf!klaus cameo {not in a smutty way...}, jealousy, Klaus being a menace, Elijah kisses, established situationship{s} && a dog collar...

{Part Two}

The old café just down the block from the compound always smelled like old paper and orange peel. Light filtered in through the tall, paned windows, dusting the shelves in gold. Books were stacked in every spare corner, under tables, on windowsills, climbing toward the ceiling like ivy. Someone was playing soft piano on the overhead speakers, quiet and soothing.

Elijah sat at a small round table near the front, watching the door. He told himself he wasn’t nervous. That it was simply lunch. That he hadn’t spent twenty minutes picking out what cufflinks to wear, or five more rehearsing the way he would greet you.

And then you walked in... and everything he tried not to think about rushed forward at once.

It had been just under a week since he had touched you last, and the memory was still fresh. You showed up at his door, looking for a distraction, and Elijah was never one to deny a lady.

The way you moved, the sound of your laugh, the things you said when your mouth wasn’t busy saying anything at all. And the way you felt underneath him, warm and wicked and soft, whispering his name like it meant something more. He thought of that now as he watched you approach.

You spotted him immediately and smiled, sliding into the chair across from him. He stood, and leaned over the table to kiss you, a quick, chaste thing. Your eyes fluttered, and he noticed the way you inhaled as he pulled back, leaning toward him like you wanted to follow.

He knew the feeling.

“You’re early, again,” you teased, your gaze moving over him slowly, over his arms and briefly to his hands, before meeting his eyes. "Still using punctuality as a personality trait, I see,"

Elijah gave a small smile in return, he enjoyed your teasing words. “I consider it a courtesy,” he said, gesturing for the waiter. “I also took the liberty of ordering for you.”

Your brows lifted. “Oh? Bold of you.”

“I remember how you take your coffee,” he said simply. “Hazelnut, one sugar, no cream. Unless you're in a mood, then it's black and bitter.”

You blinked, caught off guard, and then smiled. “Okay, stalker.”

He laughed, low and warm, and something about the sound made your stomach twist pleasantly.

When the drinks arrived, you wrapped your hands around the mug, breathing in the steam. It was a habit that made Elijah smile, your eyes meeting over the rim of your cup.

He watched the sunlight play over your features, the curve of your jaw and the bow of your lips, the slope of your neck. He had to tear his eyes away, focusing on his own drink.

There was an easy, companionable silence, as you sipped and flipped through the menu, the quiet hum of the other patrons filling the gaps in conversation. It had been a few months since the two of you started sleeping together. He and Klaus had sought you out for help with a spell, only to be charmed by your sharp tongue and your even sharper mind. Klaus had flirted, shamelessly. Elijah had just watched, wondering why his own words always failed him around you.

And then you invited him to your place one night, and his tongue wasn't an issue anymore.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. Just a mutually beneficial arrangement, two adults seeking pleasure. But there was a comfort, an ease between you. It made Elijah feel relaxed, at home. He wanted more of those simple nights, he wanted them all the time.

You set the menu down and leaned back in your chair, sipping your coffee. “By the way…I finished the book you lent me.”

Elijah raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “Already?”

You smiled, "Two nights ago. Couldn’t put it down.”

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "And what did you think?"

You mirrored him, leaning forward, and his eyes flicked to your lips. "Well, first, I enjoyed all your little notes in the margins, the underlines, the highlights... The quotes you circled..."

"Oh, you didn't have to read those," he said, looking almost bashful. "Those were just..."

"Private thoughts? Your own interpretation?" You grinned, reaching out to rest your hand on top of his. "I loved that part. I could just imagine you, bent over a book, taking notes. It was cute."

Elijah looked at your hand, the way it felt against his own, and then at you.

"Secondly," you continued. "I liked the story. I just didn't know you were a fan of science fiction."

"Oh, I enjoy a lot of things," he said, turning his hand so he could interlace your fingers, his thumb stroking over your palm. "I especially like watching the sun play over your skin. I've spent many evenings doing so, and yet it still surprises me, just how beautiful you are."

You blinked, the breath leaving you in a rush, and a blush crawled up your neck, heating your face. But you quickly regained your composure, pulling your hand away and reaching for your mug.

"So smooth," you said, shaking your head, taking a sip. "You know your sweet words don't work on me, Mikaelson."

"Really? Because I think you're blushing."

"You wish," you muttered, looking down at your cup, “Well. It’s your book. I should give it back.”

Elijah watched you, thinking. He didn't want the book. But he wanted another excuse to see you, another reason to come back.

"You can drop it off at my place tonight, perhaps after dinner?" He suggested, hoping the invitation sounded casual, easy.

"Hmmm, that sounds a lot like a date," you said, a hint of amusement in your voice.

"No, no. If I were to take you on a date, you would know."

"And what would a date with you entail, Elijah Mikaelson?" You asked, tilting your head to the side, and the look in your eye made his blood heat.

He was considering his answer, when your phone went off. You reached for it, reading the screen, your eyes lit up and you giggled, replying to whoever it was.

"Sorry, it's Nik," you said, glancing up at him.

Elijah’s smile dimmed as you glanced back down at your phone, your thumb brushing across the screen, a soft, private smile on your lips.

“Plans with Niklaus?” he asked, his tone careful.

You looked up, caught, and gave a sheepish shrug. "Uh, yeah. He's picking me up later."

Elijah gave a small nod of his own, retreating a little behind his walls he built so well. “Of course.”

“It’s nothing serious,” you added quickly. “Just… plans.”

“I didn’t ask,” he said. But he didn’t meet your eyes.

You set your phone down slowly, “But you should come over tomorrow. I mean…for the book. If you’re free.”

That pulled his gaze back to you. He tilted his head slightly, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

“I thought maybe we can go out for drinks?” you offered. “at that little rooftop place you like... We could… talk. Or not talk..."

There it was. Honest. Simple. Vulnerable in that soft, almost invisible way you only ever were with him.

Elijah relaxed slightly. He nodded once, the gesture small but warm. “Tomorrow, then”

You smiled, relief blooming across your face, and Elijah wished he could keep that smile for himself. Bottle it. Drink it slow.

He stood as you did, reaching to help with your coat. His fingers brushed the nape of your neck as he settled the material over your shoulders. You turned, looking up at him, the two of you standing too close.

Elijah didn't move. You could feel his breath, the scent of him. You reached up and gave him a gentle kiss, just the briefest touch of lips.

You started to pull away, but his hand cupped the back of your neck, keeping you there. He kissed you slowly, deeply. Your hands found his chest, your fingers curling into his shirt, and Elijah smiled against your lips, before pulling back.

"See you," you breathed, your eyes on his as you adjusted his tie slightly. Then you turned away and walked out, leaving him standing there, already missing the taste of you.

It was a warm, fragrant night, the kind that clung to skin and whispered of summer before spring had even ended. Music spilled from the bars in bursts of brass and laughter. The streetlamps glowed gold, casting long shadows on the cobblestone streets of the Quarter.

You walked through it all like a secret. Your heels made soft, deliberate clicks against the cobblestone streets. The dark blue dress you wore hugged every curve with unapologetic confidence, short and slinky, catching the occasional eye as you passed. The only sound beside your steps was the quiet pad of paws on concrete.

The dog beside you was massive, tall as your hip, with thick silver fur and gold eyes that gleamed in the dark like coins dropped in water. He walked at your side in perfect lockstep, calm and obedient despite his wild appearance. The collar around his neck glinted in the low light, thick leather, custom-fitted, with silver spikes that looked dangerously sharp.

One man, leaning lazily against the brick wall outside a bar, let his gaze slide up from your legs to the beast at your side.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he slurred, “Jesus! That's a big dog you got there. What breed is that? What are you feeding him?"

The dog turned his head to look at the drunkard. His eyes glittered, and his lip curled back just enough to show the edge of his teeth. The man stared back, a little stunned, until the dog looked away again.

"He feeds himself," you said without looking.

"A-ha. Good joke." He cleared his throat. "Seriously, though. That's one big fuckin' dog. I'm gonna take a wild guess and say he ain't friendly."

You stopped at a crosswalk. You and the dog turned to face him, both of you stared in silence, and the man's smile wavered. He glanced at the dog, then you, then back.

"Have a good night," you said, your smile not reaching your eyes. The beast at your side let out a low, rumbling growl.

The drunkard took the hint. "You, too," he muttered, and disappeared back inside the bar.

"Good boy," you cooed, ruffling the thick fur on the dog's head.

He let out a huff, and began pulling you towards your home the moment the crosswalk switched.

"What's the hurry, hm? Do you need a treat?"

His tail swished behind him as you stepped through the front door and the moment it closed, the dog let out a low, contented growl. The shift was seamless. One second, there was fur. Then next, there was skin.

Klaus stood upright, human again, collar hanging loose around his throat. He was completely naked, the lines of his body on full display, and your eyes traced the curve of his shoulders, his arms, abs, his-

“That man thought I was your pet,” he said, voice rich with mischief.

You turned away from him, unbothered, and locked the door behind you. “You are.”

He chuckled, stepping closer to you as you faced him once more. His eyes darkened as he looked down at you, the gold of his irises still fading into blue. “And what does my witch intend to do with her pet tonight?” he asked, dipping his head until his lips grazed your ear.

You reached out and tugged gently at the ring on his collar.

“Down,” you said with a smile, “And stay.”

He dropped to his knees without hesitation, a wide, feral grin on his face. Your breath hitched as his hands slid up your legs, under the hem of your dress, until his thumbs brushed against the bare skin of your hips. You shivered at the heat of his skin, the strength in his fingers, the hunger in his eyes.

He pushed the dress up slowly, and then suddenly pulled your hips against his face. His lips pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to your thighs, moving higher and higher with deliberate care. You tangled your fingers in his hair, guiding his head higher and higher, until he nuzzled at your core, inhaling your scent.

You tugged hard on his curly hair, pulling his face away from you. He grinned up at you, dark veins dancing under his eyes.

"Get on the bed," you ordered, and his smile widened.

"I enjoy it when you are demanding, love." He rose to his feet. "Tell me how you want me."

You grabbed the end of the leash that was still looped around his neck and led him to your room.

"On your back," you said, and he obeyed, practically hopping onto the silk sheets.

"What if I would rather have you on your back?" He teased, propping himself up on his elbows and watching you undress with greedy eyes.

"Any girl can be under you, Nik. This is about how I use you."

His pupils dilated, his smile making his canines show. You crawled onto the bed, swinging one leg over him to straddle his waist. He let out a sharp hiss as you pressed yourself against him.

You smiled, looking down at this powerful man, his soft lips and sculpted cheekbones, his wild, golden curls. He looked like some sort of fallen angel, all hard muscle and soft curves, pain and pleasure, a collection of extremes.

"You're a pretty sight, hybrid," you said, running a finger along the ridge of the leather collar, wrapping the strap around your wrist and pulling gently. "What should I do with you?"

You let your hips roll against him, a slow, teasing grind that had him letting out a deep, satisfied hum.

"Anything you want, sweetheart." He let his hands wander up your thighs, his thumbs stroking gently over your skin.

"Oh, really?" You leaned forward, and he groaned as you rocked against him again, dragging the wet heat of your core against his cock. "Would you let me ride you right now, even if it was at my own pace? Even if I came before you? Or didn't let you come at all?"

His grip tightened. You watched his eyes change, the way his pupils shrank as the dark veins danced underneath them. You smiled, satisfied with his response and rolled your hips forward, grinding down against his cock again, enjoying how much you were getting him worked up.

"I could do whatever I wanted to you," you whispered. "Tie you down and tease you until you're begging me. Use a spell to make you come until you're begging me to stop."

He shuddered beneath you, a groan ripping from his throat.

"Would you like that?" You asked, continuing your slow rhythm, tugging hard on his leash.

His eyes flashed a dangerous gold and he pulled your hips down to meet his own, his hands squeezing your ass enthusiastically. 

"Keep talking," he whispered.

"I can feel how hard you are for me, do you want to bury yourself in me, Nik?" You asked, nipping at his ear.

He sighed, pulling your hips closer. "Yes," he breathed.

You brought your mouth close to his, a breath apart. He stared at your lips, tongue darting out to wet his own. You bent down and pressed the softest kiss to the corner of his mouth, before slowly sinking down, letting him fill you inch by inch.

He moaned at the tight, slick heat, your breath catching in your throat as you pressed your forehead to his, finally seated in his lap. He panted, hard against you, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he battled against his own impulse to let go, to flip you over and take what he wanted.

You giggled at his desperate expression, planting your palms on his chest, lifting your hips and bringing them back down at a slow, grinding pace.

He whimpered, a guttural, broken sound, and his hips moved on their own, pushing up harder against you, setting his own desperate pace. You let him fuck up into you, your fingers reaching between your thighs to circle your clit.

"Nik," you moaned.

"Shit," he growled, "Say it again."

"Nik," you moaned louder.

You tugged harder on his leash, pulling him upright, chest to chest. He kissed your neck and growled softly.

"My pet," you whispered, nipping at his ear as you worked yourself on his cock, feeling your own climax building in your core. “Do you like being told what to do? To be taken for walks? For me to take what I want from you?”

His arms slid up the skin of your back to knot in your hair. He pulled hard, drawing your head to the side, exposing the line of your neck.

You laughed as he began to nip at the bare skin, sucking and licking, making goosebumps erupt down your body. You pushed him back down roughly, your hands splayed on his chest, bouncing on his cock at a faster, more urgent pace, his face twisting with pleasure at the harsh treatment.

"Good boy," you moaned, his cock stretching and filling and moving just right. "Come for me, Nik."

He held back, his brow furrowed in concentration, his breaths ragged.

"Come for me," you demanded, pulling his collar tight, making him choke for a fraction of a second.

He grabbed your hips and slammed you down, before letting out a strangled groan and spilling inside you. You felt him pulse and throb, and it was all you needed to finally come yourself, spasming and shaking and clenching around him.

When you were both done, you unfastened the collar, tossing it onto the floor, then you rolled off of him, collapsing against the cool silk sheets.

You lay panting beside him for a long moment. The bed was large enough that there was a full foot of distance between you.

"That was new," he said, voice rough and warm, a smile in his words. 

"I was perhaps a little meaner than usual, I didn't hurt you, did I?" You turned your head to look at him, mock concern coloring your voice.

He chuckled, "Not at all my little hex, but if you call me a good boy outside the bedroom, I will drain you dry."

You rolled your eyes and shoved the blankets off of him, slipping out of bed with a stretch. Across the room, your robe waited where you had tossed it earlier, and you shrugged it over your shoulders without looking back.

Klaus remained sprawled across the bed like a painting... tousled, spent, entirely too pleased with himself. You didn't say a word as you padded toward the bathroom.

"Going to wash the sin off already?" he asked, voice rough with sleep and smugness.

You paused in the doorway, glancing at him over your shoulder.

“I have things to do in the morning. You won’t still be here.”

Then you closed the door.

He was still there the next morning...

You stepped out of your bedroom freshly showered and towel-wrapped, only to find Klaus leaning against your kitchen counter, shirt unbuttoned and coffee in hand like he lived there.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why are you still here?”

He grinned over the rim of the mug. “Didn’t want to leave without breakfast.”

You let out a long-suffering sigh, turning away from him. Walking over to the coffee pot to pour yourself a mug.

You felt him come up behind you. His hand skimmed along your waist, then higher, until his fingers brushed the curve of your breast through the towel.

"Nik, we’ve talked about this."

"Talked about what?" he murmured, lips brushing your damp skin.

"Don’t."

"Don’t what?”

You turned to face him, and he didn't pull his hand away, leaving his palm pressed to the swell of your breasts.

"We both know how this works. We're not dating. Don't make it weird." You grabbed his wrist and pushed him away.

"Is it weird if I ask if I can take you out for breakfast?" He asked, leaning back against the wall.

You gave him a flat look, and he laughed.

"Okay, I get it. I won't see you again for weeks, maybe months, and then the next time, it'll be in some dark alleyway or some other sordid rendezvous." He tilted his head to the side, and his hair fell across his forehead, making him look softer than usual. "It's always the same. The witch who has no problem sleeping with the big bad hybrid, but refuses to ever speak to him when she's not on his cock."

"That’s a very cute speech. You can leave now," you said, brushing past him.

He caught your wrist, pulling you back towards him. "Try not to think of me when you see Elijah later," he whispered, his tone vicious.

You yanked your arm free and pointed at the door, glaring. "Leave."

He raised his hands, backing toward the door… the picture of innocence, all smug grin and lazy charm.

“Alright, alright.” He paused in the doorway, smile sharpening. “See you around, my little spellwhore.”

Then he was gone.